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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 4 years ago

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Goodbye For Now

Request: Don't worry about falling asleep!! Sleep is necessary, girl! Anyway my idea was: what if Y/N and Luke (or Reggie, whoever you wanna write about) dated and were best friends back in the 90s when Sunset Curve died. And Y/N stays in contact with the family of their love interest for all those years. And Y/N is shocked when she sees their love interest in the band with Julie again, they can't believe their eyes! Anyway, you don't have to write this, but it popped up in my head and I love your writing❤

Word Count: 3.6K

~Master~

A/N: I hope I did this justice! Thank you so much for requesting it and letting me give it a go. Please please please let me know what you think!

***

1995

“Give me a kiss.” Luke mumbled against your lips as you smiled and pulled away slightly, enough to see his eyes as he opened them wide, giving you his beautiful puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

You giggled, feeling his hand thread with yours as you sat on his lap. “Only because you so asked so politely.” You whispered to him before meeting his lips briefly, pulling away at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You pulled away, looking behind you at Alex, Bobby, and Reggie watching you. “Rehearsal?” Bobby asked as you nodded, about to get up before Alex put his hand out.

“But look at them.” He started, smiling at you and your boyfriend. “They’re adorable. Just give them a moment.” You smiled at Alex, silently thanking him before you turned back to Luke. Luke’s smile was just as wide and you started to lean in to kiss him, only to hear Alex speak. “Moment’s up!” The drummer yelled as you groaned, letting your head fall on Luke’s shoulder instead. He chuckled underneath you and you smiled at the smile, giving his hand a squeeze. Getting up off his lap, you stretched a hand out to help Luke up, but as you were doing so, the boy moved quickly, placing a gentle kiss on your lips before moving past you to his guitar.

You shook your head lovingly and fell back into the spot Luke was sitting at, feeling his eyes on you until you met his. He winked at you and started playing with the rest of the band joining in as you sat back and enjoyed the music.

2020

“Mom, have you seen my backpack?” You heard shouted from somewhere in your house as you pulled the toast out of the toaster, tossing the slices on two plates.

“Have you looked under your bed?” There was a pause after your answer before a thank you was shouted back and you shook your head fondly. A few bouncing steps on from the stairs caused you to turn around, just in time to see your daughter sit down on the other side of the counter. You slid her breakfast to her along with a glass of orange juice and joined her. “Eat up, you’re gonna be late to school.”

As soon as the words crossed your mouth, you heard the bus outside, your daughter frozen in place as you looked at her with a raised brow. “Oopsies?” She said, pretending to be innocent, although you knew better.

“Emily! What did I say about missing the bus?”

“That next time I’d have to walk?” She knew that was the answer, she just didn’t like it. You nodded, trying to enforce your rules but when Emily looked at you, you knew you were going to crack. “But there’s an assembly today! I can’t be late.”

You stayed strong for a minute before giving in. “I’ll get my keys.” You mumbled and stood up. Emily cheered, thanking you and saying she loved you before you pointed at her. “You finish eating. The last thing I need to hear is you harping about stopping for food.” She nodded swiftly and bit into her toast, making a noise to show you how good it was as you chuckled at her and moved to get ready.

Once Emily was at school, you went for a drive, taking your time until you pulled up to a house not far from your own. Giving yourself a minute to breathe, you played with the guitar pick that hung low off your neck. It was Luke’s. Something you managed to find in your room almost a year after your best friends died. 25 years later and you kept it, a reminder of what it felt like to be loved unconditionally. Sure, you moved on, even married and had Emily, but that only ended in divorce and you receiving full custody of your daughter. You kept afloat, relying on other’s support as you worked through life.

The car door slammed behind you when you got out and walked up to the little old house in front of you. After knocking, you waited, hearing a sweet voice tell you she’s coming before the door opened wide.

“Hi Mrs. Patterson.” You smiled, seeing her mirror your emotions.

“Y/N dear, how are you? Come inside!” She beckoned and you listened pushing past her. “And how many times have I told you to call me-“

“Emily.” You laughed as you said her name at the same time, seeing her grin wide as she pulled you in for a hug. You reciprocated, hugging Luke’s mother tightly before pulling away. “And I’m great, thank you for asking.”

“And your little one? How’s Emily doing?” Your face softened at the mention of your daughter, aptly named Emily after her of course, the woman who you’d grown closer too since the death of her son. Your main source of support for longer than you deserved.

“She’s doing just fine. Almost late to school today, but then again, you know how normal that is for her.” Emily laughed at your exasperated face, putting a hand on your arm.

“Well, she does take after her mother.” She told you, reminding you of when Luke and you were younger and you’d always show up almost an hour after the time you’d agreed upon. Luke often had to lie about the times just to get you places on time. Emily and you spent the next few hours catching up, it had been a few weeks since you’d stopped by.

Your smile turned sad as you caught a glance at a picture of Luke on the table next to the couch and your thoughts drifted to him again. It might’ve been 25 years, but Luke and you grew up together. Every memory you had of your childhood was with Luke by your side. “I miss him, too.” Emily whispered, catching the distant look on your face. You looked up at her, seeing her wipe away a tear on her face. “Sometimes, I think about what his life would’ve been like if he hadn’t-“ She stopped herself, swallowing quickly as you grabbed her hand to comfort her. She thanked you silently and kept on with her thoughts. “You and him surely would’ve gotten married. Emily would’ve been his and I’d have a granddaughter.” Her words were whispers as your eyes watered up, letting yourself get lost momentarily in your head.

What a dream that would’ve been.

“Well, look at the time.” Emily said, bringing you out of your thoughts as you glanced to the clock on the wall, surprised to see it was almost time to pick your daughter up for school. You quickly wiped your tears, laughing at yourself for letting yourself cry in front of Emily. She didn’t mind, having been crying as well. You said your goodbyes to her, sharing more hugs before you were off.

Emily was bouncing on her heels as you arrived at school, talking with her best friend when you pulled up. “Hey Em!” You shouted out the window to get her attention. She looked at you, saying goodbye before getting into the car.

“How was school?” You asked, trying to get a conversation going but she wasn’t focused on you, instead on her phone.

“It was fine.”

You raised a brow, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. “Fine?” you asked, seeing her nod. You didn’t ask more, letting her continue texting whoever it was she was texting. She even started humming under her breath. You found the tune familiar, but you couldn’t place it. You shook it off, focusing back on the road until she started singing.

“And rise through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever” You stopped the car immediately, hands gripping the wheel tightly as Emily grabbed her seatbelt, glancing back and making sure there were no cars behind you guys as she looked at you. “Mom, what are you doing?” she asked quickly, grabbing onto your arm. You stared right out of the front window.

That couldn’t have been possible. She couldn’t have been singing- “Where’d you learn that song?” you tried to ask calmly.

Emily just furrowed her brows. “What? What are you-“

“The song, Em.” You looked at her, seeing confusion written on her face.

“Some girl, um Julie Molina, sang it at school today with her band.” She said, not at all knowing what you were getting at. “Why?”

“No reason.” You mumbled, looking back at the road. Emily glanced to you when you didn’t drive, not until a car appeared behind you and you remembered. You didn’t know what to think. Only a few people knew that song. The song that Luke and you wrote together. It wasn’t even recorded, your friends died before it could’ve been. You were silent the rest of the ride back, even staying in the car as Emily got out, asking if you were coming but you told her to go ahead inside. She questioned it, but didn’t press you much.

You knew Julie Molina. She was friend’s with Bobby’s daughter when they were younger. Bobby and you kept in touch for years after everything. Until he changed his name to Trever Wilson and stole Luke’s songs. That was when the two of you fell out of touch, when he wouldn’t listen to you about how horrible of a person he’d become, letting the fame go to his head.

You pulled out of your driveway, driving down the streets much faster than you’d like before arriving at the Molina residence. Heart racing, you slowly made your way up to the house. You needed answers.

“Hello?” Julie’s father, Ray asked as the door opened.

“Hi.” You said, not having anything to say planned. “Um, I’m sorry is your daughter home?” You asked him, seeing his brows furrow at the obvious weirdness of a middle-aged woman asking for his daughter.

“She might be. May I ask how you know her?”

You chuckled slightly, not knowing how to answer. “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I have a daughter who goes to her school and told me about her playing today. I was hoping to ask her a few questions?”

Ray paused for a minute before glancing up the stairs. “Hey Julie!” He shouted. “Someone’s at the door for you!”

You smiled, thanking him as Julie’s footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. She stood in front of you, not recognizing you as Ray left you both. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, this might sound a little weird, but my name’s Y/N and I have a daughter who goes to your school, Emily. She saw your performance today at the assembly and when she got in the car, she started singing it.” Julie nodded, not quite understanding where you were going with this. “How did you know the song?”

Her mouth opened, trying to figure out what to say. “I’m sorry?” She said, putting on a smile.

You took a deep breath, playing with the guitar pick again. “The song you sang, it’s called Bright”

“I uh,” She began, glancing behind her briefly before stepping outside with you and closing the door. “How do you know the song?" Julie asked you, not understanding how you knew a song that Sunset Curve never got to record. A song that Luke had just given her yesterday.

“I wrote it 25 years ago.”

That took Julie for a shock. She just stared at you, not knowing what to say. “Will you excuse me?” She said quickly before rushing past you. You watched her leave, racing the garage before you realized something important.

It was the studio. The band’s old studio. You smacked yourself for not realizing sooner and followed after her. Your heart skipped a beat as you pulled open the door, stepping inside after almost 25 years.

“She said she wrote it!” you heard Julie yell as your eyes found her immediately.

“That’s impossible! I wrote it!”

Your eyes watered at the sight. There, right in front of you, was your boys, the best friends you ever had and the certain one you fell in love with. “Luke?” You gasped out, seeing four heads turn your way. His eyes found yours and you knew he didn’t recognize you, but you didn’t care. “How are you-“ your words died on your tongue as your eyes started watering, your throat closing to keep your emotions at bay.

Luke just stared at you, firstly shocked that you could see him, but then it hit him. “Y/N.”

Everyone stayed quiet, including Julie who was left in the dark completely. He took a step towards you, his eyes watering as well before you were both rushing to each other. Luke caught you in his arms, holding you like his life depended on it and you did as well.

With that thought you pulled back and looked at him. “How are you here? How are you… You look….” You were tripping over your words, too many thoughts running through your head that you tried to push out. “I thought you died.”

“I did.” He said, bringing a hand up to wipe your tears away, but it didn’t matter as more fell. Luke, however caught up in the moment, paused and looked at his hand, dragging it across your cheek again and again and again before looking into your eyes. “I can touch you.” He whispered.

You furrowed your brows, grabbing his hand and holding it tight. “What?”

“I can touch you.” He repeated, looking back at Alex, Reggie, and Julie. You followed suit, seeing them all confused. Reggie stepped forwards slowly, reaching a hand out to you and you slowly tried to take it, but your hand went right through his as you gasped and stepped back.

You started to put it together. They looked 17 again, people can’t normally see them, your hands went right through them- well, through Reggie, and lastly, they died. “You’re ghosts.” Luke nodded, reaching for your hand again but you pulled it away. “I’m dreaming.” You concluded. “I must be.” You were starting to spiral, beginning to pace back and forth before stopping and turning to the four of them. “I should- I have to go.” You stammered out and headed out the door, ignoring Luke calling out your name.

“Luke.” Reggie said, getting his friend’s attention. Luke turned around with tears in his eyes but he was walking backwards to the door.

“I have to follow her.” He told them and immediately Reggie and Alex nodded, ushering him to go after you.

Julie stood there confused. “What just happened? Who was that?” She asked, looking to Alex and Reggie for answers as Luke left the Studio.

Reggie and Alex shared a glance, trying to decide who should tell her. Alex took one for the team. “That was Y/N.” He begun, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Luke and Y/N, back when we were alive, they were… you know-“

“In love.” Reggie interrupted, receiving a nod from Alex. Julie’s mouth dropped open.

“Wow.” She muttered, remembering the look on your face when you saw him again. “I didn’t know Luke had a girlfriend.”

“It was more than that.”

“Yeah,” Reggie went on. “They grew up together. Best friends.”

They kept answering her questions about you, finding this whole thing so bizarre, but the one thing they didn’t have answers for was how you touched Luke. They blamed it on your connection to him. It had always been so strong, of course it would’ve carried to the afterlife.

---

“Y/N!” Luke called after you as you headed to your car, refusing to look back until he put his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, please.”

You stopped, letting your eyes close as you turned around to face him. “I can’t, Luke.” Your voice broke. “You died.”

“I know.” His voice wavered as you leaned against your car, crying again more. “But I’m here now.”

“Are you?” you looked at him as you let your tears fall freely, not bothering to hide them. “You’re a ghost, Luke. How is this possible?”

“We don’t know.” He admitted, refusing to look away from you. He moved closer to you, slowly testing the waters until he could hug you again. You collapsed against him, crying into his shoulder. Luke’s arms hugged you tightly, sure it was different than hugging the younger you, obviously you were taller and your figure had changed since, but it was still you.

“I don’t care.” You whispered. “I don’t care that you’re a ghost. I’m just-“ you paused, blinking away your tears as you pulled away. “I’m just really happy to see you again.”

“It’s been years for you, I guess.” He said, not sure how to address the fact you’re now 42.

You chuckled at him, feeling a little less like crying as you nodded. “25 years. It’s been 25 years.” You saw his eyes flicker to your hand as you brought it up to wipe your tears, and it took you a second to realize what he was looking for.

“I’m not married, Luke. Not anymore.” You told him, seeing the way he started getting embarrassed at you catching on.

“I’m sorry.” He said, not missing the second part of your statement.

You shook your head. “Don’t be. We didn’t work out. The only good thing about that marriage was having my-“ you stopped yourself. Luke’s mother’s words from earlier echoing in your brain. The dream you weren’t sure you should’ve thought about. Luke motioned for you to continue, not knowing what was happening in your head. You sighed, looking to the ground. “Having my… daughter.”

Luke just stared at you. Did he hear you right? You had a daughter? You, who he imagined always a future with, had a kid. “Wow.” He said, hiding the pain in his chest. “A daughter.” He cursed himself in his head. Of course, you had a daughter. It’s been years and he died. Of course, you moved on. He cleared his throat. “What’s her name?”

You smiled to yourself, finding he courage to look up at him again. “Emily.” You told him and immediately Luke gasped. “I named her after your mother.” Luke was taken back, not knowing what to say. His eyes darted between yours. “She misses you, Luke.” You told him, knowing how many times Emily and you had spoken about Luke, every time making you smile despite the pain in your heart. “We all do.”

“I missed you too.” He said quickly. The one thing he’d always missed now playing with the boys and Julie was your smile as he played, or your cheers afterwards, pretending you were a screaming fan in an audience. “I tried to find you, but I couldn’t.” He began to explain, and you understood. Times had changed, homes, names, people. You weren’t shocked he couldn’t find you.

You were about to speak before your phone rang, knocking you out of the bubble you and Luke created. You pulled out your phone, seeing a picture of Emily on your phone, smiling as you kissed her cheek. Luke looked down at the phone, seeing your daughter and he smiled. “She has your eyes.” He said, amazed by the similarity of you both.

“That’s not all of me she has.” You smiled. You didn’t want to say goodbye to him just yet, but Emily kept calling. “I have to go, she’s probably getting worried.” You whispered sadly.

Luke understood, nodding as he reached for your hand again. You let him take it, threading your fingers together as he wiped one last tear off your face. “It’s okay. I understand.” He assured you.

You held onto his hand tightly. “I don’t wanna say goodbye forever again.” You admitted, feeling guilty, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t lose him again.

“Then don’t.” You tilted your head, questioning him. “Don’t say goodbye forever. Not this time.” He smiled at you. “Right now, I’m not going anywhere. This is just goodbye for now.”

Your smile slowly grew and you dried your face. “Okay.” You whispered. “Goodbye for now.” You agreed moments before Luke pulled you into a last bone crushing hug that you reciprocated.

Luke pulled away, catching sight of the guitar pick on your neck as he smiled at it before his eyes met yours again. “Goodbye for now.” He repeated before letting go, slowly stepping back towards the garage as he watched you climb into your cars, but of you going your separate ways.

You were barely down the streets from the Molina’s before your phone rang again and Emily’s contact popped up. You quickly answered it, putting it on speaker. “Hey Emily.”

“Mom!” She shouted and you could hear the relief in her voice over the call. “I’ve called you 3 times, where were you?”

“I’m sorry honey, I was just…” you paused, trying to not say you were just seeing your deceased ex-boyfriend who died 25 years ago, “I was just visiting an old friend.”

There was a silence on the line before Emily spoke again. “Are you okay? You sound upset.” You took a second. Were you okay? Luke was back, he was really here. He was a ghost, but he was here. Things would never be the same again, but at least you could say goodbye for real. “Mom? Are you okay?” You let a smile creep on your face.

“Yeah, honey. I’m going to be fine.”

ALL TAGLISTS CLOSED!

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @nathaliabakes @colored-confetti @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @hollymac79 @emcchi @rauwz @chewymoustachio @smilexcaptainx @faith-quake @johnmurphyisqueer @kettnerjanea @teenagereadersciencenerd @ladykxxx08 @annasofiaearlobe @mytreec @ananad1 @agentnataliahofferson @the-unmanaged-mischief @wonderful-writer @theonly1outof-a-billion

#Luke Patterson x reader #Luke Patterson imagine #Luke Patterson fanfiction #Luke Patterson #Jatp #Julie and The Phantoms #Julie and the Phantoms x reader #Julie and The Phantoms fanfiction #jatp x reader #jatp imagine

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helbramstrauma · 4 years ago

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Sleepy Time

Suna x Reader

The crowd cheering was overwhelming but it always was just a little too much, however, it is so much worse when it isn’t your team they are rooting for. Inarizaki was slotted and was assumed to win, but they didn’t. The players looked crushed although you couldn’t truly see as you were seated high up. The band was up the highest so spectators could see the show. Once the team finishes their bow, we are rushed out of the stands as the game runs over and the next game has to start soon. You were never really a competitive person but you can see why others were, however, the feeling of losing is something no one likes, the feeling that someone is better is a crushing reality that no one wants to face, and it is on the face of everyone.

No one expected Inarizaki to lose, so unfortunately the band was not able to have enough buses, forcing some people to ride with the team. You were one of the ten volunteers they needed, you figured a change of pace would be nice as the band buses are always loud- and it would be nice to sleep on the way back. You have a small bag filled with some snacks for the road and some electronics to keep you busy, plus a neck pillow and blanket as you are hoping to get some z’s. The team's bus is nicer mostly because this is their trip and the school wants to pull out all the stops for them. There was no rush, people were taking their time leaving as no one really wanted to. Eventually, everyone meandered over once the doors were opened you took one of the seats by the window, that way you can lean on it to sleep. You lean back in your seat a bit shutting your eyes in frustration and just trying to collect your thoughts. That is when you felt your weight shift a little, someone sat beside you, opening one eye you see Rintaro, he was one of the middle blockers on the team and he looked surprisingly unbothered- though you knew he was because who wouldn’t be. If you didn’t know anything that transpired you would have assumed he was alright. Not really wanting to talk you put your earbuds in, listening to lowfie in a hope to drown out the noise and calm you to sleep. Though it just makes you want to stretch as you always listen to lowfie when you do so. It is less than fantastic because now you are hyper-aware of how uncomfortable you are. Letting out a loud sigh you take out your earbuds and open your eyes gazing out the window. In the reflection, you can see the player sitting beside you doing the same thing. “Do you want the window seat?” you ask, trying to accommodate him, as that is a value that has been instilled in you since you can remember. He mumbles something about saying it's okay before pulling out his phone and he goes back to ignoring you. That is until you take out your blanket as the air conditioning is starting to become too much. He was shameless; he too part of your blanket, part of you was a little upset at the lack of personal space but you got over it.

As the air conditioning continues to get colder and colder you cannot help but get closer and closer to each other. However, Rin doesn’t move away instead he seems to mirror your own actions.

All was well, that was until you felt the roughness of a shoe rub your leg, you thought it was an accident, that was until it happened again. You are not one to back down, you start kicking at him, all of this is happening below the blanket the only give away that anything is happening is an uncharacteristic smirk that is draped over Suna’s face. After a while the game of footies came to a stop as you begin to drift off, your head hits something relatively soft and before you know it the world goes black as you are taken away to sleep.

The sound of giggling stirs you awake, you open your eyes briefly but shut them again, not used to the light. You nuzzle your head into the warmth that you were resting on before your conscious mind takes over, what is warm. You jolted backwards and you then realized you were laying on Rintaro’s shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Rintaro,” you say, mortified by your previous situation. You look past him to find the source of the giggling which is coming from Miya Osamu, “Why are you so formal?” the boy asks teasingly at you. His tone gets under your skin, you're not sure if it was him or if it was your embarrassment but you quickly quip back, “Maybe it is because this is the first time we’ve ever spoken and most of that time I was asleep for most of that time, Sumu” you mock. This earns a laugh from his twin from across the aisle. “Besides I don’t even think he knows my name”.

“You don’t think we know your name” Atsumu perks up, “We’ve been in the same class since our first year” then he lets out a snicker, “Besides someone can never seem to shut up about you y/n”. He is clearly teasing someone who isn’t immediately obvious. That is until Kita pops up, “How did you not notice Rin stares at you all the time” he says deadpan- it was kind of scary, “No can you like quiet down I was trying to sleep”.

#anime #haikyuu #suna haikyuu #suna rintaro #suna x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #subtle fluff

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96thdayofrage · 3 years ago

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How White Violence Turned a Peaceful Civil Rights Demonstration Into Mayhem

Winfred Rembert on Protesting in the Jim Crow South and Getting Arrested

It was 1961 or 1962. I was working in Jeff’s poolroom. One day I was surprised to see all these Black folk, especially adult Black men, coming in the poolroom. They were all sitting around, having a meeting and talking about civil rights. I never heard people talking about civil rights before. They were NAACP people, though I didn’t know it at the time. I thought they were coming in there to shoot pool, but, lo and behold, they were talking about civil rights. It turned out, if I got it right, that Buddy Perkins, the funeral home director, was the headman of the NAACP in Cuthbert. Jeff was some kind of official too, and Jeff’s poolroom became the meeting place for talking about ideas, businesses, and civil rights.

Black people in Cuthbert had to sacrifice to make a change. In the 1950s, Ben Shorter Sr. was president of a voters’ league in Randolph County. The authorities in Randolph County would not let Black people vote. I remember Mama talking about wanting to vote, and it was obvious that she was afraid. Ben Shorter and some other folks from Cuthbert—Ulysses Davis and Charlie Will Thornton—worked with an NAACP lawyer named Dan Duke to get Blacks onto the voting rolls. As Ben Sr.’s son Wesley tells it, “During the time my father was meeting with a lawyer from Atlanta, they would meet at our house. The lights would be turned out and they would meet in the back room. There were people outside for protection because of threats by the Ku Klux Klan and others.”

The voters’ league was successful in court, but after that Ben Shorter lost his job as a mechanic. Charlie Will Thornton lost her job as a schoolteacher. Ben was also the leader of a swing band that had been very popular in our part of the South since the early 30s.

Wesley’s brother, Ben Shorter Jr., told me that when his father played in some White places, they couldn’t come through the front. He talked about how they all had to come through the back to set up, and how he sat there in this chair waiting on his dad to get through playing. After the voting rights case, it was several years before Ben Sr. was able to get gigs in Cuthbert again.

Ulysses Davis’s granddaughter, Naomi Jenkins, lives in Cuthbert today. She remembers sitting on her grandfather’s knee in the Albany law offices of C.B. King. “Somebody could threaten your life or threaten your livelihood. It just so happened that my grandfather was a carpenter, so he was able to maintain. You shouldn’t have to die for things to be equal and fair, but people died. You should not have had to lose your source of income, but people did. It was very very difficult. The fear was greater than you could ever imagine. Charlie Will. She is my hero. She was very outspoken. She was never able to teach again in Randolph County, simply because of her stand on equal rights.”

I had never been to a demonstration or a sit-in. It was all new to me. The NAACP guys talked about how, if you go to the marches, you’d get in the fetal position to keep from getting kicked in the stomach and to keep the dogs from biting you. They taught us to cover our heads if the police were beating on you with those billy clubs, and to fall on the children to protect them. Those were the conversations. My buddies Charlie Brookins and Eddie C. Howard came by the meetings too. Their parents didn’t want them to get involved, so they had to slip out of the house. Charlie says there was no way his parents would have allowed him to go to the demonstrations that were going on in Albany. “It was real dangerous back in those times. White people had guns and they were killing Black people in those marches, far more than you would ever think about or that you saw or heard in the news. It was unbelievable. Stuff you read about in a book is on the good side. My mama would have killed me if I had left and went over to Albany.”

Later on, at the meetings, people talked about Americus. Americus was a tough one. They had this terrible sheriff named Fred Chappell. He was a mean monster. He was above the law. He was the law. He was worse than Bull Connor, the commissioner of public safety in Birmingham who attacked the Freedom Riders. This guy wouldn’t bend. This sheriff was kicking Black folks’ butts every chance he got, hitting them upside the head with his nightstick and giving orders to turn the fire hose on. Back then they would deputize just anybody that was White and give them a badge, and I’d be willing to bet that some of those people wearing the badge and turning on the hose were Ku Klux Klan.

I heard about the demonstrations in Americus in the early days of the Americus movement, and sometimes I would ride over there in a car with guys from Cuthbert and we would sit around in a place on Cotton Avenue called the Bryant Pool Hall. We would play pool and listen to people talk about strategy and what was happening. In 1962, SNCC (the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) started a voter registration drive. Americus had a population of 13,000. Over half of the people were Black, but there were only 300 Black people on the voting rolls. Sam Mahone was a high school student at the time. I didn’t know him back then. I met him in Albany in 2010. He talks about how he escorted people to the courthouse to register.

One day, when he was 17 years old, he took ten people down to the courthouse. Sam was standing across the hallway from the registrar’s office, waiting until each person had a chance to register, when Sheriff Chappell attacked him from behind. “I didn’t hear him coming or anything. He knocked me down, literally, with a fist to the back of my neck. I immediately curled into a fetal position, as we were trained to do, to protect our most vulnerable parts, like our head and our midsection, and he commenced kicking me.”

People who witnessed what the sheriff did would go back and tell others what had happened. Some people who were standing in line even left the courthouse without registering. As Sam tells it, “There was intimidation from the moment you walked into the courthouse, not just from the sheriff but all the Whites who held office there. They were just menacing people who came in there. They did not want Black people to vote.”

People got arrested for trying to buy tickets at the “White” window of the movie theater. The demonstrations got bigger after that. The police brought in dogs and burned demonstrators with electric cattle prods. After the civil rights bill passed, in 1964, there were confrontations over segregated restaurants and a swimming pool. Some SNCC workers, including Sam Mahone, were beaten with tire irons and baseball bats by a White mob after they were refused service at the Hasty House restaurant.

Now you had a lot of people in Cuthbert who were afraid to demonstrate. They didn’t want to jeopardize their families or businesses. They didn’t want to take a chance on losing any of that. They would come to the meetings, but they wouldn’t go to the marches. And you had this other group that would put their life on the line. It turned out that was the group I fell into. I was a young boy, 19 years old, in 1965. There were 15 to 20 of us ready to go. We got into a big gray bus that looked like it used to be a school bus and we rode to Americus, which was about 45 miles away. We gathered at the Bryant Pool Hall there on Cotton Avenue. Cotton Avenue was a Black street, with all Black businesses—Black clothing stores, Black poolrooms, Black restaurants, Black funeral home. It’s the main drag for Black folks who hang out in Americus. It was familiar to me because I frequented the place when I thought I was a good pool player.

People were gathering around there from Americus and every which way, too many people to fit into the poolroom, so some were standing around on Cotton Avenue. The leaders say where we’re going to march, and they told us what our strategy was. The strategy was to obey orders—when the authorities say move on, then we move on. We marched from Cotton Avenue down to the main street in Americus. Cotton Avenue ends right at the main street downtown. That’s where we went. It was a peaceful demonstration. People carried signs. The police were there, and the fire department, but they didn’t intervene. People sang freedom songs like “We Shall Overcome.”

Even though it was peaceful, the demonstration was scary. Angry-faced White folks were standing around with their weapons. It was like they were just waiting to jump us. They had guns and axe handles, and we had nothing to fight back with, not even a stick. I had never participated in anything like that, and I wasn’t really demonstrating like I was supposed to. I wasn’t up front, ready to take a beating. I was holding back, somewhere in the middle of the crowd. I was more watching than anything. I didn’t want to take a chance on getting bit by a dog or hit with a billy club. But while I was there, and afterward, I thought about it and decided that if I was going to go, I might as well get out front. So, the next time I went, I didn’t hold back. I jumped off the bus and started yelling, “Come on, y’all. Let’s do this!”

A big crowd was gathering. People came in together, from every which way. This time, the strategy was that when they ask us to move on, we won’t, because we want to get our point across. We want to integrate. We started marching down the street, singing and demonstrating. It was a slow march, just nice and slow, so we know we’re going to get into a confrontation. I’m talking about when they come and ask you to move on, and you don’t move on. You might slightly move on, but you don’t move to the pace that they want you to move.

The first thing they bring out is their dogs, holding them back some, but they are threatening you. I really didn’t want to get bit by those dogs. Then here come the fire department with the hoses. A lot of people get hurt when they turn the fire hoses on you, and I’m pretty sure people got hurt that day, but all that was a little farther down the street. I was up at the other end where the dogs were.

What happened next is that some civilian White folk showed up with shotguns. No uniforms. Some used their guns as billy clubs and were hitting people. Then a gunshot went off and everybody started running and scattering. It was mayhem. I started running too. I knew a little bit about Americus, so I knew where to run. I didn’t wait for anybody to run with. I ran down an alley that was just big enough to drive a car down. It was a small alley off Cotton Avenue, just north of West Forsyth Street, right in the center of Americus. There were a few cars parked here and there. I ran down that alley, and when I stopped to catch a breath, I looked back and saw these two White men coming with shotguns. They didn’t have those shotguns just to shoot squirrels, I’m telling you. They weren’t playing. It happened there was a car sitting there, and I saw the keys sitting in it. Folks left the keys in the car back in the day. I jumped in and took off.

I took that car and drove it to Cuthbert. While I’m driving, I’m thinking to myself, What am I going to do? I didn’t know whether to ditch the car in Cuthbert or to keep driving it, or where to go or who to tell. I was worried about staying alive. That’s what I was thinking about most. I took those folks’ car and I thought I was going to get killed when the police caught me. One thing you just don’t do in Georgia is steal. You can kill somebody and you won’t get as much time in jail as you would if you took something from White folks. White folks in Georgia don’t like for you to take things from them.

You know how you might think one thing and you do another? I was thinking about getting rid of the car, but then the more I rode around in it, I’m saying to myself, Let me keep it for a while. I asked Duck whether he’d like to take a ride in the car. I was riding around in it just for the hell of it. It was something to do. The next thing I knew, the police were riding behind me. If I got it right, my friend Jimmy Greene was in the car with me. I said, “Jimmy, you want to get out? Because I’m going to keep going. I’m taking them for a chase.” Even though I knew I was going to jail, I didn’t want to give up. I wanted the police to have to earn their money. After all the abuse I’d seen them put Black folks through my whole life, I didn’t want to make it easy for them. That’s another reason why I think they hated me so. I gave them problems. They’re used to telling a Black man to stop or come back, and he’ll do that. They actually thought I would stop. I didn’t.

Jimmy got out, and I gave the police a chase until I ran the car in a ditch. Then I ran like hell. I was running and running and running until I got tired and climbed up a tree. A little while later, here they come with the most sorry-ass country hound I’d ever seen. I was up the tree and the dog was sniffing around underneath it. Nobody saw me and they left.

They probably went back there and talked to Jimmy. He might have told them it was me driving the car. People will talk when they think they’re going to get in trouble. Some time after that, I was sleeping in an old raggedy car in Cuthbert. The police came and shined a flashlight through the window. They said, “Oooooh Shiiiiit. Look what we got! We got Winfred.” They were really happy to get me.

The police roughed me up and locked me in the calaboose. A couple days later, the sheriff showed up and took me to the county jail. The cook in the jail, Minnie Cooper, told me that Buddy Perkins had been up there looking for me, like he had done before. But they wouldn’t let me out. I never saw Perkins’s face that day. I was in too deep. I don’t know whether they told Perkins I was there or not. But there was nothing he could do; they weren’t going to let him have me.

Weeks went by and I sat in jail. Poonk’s sister, Yolanda Carter, yelled up to the window of my cell from the street. She wanted to know whether I was going to get out. She had to scream to talk to me. That girl got a lot of nerve. The police tried to run her away and she come right back.

I thought about my family, about Mama and all the things she tried to teach me about surviving in a White world, and I knew that old lady was worried about me. I was a young Black man with no structure in his life headed down a path with no good end. I could see that. I remembered men in prison stripes working by the side of the road in Cuthbert. I expected to end up there too, I just didn’t know how long it would be before they sent me to prison.

Excerpted from Chasing Me to My Grave: An Artist’s Memoir of the Jim Crow South. Used with the permission of the publisher, Bloomsbury Publishing. Text copyright © 2021 by Winfred Rembert and Erin I. Kelly. Artwork copyright © 2021 by Winfred Rembert/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

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daniwoitkowski · 4 years ago

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A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206

After reading A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206, an article published in the Milwaukee Magazine in 2014, I’m ashamed of the city I currently call home.

Contained between I-43 to the east, 27th Street to the West and North Avenue and Capitol Drive to its south and north sides is one of the largest zip code areas in the city of Milwaukee. Zip code area of 53206 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin is often written off as the poorest area in the largest city in the state.

An eyesore in Milwaukee, zip code 53206, is where a third of the city’s vacant lots reside. The greatest percentage, nearly 95% of its residents in zip code 53206 are African Americans. Surrounding counties implemented restrictive covenants preventing African American tenants' equal rights, which confined most African Americans to the northwestern portion of the city, or around the 53206 area. The Supreme Court ruled such covenants to be unconstitutional in 1948, they remained on the books until Congress passed the Fair Housing Act in 1968. Milwaukee known for being one of the most segregated cities in the United States.

Warren’s Lounge on Hopkins Avenue, owned by 81-year-old Warren Harper, a “Cheers” like bar hides itself in the middle of the deserted condemned buildings. Warren and his wife, Shirley, have been married for over 59 years, with four children and multiple grandchildren. Warren and Shirley bought the lounge back in 1970. Back in the lounge’s heyday factory workers from around the area would stop in for lunch or beer relaxing after their shift. During the time when the Green Bay Packers played at county stadium, players could be regularly seen enjoying the relaxing atmosphere.

Life has changed and the lounge is not the same, feeling the pain of the abandoned factories. Even though, their children attempt to sway them into having hip-hop bands play into the addition to the jazz and blues bands that periodically play at the lounge. Life has been hard on them, however they will not close, “It’s their life.”

Wandering around 53206 tends to make people, especially white people, uneasy. Too many businesses are either closed or enclosed in metal bars and padlocks. Even with a gem like, Warren’s Lounge, can be intimidating to its visitors as you enter through the small, dark doorway hidden behind a locked heavy metal grate with a bell that must be rung for entry.

Opportunities seem to climb and decline rapidly for African Americans in Milwaukee. So, what happened?

One generation hopes and dreams becomes heavy burdens on the forgotten generations that follow. Looking past educational statures, joblessness and the crime in the areas of poverty, we need to begin looking into the history of the African American population of Milwaukee, Wisconsin at once was and why it became what it is today.

The African American population increased with the Great Migration north, which affected the African American communities in Milwaukee. Like most African American families, Warren and Shirley moved to Milwaukee in 1957 during the Great Migration in search of a better life.

The Great Migration was when millions of southern African American people migrated north for better opportunities between 1916 to 1970. Many came to Milwaukee for the ever-growing jobs with the industrial factories at the time. Families settled down bought homes in the area, new businesses opened and grew, times were good. By the 1980s, times were not so good. Factories started to close in the area and businesses started to move out of the once flourishing neighborhoods. Some people moved out to the suburbs, while the majority of the African American population stayed behind and survived.

Barbara Miner, the Milwaukee-area freelance writer, purpose in this article was to educate by showing a face to the neighborhood around the Milwaukee 53206 zip code. The article brought tears to my eyes as I read about the longevity of people who make up the community even through the absence of jobs, transportation, and sort of conveniences that those of us who live merely blocks away take for granted. Then there is the stealthy growing abandoned housing market. However, many families have still stuck around to support their community or stay for the affordable housing.

Through the article, Miner, is attempting to educate the audience on the poverty in our own city. We have created this blind spot within our own community, and we tend to forget the area’s history. We are left with the assumption that the people living in these areas have chosen their fate instead of understanding the truth behind our ignorance. It’s well known what happened in Detroit after the auto industries started closing, but it is not known how the same affects had and still affects so many in our own city.

Beauty exists, such as with Dr. Carter, a retired Pharmacist who continues to go back and visit his community passing along trusted remedies to his neighborhood residents. Dr. Carter broke down barriers back in 1968 after he founded one of first Milwaukee black owned pharmacies. Now after selling his pharmacy, Dr. Carter can still be found at the store as a consultant in natural remedies.

Yet the media has forgotten about this area as though it doesn’t exist except for the inquiries pertaining to shootings in the area. The problem, or exigence, here is with the ignorance surrounding this forgotten and disregarded area of our city. I begin to ask myself, why do we have such a blind eye with our own neighboring areas? I wonder how the decline to industry in the city of Milwaukee and the poverty relates to the poverty that was created with the auto crisis in Detroit. I would have liked to see more of the information we read from the A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206 article on the non-existence of corporate businesses and declining public transportation and after school programs ties into the jobless market that intertwine in the poverty rates in these areas.

Current circumstances in 53206 go deeper than the loss of factories and that the jobs in the area.

“There’s investment out there, and there are jobs. But they’re in New Berlin or Waukesha. There’s no bus, so how are people going to get there?” (2015, Jan 28)

Perceptions have also been made that the housing bubble was the issue that affected people in this area, and they were of the many that shouldn’t have bought a home in the first place. However, a lot of families that lost their homes in 53206 were long-time owners.

Miner goes on to talk with a group of students from North Division High School who are studying zip-code-53206. Miner gathered their thoughts on how they feel about the area and what they would want people to know about the area, some of which that were mentioned as follows:

“Notice that we are here, that, like you, we are human, and we deserve the same things you want.”

“The police, I can’t explain it, but they don’t like black people.”

“It ain’t got no future.”

“Nothing’s going to change, ’cause nobody cares.”

Unfortunately, conditions such as the few mentioned have contributed to demolish government help enabling people to believe such areas are beyond any genuine rehabilitation, deeming the area in the past too black and ghetto.

Poverty is so much more then people just making bad choices or the wrong decisions in life. The purpose of the rhetors with this medium explain how trauma that stems from poverty begin way before one can make their own choices in life.

Regardless, parents in 53206 want the same things as any other parent anywhere in the world wants. We want our children to be safe, happy and a better childhood than we had. Is there anything wrong with the hope that our children grow up without the worry of crime surrounding them or to be able to go through school without bullying? We all want hope for the future.

Whether we live in Milwaukee or not we can relate to the exigences mentioned in the life cycle of the Great Migration and African Americans in Milwaukee mentioned, you cannot deny the purpose. The effects of poverty have an impact with your entire life, from childhood on through your adult life and passed on through the next generations. We become our parents, our community, our surroundings. We are what we are familiar with whether it be hiding money for emergencies like those who lived through the Great Depression to as unknowingly as our dialect or accent we commonly use day to day. If raised in poverty the traumatic affects you would carry through life, even if you leave those surroundings, the effects remain.

For Milwaukee, the future needs to bring education on the history of the African American population. Milwaukee doesn’t give the same possibilities to the people in the now poverty areas affected by the industrial decline. Such possibilities as, public transportation to give access to jobs and convenience stores, such as Wal-Mart or even McDonalds. Overlooking the truth and ignorance of the past never helped humanity in the future.

Source Cites:

Barbara Miner, Milwaukee. (2015, Jan 28). A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206. 1/28/2015 https://www.milwaukeemag.com/milwaukee-zip-code-53206/

Reggie Jackson, Milwaukee Independent. (2019, Apr 19). REGGIE JACKSON: REMEMBERING A TIME WHEN 53206 WAS KNOWN AS A LOVING COMMUNITY TO GROW UP IN. 4/19/2019 http://www.milwaukeeindependent.com/featured/reggie-jackson-remembering-time-53206-known-loving-community-grow/

Dan Schneider, Dollars & Sense. (2015, Nov/Dec). The Worst Place in the US to Be Black Is... Wisconsin 11/2015 http://dollarsandsense.org/archives/2015/1115schneider.html

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tiesandtea · 4 years ago

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From School Bus To Tour Bus

Smash Hits, 31 July – 13 August 1996. Photo originally posted by @fuckyeahneilcodling-blog (x).

Ever imagined what it would be like to just leave school and become an international pop star? To travel the world in five-star style and score hit after hit with one of the most celebrated band of the 90s? Well, that's what happened to Suede's Richard Oakes and Neil Codling. One day, they were students; the next, top international celebs...

What would you be doing now if you weren't in Suede? Richard: I dread to think. Neil: I've got a degree to fall back on. I wouldn't advise people to leave in the middle of their exams. Richard: I would advise it, obviously.

Top Coakes banter. Also their only joint magazine interview to date as far as I know, aside from the one that was filmed for Disc 2 of Mike Christie’s documentary. Full interview under the cut. Transcript source.

It happened like this. In 1993, Brett, Bernard, Mat and Simon shot to fame as a four-piece. Then they lost guitarist Bernard Butler (who would go on to have hits with singer David McAlmont) in an acrimonious split in 1994, having finished their second album. The three remaining members advertised in newspapers for a new guitarist and plucked unknown 17 year-old Richard Oakes straight out of school as a replacement. Then, at the end of 1995, they added keyboardist/ singer Neil Codling (21, and also a student) to the line-up.

Here, Richard and Neil explain their incredible rise to fame...

How did you both end up in Suede? Richard: I auditioned after seeing an ad in the paper and joined just after Bernard left. We were days away from a UK tour, and within 30 seconds of me joining, it was in the newspapers. Neil: I signed up last November. Basically, I knew them through Simon, who's my cousin. They wanted a keyboard player who could sing.

What were you doing before that? Richard: I was in the middle of my A-Levels and dropped out. Neil: You rock'n'roll rebel! Erm, I was leaving university and about to make tea for a television company that makes documentaries about Tutankhamen and African squirrels... that kind of nonsense.

How did your parents and friends react? Richard: Great, it was such a golden opportunity. I'd have been stupid to turn it down and they knew that. Neil: My parents still don't know. They think I'm playing piano in a bar on a ferry that goes backwards to Oostende!

Is being a group what you've always wanted? Richard: Yeah. All any of us ever wanted was to have a career in music. Neil: I quite fancied being a government-sponsored layabout!

How hard has it been adjusting to the life of a pop star? Richard: It took a while to take used to things like interviews. Neil: Yeah, this is my first ever interview - I'm sweating!

Were you Suede fans when you joined? Richard: They weren't my favourites, but I really liked them. I saw them live in 1993 - it was my first ever gig. A year later, I was in the group. Weird! Neil: I change like the wind - I like different things each week.

Have you got used to being stars yet? Richard: No, it's very new. Neil: I've only done three gigs - the first was a fan club gig in front of 800 people, the last one was 40.000!

Have you been able to write songs for the band? Richard: Well, the writing's shared on the new album. Neil: It's good - we're all in this album, hammer and tongs. I play the hammer and Richard plays the tongs!

How's the cash as band juniors? Neil: It's OK. You get to come back from abroad with loads of foreign change in your pocket. Richard: My wallet was stolen last week. Neil: You left it on the tour bus! Richard: No, it was stolen. It wasn't my fault. There were at least a couple of five peseta pieces in there.

Is there anything about being in a band that you don't like? Neil: Of course there is, but you put up with them because they get you the important bits, like being admired by thousand of screaming girls! Richard: The things that annoy you are things you can't complain about, like getting up early.

Do you like being recognised? Richard: Yeah, in London people tend to stare and wonder 'Is that him?' Whereas Neil can't go on the tube anymore, people just bite bits out of him. It really annoys me when people complain me about that, though. Neil: Unless it's like a stalker with a machete.

What's been your strangest experience? Richard: I woke up and found a dead rat in my bed one morning. Neil: That was awful! Richard: Yeah, and I didn't even know its name. I said, 'Go home, I don't love you!' A one-night stand with a dirty rat...

#richard oakes #neil codling #suede #smash hits #smash hits july august 1996 #coming up era #coming up month #original Codtent #mine*

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yonymii · 4 years ago

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the spotlight suits you

a/n: ok uhh if you don’t think you’re a good singer then plz pretend you are for this <3 thank u 💖 also this is incredibly self-indulgent so the reader’s personality and talents mirror my own a lot lmao im sorry

the song i imagined the reader singing was my favourite song ‘maybe it’s not our fault’ by yerin baek.

warnings: brief mentions of death (from natural causes),

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x gn!musician!reader

the moment the warm yellow lights of the stage hit your face, the erratic beating of your heart slowed and you were no longer dizzy. the stage felt like home to you, when everyone could see you and when you knew they were their to hear you, to hear your music. the prospect of people enjoying your songs filled your heart with joy, and your smile grew a little at the thought.

the mic was sat on top of two pieces of duct tape that had been stuck down in an ‘x’ shape, marking the center of the stage. your shoes clicked against the wood as you appraoched it, hands clenched into fists in anticipation.

because of the spotlights, the faces of your audience were barely recognisable. you assumed that a few of your old classmates would be there, though, because you knew they’d always frequented this place. before you moved to miyagi from tokyo, you’d attended fururodani high and had been good friends with akaashi keiji, the setter and vice-captain of the school’s volleyball team. you had been classmates since middle school and had similar interests, so it was only natural you were a good match for each other.

but after your grandmother who you’d been living with ever since your single mother died passed, you had to move to miyagi prefecture to live with your uncle and cousins. as much as you were fond of the small family, you felt as if you weren’t valued and often holed yourself up in your room due to grief over your grandma.

while you were in your room, you’d practiced piano over and over until your fingers ached from all the playing and there were blisters on the sides of your thumbs. you’d written notebooks full of songs and on the wall next to your single bed there was a corkboard completely covered over in sheet music and lyrics so you couldn’t see the brown material underneath it. as much as you’d always loved music, (you’d played piano since you were a small child), you never really wrote that many songs; the overwhelming emotions of losing someone important to you changed that in the blink of an eye.

when you left tokyo, you didn’t say anything to akaashi. you were second years in high school at the time, and the bus had actually stopped outside of your school on the way to miyagi. from where it had pulled over, you could see into the gym, where keiji was setting a volleyball for bokuto, the captain of the team. you’d nearly burst into tears at the sight of him. how could you possibly lose the two most important figures in your life in the span of a few days and not be sad?

of course you had his number and social media, but in a blind fit of rage after being scolded by your aunt for shouting at her baby and then bursting into tears from the overflowing sadness at your situation, you’d thrown your already failing phone at the wall and it had shattered; you’d been sent to your bedroom for the remainder of the night for causing a mess and upsetting the six-month-old child sat by you, and you’d just sat at the keyboard your grandmother had bought you that year as a birthday gift and played and played until the early hours of the morning, hot tears spilling over your waterline and making it hard to read the music. it was a beautiful instrument; the keys were weighted and touch-sensetive like a real piano and it was glossy black. there were few buttons thankfully, headphones for privacy, and the pedals underneath it were golden. it was one of your prized possesions. you didn’t let anyone touch it.

the moment your pre-recorded backing track started up, all eyes were on you; the notes and effects all melted together and your voice sounded like honey; it was sweet and the lyrics were surpisingly sad for the tone of the music but it was still lovely to listen to. akaashi was hooked before he even realised it was you.

but when he did he couldn’t take his eyes off of you; in terms of your appearance, you’d matured a lot. seeing you back in tokyo after 5 years was suprising, but he’d known about your love of music. he just didn’t know you’d gone far enough to get a gig at somewhere as popular as this place.

you, on the other hand, couldn’t see akaashi. the audience was audibly singing along by the second chorus, and when you finished the song, the applause was loud. you sang four songs, each one a little more enthusiastically performed than the others until it was your queue to leave the stage and go home to your small apartment in the center of tokyo to prepare for the gig you had at a bar the next night. you bowed, waving happily at the audience despite not being able to see them clearly, and departed, skipping down the wooden stairs and humming your opening song quietly since your voice needed to re-generate for your next performance.

someone tapped your shoulder and pointed to the door where a man stood facing the other way. to you, he looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put finger on who he was exactly. the staff member smiled at you as you wandered over towards the man and went the other direction, ushering the next act onto the stage. the back door was open and there was a cool breeze flowing through the room, momentary twangs of guitars and basses breaking the silence until the faint music of the band currently performing started up.

“uhhh..” you said, tapping your foot nervously on the ground. he didn’t seem to hear you so yout tapped him lightly; the red, white and blue turtleneck he was wearing was underneath a plain suit jacket and he had on black dress pants and a brown belt. he was tall, around six feet, and his phone was held loosely in his hand. the only light near you was the full moon, the nearest unnatural source was a table lamp on a white desk in the corner of the room, though he was stood just outside the door, basking in the light of the cosmos which were unusually bright for a city.

“hello?” you spoke again, this time a little louder. he turned and looked at you, eyes sparkling. you didn’t know whether it was the reflection of light or whether there were stars in his eyes, but it was stunning nonetheless. you saw he was wearing glasses, but his face was unmistakeably keiji’s. you stuttered when he sent a tiny smile at you, reaching out slowly as if asking for permission to touch you (which you of course granted). his arms wrapped around your torso and he spoke quietly to you, breathing softly in your ear.

“you were amazing tonight, y/n. the spotlight really suits you.”

the sentence made you blush a little but you managed to get over your nerves and look him in the eyes. at this point you were both tearing up but you couldn’t let any tears fall in front of him. you tried to speak but your voice came out strangled and hoarse. he rubbed your arm, silently telling you to take your time.

“i’m sorry,” you spoke softly into the night, not looking at the man anymore. it hurt, looking at him, the sad guise on his face broke your heart and you could almost hear his shatter when a tear broke free of its prison and rolled down your cheek. you looked at your feet and gasped when he pulled you into him; his heartbeat was comforting and you breathing slowed.

“i understand. it hurt, but it hurt you too, right? you loved her a lot. it was too much for you, and sometimes people need breaks. even long ones, okay?”

you nodded, clinging to the back of his jacket. it was almost as if akaashi wasn’t really there; it felt so surreal, holding him like this. when he spoke again, you felt yourself hold him tighter, if it was possible.

“maybe we should start over, y/n. i want to get to know you again,”

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sunsetcurbed · 4 years ago

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you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 4,415 Rating: T Chapter Warnings: BRIEF mention of animal death, only a sentence in passing. Chapter: 2/11 read on AO3

Chapter Summary: "Then you would be Alexander Charles Taylor Mercer, Prince of Beasiga."

Alex bobs his head some more. "Yup. Exactly. That. So I'm pretty sure you've got it wrong, at least the father part."

His grandmother—maybe not?—laughs lightly and shakes her head. "I'm quite sure, Alexander. You have your father's eyes."

(2)

The rest of the school day passes uneventfully—just Julie and Alex getting some homework done early while discussing possibilities for their next gigs, that is, the ones they'll play after their Halloween gig at Drake's and their gig at Camelot just two weeks after that. Just as Alex finishes his biology worksheet, the final bell rings signaling the end of the school day. Footsteps thunder throughout the school as students hurried to lockers, and then to busses and cars, but Alex waits patiently at the table with Julie. She frowns at this. "Don't you have to catch your bus?"

"Not today. I'm getting picked up," Alex explains. "But I told them three so all the busses would be gone by then."

Luke joins them then, moving immediately over to Julie to press a kiss to her cheek sloppily, yelling, "midterms are done!"

She laughs, and pats his chest. "Yes, they are. Congratulations."

"Thank you, you too. And Alex! You did i—"

"No," Alex and Julie say at the same time.

Luke frowns and looks between then. Julie glances up at him. "I'll explain on the way home. Alex, do you want us to wait with you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine. You two get home. It's been a long week."

"Definitely," Luke agrees. "We'll see you tomorrow at practice."

Alex nods, and then the two of them take their leave. Settling back down at the table, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and messes around on it until he glances up in the right hand corner and sees it's two minutes to three. He gets up and makes his way outside, relieved to see that he was right about his timing—the busses and the majority of the student traffic are all gone, so whoever is picking him up should have no issue.

He's been standing along the sidewalk for less than three minutes when a polished black limo pulls into the parking lot—purple, gold, and grey flags sticking out of the front and back of the car. He raises an eyebrow as it drives into the student pick up area, and then looks around for whoever it might be here for. In the back of his head, he knows there's a possibility…

There's a girl walking out of the school with her head down, looking at her phone and he really, really hopes—

"Mr. Taylor?"

Shit.

He turns to the voice and sees the driver of the limo out of the limo out at the back door, holding the back door open for him. "If you may."

"Uh, thanks."

It's an awkward ride over—the partition is up so he doesn't get the chance to speak with the driver like he'd (maybe) hoped to, and his phone can only keep his mind so occupied when he's riding in the back of a limo. It's not like he'd about to post this on social media or text his friends about it, anyways. So he's left mindlessly scrolling through instagram, which is boring after a while. He shuts his phone screen off and leans his head back against the headrest. He has no idea where his grandmother is even staying during her visit to LA. It could be a while.

Sooner than he expects though, they're pulling into a drive way for a… a… house? mansion? palace? castle? Alex honestly isn't sure. None of the words feel right. He looks at the surroundings. Whatever it is, it feels out of place here. It's on a normal street, with normal houses and buildings next to it—normal houses that are towered by its reaching gates and normal buildings that are put to shame by its elegant architecture. He sits up and collects his bag that some how drifted to the middle of the limo during the ride and opens the door, slamming it into the driver, who was just about to open the door for him, in the process. Alex gasps. "Oh, my god, I am so sorry!"

"No worries, sir," the driver nods, stepping further back from the door, allowing Alex to push it further open so he can step out.

From there, he makes his way to the front door where he and his backpack are patted down. When they're given the all clear, he's ushered through marble tiled hallways, past a wooden floor library, until they reach a living room with a plush, golden carpet. Alex feels like he should take his shoes off but the person leading him doesn't take theirs off, and doesn't ask him to take his off, so… Alex's shoes stay on.

"Please, have a seat," the man says with a motion at the overly white couch to Alex's left. Alex sits carefully on the couch, resting his bag next to his feet between the table and the couch. He looks back up at the man who is still standing in the entryway. "I am Alden, an attaché for Beasiga."

"Cool," Alex nods. He has no idea what that means. He'll Google it later. "Hey, uh, Alden? What is this place?"

Alden reaches an arm out and gestures around, which Alex thinks is a little unnecessary, but. Well. "This is the Beasiga Consulate."

"Oh," Alex frowns. That, he does know. Well, sort of. He knows it's something similar to an embassy, and he knows an embassy is for diplomats. So—his grandmother must be a diplomat. Meaning she must take much pride in Beasiga meanwhile Alex couldn't even remember the name of the country until Alden said it a minute ago. He certainly wasn't going to know any pub trivia about Beasiga to impress her.

"So—my grandmother… is she—"

"Am I what?"

Alex's neck cricks at how fast he whips it around to find the source of the new voice. At the other entrance of the living room stands an elderly woman in a grey dress that is both simple and elegant. He can see from looking at her from where he's sitting that she's much shorter than Alex, but the way she holds herself makes you doubt that. Most importantly, she has a wide, toothy grin on her face that makes Alex relax into the couch. She looks so genuinely welcoming that he can't help but forget about his worries about Beasiga and pub trivia.

"Alexander," she says. Somehow, it sounds like she's singing and commanding it both at once.

Alex stands from his seat and crosses the room to her. "It's nice to finally meet you," he greets. He's not sure if he should go for a handshake or a hug, but she solves his issues by stepping into his space and reaching up to hug his neck. He leans down and hugs back.

"It's long overdue," she tells him as she steps back. "Now come, sit with me, please. We have much to catch up on, yes?"

For the next while they talk about Alex's life and somehow he doesn't feel overwhelmed about it. He tells her about growing up in Los Angeles, about meeting Luke and Reggie in kindergarten, and then Julie and Flynn in seventh grade. He tells her about forming their band in eighth grade and then about befriending Willie in ninth grade. He goes on to talk about his siblings—Ava and Austin—that his mom has with his step dad, and then his love of English and reading and his inability of all things technological. They some how end up on the topic of his dancing, and he explains that he doesn't dance often, but he loves when he gets to.

Conversation shifts at some point to her life in Beasiga, though she is much more vague than Alex would like her to be. She tells him about her dogs (two Dobermans, Mia and Sophia) and her horses, an entire stable full. They talk about his dad for a while—just superficial things for now, like the fact that he'd never gotten remarried or had another child, and like the fact that his favorite horse was named Charlie, for Alex's middle name. She speaks briefly of her work with the government, just small asides here and there about projects they're working on, and countries they're working with. There's a lot of history that she brings up, but she never seems upset when he doesn't understand her references, at least, not until…

"I don't suppose you've heard of Frederick Alexander Louis Mercer?" his grandmother asks with a deep frown, crossing her ankle behind her other foot carefully.

He frowns. Here's that pub trivia he doesn't know. "No, I can't say I have."

"Frederick was Beasiga's crown prince," she tells him with a meaningful look, which he doesn't understand. She leans forward. "And Frederick was your father."

Alex's mind blanks. "That's… okay," he says, bobbing his head in a quick nod as he presses his lips together and bites the insides of them, trying to will some thoughts back into his mind. "I don't think—I'm not sure you're quite right on that. Because if you were, then—"

"Then you would be Alexander Charles Taylor Mercer, Prince of Beasiga."

Alex bobs his head some more. "Yup. Exactly. That. So I'm pretty sure you've got it wrong, at least the father part."

His grandmother—maybe not?—laughs lightly and shakes her head. "I'm quite sure, Alexander. You have your father's eyes."

"Lots of people have similar features, I mean, only so much diversity can realistically be expected, honestly," Alex rambles. He thinks it makes sense. He's like. 60% sure it makes sense.

"A paternity test was done because of your heritage."

Alex sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Yeah, that one's a little harder to contest."

His grandmother—apparently definitely—smiles at him like he's not making a fool of himself right now. She reaches across the gap between the chair and the couch and places her hand on his. "I am Queen Louisa Mercer, and you, Alexander, are the natural heir to the Beasiga throne."

"… okay."

"Okay?" his grandmother repeats, quirking an elegant eyebrow and drawing her hand back.

Alex shakes his head, getting himself back into it. "I mean—I—uh. Actually, I'm not… really sure what I mean. I… you know I can't be a prince, right? Being a prince means eventually being a king, well, at least in this case it would I think, and being a king means ruling a country and ruling a country means leading people and the only thing I can lead is a beat when I'm with my band. I mean you do realize I have absolutely no experience with… princely or… royal affairs, right? I wouldn't know how to act, or talk, or… no, no. I'm not a prince."

"But you are, dear Alexander," she smiles, "and don't worry about how you speak or behave for now, we have plenty of lessons planned to help with that. Oh, it will take plenty of work but you are certain to become a magnificent prince, how could you not? And oh, you'll love Beasiga, the palace is a beautiful place to live—"

"I'm sorry," Alex cuts her off, "but LA is also a 'beautiful' place to live, with my friends, with the added bonus that it comes without the crushing pressure of ruling a country. And you're speaking as if you know me. You're certain I'll become a magnificent prince? How? Did you get to know me so well in the first year of my life? Because you missed the next fifteen years of my life and if you were to ask around, people who actually know me would laugh at the idea of me ruling a country. Like I said, I'm not a prince. I'm barely even a functioning human."

Without waiting for a response (though he hears her vehement protests), he gathers up his backpack and shoves himself off the couch and hurries through the halls to the front door. He doesn't wait for the doorman to open the door, instead flings it open himself in his rush to get out, out, out.

From there, it's a matter of running down the drive way, out the gate, and as far away from the house (mansion? palace? castle?) as he can before he collapses to the ground and curls in on himself, breaths coming and going raggedly. He pulls out his phone and swipes through his contacts, looking for the least stressful person he can think of. He taps the name and listens to the phone ringing, hugging his knees to his chest as he counts his breaths, in—2, 3, 4. Hold—2, 3, 4, 5, 6—

"Alex?"

"Julie," he exhales, a second too early, but he thinks Julie is more likely to help him now than a breathing exercise. "Julie," he repeats.

"Alex? Shit—what happened?"

Alex laughs mirthlessly. "Oh. So, so much, Jules. I can't even begin… I can't… I don't—It's all—"

"Okay, we don't need to talk about it then," Julie says. "Hey, is anyone with you? Can you tell me where you are? Just—I need to know you're safe." Alex looks up and finds the intersection he's near and rattles it off to her. She's quiet for a moment. "Thank you," she murmurs. "Do you need to do a grounding exercise or do you just need someone to talk to?"

"Just need someone to talk to," Alex says, dropping his head so his forehead is resting on his knees. "I—as much as I'm freaking out, I still feel like everything that happened was a joke or something? So there's anxiety, and it's bad, but it's not… it's not debilitating yet."

"That's good," she says, and Alex can imagine her nodding with her words. "Do you… do you want to talk about what happened? We don't—oh, wait. Willie just texted me back, I texted the group with where you were and he's ten minutes out. He's going to pick you up."

"Oh."

"Do you want me to tell him not to?"

"Uh—no, it's. It's fine." He looks back down the street in the direction that he came from—where his grandmother was currently staying. He's actually surprised no one had chased after him, but he supposes that it's not urgent as they have ways to find and approach him later. He huffs at that, right into the phone, reigniting Julie's worry. "No, no, I'm fine," he reassures her when she asks again if he wants her to call Willie off. "It's not that. It's… I… don't know. It's been a long day, Jules."

"I'm sorry," she says, and she's so sincere that her apology alone makes him feel a little bit better. He smiles, and feels his breathing even out a little bit. "I'm going to stay on the phone with you until Willie gets to you, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Alex nods. He searches his brain for anything that could possibly take his mind off of what just happened. He's not surprised when his thoughts land on music. "Did you and Luke figure out the second verse of Finally Free yet?"

"Oh, my gosh! Yes! I can't believe we forgot to tell you today! We cracked it last night…"

He listens to her babble on excitedly about their new song for the next few minutes until he hears the crunching of tires on pavement. He looks down the street and sees Willie's forest green '02 Accord—completely out of place in this neighborhood—pulling up and smiles. He interrupts Julie in the middle of her sentence, which he knows she forgives him for the exact moment it happens, and thanks her for talking with him and for sending Willie. She bids him goodbye and he pushes himself off the ground and grabs his backpack once he's on his feet. Willie rolls to a stop when he's in front of Alex and Alex can hear the click of the doors unlocking. He looks in the car and sees Willie flash his eyebrows up and down quickly and grin. He smiles back and gets in the car, setting his bag at his feet before buckling himself in.

"Thank you," Alex says in greeting.

"You know I'd do anything for you," Willie shrugs, looking back at the road as he shifts the car into drive. "I was just driving around listening to music anyways."

"Still, I appreciate it. I would have had to call my mom otherwise and I don't really want to speak to her right now."

Willie laughs. "What? You came all the way out here with no way of getting back? And what'd your mom do?"

"Oh, no, someone from… someone was supposed to drive me back but—well. Uh. Anyway. And my mom—she. Let's just say she hasn't exactly been honest with me." Alex fiddles with the ripped threads on the knee of his jeans and tries to ignore the looks he can feel Willie throwing at him every few seconds.

"Hasn't been honest in what way?"

Alex hesitates. On one hand, he really doesn't want to talk about this. It is an especially bad idea to talk about this to Willie because he doesn't want to tell his crush that he's a prince, where it might seem like he's trying to make himself seem impressive for his crush, which he certainly does not want to do. Then again, Willie would have to assume Alex has a crush on him to jump to that conclusion and if Willie assumes Alex has a crush on him, Alex has bigger problems. However, if there's anyone to tell, it would be Willie. Sure, Julie might be the obvious choice, but she'd push him to be honest with Luke and Reggie as well, which he… doesn't want to do. He's not sure if they'd resort to teasing him about it or ending up weird about it, and right now, he doesn't want to deal with either of those things. Willie though. Willie can keep a secret like no one's business. Julie still doesn't know that Alex's little sister accidentally killed her hamster when Julie asked Alex to watch her while Julie's family went on vacation over spring break in the ninth grade. Alex called Willie in a panic and Willie drove him to seven different pet stores until they found an identical hamster with a similar temperament. So, Willie could be trusted.

The question is, though, did Alex want to tell him? To a degree, yes, because this was Willie and despite being scared of saying things that would embarrass himself, Willie always made him feel safe and he wanted to share things with Willie. But also, telling Willie would make it more real. Telling Willie would bring it out from his grandmother's house (mansion? palace? castle?) and into the real world and Willie knowing about it would make it more personal. Right now, the further Willie drove from Alex's grandmother's house (mansion? palace? castle?), the further the anxiety got from him. He worries that if he tells Willie, that anxiety will come back.

But the anxiety will come back anyways, won't it? It's not likely that that's the last he's seen of her and her… crew? And he's going to have to face his mom too, who must know exactly what was happening today. So, maybe it would be nice to have someone on the outside to talk about it with… right?

Alright, so that's decided. He's going to tell Willie.

Alex sucks in a deep breath and it wavers. He goes to speak, but instead, he just lets out a small whimper instead. Willie looks to him, alarmed, and then back to the road. Alex hears the turn signal tick, tick, tocking, and then the car is turning, and then stopping. Willie puts the car in park and twists in his seat to face Alex. "Hey, Alex," he says, reaching a hand over to grab Alex's left hand off his thigh. "Can you look at me?"

Alex looks at him.

"Cool, thanks. You having an attack?"

Alex blinks. Willie is still in focus, and he can feel Willie's hand in his, can feel Willie's thumb rubbing against the back of his hand, can hear the traffic on the streets rather than the blood rushing in his head. He shakes his head no.

"Great. That's great. Do you want to talk about what happened today, or do you wanna go watch me crash and fall off my skateboard at the park while I try and do some gazelle flips?"

Alex laughs and draws in a steadying breath. It's still shaky, but less so. "I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, okay? We've got all the time in the world, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Willie smiles and squeezes his hand. Alex smiles back, but he doubts it comes out looking much like a smile. He looks away and looks out the front window of the car. They're in a drug store parking lot, parked far off to the side away from the clump of all the actual customers' and employees' cars. It gives them some semblance of privacy, yet it also draws attention to them by making them separate. Alex wonders if somehow, him now knowing he's a prince, if he's also somehow separate from everyone else. If something about him has changed, and people's eyes are going to be drawn to him the way they are to a car parked away from the others in a crowded parking lot. On some level, he knows that's ridiculous. Nothing about him has changed. Hell, he hasn't even fully processed or accepted this fact. And yet his world still feels fundamentally altered and he thinks that, somehow, everyone will be able to see that on him somehow.

"Two days ago my mom told me my grandmother was in town and wanted to meet with me," Alex starts, not giving himself any more time to think. He's staring at a license plate number but even looking directly at it he couldn't tell you what it was. "It—well, my paternal grandmother. I know you know that Mike is my step-dad but when I was a year and a half my biological dad and my mom got divorced and I never heard from him, or my paternal grandparents, again apart from the yearly birthday and Christmas gifts. And you might remember I got the news that my biological dad passed away at the end of July." Here, Willie hums. "I thought, maybe my grandmother wants to connect with her only remaining family. That's how it started out, too. It really seemed like that was her intention.

"But then she asked about—fuck, I can't even remember his full name. But she asked me about the prince of Beasiga. The prince of Beasiga, who was my father." Willie's thumb stops rubbing Alex's hand but Alex doesn't let that stop him. "Now, she mentioned earlier in the conversation that my father never remarried, that I was his only child, that he was her only child, so that made… so I'm a prince? Of Beasiga. And the natural heir. And she wants me to take prince lessons so I can one day become king and rule Beasiga, which I doubt she'd think would be a good idea if she could see me now. Sure, give the kid with panic attacks an army!"

It was quiet for a long moment and then Willie squeezes his hand. "Beasiga doesn't have an army. They only have a national guard." Alex snaps his head around to look at him. "I did a project on the country in tenth grade world history."

"See?!" Alex cries. "You know more about this country than I do! And they expect me to lead it?!"

Willie frowns. "Well, they'd give you lessons—"

"You—what you think I should go lead this country?" Alex gapes.

"Wha—n-no! I just meant that if you took those lessons you'd learn what I had learned. They wouldn't send you in empty handed," he says, and Alex notices Willie's thumb has started rubbing circles on the back of Alex's hand again. He feels some tension seep out of his body and he relaxes back into the car's seat and closes his eyes.

Alex sighs and brings his right hand up, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids until he starts to see white. "My mom… She never told me. Sixteen years. Even after he died and she probably knew there was a possibility of this happening. How is that fair? I deserved to know about this."

"You did," Willie agrees.

The car grows silent after that. Only the noise of the stalled engine fills the air. Alex brings his hand away from his face and looks over to Willie, who is watching him with warm eyes. The weight of Willie's hand in his is comforting, enough that Alex has the split second thought of leaning over the gearshift and kissing his friend. That thought is shoved out of his mind as soon as it comes. His friendship with Willie is something he's never willing to risk. Well, 'risk' implies there's a chance that Willie might return his feelings, which Alex is sure he doesn't. Kissing Willie would be purely self-indulgent and Alex can't do that. It'd be nice, but—

"You're taking all of this very well," Alex says, breaking the silence of the car while also silencing his thoughts. "What are you actually thinking?"

Willie grins and squeezes Alex's hand. "Oh, yeah. Very well. My best friend is a long lost prince, I'm not freaking out at all," Willie rolls his eyes. "I'm… thinking that I've always thought you were regal, so this—"

"Oh, come on," Alex rolls his eyes.

Willie leans back laughing, eyes crinkling at the edges and Alex's stomach flips. After a few seconds Willie sobers up and his laughter subdues into a soft smile. He sends a wave through his arm, shaking Alex's in turn. "I'm thinking that this is a stressful situation but that you're gonna get through it. And that I'm gonna be here for you, okay?"

Alex squeezes Willie's fingers. "Okay."

Willie slips his hand from Alex's and readjusts in his seat so he's sitting facing forward again. His hand falls on to the gearshift. "I think you've had enough for one day, huh? Wanna go get tea?"

"Fucking please."

#willex fic #willex #willex fanfic #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #ysmfinb #my writing

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steve0discusses · 4 years ago

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The Live Action Fullmetal Alchemist Movie Part 6: Let’s Kill Hughes

Hey guys, I’ve been having some issues with the blog not...updating my drafts. So in case you’re wondering, that’s where I disappeared to. Give a round of applause to the support team for finding a solution until it gets fixed but as of right now I’m on like a private window with my extensions turned off and writing this from both tumblr and a LibreOffice document. Hello ads, nice to see you back.

Last we left off, we were a hop and skip away to lab 5. In the anime, this was a sequence where there was a bunch of fighting with suits of armor, and they kept that in this movie, but...not the people you think would be fighting are going to be fighting.

Listen I’m not like super knowledgeable about the world of Matte painting, but I like that they’ve unintentionally made this world building where whoever is in charge of making these red bricks basically owns everyone’s nuts. Everything is made out of the same red bricks. Like I know this is a show about homunculi ruling the world but I feel like the red brick guy is hellllllla more egregious. Freakin Monsanto over here.

I assume they had a 3d model and was like “we can just keep using it” and damn, they sure did. And inside of this brick building is, unsurprisingly a lot more red brick (although I think this is partially, if not entirely, an actual real life set.)

This next part is...such a lesson in pacing. Not necessarily a lesson to follow, but definitely a lesson to learn from maybe their non-example.

(watch Hughes die under the cut)

And what’s interesting is that there were a lot of good lines in this upcoming segment. There were a lot of good moments—bu there’s just so many. Maybe too many. You gotta prune your script occasionally, it’s like a tomato plant.

Like I’ve been doing a stress garden to cope with quarantine and Covid and 3+ months of life endangering wildfires, and I learned that you gotta prune the sucker vines off your tomatoes, although sucker vines can also make tomatoes. It sucks to do because I love tomatoes, and I want as many tomatoes as possible, but when you prune the plant, you get bigger better tomatoes that are more worthwhile than the suckers that can infect your plant and make it really sick.

Sorry that made me sound like 5000 years old with that gardening analogy. If you need me to solve your small town murder mysteries, I’m ready.

So it’s like...kind of tragic that it came together as kind of nonsensical when you can tell that it’s so close to being something better.

Like we have some reason up to this point to believe that Ed would have a freak out here...but like...a sobbing on the floor screaming at the walls type of freak out? Was there enough time devoted to this blow up, or did he walk into this room and immediately start screaming? Because he sure did walk immediately into this room and start screeching like a broken bird.

Like last recap, which was about 2 minutes ago in screentime, was this fun and quirky montage with Hughes. Now we’re sobbing into this rusty factory.

And I know what’s going on because I’ve seen the anime, but if you haven’t seen it—would this emotional break down make any sense? We were told by Dr Marcoh, “check out lab 5,” but we were only going to this factory on kind of a wish and a prayer. I really wonder if people who don’t know this show could follow past this point.

And then while we’re still adjusting to “yo, Ed just took it from a 2 to a 10 like immediately” Al is like “Hey I noticed no one is paying attention to me, and I have to lay a wicked fart:”

and then both brother’s just have a freak out. Gotta all be freaking out in this random ass Unity asset that was probably also used for some college grad’s first battle royale.

Pacing is just everything. And what’s SO HARD about Full Metal Alchemist is that there really is a lot of content to cover, there’s a lot of emotions to go through, and when you only have about 7 minutes to cover what was about 3-4 episodes, if I remember correctly, it’s kind of a zany mess.

And if you were going into this movie hoping they wouldn’t illustrate Al as a large idiot baby, then you share the sentiments of most people who saw this movie. Al is like...kind of reduced to a whiny big baby and is...not cute. Like Al is low key kind of menacing throughout this movie, not just because he has this CGI armor thing going on, but also because Al is...so impressionable and unhinged.

Something that I didn’t appreciate enough when I watched the anime was just how important Barry the Chopper was for Al’s logical character development.

Yo...These bangs…

...I’ve realized that every show I recap here just has the worst hair styles. I honestly never thought much about hair at all until I watched like 200 hours of Yugioh and all of this movie and also 6 seasons of Once Upon a Time which featured some LOOKS (but only recapped like 3 episodes, sorry if I got some of y’all excited. That was when we had no reason to cap everything because the capping community for Once was very alive and very exciting.)

By hitting him with a wrench (Al does not feel pain, ps, so he doesn’t need to be hunched over like this) Winry reminds Al that Ed would not risk his life for a fake brother (which may be a line from the anime or the manga but I don’t remember) and crying just...a lot.

Like it felt as if she had to shoot all of this out of order. Same with Ed’s freak out here. Movie’s aren’t really shot in succession and it’s up to the director to make it feel coherent and logical...this felt scattered, like the actors really didn’t know what was happening in the scenes leading up to it so they just cranked it to 11.

And then I guess Ed was either so insulted that Al punched him or was so upset that Al made Winry cry (again, this movie really tries to sell the EdxWinry ship and from me that’s a really big compliment), that Ed just started laying punches to extend a fight scene that was kind over before it started.

But symbolically there is a lot nice things going on here, Ed only uses his fleshy hand so he bleeds all over Al, hurting himself as much he’s hurting his brother. Implying more than just this fight, but suggesting that their whole journey of trying to find this sorcerer’s stone is just going to hurt both of them in their quest to save the other.

And then Al says something along the line of “it hurts!” to infer that he’s got this broken heart which is when they both finally just freakin stop.

Such a shame the pacing, which was a mix of too quick, and too many tomatoes, kind of made it hella blindsiding.

Again this was so many episodes of FMA and they stuffed it into so few minutes, it’s wild.

Especially since Ed is like...he’s cast as an adult! He’s an adult! At no point in the movie so far have they called him a kid, and they’re not pretending that he is one. But like...he acts like such a child because in the original, he was one. And, while this movie steps so far away from the source material, if should have committed and either stepped completely away or committed completely. Of course “should” is one of those things where we’ll just never know. A wish into the ether of hindsight being 20/20.

But lets get to the thing that you all came here for. This is where this movie gets BONKERS:

So Hughes actually draws out a pentagram between the different places in Armestrias, including Ishvaal, leading us to think that he’s figured out the whole dealio of turning the country into an alchemy circle. But, for some reason only helps him find the real lab 5.

It didn’t...that’s a different thing.

And it has been a long time since I’ve seen the ending of this movie—and maybe it was so offhand that I forgot if they actually do bring up turning the country into an alchemy circle--watch me eat my words, it could happen—but yo, we are finally killing Hughes—but we’re over halfway through this movie. And you may wonder...so uh...what...then what could possibly happen? There’s too much anime left!

Now I’m glad they kept this scene really close to the anime, although I haven’t watched the anime in a hot minute. It’s kind of an iconic scene so you don’t forget.

Like I do genuinely enjoy the campy parts where they were bringing up some of my favorite nostalgia of the original.

and then when you are like “ah, this is exactly the same as the anime. I can relax and watch as all my expectations are fully realized.” This twist happens.

YAH.

It’s a change!

So in the anime we had a really fun arc where we were trying to save Lieutenant Ross for being framed for killing Hughes. It’s probably my favorite part of Full Metal Alchemist, actually, it was so clever and a really thrilling chase. It was also like...half of season one.

Anyway, they cut it. They reduced half a season into 7 minutes. I know that, because each of these recaps is about 15 minutes of the movie.

You may look at this recap and be like “wait...this all happened in 15 minutes??” because yeah, this all happened in 15 minutes.

The same squad of people we see in every single scene of soldiers comes up to arrest Ed, which is weird, because I thought this band of soldiers was the military under Cl. Mustang’s command so like…shouldn’t they be arresting themselves? Mustang was over the command of more than 2 people. If we are suspicious of Mustang’s buddies then everyone in this movie would be in trouble.

And that’s when I realized that these guys were just unnamed soldiers and not a part of Mustang’s band. They only had like this many extras and just hoped we wouldn’t keep track of who is who, but I KNOW I’ve seen these guys this whole time. There are only like 6 people in this army. I see you movie magic—I see what you’re trying to do.

Anyway, Ed gets thrown into an old timey opera house that occasionally gets to be used for Middle School graduations. Or maybe also a mortuary where they charge you for funerals.

Like I know it’s supposed to be the capital building but like...this looks so weird when it’s live action. I remember the anime had this kinda feel to it but in live action it’s like…

...this is a weird ass capital building…Why do they have curtains like a Granny Holiday Inn in Reno, Nevada?

Thankfully, Hawkeye is here to explain to Ed what just happened because we, the movie viewers, were kind of surprised by that plot twist.

Like there were many ways you can condense half a season into 15 minutes, and I dunno if I would have just changed the murderer. It is a solution you can do. You can just point blame on Mustang and skip that whole Ross segment but like….

…then why write the movie?

Obviously, they had to make the movie, it had already been funded, people were really excited about the idea, and I do not envy the people that had to hack and slash with the Full Metal Alchemist script, but it is interesting what they decided was important to the original content, and what was unimportant. All that stuff that showed how Mustang was brilliant and two steps ahead of everyone else? Unimportant. All that stuff we had that showed how Mustang cares a lot about protecting other people and also cares about Ed and Al? Unimportant.

It really changes the dynamic, and it’s kind of fascinating to go into this cold because it’s been like...a year for me since I’ve watched it...and just see how different everything is without all those supporting characters that when I watched the anime I just assumed were mostly useless (Though fun). Turns out they all had a pretty significant part of making me care about Ed, about Mustang, about Al, about all my main characters.

FMA is very character driven, and this movie is mostly just...plot driven. There’s kind of a great debate in literature about plot driven vs character driven. Movies and TV tend to be very plot driven, because they are very expensive to make, so they follow pre-formatted plot beats like “Save the Cat” or “The Heroes Journey” and other ones (there’s several to choose from).

They’ve made a fine science out of at what point a TV show should introduce the main, at what point they should suffer doubt, at what point they should shun their hero’s journey, etc etc. They know it down to the page number of the scripts they are writing. I know this, because it’s readily available on the internet and people fight about it all the time. This is why a show may suffer developing a character—because they just don’t have time and they just don’t have the resources to do something out of the box. Movies doubly so, because every minute of film can cost thousands of dollars.

What’s interesting about this is that FMA, the original FMA, does follow these beats. It was a manga sold by a huge publisher so it had to follow those beats. But, it has managed to do it while still being character driven. Yo, that’s so hard to do. This story was already written to be hyper condensed and structured when it was made into a Manga, and then it was condensed again for an anime, and then it was condensed yet again for this movie. It’s like a game of telephone, and at one end you have a very character driven story, and then at the other, it’s just totally plot.

Like it’s just a really huge risk to take. This was really, really risky.

PS did you miss Shou? Did you think we’d be done with Shou Tucker? No. Because this movie is gonna end at some point and rather than introduce other people...we’re just gonna stick with Shou and only have one miniboss.

(It has a freakin radiator in it?)

So then this next part happens and it’s low key hilarious.

The whole time.

Mustang and Hawkeye knew what lab 5 was this entire time but Ed just never asked for some reason despite working with those two for what is inferred to be YEARS since his childhood.

Hey PS, did you miss that brick building? Because it’s back.

Anyway, Mustang decides to take this underground where we can recycle the tech crew posing as extras that we used in the shot above us. Would not be surprised if a few of these are someone’s husband or wife on set.

Usually when I watch a movie I don’t get this feeling so much. But this movie...the latter half is like...EMPTY.

...this is going to be all movies made during Covid, I just realized…

Mustang is stopped by an angry Lieutenant Ross, and then we get this series of events.

And when you’re like “...Sorry?” Mustang’s like “I can make it weirder.”

And he just, without any warning or anything, lights Lieutenant Ross on fire. Multiple times, and it’s pretty intense and everyone who’s holding a gun just watches it happen is like…

...well I guess it’s too late to just shoot the guy...

…and like do you seriously not carry around a fire extinguisher when you are trying to manhunt Mustang? This is the one guy you want to wear fireproof clothes around. You have the technology. You at least have the technology for buckets of water. Like no one want to throw a blanket on her?

Just want to...watch? I guess?

Mustang just looks like a nut from this series of events instead of a genius--which is what I think they were originally going for. The pacing does that, youknow? Pacing.

And, out of the corpse pile stands Envy.

Envy has a pretty good look, I appreciated his whole look and that unlike the anime where you only find out Envy is a guy because someone told you on a forum somewhere and you were like “wait WHAT?” the movie is live action so you won’t make that mistake and embarrass yourself online.

Ed has only ever seen Lust once, and she walked in from off screen, stabbed a guy, and walked off. He’s just like...having a time because he’s done zero research into homunculi, and really, at no point in this movie are we going to give him time to figure it out.

Also, there’s this shot where Lust and Gluttony just walk in from behind them in the tunnel and it’s like…

….so no one noticed these two just hanging out back there?

It’s so freakin funny. This movie is gold. I love it.

Now If you just got here, this is a link to read all these recaps in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono

Have a good one, and stay safe! 2021 has been...weird nuts...and it’s still January somehow??? Weird times. Overall, please stay safe, it’s weird out there.

Also, if you’re like “I don’t remember this scene actually” here’s the original Hughes dies scene that inspired the movie (since the movie definitely was like “we’re only going inspired for this one nerds, get mad”)--some shots were inspired cut for cut.

youtube

And obvi this is on Youtube so it’ll probably get taken down eventually, but that’s why it’s flipped.

#FMA #FMA movie #FMA live action movie #recap #Fullmetal alchemist #hughes #roy mustang #ed elric #al elric #winry #I've had to write these tags twice now because tumblr won't SAVE MY DRAFTS #photo recap

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zoefandom127 · 4 years ago

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Part 2 of HUIYWM!!! here’s part 1

Hands Up If You’re With Me Ch. 2

"Dude, that was awesome!" Reggie spoke to Luke as the foursome ran off the stage. "Great way to end the tour. But I'm kind of sad that it's ending."

Luke shrugged while putting his arm around Julie. "Yeah, but at least I get to hang out with my favorite people." He winked down at Julie and she returned by elbowing him in the ribs with a grin.

Alex rolled his eyes. "People or person?" He implied with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, we've been stuck on a bus together for 6 months. Trust me, we do not need to spend any more time with each other. I've seen things that could break a man."

"Good thing you're not a man then." Luke snorted.

Alex laid an offended hand on his chest while the rest of the group snickered. The group rounded the corner into the backstage common room and were greeted by their manager, Macy.

"Amazing show, guys! The audience loved it." Macy smiled a warm smile as they walked into their dressing room.

"Thanks, Macy." Julie returned the warm smile and proceeded to take a seat on the armchair placed in the corner.

"Yeah, thanks Mama Mace." Reggie winked as he moved to the couch that was next to Julie His back was met with a halfhearted glare by Macy.

"Anyways, you guys are completely free this upcoming save for a talk show with Carrie Wil—,"

A collective groan was sounded throughout the room.

"Carrie?" Julie whined. "The meanest person on earth, Carrie?"

"I'm sorry but she insisted and it would look bad for you guys to reject the hottest talk show host right now."

"She's definitely hot," Reggie spoke, thoughtfully. All eyes landed on him. Julie almost had a look of disgust. "What?"

"Look," Macy put the attention back on herself with her "business voice". "I know you don't like her but whatever drama you had going on in high school needs to be put aside."

Luke saw the dejected look on Julie's face. "Hey, it's only gonna be for like an hour. What could go wrong?"

Julie pondered all of the possible scenarios of what could happen in her head with the demon that is Carrie Wilson. It may seem immature and petty to hold grudges since high school but Carrie was the one factor in her high school experience that made everything miserable for her. Especially after her mom died.

But if it's for the sake of the band...maybe she could let it go for an hour.

"Fine, but if she says anything off to me I just want to let you guys know now that my actions will not be my own at that point." Julie crossed her arms and hardened her face.

"Oh please, like you could hurt a fly." Reggie laughed.

"Hey, I can be mean!" Julie argued.

The boys looked at each other with a knowing look and busted out cackling. Julie looked to Macy but all she could do is shrug and attempt to hide the laugh bubbling up in her throat.

Julie simply huffed and leaned back in her chair. Assholes.

"Aw c'mon now we've made her mad. Jules, you want a lollipop?" Alex snickered from the left side of the long couch that held the boys. Julie stuck her tongue out at him and lifted her middle finger in his direction, resulting in more laughter.

Macy glanced at her phone and broke through their cackles. "Time to go, guys. Limo's outside."

"Oh limo. What did we do to deserve that." Reggie said as the group hopped up from their seats. They suspected that people have already gathered their stuff into the car since no one told them to get it.

"I thought you guys could use a little post-tour reward." Macy grinned, leading them back to where the car was.

...

The gang moved through the fans that crowded the exit as best as they could, stopping occasionally to make comments for paparazzi and sign autographs and take pictures with fans. There were two tall, built bodyguards at the front and back of the group to stop any handsy and assertive fans from getting too close. Usually, it would be one at each end but after an incident where Reggie lost his shirt, Luke almost got his pants ripped off and Alex practically got manhandled by a group of teenage girls, Macy thought it was best not to risk it.

Just as everyone was set into the car a persistent man with a camera arrived at Julie's side right before her door closed. Almost pushing himself inside of the car to keep the door from closing, he assembled his camera right in Julie's face and flashed it mercilessly.

Dots covered Julie's vision as she placed a hand in front of her eyes to shield them from the nearly blinding proximity of the light. Another hand, which she assumed was Luke's because he was the only other person at her side, moved her head into his shoulder to help get away from the man who was shouting at her as he continued to take pictures.

"Hey, man could you not?" Alex complained while Reggie glared hard but the man paid no attention to either of them.

The man simply continued on with his shouting at Julie. "Are you and Luke Patterson dating?"

He was basically in the car at this point, moving his camera around to try and get different angles of Julie and Luke. Julie's breathing began to escalate. Everyone knew that she was a major advocate for mental illness and that even though she's a performer, her anxiety is still very present. Especially in situations like this.

She's talked on her platform many times about what triggers her and how her anxiety and depression started after her mother died. She's explained how sometimes the chaotic energy of being in a band can get to her sometimes but it's gotten better the more time she's spent in the spotlight. Although, paparazzi brought an entirely different kind of anxiety that Julie usually tried to avoid.

Normally she would answer whatever questions she could from the annoying photographers but sometimes that wouldn't be enough for them. And though some paparazzi can be considerate and respect her wishes when she's done answering questions, most aren't as forgiving.

This guy was among the most.

"Julie Molina, are you and Luke Patterson an item?" The man grabbed Julie's arm significantly hard to try and turn her around to face the camera.

Julie's eyes widened in horror and tried to yank her arm back but the man was unrelenting. "Get off of me!"

"Just answer the question." The man growled.

Luke and Alex pulled Julie back while Reggie broke the grip of the man with a strong pull. Security came in time at the break of contact to gather up the resilient man and drag him away from the car. Reggie shut the door quickly and Luke told the chauffeur to go ahead and drive them away from the venue, his arm still around Julie's shaking form.

"Jules." Alex started, his eyes laced with worry.

"You okay?" Reggie asked in a concerned tone.

Her head was back in Luke's shoulder and her eyes were shut tightly.

Luke moved her so that she faced him, both of his hands on either side of her face. "Julie. Hey. It's okay. Breathe."

A gasp escaped her lips. She hadn't even noticed she wasn't breathing until Luke pointed it out. Luke started to speak but she couldn't hear a word. Her eyes darted around the inside of the car rapidly. She tried to take a breath but for some reason she couldn't.

"Julie." Her eyes met the source of the voice. In her frenzy, Reggie and Alex seemed to have moved behind Luke, all of their gazes were on her. "Julie, do what I do," Luke spoke in a firm voice as demonstrated a deep breath in through his nose and an exhale from his mouth

Julie followed as best as she could until her breathing became semi-regular. Luke smiled a reassuring smile at her once he saw she was regaining control. She saw the panic on all of the boys' and she desperately wanted to ease their concern.

She cracked a small smile and spoke in a hoarse voice. "Nothing like a mini panic attack to end a tour, am I right?"

The boys grinned at her happily and at her horrible attempt to make the situation lighter. Yet it worked.

"Group hug!" Reggie moved to the side of Julie that Luke wasn't on and ambushed her in a tight embrace. Alex wiggled himself in between Julie and Luke and attacked her other side in a warm hug.

"Hey, what about me?" Luke whined with a pout.

Julie rolled her eyes and opened her arms as wide as the hugs on either side of her body would allow. "Come on, you puppy." Luke beamed at her and tackled her middle without care. Julie let out a hearty laugh.

"This is nice." Reggie said. And it was.

After a nice, comfortable moment in their band embrace, Reggie spoke again. "Can we get ice cream?"

this fic is basically gonna be some jatp drabbles set in this universe. hope y’all stick around for what else i’ve got in my brain!

#jatp au #jatp reggie #jatp alex #jatp julie #luke jatp #jatp fanfic #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #julie molina #julie and the phantoms #carrie jatp #panick attack #jatp drabble #willex #team juke

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jemelle · 5 years ago

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these are ties that bind (4/8)

you can also find this story on ao3!

fandom: criminal minds

rating: t

(chapter) word count: 2,469

masterlist

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue.

a/n: this was supposed to be pure fluff, but emily and hotch have a way of getting in their own way. (also, if you want to be on a taglist for this story/my writing please let me know!)

four.

Before long, the Hotchner-Prentiss household had settled into a routine. Hotch got up early, getting ready before anyone else was even awake, while Emily and Carrie both preferred to sleep in as late as possible, rolling out of bed just in time to get ready for the day ahead. On the days he slept at their house, Jack woke only as the smell of breakfast drifted into his room. They ate breakfast together and Emily, no matter how tired she was, always made sure to see Carrie off to the bus.

Hotch and Emily took turns driving to work. On their drives, Emily discovered that Hotch had a soft spot for classic rock, and he in turn was privy to her truly awful taste in both acoustic pop and the punk bands of her youth. If anyone asked them why they had arrived together, they played it off as simply carpooling, and the ban on inter-office profiling stopped any outward questioning.

One thing the rest of the team did notice was that their working relationship was better than ever. Hotch looked to Emily when he needed an extra opinion on something in her wheelhouse and Emily, noticing this, worked on turning her combativeness into constructive suggestions. “Worked” being the operative word. There were still days where neither could see eye to eye, days when Hotch told Prentiss to “remember her place,” when Emily started sentences with “respectfully, sir” and didn’t mean either word. The drive back those days was silent.

Regardless of how the day went, they ate dinner together every night. Emily wasn’t a great cook, but she could make simple dishes and Hotch taught her how to saute vegetables and prepare meats other than chicken. Carrie, who had joined various activities at school, would come home just in time to set the kitchen table.

The structured routine irritated Emily at first. Her parents had mostly given her free rein until the “incident,” and the only time they ever got together as a family was for formal functions. Slowly, though, she found she appreciated the way it allowed them to connect. They avoided talking about work, but Carrie told them about school and they all talked about sports and books and movies and the news. It was mundane conversation, and although Emily knew they would have to confront Carrie’s trauma eventually, she supposed this was progress for all of them.

On weekdays, Hotch and Emily finished their paperwork in separate rooms. He had picked up quickly that if they worked side by side, Emily couldn’t help but feel as though he was assessing her. Now they only interacted when Emily asked Hotch questions from the other room.

When Emily was done, she headed upstairs. Hotch, as she had previously noted, spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, so she liked to get there first. After getting ready for bed, Emily usually laid in bed with a book, waiting for Hotch.

The shared bed had been awkward, initially, with Emily building a dividing line of pillows down the middle, but now they stuck to their respective sides without the barrier. She wouldn’t have hesitated to throw Hotch out if she detected any hints of inappropriate behavior, but he was (as always) the perfect gentleman. Now, although she’d never admit it, Emily enjoyed the saccharine ritual of reading quietly together before one of them called it a night.

On one of those nights, Emily was busy making a list. One of the strangest things about living in suburbia was her inability to walk to the nearest store. When she lived in her apartment, both the workers at the corner store and the nearest Chinese takeout knew her well. Now, though, all shopping trips had to be planned well in advance. She understood now why housewives went crazy; there was no room for spontaneity in their lives.

Hotch peered over her shoulder, and Emily resisted the urge to pull the piece of paper to her chest. She watched his face as he scanned the simple list she had compiled: toothpaste, deodorant, Advil. Being responsible for others still wasn’t her strong suit, but she could at least handle a trip to the drugstore.

“You forgot tampons,” he said, tapping the paper. “We’re almost out.”

To say Emily was surprised by Hotch’s reaction would be a gross understatement. In her experience, it was a rare man who was comfortable acknowledging the existence of periods, let alone saying the word “tampons.” The more she learned about Hotch, the more his brusque work self felt like an elaborate facade (not that she could judge).

“Thanks.” She noted it down, an idle thought escaping her mouth. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

He froze. Emily had spent enough time with Spencer to know that people only made that expression when their minds were going a mile a minute.

“Just… leftover from my marriage to Haley, I guess.” His voice shook a little.

Emily nodded, nonplussed, before returning the piece of paper to the nightstand and picking up her book. She didn’t feel comfortable probing the source of his obvious discomfort, but if she curled up closer to Hotch as she read, noticing the way his breathing steadied as she neared, well, the rest of the team would never know.

Toddlers are not at the most coordinated stage of their lives, as Emily quickly learned. Jack could walk and run well enough, but seemed to not possess the balance necessary to kick a ball or throw with any accuracy. To his credit, neither of those facts seemed to dampen his enthusiasm.

Saturday morning found them all at the local park. It was early, so the park was mostly deserted. Scattered parents watched kids swing on monkey bars and play in the sandbox, but Jack had a different mission in mind. He made a beeline directly for the soccer field, tugging Carrie behind him. Hotch and Emily followed, leaving Jack’s stroller on the sidelines.

As a result of spending much of her childhood in Europe, Emily’s soccer skills were passable, although in no way comparable to JJ’s. Hotch was no better, though, and they spent a great deal of time chasing after the runaway ball.

Judging from their matching grins, Carrie and Jack were both having a blast. As an only child, Emily had often wished for siblings, and she felt an echo of that longing as she watched Carrie pass to Jack, careful not to give the ball too much spin. Carrie still hadn’t opened up about her family, and Emily wondered again what her relationship with her brother had been like. There was something about her interactions with Jack that suggested the need for atonement.

Emily shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. It wouldn’t do to mar their outing by bringing up Carrie’s past. She headed over to the sidelines of the field, noticing another woman watching their little game.

“Yours, I assume?” the woman asked, gesturing towards Hotch, who was now doing a very exaggerated slow dive towards Jack.

Emily nodded, slightly uneasy. Working at the FBI did no favors when it came to seeing danger around every corner. Still, idle curiosity could be just that.

“Is your family here?” Emily kept her tone friendly.

The woman pointed to the playground, where two girls were chasing each other around. The younger one, who looked to be a little older than Jack, got tagged and shrieked, before reversing direction and taking off.

“The older one is Evelyn and the younger one is Julia,” she said, pride evident in her voice.

As if on cue, the girls turned as another woman called their names. They ran to her, giggling as she picked them up one at a time and swung them around.

“And that’s Amy… my partner.” The woman looked at Emily, gauging her reaction. Emily had been the one giving that look far too many times, wondering if what followed would be disgust or understanding. She made sure to telegraph her acceptance with a kind smile.

“Oh, and I’m Edith.” The woman visibly relaxed, and Emily mirrored her, certain now that she harbored no ill will. Edith turned to her, obviously expecting a reciprocation of introductions.

Emily obliged, pointing out Carrie, Jack, and Hotch in turn (although this time she remembered to call him Aaron). She and Edith chatted about their families until Jack came to ask Emily to rejoin the game. As Emily let Jack lead her away, the two women exchanged numbers and promised to schedule a playdate, an almost surreal parody of suburbia.

Upon reflection, Emily was surprised by how little jealousy she felt. Here were two women, happily living a life her younger self didn’t even dare to dream of, and yet Emily couldn’t picture herself in their place. Loath as she was to admit it, she had always been in search of a perfect someone. That hope had kept her from settling down, every girlfriend just not quite the right one.

In a way, Hotch was the perfect choice. He had given her the chance to have a family without having to worry about happily-ever-afters. Or rather, she supposed, watching Jack nap in the back of the car as Carrie played with her phone, he had given her the possibility of a different kind of happy ending.

When they got home, Hotch slipped off to take a shower while Emily shepherded Carrie and Jack into the living room.

“Emily, can we watch a movie?” Carrie asked, having settled herself on the couch. Jack was sitting at her feet, happily entertaining himself with a dinosaur.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Emily didn’t miss the way Carrie smiled at the nickname. “Your pick.”

Carrie scrolled through various options before settling on some new action movie and turning to Emily for approval. It didn’t look too violent, and Emily figured Jack wasn’t paying attention anyway, so she okayed the pick and they began watching.

It was in fact a fairly tame movie, and Emily was right in her assessment of Jack’s lack of interest, but (of course) Hotch walked in just as the violence started.

He took one look at the screen before scooping up a now very sleepy Jack and carrying him out of the room. When Hotch returned, jaw set and face stony, he didn’t mince his words: “What were you thinking? Jack shouldn’t be watching this.”

Emily crossed her arms, getting up to face Hotch. “Jack’s two, Aaron. He won’t remember any of this. He wasn’t even paying attention.”

“It’s my call. What do you know about childhood development?” Plenty, Emily wanted to retort, mostly in the vein of “how to be an absent parent who still manages to ruin your child’s life.” She opted for a simpler response.

“Don’t pretend you’re some kind of expert on it either.” She was willing to bet Hotch had done all the required reading leading up to Jack’s birth, but reality was always more complicated.

“Either way,” he said, and Emily thought for a brief moment she had won before his next words came crashing down. “I’m his parent and you’re not.”

Emily could hear the blood rushing in her ears, but what could she say to that? It was easy to forget that she and Jack were technically bound by nothing, but Hotch was right, though she hadn’t expected him to use it against her. She opened her mouth to retort, not sure of her next words but with a sinking feeling that they were likely to tank their whole arrangement, when Hotch spoke again.

“Carrie, are you alright?”

At his words, Emily spun around, anger temporarily forgotten. Carrie had slid off the sofa and was sitting on the floor with her legs pulled against her chest, hands over her ears. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Please… please don’t fight.”

Emily and Hotch were both by her side in an instant. Wordlessly, they split the job of comforting Carrie, with Emily rubbing soothing circles on Carrie’s back while Hotch helped her get back on the couch. Carrie was apologizing now, tears threatening to spill out at any moment.

“It’s okay. No one’s mad at you.” Emily murmured. Internally, she could feel her anger returning: how could Hotch have allowed Carrie to feel she was at fault? Rationally, she knew that Hotch hadn’t blamed Carrie at all, but anger was a better option than helplessness.

They sat together, Hotch and Emily glued to Carrie until her breathing began to even out. “I didn’t mean to cause this,” she said again, sniffling slightly.

Hotch took one of Carrie’s hands in his, guiding it away from her face. “I know, and I wasn’t upset with you, not even for a moment.” Carrie gave a shaky nod but Emily could tell she didn’t really believe him.

“Let’s just watch another movie, okay?” Emily suggested, flipping the channels until she reached something fluffy. Carrie curled up into her side, seeming much smaller than her fifteen years.

Hotch was hovering awkwardly, and Emily found herself watching him instead of the movie. Her anger still simmered, compounded with the fear that Hotch was right, but she could see fear in his eyes as well. He was scared that he had messed up, Emily thought. She remembered the forgiveness he had extended her and knew she would have to do the same, provided he apologized. And if he didn’t, well, there would be hell to pay.

Thankfully, Hotch was the kind of person to know when he was in the wrong. His apology came that night as they laid in bed. Emily was preparing to turn off the light when Hotch rolled to face her and started speaking.

“Emily, I’m sorry. I acted condescendingly and I was wrong to imply that you don’t care about Jack. You’ve been really great with him and I’m thankful every day that I don’t have to go this alone.” Although the apology sounded pre-planned, his tone was sincere, and Emily supposed that was what counted.

“I just need you to believe that we’re both trying our best,” she replied, voice insistent. “We’ll both end up making mistakes, but if we can’t communicate we’ll never be able to fix anything.” She had enough first-hand experience in that to last her a lifetime.

Hotch was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

“I can’t promise to be perfect,” he said, words measured. “I’m so used to being the leader that it’s hard for me to let others make the key decisions, and sometimes I scare myself with how strongly I react, but I always respect you and I’ll do my best to make sure that we can work together instead of pulling each other apart.”

It had to be enough.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #queerminal minds #*mine #*fic #these are ties that bind

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baroquebucky · 5 years ago

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chemistry

part 2

warnings: getting followed ( marked with ****** ) and flirty!shy!peter

A/N: omg you guys liked this much more than i expected :’ ) please leave some feedback of what you’d like to see !! I’d love to hear what you guys think <3

part 1

You walked into chem just as you had every other day, flustered as you noticed peters lingering stare on you, his face soon flushed when you sat next to him and gave him a soft hi.

You both stole glances at each other, giggling softly when one of you caught the other. Like now for example. You watched peter fumble with the goggles, too amused to help him.

“why are you staring at me” he pouted and you blushed, face heating up and ears burning.

“I wasn’t staring!” You defended yourself, giggling a bit as the goggles fit him too tight.

“here, let me see them” you spoke, reaching your hand out as he handed you the goggles, your fringertips brushing as your heart rate sped up even more, you were sure he could hear it.

Peter could hear how fast your heart beat was, he was fighting the giant grin threatening to crawl onto his face. You fiddled with the straps and handed him the pair of goggles back.

“there, try it” you grinned at him, seeing the goggles fit perfectly. He thanked you softly and you saw his ears a deep shade of red, you smiled at him and headed to a lab table, ready to experiment with sami.

Peter headed to a lab table four away from yours, you could still see the outline of his jaw and the way his arms flexed underneath the shirt he was wearing. You had to stop yourself from going into the depths of your mind.

“oh my god can you please keep your stares to a minimum right now? we have a fire going on!” sami gelled, motioning to the bunts and burner she had lit up.

“yeah sorry” you spoke, chuckling as she smiled at you.

“nah don’t worry about it, I’m betting now he’ll ask you out by Christmas break” sami spoke, looking over at peter and Ned almost done with the lab.

You scoffed as you grabbed the items you needed and quickly took notes as the small reaction took place. You offered to clean up the lab, seeing as though you had taken the notes and sami still needed to copy them. After wiping the table down you rushed over to put the goggles back in their container.

You got on your tip toes to put them in their spot, and you held your breath as you realized peter was right behind you, putting his goggles up too.

You stopped breathing. You could feel his chest on your back, the way his arms just ever so slightly grazed your bare skin. You were almost in a daze before you realized how close the two of you really were.

You rushed to your seat quickly, face burning hot and a smile creeping it’s way onto your face, you rushed to Sami’s side, squealing as you walked to orchestra, giving her every last detail of the interactions between the two of you.

The first week of school flew by in a whirlwind, suddenly you were fully flung into working mode, the piles of papers you had to write shoved into your backpack. But the one thing that you savored more than anything else was the time you spent in chemistry laughing at the back of the class with peter, or getting to copy his notes.

It was Sunday night, you had finally finished all your homework. Just as you were about to get in the restroom to shower, a wave of realization hit you. The art project. Painting somewhere safe.

You grabbed all your clothes and quickly ran out the door, rushing to find your shoes and heading out to a small park you had found. It was sort of your safe haven.

You thanked god that you had started doing your other work yesterday so that you had enough time to finish early today.

You sketched out the small opening with a little gazebo to the side, a small pond with a generous amount of ducks and trees. You hummed to old one direction tunes, stopping here and there to text your best friend from back home. She FaceTimed you and you smiled brightly, answering on the first ring.

“Ximena!” You smiled, as she waved through the screen.

“oh my god hey! i miss you bitch” she pouted and you sighed, “i miss you too thot, i have like one friend here and that’s it” you groaned, propping your phone up on your water bottle so you continue to sketch.

“what are you doing?” She asked, leaning in to see what you were working on. You smiled at her question and held up your piece of paper.

“art, we have to draw a safe space so I’m drawing this cute little park i found” you explained setting it back down.

“so tell me about that boy you like, what’s his name? Patrick?” She asked, smiling widely.

You laughed at her, “it’s peter and oh my god i have to sneak a picture of him he’s so fucking hot and cute” you groaned, leaning back and smiling at her through the screen.

“The other day my back was against his chest and oh my god it was magical xime” you smiled, remembering the way his skin felt against yours.

You and ximena talked for hours, catching up and just talking about nothing. You didn’t even realize the sun was already going down.

“shit, I’ll text you when I’m home, i have to catch the bus back home or else it’s like a 30 minute walk” you spoke, putting your colors and pens back into your back and carefully slipping in your art project.

“okay be safe!” your best friend called before you hung up. You walked quickly to bus station, and then started sprinting when you realized “oh my god that’s the bus i have to take home.”

You tried to run after the bus but no luck, you groaned and looked around, no one. Your eyes started to tear up but you quickly wiped them. You’ll be fine don’t be dramatic.

You didn’t know if it was just because it was dark, but you realized Queens was terrifying. Every noise you heard you were ready to fight, scared that some creepy old man would try something with you.

You looked at the map on your phone, and then looked up, realizing you had been going the wrong way. “No, no, no!” You groaned, turning around and walking much quicker the right way.

“do you uh, need a little help miss?” You heard an you spun around quickly. He seemed nice, middle aged, carrying some groceries. Something told you to stay away, say you were fine and leave.

“uhm no I’m okay- thank you” you spoke, offering him a small smile and walking the other way quickly.

“no please let me help, are you lost?” He spoke, setting his bags down and crossing the street. Oh god.

“no! Just uh change of plans my mom should be here any minute” you spoke, voice shaking as the man kept coming closer.

******

“I can take you home” he smiled at you and you ran for it, glancing down to see you were going the right way and you realized, i can’t let this guy know where i live. You took a sharp turn, hoping to loose him after running at top speed for five minutes.

Your throat burned and your legs hurt, god you were out of shape. You frantically looked around, you were alone.

You let out a loud sigh, holding onto the wall as you caught your breath again. Suddenly you were being tackled into an alley, a small scream leaving your mouth before it was muffled into the mans hand.

******

Peter heard a scream, immediately swinging the way he had just came from.

“karen what’s going on?” Peter asked as he swung towards the source of distress.

“It seems as though there is an assault in the alley to your right” the AI spoke calmly.

“call the cops now karen!” He rushed, landing softly and looking into the alley. He didn’t see anything and then suddenly the hair on his neck stood up. He moved quickly, the bullet going straight into the wall.

“hey i don’t have life insurance yet!” Peter spoke, running towards the man and taking him down. The man struggled but peter quickly webbed his hands up, pinning him to the wall.

From the corner of his eye he saw you moving away quickly, out of the alley and onto the street.

“hey!” He called out, running after you.

You spun around quickly, your backpack wet and you knew your project was ruined, the tears in your eyes threatening to leak out.

“the cops will be here soon just wait a bit okay? I’ll be here with you” He spoke, his voice muffled from the mask and you nodded softly. You pulled out the piece of paper from your backpack. Half of it was wet and ripped and the other half was all wrinkled.

“great now my art project is ruined” you cried putting your head in your hands and letting out a groan. Peter wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms and hold you, shield you from the world an show you love. But you didn’t know peter was Spider-Man.

You knew peter was in marching band and academic decathlon, that he was really smart and according to your whispering with Sami, really hot. Peter looked at you, you were scared and honestly after almost being robbed who wouldn’t be.

“you almost got assaulted and you’re worrying about an art project?” Peter gave you a small smile and you rolled your eyes.

“well yeah it’s my first impression! those always matter” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. The faint sound of sirens and the hue of red and blue lights brought you some relief.

As the police officers approached you and this spandex wearing hero they asked you questions, wanting to know if you wanted to press charges.

You knew pressing charges meant your parents knowing and if they found out something like that happened you would have to spend your entire life indoors.

The man was still arrested, seeing as though he was wanted and when they offered you a ride you denied it, you were only two blocks away and you did not want to show up at home in a cop car.

“uh thank you for, saving me spandex wearing guy” you spoke, cringing as the words left your mouth. You could hear the smile in the boys voice as he spoke behind the mask.

“it’s no problem, I’m uh Spider-Man” he spoke and you nodded. “Oh? uh okay thanks again” you smiled heading home. Peter quickly caught up to you and you lifted a brow.

“did i forget something?” You asked, naive to the fact he wanted to walk you home.

“i just wanna make sure you get home safe” he spoke and you blushed.

“well okay spider guy” you grinned as he blushed a bit. “spider-man, sorry i just moved from Texas, i don’t really know about local super heroes, only like the big avengers, the six ones i think?” You spoke, looking at the ground. Peter was quiet beside you.

“Oh my god, not that you aren’t an avenger! i mean you are! I’m not one to say i can’t even run a mile in under ten minutes in gym class- i mean you saw how out of shape i was” you rambled, stopping in your tracks as you tried to make sure you didn’t hurt the heroes feelings.

“It’s okay, i would say I’m an avenger, i was in Germany when the whole iron man vs cap was going down” he spoke and you knew for a fact he was smirking under the mask.

“i mean might as well get knighted in as an avenger right” you smiled, laughing softly as he agreed with you.

When you got home you quickly thanked him, awkwardly waving goodnight and rushing in your house. You showered and changed into an over sized hoodie and some shorts, re drawing your painting and looking out your apartment window, the city lights visible. You glanced at your clock, 3:45 a.m. It was only the second weeks of school.

You reluctantly got out of bed the next day, only 3 hours of sleep under your belt. Walking out the door the only thought on your mind was getting back home and taking a nap, or maybe you could close your eyes for a while in your small animal class, you never did much in that class.

Unluckily for you you had to take notes in your history class (you almost fell asleep had it not been for the nice girl next to you notifying you when the slides changed) your counselor called you down to finally get you out of basketball, and you had an essay in ap Lang. You just wanted to nap.

With a blurry vision you made your way to the cafeteria, wanting nothing more than to nap, even if it was 30 minutes. You found sami and quickly sat down with her, putting your head down and tuning out her rambling about some drama between girls.

She let you sleep and you were grateful, only waking you up when they were dismissing, you rushed to your art class and handed in your project, praying your teacher wouldn’t be harsh on grading. You walked outside to small animal, the bright sun shining down on your sleep deprived face, making you want to just stay in a dark room and sleep for years on end.

Your hopes of napping were crushed as you had a test, you also had on in pre cal. You walked to AP chem, your mind was blank and you just wished you only had notes today.

You sat down and pulled on the strings of your hoodie, taking a deep breath before taking the hood off and making the strings even once again. You hadn’t even noticed peter looking at you, you were too tired a delirious to.

“uhm are you okay?” Peter asked, knowing well what had happened last night.

“what? well does it look like it?” You snapped quickly, turning back to the front and yawning. You looked back at him with a sorry look. “I just didn’t sleep well last night” you spoke, taking your notebook out and flipping to an empty page.

“oh sorry” peter spoke, opening his journal and taking notes along with the slide show.

“so I’m guessing you know about Spider-Man?” You asked in a soft whisper, not looking away from your journal as you copied down some notes.

Peters face went pale, his heart rate inscreased. You didn’t know right? I mean how could you he barely talked to you for maybe 15 minutes! “uhm What? Who’s Spider-Man?” Peter asked, trying to play dumb before realize how stupid he sounded.

“that spider guy with the spandex? part of the avengers- according to him at least” you spoke, looking at peter and noticing his pale face.

“are you okay? want water?” You asked, concern on your face. Peter felt relieved, you had no clue.

“I’m fine, oh yeah Spider-Man! Sorry just had a brain fart” he chuckled nervously. “Yeah i know him, really cool guy, super awesome” he spoke, nodding his head and you hummed in response.

“yeah i met him last night walking home, seems like a good guy. We didn’t really have super heroes where i lived so, pretty cool” you smiled at peter and he smiled back, nodding his head in agreement.

“also I’m sure that flash guy in my pre cal class has a crush on him or something, i can see why though” you laughed, and peter snorted softly, causing the teacher to look at the two of you quickly. You both hid your giggles, not wanting to get in trouble.

As the last few minutes approached you put your journal back in your backpack, smiling at peter as you he looked at you quickly.

“what?” You laughed softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter looked at you and smiled.

“you’re wearing mismatching Halloween socks, it’s barely August” you folded your arms across your chest and furrowed your brows.

“it’s almost spooky time” you spoke, the bell ringing as you finished your sentence, smiling as peter laughed at the perfect timing of the bell.

You walked out with sami telling her of your conversation with peter. The rest of the day went by quickly and you found yourself on the train once again. Your eyelids felt heavy as you sat down and you kept pinching yourself to try and stay awake.

You finally got to your stop, hopping off the train and deciding to walk home to try and wake yourself up so you could do homework when you arrived home.

After a few hours of doing homework and taking dance breaks you went to wash your face and changed into some shorts and a t shirt. You fell asleep quickly and didn’t notice the little note peter had stuffed in your chemistry notebook.

The next day you woke up feeling a lot better, sami was absent so you spent the whole day bored. The nice girl in your history class, Esmeralda, made conversation with you and the both of you seemed to click.

Your schedule got changed and so now you had Pre cal 4th and B lunch and your first period was now AP Lang. You hurried into the cafeteria, not knowing where to sit or who to sit with.

“y/n!” You heard from beside you and you quickly looked around, you saw esmeraldas long black hair and a bright smile on her face.

“hey!” You smiled walking up to her and heading to the lunch line. “I just got switched into this lunch I’m so glad you found me” you chuckled and she nodded.

“yeah the girl i used to sit with has C lunch now, i guess the counselors are finally getting the changes done huh” she spoke and you agreed. You both talked for a bit more before sitting at a small round table with two seats.

“so tell me, do you have a crush on anyone?” She smirked and your face grew hot.

“I mean yeah maybe” you smiled sheepishly, looking down at your food and messing with the taco salad that had been served.

“who!” she squeaked, looking at you in excitement. Your smile grew wide as you thought of peter.

“his name’s Peter Parker, i have him in my chem class” you smiled, looking at her as her smile slowly faded. “what?” you asked nervously, stomach dropping slightly.

“is he in band?” She asked, looking through her phone for something.

“yeah” you slowly spoke, worry starting to form.

“i think he’s on and off with this one girl MJ, i could be wrong though i don’t know.” She looked at you sympathetically and you shrugged your shoulders.

“it is what it is” you gave her a small smile and she shook her head.

“I have him in band, I’ll talk to him to set you guys up” she smiled, excited at the idea of getting to set two people up together.

“you don’t have to” you spoke, a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t describe. You wanted to trust her but something didn’t seem right.

“no i want to, I’ll get him to like you I’m sure of it” she smiled, and you only laughed softly in return, finishing off your lunch in silence.

You smiled at peter walking into chemistry.

“good afternoon Parker” you smiled at him and he laughed.

“afternoon to you Parks” tipping an imaginary hat toward you and you smiled, putting a hand on your forehead and pretending to faint.

You opened the journal and a small piece of paper slipped out, you picked it up and saw a small ghost with a pumpkin next to it “spooky time!” was written under the doodle “- peter:~)”

You smiled brightly and shoved the little piece of paper in your pocket quickly flipping to a new page and taking notes.

“the first football game is coming up” peter spoke as he watched you write down the facts from the board, he could easily copy them from Ned or maybe he can ask you for your number to get them.

“oh yeah, is the band preforming?” You asked nonchalantly and peter shrugged.

“I’m not sure, a trailer broke down the other day so we might be stuck with the spirit show instead of the actual marching show” he whispered, smiling at the way your tongue slightly poked out from your concentration.

“hm I might go, gotta have some school spirit” you giggled, “you’ll be there right?” You asked, blushing at your words, did you sound desperate? Did he take it the wrong way?

Peters face heated up at your words and a giant grin painted his face. “Yeah I’ll be there, im gonna be with the band but I’ll wave at you if i see you” He smiled and you nodded.

“I might just go, only to support my favorite band of course” you smirked and peter blushed, his heart pounding just as hard as yours. As class came to an end you slipped a little piece of paper on his desk, quickly heading out before he could say anything.

he unfolded the little paper and saw a small doodle of what looked like stick figure you and peter. A mop of curly hair on peters head and squiggly lines on your head. “friday night lights :D” was messily written underneath the poor drawing and peter felt his heart implode out of pure emotion.

He couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

part 3

taglist !!! let me know if you wanna be added :-)

@savedbystark @teenageeggsneckpasta

#peter parker x reader #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker series #soft!peter parker #soft!peter #jealous!peter parker #flirty!peter parker #marching band!peter parker #chemistry #baroquebucky #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #peter parker headcanons #peter parker gif

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readingloveswounds · 5 years ago

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French Literature List, but make it from outside of France

Here’s a list of texts I read for school that are written by people from Francophone nations in the Middle East and Africa. There’s a huge gap for the entire Caribbean, Pacific, and Asian regions, so please feel free to add on any other works.

Books

Meursault, contre-enquête by Kamel Daoud

If you’ve read Camus’ L’étranger, then you know the setting. This book is narrated by the brother of the Camus’ character ‘l’Arabe’. It’s a look at the family’s experiences and a commentary on the impact of French colonialism in Algeria.

Le Rocher de Tanios by Amin Maalouf

Set in Lebanon, this book follows the life of Tanios who has reached legendary status for a certain reason. And while it’s technically about Tanios, it also follows very closely the life and struggles of his mother, Lamia.

Les Croisades vues par les Arabes by Amin Maalouf

Nonfiction. It describes the Crusades from the point of view of those in the Middle East looking towards the Western invaders, using lots of primary sources from the region.

Mes Contes de Perrault by Tahar Ben Jelloun

Tahar Ben Jelloun rewrites Perrault’s famous fairy tales (Sleeping Beauty, Red Riding Hood, etc), placing them into an Arabic and Muslim cultural setting. He doesn’t use Perrault’s morals at the end, but the characters in the rewritten stories face issues influenced by their new settings, making it a commentary on colorism, racism, sexism, and more.

Syngué sabour. Pierre de patience by Atiq Rahimi

In a war-stricken country that is at least inspired by Afghanistan, a woman takes care of her husband, who has been shot and is in a coma, kept alive by her care and and a drip. She makes him her syngué sabour, which is a stone that a person confesses all their thoughts to until it explodes - she tells him her life story, including discussing his abuse.

Le Coiffeur de Kouta by Massa Makan Diabaté

This is actually the second book in a series by Diabaté - the first being Le Lieutenant de Kouta. Coiffeur continues the story told in Lieutenant, telling the story of the town of Kouta (based on Kita, Mali) just after Mali gained independence from the French. It focuses on the barber in town, Kompé, tracking his adventures and misadventures, as well as his friends, enemies, and joking cousins.

Bande Dessiné (graphic novels/comic books)

Je me souviens : Beyrouth by Zeina Abirached

The title is a call back to Perec’s Je me souviens. Abirached’s work tracks her childhood during the Lebanese Civil War. The war is ever present in the narrative, and the effects of it seep into the child narrator’s life on a regular basis. However, she also focuses greatly on her family life and the ways in which they are able to forget the war for a moment and how they still have some semblance of a daily routine.

l’Arabe du futur by Riad Sattouf

This work follows Sattouf’s childhood in Libya and Syria, with an eventual move to France. He discusses his daily life in school, at home, as well as his reactions to various family traditions.

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

This is likely a work you have heard of before, but it was originally written in French, so it makes it on the list. It follows Marjane as she grows up in Iran, starting just before the Iranian Revolution and continuing through her adolescence, her time spent in Europe, and her brief return to Iran.

Passeport a l’iranienne by Nahal Tajadod

Based on the author’s real experiences, this work follows an attempt to renew her Iranian passport. This effort involves considerable community effort and offers a humorous and interesting insight into Iranian life and ordinary culture, as well as the author’s own relationship with the country.

Bach to black by Nawel Louerrad (her website)

I’m going to level with you that this book is difficult to find, but I have met her personally, as she was invited to my school to talk. Bach to black has a very strange narrative style, but explores feelings of fear, solitude, and the absurdity of life and death. It’s a fairly personal recit, using many of her favorite figures to draw, such as cacti and turtles.

Plays

Incendies - Wajdi Mouawad

This play contains a lot of triggers - every warning I put here is real and serious and you should not read this play if you think you would have difficulty with any of them. It is graphic and disturbing and many of the things I am warning about are large parts of the plot. tw: incest, graphic depictions of violence, rape, abuse.

Jeanne and Simon are twins facing the death of their mother, who has also stopped speaking to them. Their mother’s lawyer tells them that there’s a mystery concerning who their father is, as well as the potential existence of a brother of theirs in the country that their mother has left behind. The twins decide to investigate, as the action jumps back and forward between their quest and scenes in the not too distant past.

#french literature #frenchblr #french lit #studyblr #bookblr #book rec #mine #masterpost #nawel louerrad is super cool 10/10 #i love mersault contre enquete so much tbh like post colonialism and identity to the MAX

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alwaysdowntohidewithyou · 5 years ago

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“Most parents will be familiar with the experience of being ignored by their teenage offspring. Tormented by my daughter's incessant loud singing around the house, I've lost count of the number of times I pleaded: 'For God's sake, Florence, please put a sock in it.'

Of course, she didn't take a blind bit of notice. Just as well, really. My daughter is Florence Welch, of Florence And The Machine.

She is 22, lauded as the next big thing and her debut album Lungs has been sitting at No2 in the charts, behind the late Michael Jackson.

She has won the Critics' Choice Award at the Brits and was this week nominated for a Mercury Music Prize. She's even been on Radio 4's Woman's Hour, for goodness sake, not to mention Jonathan Woss.

This has all happened in the space of a couple of years, and it takes some getting used to.

Florence was born into an Anglo-American middle-class family. Her mother, Evelyn, is an American art historian and I worked in advertising. We lived in South London, we took holidays in Cornwall.

There was music in the house and there were books. There were performers and musicians on both sides of the family. I took Florence and her younger sister Grace to violin lessons (ouch) but it wasn't their passion.

Because of her mother's work, Florence did have an early exposure to Renaissance painting, which may have had an influence on the somewhat visceral world view expressed in her lyrics. As a child, she was particularly fascinated by Mantegna's Circumcision Of Christ, and by various paintings of the martyrdom of St Agatha, who had her breasts cut off.

Florence, always a difficult sleeper, was often as an infant encouraged to nod off by being wheeled around the sitting room in a pushchair to the accompaniment of loud music.

Her earliest subliminal influences include The Smiths (whom she found highly soporific) and Syd Barrett (less so). We also tried works by The Soft Machine, REM, The Go-Gos.

One evening a few years ago when I was passing Florence's bedroom I heard her shouting out: 'That's amazing, I'm having a bloody epiphany.'

I poked my head around the door and saw her sitting on the bed with a huge pair of headphones on. She had, it appeared, just listened for the first time to Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit.

People have asked whether there was a moment when I realised that Florence had a gift. There was. It happened during a performance of Bugsy Malone at her school, Alleyn's, in Dulwich. Florence was ten or 11 and she was playing the lead female part of Blousey Brown.

At school productions, parents are usually interested only in the efforts of their own offspring, but when Florence sang, the whole audience was suddenly fully engaged. I remember thinking: 'Cripes, she's got a voice - this is serious.'

It wasn't just her perfect pitch - she had the essence of phrasing and timing which makes a good singer great.

On the basis of her phenomenal performance she was co-opted to sing a rather obscure and difficult Gilbert And Sullivan song at my father's memorial service at St Bride's in Fleet Street in 1997.

My father, Colin, was a journalist and satirist who had been deputy editor of the Daily Telegraph and a parliamentary sketchwriter for the Daily Mail, so the great and good of Fleet Street were there. Florence sang brilliantly in front of scores of weeping crumblies.

After this she became something of a fixture at funerals. When I recently gave her a hard time about the dark quality of her lyrics - the first song she wrote was called My Boy Builds Coffins - she said: 'You made me sing at funerals. What do you expect?'

Florence spent her later teenage years in a mysterious group called the Toxic Cockroaches. Her mother and I, by now divorced, probably did not pay enough attention.

Having won a place at Camberwell School Of Art, she sang with a band called Ashok.

On one occasion she called me from Greenwich, angling for a lift home. Her band, she said, weren't there but there were some others around who she might play with. I turned up and watched her sing two songs, which were phenomenal.

No, she said afterwards, she hadn't rehearsed. No, she had had no idea what she was going to sing when she got on stage. This stunned me then and still stuns me now.

Florence and her bandmates were 'spotted' by an old-school music manager and there was talk of a contract. 'Don't sign anything until we've had a chance to have a look at it,' we implored. 'Yeah, yeah,' said Florence - and went ahead and signed it.

That's where it all could have gone off the rails. She was 19 and miserable, in the wrong band, life signed away, career over before it had begun. Despite my misgivings, I became a bit of a rock dad, and phoned a friend who was a music lawyer.

It turned out the contract was only binding on Florence as part of the band, so all she had to do was resign. After that we paid a bit more attention.

Florence engaged her present manager, Mairead Nash, one half of the achingly fashionable Queens Of Noize club night promoters, by trapping her in a club washroom and singing an Etta James song at full volume. Their partnership has worked pretty well so far.

Once established in her own right, and aided and abetted by Mairead and the 'thunderous' Machine, Florence's progress has been swift and spectacular.

Last year I was the one driving Florence and a two-man Machine around Europe in her stepmum's camper van, following in the wake of the MGMT (another popular band) tour bus - all for the princely sum of €75 a gig.

This year it is a professional driver, Florence, a five-piece Machine and a road crew in their own tour bus.

I still go to some gigs, but my small part in this drama is, to a great extent, over. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and my early days as de facto tour manager are a great source of envy to my fifty-something chums who would give their eye teeth for the chance to go 'on the road' with a band, man.

There are, of course, alarming aspects to the whole thing. I have witnessed Florence clambering up the gantry at Glastonbury in 6in heels and I have seen her being passed around the audience at a gig with Pete Doherty.

Indeed, I shared a light ale or two with the rock and roll Rimbaud and found him to be quite charming, if a trifle vague. I must admit, though, a report that he had proposed to Florence earlier in the evening did cause a momentary attack of the vapours.

It is all exciting. But a word of warning to any potential pop stars and their parents: it is also expensive. Florence has received reasonable advances, but had to use them to pay for a lot of the band's running costs.

Florence will, we hope, make some money, but only if she sells a lot of CDs and gets film tie-ins - and after she has repaid her advances.

I may have to wait for quite a while for that bungalow in Weybridge that all rock stars seem to buy for their parents.

The fact that Florence has become public property can invade one's life and conversation. We do have evenings within her extended family where all mention of the 'daffy diva', as I call her sometimes, is forbidden.

Her sister Grace is at Sussex University, and so is able to get away from the all-embracing tsunami that Florence's life has become.

Florence's 15-year-old brother, JJ, thinks it's all pretty cool, and finds the connection with a pop star a good way to develop conversations with girls.

I do occasionally feel a twinge of unease about this whole extraordinary thing, and I remember the first time I felt it. It was more than a year ago and Florence was playing a gig in an inexplicably fashionable joint in Hoxton, Hackney.

Practically every A&R man in London was there. As I watched Florence putting her heart and soul into the performance, I glanced round at the audience.

There were the fans, wild-eyed and transported by the experience. And there were the A&R men, with quiet, thoughtful faces. They weren't here to enjoy themselves, they were taking care of business, and the business was my daughter. That's just the way it is - no worse than any other business, but it was a sobering thought.

It was also at this gig that one of the A&R men who knew that I was Florence's father turned to me with a quizzical expression as she launched into another of her perverse, Gothic tales of death, dismemberment, and bloody revenge.

'I know what you're thinking,' I shouted, 'but I can assure you she had a perfectly normal upbringing.'”

-Nick Welch, 2009 (x)

#‘cripes she’s got a voice’#she was still so young when this was written #also find it incredible how she somehow looks identical to BOTH her parents #florence + the machine #florence welch #2009

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