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frankly-art · 6 years ago

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Frankly-Art’s Top 10 Video Games of 2018

Also available to read on my deviantArt!

With every New Year comes another year’s worth of video games to look forward to, and 2019 promise to be a good one in that regard: the release of Kingdom Hearts III is only days away, Piranha Plant and Joker are certain to be innovative and entertaining additions to the Smash Ultimate roster, Animal Crossing is coming to the Switch… and those mark only a small fraction of the many things 2019 has in store for us in terms of gaming. Amid all of this hype, I got to thinking about the varied gameplay experiences I had over the past year; so, I figured this would be as good an opportunity as any for me to reflect on them with a bit of a critical eye and definitively rank each of the video games I managed to get to during 2018!

Keep in mind while reading that, even though this is a list featuring games I played in 2018, many of these games were ones released in years past that I never got around to until last year—so, if you were expecting a list of the top 10 games that were released in 2018, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere (but not until after you read my oh-so-important list first! I crave validation!); expect a healthy mix of new and old titles in the list below. Additionally, this list will rank downloadable content (DLC) separately from standalone titles, as I don’t find it fair to compare a DLC add-on to a fully-fledged game. I’ll be weighing the score of each DLC depending on how well it improves and expands upon the narrative and gameplay of its original game.

Without further ado (and with no better means of transitioning from this introduction to the list itself than to use a somewhat tired expression in the realm of video games), let’s-a go! (Please forgive me.)

-SPOILER WARNING IN EFFECT-

Favorite Characters: Revali, Urbosa, Kass Favorite Tracks: Monk Maz Koshia (all phases)

It might come as somewhat of a shock that a game with “Breath of the Wild” in its title would rank lowest on my list, but hear me out: no matter how much fun it was to be able to return to Hyrule in this DLC expansion, in my opinion, Champions’ Ballad just felt like more of the same of what we got in the main game.

Despite the nigh perfection that was Breath of the Wild, I have to agree with critics who said that the lack of aesthetic variation between segments of dungeon crawling and puzzle solving was a monotonous bore when compared to the varied themes and aesthetics of the dungeons in Zelda games past, and Champions’ Ballad did nothing to vary the atmosphere in its new shrines and dungeon from those of the main game. This disappointment was compounded with the fact that Champions’ Ballad added no new weapons to your arsenal (aside from a risky-to-use fork that functioned virtually like every other sword in the game) to allow for new types of puzzle solving or exploration. The unicorn motorcycle was certainly a cool reward for completing the DLC (the fact that I got to write the words “unicorn” and “motorcycle” next to each other is reward enough), but I had very little use for it since I’d already combed through the entirety of Hyrule during my first playthrough of the game. I simply believe it would have been nice for Champions’ Ballad to have given players something a little fresher to explore, even if it were just an aesthetic change of scenery.

I had also hoped that Champions’ Ballad might have expanded on the lore sprinkled throughout Hyrule and, even though we learned more about the four champions, I was a little let down that they didn’t really expand on anything else (Why can’t I climb to the top of Mount Agaat? Why does the entirety of the Akkala region fill me with a confusing sense of serene dread?? What the hell happened at the Typhlo Ruins???) I appreciate that, by not explaining everything, Nintendo give players the chance to interpret these things for themselves, but, when compared to the lore provided in previous Zelda games, I feel as though Champions’ Ballad fell short in fleshing out the history of this ruined Hyrule.

Favorite Characters: Prompto, Ignis Favorite Tracks: A Retainer’s Resolve, Apocalypsis Magnatus

Given how much of a beautiful mess Final Fantasy XV was upon its initial release, it’s certainly a consolation to the main game to see how well Square Enix supplemented its (rather disjointed) story and expanded upon its (frankly, lacking) gameplay through its various DLC expansion chapters featuring Noctis’ loyal Chocobros. And while I may not love Ignis quite as much as other chocobros like Prompto or Noctis, Episode Ignis was definitely an engaging and welcome addition to the enigma that is the Final Fantasy XV.

Particular highlights of Episode Ignis include its soundtrack, which features a heroic leitmotif for Ignis that really underscores the dire circumstances he and his teammates find themselves in during this segment of the story, and its addition of gameplay modes (Motorboat Simulator 2018 being one of them) are a welcome change of pace to the somewhat rudimentary battle and exploration systems found in the main game. However, a point of contention I have with Episode Ignis is with its narrative: while I appreciate that this DLC chapter finally explains how Ignis becomes blind, its multiple endings completely undermine the storyline of the main game itself. Does Ignis’ sacrifice save Noctis from having to make a sacrifice of his own in order to save the world? Does Ignis regain his sight after Noctis defeats Ardyn? Do Noctis and Luna finally realize that they’d be better off with other people (as it’s obvious that Noctis is already too preoccupied with his three boyfriends to make room for anyone else)? I need answers, Square!

Favorite Characters: Elizabeth, Atlas/Frank Fontaine Favorite Tracks: Patsy Cline – She’s Got You, Johnny Mathis – Wonderful! Wonderful!

I claimed to be a fan of the BioShock series for so long, even though I’d only ever played the first game in the series until the summer of 2017 when I finally bought a PS4 and, with it, the BioShock Collection. Now, I can call myself a fan of the series without reservation, having explored and discovered all that Rapture and Columbia have to offer. To me, BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea Episodes 1 & 2 are a love letter to the entire series itself, featuring elements from the three main-series games and tying together each of their narratives (save for maybe BioShock 2, which is absolutely criminal, considering 2 is my favorite game in the series) in a way that, while forced in some aspects, felt like Ken Levine actually cared about clearing up some of the more confusing questions that remained at the end of BioShock: Infinite.

Burial at Sea really came into itself during Episode 2, where gameplay was switched up to feature more fleshed-out stealth mechanics that made sneaking around Rapture and Columbia both exhilarating and terrifying. It was also refreshing to be able to finally take control of Elizabeth, one of the most iconic characters of the series after the Big Daddies of BioShocks 1 and 2, and learn more of her own personal motivations and desires as she maneuvers through hostile environments. As I already mentioned briefly, I know some took issue with the way Burial at Sea wove the first two BioShock games together with the third, but, considering the mess that was made when BioShock Infinite introduced multiverse science into its mythos (and the narrative mess that Infinite was in general—I took great issue with the way they framed the oppressed populations of Columbia as “just as bad” as the ruling populations simply because they used violence to, you know, try and liberate themselves from their oppression), I feel that Burial at Sea did the best job it could considering that the setting of Infinite differed so greatly from that of the first two games.

Also, fun fact: I studied this game as a part of my Master’s Project and played it through a total of three times: once in English and twice in French! Isn’t academia weird?

Favorite Characters: Rando, Buddy, Vega Van Dam Favorite Tracks: 666 Kill Chop Deluxe, He’s My Dad, Brokentooth March

Anyone who reads TV Tropes is likely familiar with the trope “Gameplay and Story Segregation” and its less-frequent counterpart, “Gameplay and Story Integration”. In the case of LISA: The Joyful, this DLC game (which could practically be its own standalone title if it weren’t for the fact Steam labels it as “DLC” and won’t let you play it without first purchasing LISA: The Painful) absolutely excels in the latter and completely subverts the gameplay mechanics and narrative structure of the base game, and this can all be attributed to the way both games focus on your use of the cure-all drug that makes you feel nothing: Joy.

Indeed, where LISA: The Painful makes you question your use of the drug Joy, LISA: The Joyful (Joyful) is nigh impossible to complete without taking it in nearly every battle after you’re left to your own devices when the muscle of your party abandons you. As anyone who’s played the LISA trilogy will know, Joy is a dangerous substance, mutating its addicts and twisting the minds of anyone who uses it, and that Joy is an integral piece of the trilogy’s social and philosophical commentary on the freedom and restriction of choice, the commitment and devotion one carries for a person or cause, and the inherent, inevitable grey area of any and all actions one may take. Despite these themes, LISA: The Joyful is far from a demoralizing experience: if anything, the way the game simulates the feeling of being backed into a corner and the refusal to give up despite the odds only affirms whatever moral code by which you may already live, or is at least an opportunity to feel relief that you yourself aren’t forced to make such drastic decisions for your own survivability and freedom.

That’s it for the DLC games I played in 2018; now, the real fun begins! Brace yourself for my list of the top standalone titles I played last year!

Favorite Characters: Katie

This game was recommended to me by a friend, and, as much as I wanted to enjoy it, this game wound up being my lowlight of 2018, with its simplistic, seemingly rudimentary gameplay and conspicuous lack of any compelling narrative. Put bluntly, this game was like a forgettable rendition of Animal Crossing, only without any cute animal neighbors to run errands for. The game’s environment threatened absolutely no danger to your player character, yet still didn’t offer any engaging or challenging puzzles to solve to make up for this lack of danger (most “puzzles” involved figuring out how to get to a particular point on the map… and that was it). Despite this being an open-world game that offered endless opportunities for customization, I found myself hurrying to complete the game’s main (5-hour) campaign so I could feel justified to move on to other gaming experiences. The most unfortunate part of this to me is that I know there’s still more to the game’s world for me to explore, but I’m in no way compelled to do so.

In all fairness, though, I think that I’m a little older than the target demographic this game was aiming for. This game was never meant to be challenging or stressful, it was made to be a relaxing escape for anyone looking to pass the time exploring and discovering a beautifully modeled and brightly colored world. This game also wins serious points for inclusivity, especially considering the age group this game was most likely made for; my fondest memory of this game is of a quest where a woman requests that you find her the ingredients to make a potion that stimulates beard growth because she wants to grow a beard of her own, and not once during this campaign is she ridiculed or belittled for wanting one. Since Yonder seems to be a game for kids, I believe quests such as this are an excellent step to socializing them into a world that’s less judgmental and more receptive to other people. So, despite my earlier critiques of this game, Yonder would be a great game to consider if you’re looking for a low-key and off-beat (and all-human) alternative to Animal Crossing.

Favorite Veteran Fighters: Peach, Zelda, Zero Suit Samus Favorite Newcomers: Daisy, Ridley, Richter Favorite Stages: Fountain of Dreams, Fourside, Hyrule Temple Favorite Tracks: All-Star Rest Area (Melee), Destroyed Skyworld, Athletic (Yoshi’s Island)

We all knew another installment in the Smash series was coming ever since the Switch was first announced back in March of 2017. In fact, you might even say that the quality of each console’s iteration of Smash reflects the quality of the console itself, with Melee demonstrating the power and potential of the GameCube, Brawl being a gimmicky romp on an equally gimmicky console, and Wii U/3DS (what a title, right?) completely failing to capture player interest for longer than a few rounds of Smash (the Wii U era feels like a fever dream to me at this point). It’s a letdown, then, that with the Switch being such a commercial and technical success, Smash Ultimate seems somewhat of a disappointment when weighed against the hype that surrounded it up until its release back in early December.

It’s true that Smash Ultimate really delivers in regard to the character roster (everyone is here!) and stage selection (almost everything is here!), but the cuts that were made to series staples like trophies, event matches, and the like, detract from Smash Ultimate becoming the be-all end-all title in the series that it could have been. Trophy mode was where I learned much about video game history and was introduced to obscure series I would have never discovered otherwise, and their replacement with spirits feels a bit cheap, especially since spirits don’t come with any kind of information to contextualize them. Event Matches were hybridized with Melee’s Adventure mode and Brawl’s Subspace Emissary, creating the “World of Light”; while the World of Light has grown on me the more that I play it, it’s somewhat discouraging to me that, by combining so many modes of Smash games past into one, there will be nothing left for me to do with the game once I reach its end.

Still, Smash Ultimate offers plenty to look forward to. I’m more-than-hyped about the additions of Piranha Plant and Joker from Persona 5 to the character roster, and I can’t wait to see who might be announced next (unless it’s another Fire Emblem character… please God [Sakurai] don’t let it be another Fire Emblem character).

Favorite Tracks: The Bridge, Touching the Stars, Up to the Nest

I could never have prepared myself for the beautiful-yet-heart-wrenching experience this game would put me through, but I’m oh-so-glad that it did. On the surface, RiME is a relaxing exploration and puzzle game that takes place in a beautifully rendered in-game world, with a brilliantly orchestrated soundtrack and a plethora of diverse landscapes to get lost in. And yet, every moment of your adventure is permeated by an inescapable sense of isolation and dread, making you ask questions like “Where is everyone?”, “Just who is that man in the red cloak?,” and, “Is he stalking me, or are I stalking him?”.

Indeed, RiME’s narrative unfolds wordlessly as you explore and leaves you to discover and interpret on your own exactly what tragedies transpired before the events of the game, tragedies of which are far more poignant and moving if you were to discover them yourself. I know I’ve put a spoiler warning in effect, but I highly recommend you play this game on your own (or at least watch a decent Let’s Play of it) if you’re curious to know what unfolds during the game’s narrative. RiME is a relatively short game, too, lasting only between 5-10 hours, so it would be an easy one to fit into your queue if you’re looking for a fun gameplay experience with a story that will haunt you for weeks and months on end after completing it.

Favorite Characters: Terry Hintz, Buzzo, Wally Favorite Tracks: Men’s Hair Club, The End is Nigh, Summer Love

Having already talked about this game’s DLC expansion of LISA: The Joyful, you’re already aware that I hold the LISA trilogy in high regard—it also means I can make this entry somewhat brief, since a lot of what I said about Joyful can also be applied to its parent title, LISA: The Painful. You see, it’s in LISA: The Painful where the conflict in Joyful begins, and where we learn more of how the world came to be so depraved after the White Flash, an extinction event that inexplicably killed all women on the planet (at least, as far as the characters in the game know). The game considers what the repercussions of such an event would be on our society (aside from dooming humanity to die off within a generation) and really explores the darkest depths of toxic masculinity to call into question the detrimental effects it has on our self-esteem, our relationships, and our will to survive. Gameplay-wise, it’s a fairly traditional JRPG, though as I mentioned with Joyful, LISA: The Painful integrates its story with its gameplay by permanently increasing (but mainly decreasing) your stats depending on whatever injuries you escape or sustain throughout your journey. All in all, LISA: The Painful is a truly harrowing experience from beginning to end, but a must-play for anyone with an interest in the more macabre aspects of human nature.

Favorite Characters: Aloy, Erend, Vanasha Favorite Tracks: Louder

You know a game’s going to be good when its title screen holds you in awe before even pressing start. Imagine a sunlit vignette over purple mountains and a glistening river, a haunting and triumphant melody underscoring it all, as the title slowly fades into view in white in the center of the screen: Horizon Zero Dawn. O.K., I’m in. This game just did so many things right as an open-world game during an era where the genre was oversaturated by mediocre games that rehashed the same tired tropes and mechanics in its gameplay and world building. Horizon Zero Dawn truly set itself apart from the crowd for a variety of reasons: its beautifully detailed setting (being a microcosmic interpretation of Western North America), its intricate combat system with a graciously forgiving learning curve, and its compelling and socially-conscious narrative all worked together to distinguish this game within the open-world genre.

What really sets this game apart most of all, though, is the game’s protagonist, Aloy: a rare female protagonist who is a breath of fresh air in a sea of male heroes, whose capabilities and intellect don’t come at the cost of her physical appearance and femininity. Aloy set an example for other game developers that female protagonists are more than viable (and are in fact, overdue) in the video games of today, and her status as a female character never felt gratuitous or shoehorned (e.g. Battlefield V’s inclusion of a female protagonist as an enlisted soldier in the British Army and serving in the line of duty during World War II). It’s difficult (read: impossible) to play Horizon Zero Dawn and not fall in love with Aloy for her wit, her strength, and her general stick-to-itiveness in the face of adversity (not to mention, she’s just really cute and knows how to work a belly shirt). With Aloy as the protagonist, you’ll never tire of adventuring through Horizon Zero Dawn’s 70-hours+ worth of gameplay as you explore the in-game world to learn just what happened to “The Old Ones” and their society all those millennia ago.

Favorite Party Members: Ryuji Sakamoto, Ann Takamaki, Makoto Niijima Favorite Confidants: Hifumi Togo, Sadayo Kawakami, Sae Niijima, Toranosuke Yoshida, Chihaya Mifune Favorite Targets/Boss Battles: Ichiryusai Madarame, Kunikazu Okumura, Leviathan, Yaldabaoth Favorite Tracks: Blooming Villain, Rivers in the Desert, A Woman, Aria of the Soul

I’ll bet no one saw this one coming! Just kidding—anyone who’s exchanged more than a few words with me since the fall of 2018 knows how much this game absolutely consumed my life over the span of, I don’t know, I think it was four months? Indeed, I wound up sinking a total of 123 hours into this game, and there’s still a loud part of me that wants to return to it to begin a New Game+ (you’ll even notice that it was too difficult for me to contain my favorite characters into one category, instead having to split them up in order to represent all of my favorites because of how much I love them all). I’m already a fan of JRPGs, so it didn’t take much for Persona 5 to win me over with its turn-based combat, but the addition of certain gameplay mechanics—like earning an extra turn for exploiting enemy weaknesses or improving your relationship with your friends outside of battle to unlock gameplay bonuses—prevent battles and exploration in Persona 5 from ever becoming stale. Indeed, Persona 5 was truly a masterpiece from start to finish and an experience that I never wanted to end.

Frankly, any drawbacks I could mention about this game feel almost nitpicky, like the way the status ailment “Envy” is represented during the final boss fight by the color indigo instead of green, or how Kawakami can only manage to make me one cup of very useful, SP-restoring coffee over the course of an entire evening. Still, Persona 5 isn’t without its faults: for one, Persona 5 loses significant points for its questionable representation of LGBT groups (the camp gay men who openly harass Ryuji on multiple occasions being the most glaring example), and this isn’t helped by the queerbaiting that’s prevalent in a lot of character dialogue and relationships. Additionally, the fact that you can’t romance any of your male confidants comes across as erasive at best and homophobic at worst, especially considering that 1) all but one of your female confidants are eligible girlfriends, 2) you can two-time all of them at once if you so desire (which isn’t just disrespectful, it’s also flippantly misogynistic), and, most importantly, 3) one of this game’s main themes includes rebelling against oppressive societal norms (a theme that will resonate deeply with any LGBT+ player). Female representation in Persona 5 is also somewhat of a mixed bag: while the game features a large cast of diverse female characters, its constant and blatant objectification of Ann is not only creepy, it’s incredibly obtuse considering the sexual harassment and abuse she suffers by one of her teachers during the game’s first story arc. Fortunately, each of these drawbacks is easy enough to ignore when discussing the game as a whole, but I hope Atlus improves upon them in future installments: considering how incredible an experience Persona 5 was, imagine how much more incredible Persona 6 could be if these issues were fixed!

So that’s it for my top 10 games of 2018. What are your thoughts? Do you agree or disagree with any of my commentary? What were some favorite games you played during 2018? I’d love to hear your responses and start a discussion, so please, leave your comments in the notes!

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bcdaily · 7 years ago

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EIGHT DAYS (PART 6/10)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. I suck. This is nothing new. But if this is a hot mess, please let me know, because I’m very paranoid about this chapter. I’ve edited it way too much.

Also, please indulge me in the way I've just entirely made up the details of how professional Quidditch works, and doubled-down on how Quidditch press works, too. ("But Bee, why does your sports press line seem more like a red carpet--" "SHUT UP I DON'T KNOW I ONLY WATCH GYMNASTICS CAN WE JUST GO WITH IT.")

Link to: PART 1 + PART 2 + PART 3 + PART 4 + PART 5

__________________________________

+ + +

DAY SIX (Middle)

Day Six requires a reset, James is quick to decide. A reset, a revival, a resurrection.

Goodbye, rubbish. Hullo, deliverance.

He will salvage this wreck. Salvage his sanity. He’s determined. Resolved.

Though, admittedly…his timing could be better.

The team has the first match of morning—a fact James truly wishes he’d thought to recall approximately eight hours, two rows, and (undetermined) bottles of scotch ago. Foresight has clearly never been his forte. Neither, apparently, is self-control. He feels raw, positively splinched at the edges. Hoff’s call has unnerved him. His visitors have undone him. As he rushes around the now-crowded hotel room, gathering the remnants of dignity equipment he’d haphazardly discarded the evening before, that point becomes increasingly obvious.

But his mates are here, the lovely, useless bastards. His people. His family. James is heartened and resigned and exasperated and happy to be properly reunited with them…while simultaneously noting that he may have appreciated it more without feeling like someone’s taken a Beater’s bat to his head.

(He’d meant to plan this properly. He’s certain he had done.)

(Ow, ow, ow.)

No family is without its dysfunction, of course. Sirius is cocooned in blankets and drama, refusing to leave the bed. Remus and Peter are jovial, but clearly feel as if they’ve missed something (have done). Peter combats this by chattering incessantly. Remus cocks a questioning eyebrow at the whole tableau—prima donna in bed, empty whiskey bottles strewn about, vague sense of panic in the air—to which James can only sigh back an unspoken, Later.

He is tired, tired, tired, and late, late, late.

Bugger, bugger, bugger.

“We’ll see you after?” Remus asks as James eyes his wrinkled practice robes huddled at the base of the bed with muted distaste. They reek like a distillery. The whole bloody room does. He reaches for them anyway, glad to find he can reach—his shoulder is still a bit sore, but the stiffness seems to have gone. He can lift and rotate it readily (praise Merlin!). He performs a quick cleaning spell, dons the soiled robes, and nods at Remus before summoning his missing arm pad, which zooms out from beneath an armchair, bent and dusty.

Lovely.

“I’ll find you,” James answers hurriedly, unbending, undusting. “Don’t know how long I’ll be. Have to duck out of the press line—”

Peter clears his throat. “Speaking of press—”

“No!” Sirius snaps.

They all turn.

“No?” asks Peter.

“Bloody arse is seeing nargles,” Sirius mutters, glaring at James. “Don’t listen t’him. Can’t be trusted.”

“Leave off my nargles,” James returns, scowling.

Peter snorts. Remus sends James another pointed look (Silly ponce, it clearly chastises. You expected a reaction other than this?), and James shrugs (can shrug!) a noncommittal, Eh.

“Well, I want to hear more about your lady,” Peter says, grinning happily again. “We’ve bought her a present, after all.”

He gives the Hot for Pot banner another jolly wave, and James watches his photoself—very clearly nude, very clearly delighted about it—wink and pose from banner-land.

(He’d insist it’s a doctored photo, but honestly, he can’t be certain.)

(He dives for it, but dodgy Peter can be a fast little bugger when humiliation is on the line.)

(Humbling, that.)

Three minutes later, James is out the door: defeated, irritated, banner-less.

This is not improved once he’s besieged.

He ought’ve expected it. Day Six means the exhibition is now officially open to the public, and Quidditch fans have poured into the area like a veritable tidal wave of shouts, colors, and unhinged enthusiasm. James is stopped at least a half-dozen times before he can even clear the hotel. One bloke asks for an autograph, then subjects James to a six-minute diatribe on the state of Fitchburg’s defense. A middle-aged mum with two kids in tow propositions James so outrageously as she’s snapping a photo that he wants to slap his hands over the innocent children’s ears, spare them the indignity. A positively ancient wizard dressed head-to-toe in Appleby pale blue mistakes James for Rodger Jostins and is so joyously thrilled by the prospect that James doesn’t have the heart to correct him.

(He’d wanted a reset, not a reincarnation. But at least someone’s pleased with him.)

He is the last to arrive in the locker room. Lorri is still stretching in the corner. Jools calls, “Good morning, good morning!” as James shuffles in. Lufty already has the Ogden’s out and is preparing his shot. James quells an immediate gag reflex at the smell.

No one mentions his leaving training early the day before. No one mentions his tardiness now, either. The room is busy and chipper and apparently disinterested in the dramas and schedules of their youngest Chaser. It’s a wild relief. James snaps on his wireless (returned from the vents?) and after a Broomstyx hit and a Ruff Ratherford power ballad, Sleekeazy is the second advert to play.

“Sllllleeeeeeeekeazy!…two drops for hair to pleasy! Dare to care—”

“No-oo!” Marcie groans as the locker room laughs. “Why won’t it leave us alone?”

James doesn’t turn off the wireless, but there is a smattering of cheers and applause when the next advert to play is indeed something new. But in spite of the jingle, James still feels off. Like he’s chipped and nicked in all the wrong places. Like he’s got a balloon slowly inflating inside his chest. A quick Hangover Charm is slow to take effect. He can’t kick a general sense of bewilderedness. His shoulder has retained its ugly shade of splotched purple, and since he’d rather avoid questions, questions, questions, he pops open the miracle tin from Lily’s mate and applies the salve with his shirt still on. It’s clumsy work.

He thinks of Lily as he salves. (Don’t think of Lily.) Thinks of his mates. (Don’t think of your mates.) Thinks of an island he might escape to where he can be alone with only fruity drinks and the crashing waves to keep him company.

(Yes, all right.)

(Oops, no—there’s Lily again, wearing a grassed hula skirt and not much else, bless her.)

“Is that lemons?” asks Jools suddenly, startling James out of his perverted fantasies. He jumps, but Betts already has her nose pressed to his robes, sniffing enthusiastically. She pulls back grinning. “Well. Don’t you smell pretty, Potter?”

James goes scarlet. “Prettier than you,” he mutters.

She smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, see, but some of us actually play hard enough to sweat, eh?”

He chokes out a laugh, popping the salve top back on. “Touché.”

At his easy concession, she gives him a curious look. “All right?”

James shrugs, wishes he knew.

There is not much opportunity for further banter or contemplation. The alarm is sounded—time to depart for the pitch. Before they leave, Klinderson gathers the team for a pre-match pep talk.

“Penultimate match, comrades,” he says, slapping Dooster on the back with one meaty hand. (Doos, impressively, only winces slightly.) “Let’s give the rabid masses something to cheer for!”

They all whoop and clap their agreement. James does his best to contribute. Then it’s out the door, onward.

(Onward.)

The stadium is a madhouse, each section of stands filled to the brim. James blinks at the sudden sunlight, but the Hangover Charm seems to finally be doing its job—a vague twinge is the only reminder of this morning’s foibles. He tries not to examine the surroundings too much. Tries not to contemplate just who is in those stands today, how each of them matters. He can’t. Not now. Not three minutes before play. The warning whistle blows.

He kicks off and lets the wind take him.

He expects to be distracted on the pitch. How could he not? But it is—surprisingly, fortunately—just the opposite. They’re up against a formidable lot, including James’s presumed double, Rodger Jostins, and Alla Abdel, a prodigy seeker fresh out of school who’s rumoured to be one of the fastest flyers the game has seen in ages. Lorri is good—very good—but James knows they can’t depend on her points this match. He, Dooster, and Marcie will need to pad the score as much as possible to manage a victory.

The crowd is roaring from the very start. They lose the Quaffle on the release, but gain it back with a well-timed Bludger from Klinderson. Marcie grabs it in the freefall, and despite the sparse drills run yesterday, James moves easily into formation. When the Quaffle comes to him, he’s able to whip it over to Dooster without the same tormenting rigidity that had made the exact maneuver near impossible the day before. Dooster is a bit clumsy with the catch, but makes up for it with a key feint and a zapping shot. It sails through the left hoop, just as the keeper dives.

Ten points.

More cheering.

James lets out a long breath.

He knows this. He loves this. The last few months have been…Merlin, he doesn’t know. A million things. A million, sometimes not-so-great things. Sirius was right about that. And this past week…James feels like he’s lost his damned mind a hundred times over. Coming back to England. Puddlemere. His mates. His parents. Hoff. Lily (most certainly Lily). He knows he hasn’t handled it all as he might have done once: casual and cavalier, resolved and resilient.

He’s been knocked down a few pegs, taught to worry. And while it’s not necessarily a bad thing to learn some consideration, some humility, in the flux he seems to have lost touch with the taste for this: a love for this game. For what he’s done. Accomplished. For what he can do, and can’t do, and will fight like hell for anyway.

It feels good, coming back to that now. It’s a reminder he needs, today more than most.

When the hell had he lost it?

Reset.

As he pulls off a textbook Backhand Bernham with Dooster, flying past the goal posts as his shot sails through the center hoop, James finds the person he most wants to discuss this all with is Lily. She’d get it, he reckons. She’d know what to do, what to say. And rather than worrying him, that makes him feel better.

(So much better, he scores three more goals in the next fifteen minutes. But who’s counting?)

(Well, he is, obviously. And the scoreboard. And likely Lily, too. And his mates. And Hoff. And Tufton—fucking hell, Tufton. Is he watching? Of course he’s watching. But—shutupshutupshutupPLAY.)

James plays.

He plays his bloody heart out.

+ + +

They lose the match, 270-350.

His very first exhibition loss.

James is…conflicted.

Well, perhaps not so much conflicted as content, which in itself seems like it ought to be a conflict. It was a brilliant battle, though, well-played on nearly every front. Relatively green as he still may be, James knows the rarity of that sort of outcome. Victory has transcended the numbers displayed on the pitch, and everyone—from the (overly competitive) players in the sky, to the (forever finicky) fans in the stands—seems to agree. It’s a loss in scoreboard only.

Which is not to say that James isn’t disappointed. Only human, isn’t he? He’s had a revelation, a rekindling, and what better way to pay that proper homage than with points? A scoreboard win would have been preferable in most ways, all things considered.

But despite the end result, he feels…good.

Good?

Yes. That’s it. Good. Validated. Satisfied.

Fancy that.

Better yet, these seem to be shared sentiments. The post-match locker room is filled with good-natured sighs, heady recaps, and teasing ribs. Marcie is laughing loudly with Lufty. Klinderson’s bulky chest puffs as he accepts praise for his prime batwork from Betts. Even Lorri, ultimately felled by Abdel on the chase, has her chin up, her back straight, occasionally smiling. They’ve all been through this before, will go through it again. It’s the job.

Play worthy, James thinks, that old Puddlemere adage. But there’s valiancy in defeat, too.

Interesting, that.

…though perhaps not nearly as interesting as what he somehow finds himself doing next.

In retrospect, he’ll never be able to account for the logic of it. He watches it all happen as if outside of himself, floating there above the madness. There’s a recognizable dance to the post-match process. Victory or loss, content or conflicted, it’s all the same: cool down, change gear, gird your loins accordingly. Eventually, the team will file out of the locker room. Outside, one of the exhibition wranglers will be waiting to herd the lot of them up to the press line. James is a near expert at this bit by now: wait for movement, give the (heavily bribed) wrangler a wink, and then it’s off through the roughshod door to the left that leads down to the equipment room and out the back exit of the stadium. No mess. No press. Freedom.

The team gathers. The movement starts. The roughshod door is there.

James sees it. Stares at it. His feet are moving. He stares harder.

Passes it.

(What?)

Passes the next potential escape, too.

(What is he doing?)

And the last.

(What is he doing?)

Oh, bloody hell, he thinks, at nearly the same moment his feet seem to be chanting, march, march, march! He’s marching? He’s marching. Why is he marching? He doesn’t understand. He’s certain his brain did not make this choice. His feet have gone rogue. The order’s gone out from up top—stop—and filtered down, getting corrupted somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, so all his feet are hearing is stomp. Not the same thing at all, stop and stomp. Very important letter, that m. Cannot be spoken more disparagingly of, that m. Please, Merlin help him, someone explain to his feet about the m. Why won’t they listen? It makes not the slightest bit of sense.

And yet on they go, the damned recalcitrant limbs.

He’s not the only one grappling in confusion. Standing outside the press room (what what what) as the other team finishes up their round, Betts is eyeing him in sharp question. Dooster, likewise, gives a double-take when he spots James still with them at the threshold.

“What’s this?” Doos asks.

James jerks a shoulder. It’s a truly compelling question.

“Stick close, yeah?” he tells Doos instead, feeling a bit bleary-eyed. “Dunno what the fuck I’m doing.”

Dooster is still laughing as the wrangler gives the signal and they all walk inside.

James is immediately blinded.

Flash. Murmur. Flash. Shout. SHOUT. FlashflashflashflashshoutshoutSHOUT.

They’ve noticed him, of course. Two dozen people begin whispering—then yelling—his name.

Is there always this much yelling?

He ignores them. Sticks to Dooster’s back like a toddler clinging to mum. Looks up, searching.

No, no, no—he’s press?—no, no—

Yes.

She’s toward the back of the pack. Hair up, black dress, trusty credentials hanging around her neck. There is a pad of paper in her hands, but that’s all he can really see from this vantage point. Their eyes meet. He can see the green even from here. Bright. Surprised. Her brows shoot up to her hairline.

What’s this? they ask.

He grins bravely. Unpredictable, aren’t I?

Her lips purse. Something like that.

She begins to push toward the front, and James stifles a giddy laugh.

The team fans out. This isn’t a formal press conference. They saddle up to whoever in the line catches their attention. Or perhaps it’s more strategic than that. James truly wouldn’t know. He’s the proverbial hippogriff foal on shaky legs, stumbling about blindly. Sam Lockley from Quidditch Weekly gives him a welcoming smile from behind the barricade, and James reckons he’s as good a place to start as any. Dooster seems to agree, and they amble over together.

“Truly excellent match, lads!” Lockley says in greeting, beaming victoriously. “Full of surprises. Eh, Potter?”

Potter. That’s him.

“Er…yes. That’s…well. Yes. The surprises.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Hate for things to be dull for you, Sam.”

James hopes his overly-bright smile compensates for the fumbling.

Sam—bless him—doesn’t seem deterred by the slips.

“First time you’re playing on the same side, isn’t it?” he asks them both, apparently understanding the comfort in numbers plot and kind enough to lob them a few easy tosses. “Seems to be working up there. What’s that been like?”

“Trying to keep the Quaffle away from this hog? Near impossible,” Dooster jokes, elbowing James in the chest. Cameras flash. “Give a bloke a few scoring records and goes straight to his head, it does.”

“Oh, were you meant to be playing, as well?” James asks, finding stride. “Explains why you kept getting in the way of my shots.”

Doos laughs and throws an arm around James’s shoulders. “When can I ship this tosser back to America?”

Lockley grins. “No time soon, from what I hear.”

There’s a pointed, expected pause. The reporter is waiting for James to respond. Of course he is. For the first time, James realises the press might interpret his appearance here as some kind of signal. It’s long been understood that if James was signed to Puddlemere—to anywhere, really—these kinds of appearances would be expected. He can’t play his same avoidance game back on British soil, with the kind of hefty contract he’s demanding brewing beneath the cauldron.

But that’s hardly a done deal at this point, and James is not sure he should—could—explain that the real reason he’s here has less to do with career, and more to do with some kind of mental break and a pair of knowing green eyes.

Speaking of…

Dooster has filled the lull of James’s non-confirmation with some clever spiels about the ease of play between the three Chasers on their side—professionals, competitors, etcetera…James makes humming noises of agreement, but his eyes focus just beyond Sam Lockley’s shoulder as Lily stealthily slides in behind the other reporter. James tries not to be terribly obvious, but is likely not overly successful. His heart patters in his chest. He feels like he’s gulped a lungful of fresh air. Lily—of course—ignores his keen attention and instead keys into the interview dynamic. She is very clearly unimpressed with his efforts. With a pointed look and a prodding twirl of her finger, she urges James back into the conversation, all go-on-hop-to-get-in-there.

(The things he does to please this witch, really.)

He tries his best. He jumps in, talking about training, about the match, about Marcie and her smart communication, Dooster and his focused assists. When he starts to babble, Lily’s twirling finger morphs into a slowly lowering flat of fingers (cool-it-slow-down-that’s-enough!). He complies readily.

She doesn’t ask questions—this isn’t her interview, and James knows there’s internal press politics to that sort of thing—but she jots down notes from time to time. James wonders if any of this will make it into the furloughed article. He also knows he and Doos spend more time with Lockley than is usual. Most of his teammates have moved on to a second or third interview by now. That’s how these things work. James might be more embarrassed about the fact that they’re very clearly coddling him, but he’s too relieved at the indulgence.

Unfortunately, not everyone is so patient.

About five minutes into the babbling, a tall, dark-haired bloke in bright blue robes saddles up to the front of the barrier. James spots him only a few seconds before—without so much as a please-if-you-will—he roughly bumps Lily aside and leans in over Sam Lockley’s shoulder.

James blinks.

“Fucking hell, Dalton?” Lily snaps.

“Mr. Dooster, Mr. Potter,” the man says grandly. His grin is blinding. “Jack Dalton, Daily Prophet.”

Sam Lockley looks cross. Lily looks livid. But neither does anything more than snap or glare at the man, which tells James he’s likely somehow higher-up than them both.

“Dalton,” Lockley says tightly. “So glad you could join us. Mind if I finish up?”

Dalton ignores him. “Excellent match out there, gentlemen. You both played beautifully…can’t blame either of you for the loss.”

The words are too pointed and strangely delivered. Dooster’s eyes have narrowed. James is instantly on guard.

“Thank you?” Dooster offers.

The reporter’s smile turns sharp. “Twenty-seven goals on your side, but lost on the catch. Got to be frustrating.”

“It’s how the game is played,” James answers carefully. Where’s this going?

Dalton waves a hand. “Of course, of course. Still, enough to make a decent Chaser shout, and you’re both better than that, hm? I think it’s safe to say you’re questioning the choices of your Seeker.”

What?

“Choices,” James repeats flatly.

“Choice of?” Dalton corrects slyly.

Ah. James sees the target even before Lily’s eyes flash at him in warning.

The fucker was going after Lorri. Lorri.

It’s so preposterous, so outlandish, James is momentarily dumbfounded. Lorri?

Thankfully, Dooster is quick on the recovery. “Not certain what you mean, mate.” His hand immediately moves to James’s arm. James feels the nudge—let’s go let’s go let’s go.

Happy to oblige, James twists away accordingly.

But Dalton is relentless.

“Alla Abdel is barely out of the schoolroom,” he blurts loudly as they turn, “yet she outflew and outmatched Lorri Jackson today. Youth has its favors, and in this sport…well, hard to argue Appleby might be reconsidering Jackson’s contract come renewal time. Next year, isn’t it? Tough for female players at the end of their careers. Always cling harder than they ought, eh? I’m sure you gentlemen were equally impressed by Abdel’s performance this morning?”

It’s a clever tactic, worded just so. The options are clear: disparage Abdel, or defend Lorri, with a happy dose of misogyny thrown just there. Any response gives Dalton his quote. Dooster’s hand applies more pressure to James’s arm. Lily’s face has gone completely scarlet. The line is crowded—all the nearby reporters have their eyes and ears trained on this exchange now, just in case. James can see it all unfolding.

And while he knows—knows—the smartest thing to do is follow Dooster’s prompt, find another spot on the line, another legitimate question to answer…something inside James revolts.

Because, honestly? This bloke is scum. He’s beyond scum. He’s the dirt James scuffs off his trainers in the morning, the sludge at the bottom of his tea cup. He’s looking for a juicy morsel of gossip—Young Stars Lament Teammate Jackson, or something equally as rubbish—and James is aghast at the audacity. In a match as well-played as this one had been, the tact is so obvious, so heavy-handed, so unnecessary, James can almost laugh. He should not reward even the attempt with a response.

He shouldn’t…but then he thinks of Lorri.

Stable, steadfast, resilient Lorri, with her calming air, her pregame stretches, her quick fingers, and her small smiles despite—yes, fine—ultimate defeat on the catch today. As if that’s not the game. As if it’s not utterly unavoidable for one Seeker to win and the other to lose. He thinks with fury, this is the reason I don’t do this, and understands the power and limits of no comment. He loves no comment. He and no comment are the very best of mates.

But now he’s here, and he can’t—can’t—leave it at that. It’s just not in him.

He turns back to Dalton, ignoring Dooster’s fingers clenching, Lily’s fast blink at his movement. James’s fists ball. His voice is low, rough.

“Are you new at this?” he asks Dalton.

The reporter stares. He’s giddy at successfully goading a reply, James knows that, but he’s confused by the one he got. Up for the challenge, he smiles. “New at this?”

“Yes. This. Quidditch.” James waves a hand, takes a step closer. “You must be. Because anyone with even the smallest hint of knowledge about the sport would have watched the match this morning and understood the Seekers at play. Abdel is fast—she’s so bloody fast, I’d hate to face her in a race, that’s for certain. I’m sure she’ll be zooming past us all for years to come. But equally as certain is that nearly every time she dove for the snitch this morning, she was following Lorri Jackson’s lead. Abdel is young. She can’t read a professional pitch yet. One day she will, but the idea that Lorri Jackson was somehow less-than…laughable. Completely laughable. She was seeking, while Abdel was chasing. Sometimes you win that way, but you can’t always, and everyone knows it—or, that is, everyone who knows even a whit about Quidditch.” James leaves that point posed for a moment, delighted by the staggered look on Dalton’s face. Delighted. “Which brings us back to the original question…Are you new at this? Because the way I see it, you’re either new, you’re inept, or you’re an unmitigated arsehole. So which is it?”

So which is it?

(Ha.)

The question hangs in the air. Dalton is silent. The whole bloody line is. No one speaks, no one moves, and with the blood still pumping furiously through his veins, James knows better than to wait around for any of them to regroup. Shooting a quick look at Lily—she is pressing her lips together so firmly, the edges of her mouth have gone white—James smiles pleasantly at Sam Lockley, reaching out to shake the man’s hand.

“Lovely speaking with you, Sam,” he says.

Someone breaks the stupor. James is blinded again by flashes—clickclickclickclick. He turns around, prodding a shell-shocked Dooster in the back. Move, move, move. March, march, march!

He’s not quick enough.

“I wonder if Greta Moors feels similarly?” Dalton snaps at James’s back, voice filled with taunting fury. “Or Fredrick Fords? I’ll just owl him for comment, shall I?”

Clickclickclickclick.

Curse fired, direct hit.

James keeps walking.

“Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!—”

He is furious. Furious.

Fuck Dalton. Fuck. Him. Greta and Fredrick Fords be damned, too. James regrets none of this. His first real foray into press in ages, and he ends up telling off some pompous tosser in the line? What of it? Bloke is worthless, and James can antagonize any member of the press he’d like. Anyone at all he’d like. He doesn’t regret any of it. He doesn’t.

(It’s fine you’re fine don’t panic don’t panic.)

Dooster is at his elbow, walking quickly to keep up with James’s brisk strides. As the shouts continue around them, it’s Dooster’s voice that James concentrates on.

“What a cock,” his teammate says, and James can only grunt an agreement. Then Dooster snorts. “New, inept, or an arsehole. Bloody hell, Potter. Had that tucked away in your pocket, did you?”

“Years of pent-up aggression? Some,” James replies, and Dooster throws back his head and laughs. There’s more flashing and clicking.

Fine. They can have that.

He needs…hell.

James glances back over his shoulder.

She’s still standing beside Sam Lockley. Jack Dalton has gone—James doesn’t see where, but hopefully nowhere James will ever encounter him again, good bloody riddance—but Lily has lingered. Her lips aren’t pressed in contained mirth anymore, instead tweaked slightly upward as she watches him, too. The expression turns shrewder as the seconds pass. Her eyes are quite, quite bright. With a subtle jerk of his head toward the end of the press line, James hopes she understands the desperate attempt to ask, meet me please please please?

Lovely, clever witch. She nods immediately, then disappears into the crowd behind her.

All right.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

“You know, I think I’m quite done here,” James tells Dooster, hoping his voice only sounds that tight inside his head. They’re nearly at the end of the line anyway. James has sped through like his trousers are on fire. People have been shouting his name—they all seem to be shouting something—but James hears it like an echo through a tunnel, all hollow and vague. “You all right?”

Dooster nods. “Think I’m quite done, as well. Nothing going to top that, eh?”

Shit shit shit shit.

James smiles weakly. He’s walking too fast. He knows he is. It’s terribly, terribly obvious. He wants to get out of click-flash-shout range, though, and he’s barely managed to do so before a short obstacle stumbles into his exit path.

“Note for you!” the boy says, thrusting parchment at him.

James takes it numbly.

It’s very clearly ripped off a white pad of paper, which comforts James even before he opens it and sees the familiar handwriting.

Bvrg kiosk sect. 4 left pillar. xo

Beverage kiosk. Section Four. Left pillar.

James murmurs something to Dooster—sorry urgent note thank you thank you thank you—then takes off like a pack of dementors are floating at his heels. Section four is close. The beverage kiosk will be crowded with spectators milling about between matches, but maybe Lily’s counting on the busyness to maintain his anonymity. He keeps his head down nonetheless, casting a quick Concealment Charm in hopes that it will deter gazes from lingering his way. He’s never regretted the absence of his Invisibility Cloak so keenly. When he reaches Section Four, he lifts his eyes only high enough to scope out the terrain. The small alcove off the side of the beverage kiosk’s left pillar is surprisingly easy to spot. He weaves his way toward it.

He’s not quite running, but he’s not quite walking, either.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he’s saying even before he gets there and finds her, tucked away in the spot as promised, thank Merlin. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Shit,” she agrees, but she’s laughing. Lily. Hullo there. Laughing. “James. Fucking Christ.”

He’s a bloody mess. He fairly falls into her, arms curling around her waist, the momentum pushing her back against the alcove wall. His face drops into the cool, comforting crook of her neck, and he sucks in a ragged breath.

“That was stupid,” he mutters into her skin. “Stupid. I am furious. Fucking furious.”

“You are clearly not the silent and seething sort.”

“Can’t even believe—”

“Unmitigated. Five syllables!”

“Shit.”

“It was the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Stupid.”

“Well.” Her fingers sink into his hair, soothing. “Only a bit.”

“A bit.” He chokes on it. Laughs. Is he laughing? “Oh, hell.”

He lifts his head only enough to cover her mouth with his.

She does not shove him off. He is not so awash in his own anguish that he can’t acknowledge she’d have every reason to do so. He’s a waste of a human nowabouts. Instead, her hands slip down, cupping his face, fingers skimming along his jaw. Her mouth matches his in fervor for a few thrilling moments, then pulls back carefully, slowing the onslaught. That’s all right. He doesn’t mind slow. His heart is beating so fast, slow is good. She tastes delicious. Like tea and mint. He’s never come at someone like such a lunatic, and wonders what sort of price he’ll have to pay in the afterlife for these kinds of earthly indulgences. Whatever the cost, fine. He’ll gladly give his bloody soul for a few minutes of this, of her (all right okay he’s bloody insane).

But she doesn’t seem to mind. That’s the maddest bit of all. She lets him kiss her, kisses him back, and doesn’t seem bothered in the least that she’s latched herself onto the loopiest bean in the Bertie Botts bag.

She’s still chuckling as she pulls away, albeit decidedly more breathlessly.

“All right?” she asks.

James drops his forehead against hers. He wheezes, “Yeah, sure.”

“Liar.”

He shouldn’t laugh. How can he laugh? But between lingering kisses, he does. “Can’t snog the seethe or stupid out, I reckon,” he sighs.

“Ah, well. At least we gave it our best attempt.” Her hands drift down, playing with the lapels of his robes. His heart is doing its best to thump its way out of his chest and he’s certain she must feel it. “This is not a disaster,” she says.

“The snogging?”

“Well, that. Good on us, eh? Meant the rest too, though. It’s not as bad as you think.”

James pulls back, incredulous. “Yes, it is.”

“That—”

“Don’t coddle me.”

“I only meant—”

“Who was the tosser?” James interrupts again. “Dalton.”

Lily’s lips dip grimly. “Arsehole of the highest order, you had the right of it there. Left Business & Broomsticks for the Prophet a few months ago. Haven’t the faintest how he survived there, except for favors. He’s connected, if little more than a gossip columnist. But he’s a lead reporter now and he brings in subscriptions with his rot, so we’re all left to suffer.”

“Connected.” James repeats the word dully. A headache is forming. “Which means he might actually be able to owl round Fredrick Fords?”

Lily opens her mouth. Closes it. “I don’t know.”

James sighs again. As if it matters. As if the Puddlemere owner wouldn’t hear of it in any case. “Lovely.”

“You were defending a teammate,” Lily argues loyally. “Against the rubbish innuendos of a sensationalist fuckwit.”

“Don’t reckon Puddlemere will see it that way, do you?”

“Then they’re fuckwits, too.”

“Lily.”

“What? It’s true. You shouldn’t even be—” She stops, shakes her head. Seems to swallow something else down, and doesn’t let it come back up. “It’s true,” she repeats instead, definitively.

Not that simple. It’s not even remotely that simple. James runs a tired hand down his face, striving not to dwell on all the ways he’s drowning in the complications. The expectations. All of it. “I should’ve walked away.”

She can’t much argue with that. “Maybe. Likely. But even if you had done, he still would’ve made it into something. It’s what he does.”

“How?”

She hesitates. Fidgets. “You know.” She waves a hand. “ ‘Potter Avoids Questions About Jackson’s Loss: Silence Speaks Volumes’; or ‘Potter Panders to Press in Attempt to Save Face”; or “Abdel Jealousy Leaves Potter Mutely Fuming”; or—”

“Or?” James chokes out. “Or? You’ve more?”

Lily shrugs uneasily. “There’s a lot of ways to warp ‘no comment.’”

Fucking hell, James marvels. It took her not even three seconds to come up with those.

His stomach dips sourly.

She notices, of course.

“Don’t.” Her voice is sharp. Her fingers clench. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

The scathing look she shoots him makes it clear she doesn’t appreciate the dissembling. “You know what I do. You’ve always known. I’d never write that sort of rubbish. I’ve more morals than that.”

“Right.” He speaks quickly. Maybe too quickly. “Yes. ’Course. I know.”

“Do you?” She asks it pointedly. Her hand curves around his jaw, tilting his gaze down to square with hers. Her eyes are narrowed, assessing. She doesn’t pull away, but…

But her touch grows lighter, warier. Tense apprehension seems to drip from her—apprehension she has every right to feel, because she’s correct: he’s at odds and ends and she’s somehow found herself at the wrong end of it all. It’s not worth it to prevaricate. She’s already proven more than once that she’s got his number there. He’s fooling no one. But his mind’s too a-jumble, his equilibrium too off-kilter from the morning—Sirius, and Hoss, and the match, and Dalton, and all the rest of it. He wants to tell about it all, but he’s nearly certain it’ll come out all wrong: “Yes, all right, I thought all those things for a second…but only because I was up half the night with my best mate talking about how you might be using me for a story! And I’m on the brink of fucking up my whole future! Again! And the Dalton thing! And you just then! But really, I think you’re brilliant—”

Merlin, he’d want to punch himself. Already does, rather.

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Gapes some more.

Fuck, he’s got to say something.

“James.” Her hand drops. Her voice is tight. “Look. This…us…we don’t need to do this—”

“What? No. No.” He frantically grabs for her hands again. “That’s not—that’s not what I want. That’s not what this is at all. I’m sorry. I’m an arse. I…” He brings her hand back up to his cheek and fairly droops into her cupped palm. “I never meant…I know you wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have made you feel like I had done. I’m just…I’m cross and panicked, all right? I’m angry with myself for the Dalton shite, and stressed about Puddlemere, and my mates are here, and you…you panic me most of all.” She blinks at that, and he rushes to explain. “I’m hanging on by a thread, see? The saddest, rattiest, threadbare string. These past few months…completely barking. Such a sodding splinching disaster. And I just…I dunno why you’d even consider it. This. Me. I’ve been trying to suss it out, trying to understand why in the hell either of us hasn’t run away screaming yet, and I’m at a loss. I’m a terrible bet. A precarious plot twist for you, all around. You see that, don’t you?”

Well, it wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it might be. He sounds like a raving lunatic, but all the better to make his point, isn’t it? He closes his eyes, taking comfort in the fact that she hasn’t pulled away yet, hasn’t even dropped her hand back down to her side. In fact, she takes his fumbling, bumbling declarations with likely more grace than he deserves.

Eventually, she exhales loudly. “James—”

He opens his eyes. “It’s been six days. Little more than a hundred hours. That’s how long we’ve known each other.”

“You’ve counted?”

“Well. You know.”

She bites her lower lip. “Do you want to run away screaming?”

“Sometimes,” he confesses. “Or at least, I reckon I ought to. Don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” she concedes with a rueful little smile. Her shoulders slump for a second, her chin dropping to her chest. Then she looks back up at him. “No use pretending, is it? Neither of us is stupid enough to ignore the obvious. Yes, my life would be infinitely easier if you were some dully average, virtually unimportant, struggling barkeep from Nowhere-shire instead of essentially the biggest commodity the sport has on offer right now and the largest contribution to my career and livelihood at the moment. I’d wish you a little less talented, a little less relevant, a little less you, except then I’d likely find you considerably less appealing and the whole thing would be moot. So you’re right—we’re pretty terrible bets for one another. For all my scruples, I could lose any bit of journalistic integrity I’ve garnered, maybe even get sacked for this. I know that. That’s…bad. Really, really bad.”

“I don’t want you to get sacked,” James says. “You’re brilliant.”

“You know what people will say, don’t you?” She gives him a pointed look. “That I’m using you. That I’m bartering my favors for stories. That you’re a naïve nodcock for letting it happen. That I’m biding my time until I can con my way into begetting an ill-gained bastard child to set myself up for life. That—”

James chokes out a laugh. “An ill-gained what?”

She waves a hand. “You know what I mean.”

He did, but her examples were nearly as colorful as Sirius’s. “Lily. I know you’re not ‘begetting’ anything.”

“You assume I’m not begetting,” she corrects. “But either way, it doesn’t mean other people won’t say it. People who don’t matter. People who do.”

People who do matter already had done…and yet, James was still here. Insanity, suppositions, and all. She was the first one he’d wanted when everything tilted sideways. Was the first one he’d wanted when the sideways had seemed to level out a bit earlier during the match, too. That said something, didn’t it?

He turns his head, dropping a kiss into her cupped palm still resting against his skin. “I don’t care. Do you?”

She lets out an unsteady huff. Her fingers curl. “A little, truthfully. But…well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” James agrees. He even manages a smile. “So glad we’ve cleared that up.”

“That we’re both utterly thick, self-sabotaging hedonists?”

“Might’ve gone with ‘mutually enamoured’ myself, but all right. Yours works, too.”

“No, I like yours. Straightforward.” She rises back up on her toes and fits her mouth against his properly, a long, lingering kiss. It’s a rush, a comfort. Mutually enamouring.

Nothing about this seems to be straightforward, but James reckons snogging Lily is about as close to it as it gets.

Which makes it a rather large pity—on numerous levels—when she tears her lips away from his.

“Shit,” she says. “I forgot. We have to go.”

“Go where?” James asks. He has no interest in going anywhere.

She straightens his robes, then licks her thumb and smudges it across his lips. “You’ve got lipstick everywhere.” She winces guiltily.

“It’s a new look,” James offers, and attempts to angle for some more by catching her mouth again.

She barely lets him get in a few pecks before she’s squirming away. “Come on, come on. Save it for later.”

Later gives him hope. She gives his arm a yank, and James lets out a quick hiss.

“Ah—careful. Shoulder,” he reminds her.

She skitters to a halt. “Oh, hell. I’m sorry. Is it still…you played so flawlessly this morning, I assumed—”

“Flawlessly?” James rears back. He grins. “Flawlessly, was it?”

She rolls her eyes and tugs at his non-injured arm. “Relatively,” she adds. “You know, compared to when you were flinching every time you so much as breathed yesterday.”

“Flawlessly,” James crows, as if she hasn’t spoken. They leave the alcove together. “Now, that’s a word. Come a long way from ‘decent’ and ‘adequate’, eh?”

“Come a long way from a lot of things,” she mutters. “Humility, among them.”

“Flawlessly—”

“Oh, good God—”

James’s smug laughter abruptly dies as they swerve past a particularly large crowd of spectators and he spots a specifically smaller crowd of three ambling toward them.

He rounds on Lily, grabbing hold of her shoulders, stopping her mid-blasphemy.

“Er.” He blinks at her. “So, listen.”

Her eyebrows lift.

“I would like you to recall,” he says hastily, quietly, “a few moments ago, when we both decided that we are suitably enamoured of one another and I would like you to hold on to that feeling very tightly. Right now.”

Her head tilts in question

“They mean well,” he adds. Then amends, “Some of them mean well.”

Which is all he manages to get out before his mates descend.

“Congrats on the spectacular loss!” Sirius calls, ruffling James’s hair with one hand. The other precariously balances a tall cup. “Rest assured, we cheered very hard for the other team.”

“Cheered ourselves nearly hoarse,” Peter agrees. “‘Rah, rah, Rodger!’”

“You hate Appleby,” James accuses.

Remus grins. “‘Hate’ is relative.”

James rolls his eyes, but sees Remus’s gaze flicker beyond James’s shoulder to where Lily still stands. He swallows down the snitches zooming about in his stomach, the feeling that some might call delighted eagerness or uncontrollable hysteria depending on the day, and clears his throat. “Lads, I’d like—”

Sirius thrusts his cup over James’s shoulder.

“Here,” he grumbles. “Do you have any idea how long that queue was? And you’ve awful penmanship, by the by. Couldn’t tell if that was a four or some kind of ancient hieroglyphic.”

James watches Lily’s smug grin flash as she takes the cup. “Got here, didn’t you? My penmanship is exquisite.” She takes a sip of the drink, and nods in satisfaction. “Excellent. Only 4,999 to go.”

“Excuse me? I believe you mean 4,998.” Sirius crosses his arms. “I brought you that butterbeer during the match.”

“That was an apology butterbeer. And far before terms were settled. Doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t count? Doesn’t count?” Sirius whirls on the other two. “Does it count?”

“Of course not,” Remus says.

“Definitely doesn’t count,” Peter agrees.

“What? That’s—collusion!” Sirius rails. “Where is your loyalty?”

James can only blink, utterly bewildered, as the four begin to argue semantics of drinks, of terms, of timing and apologies, and most certainly of collusion (emphasis required).

James watches it all for several long moments.

What. Is. Happening? (Emphasis. Required.)

“What is—” He has to raise his voice to be heard. “Oy! What—what is this?”

“Collusion,” Sirius insists again with a decidedly outraged look. “Haven’t you been listening?”

James turns on Lily, because she seems the likeliest to be depended upon for reason. “These are my mates,” he tells her.

“I know.” Her smile is secretive, self-satisfied. “We’ve met.”

“Yes, clearly,” James says. “More interested in the how and the when, thanks.”

“Utter coincidence,” Sirius declares, at nearly the same time Lily baldly states, “I was shanghaied.”

Shanghaied.

“What?” James is not quite shouting, but not quite not. “What?”

“It wasn’t as bad as that,” Peter is quick to insist.

“It was as bad as that,” Remus concedes guiltily.

“There was,” Lily says, “this dog.”

James shoots a look at Sirius, who is now studiously examining the ceiling. “A dog.”

“Yes, a dog. On the stadium grounds. Very strange.” Lily talks animatedly with her hands. “So he comes up to me, then dashes away, and I’m following this dog round this remote corner, see? Because, why? And then I lose him—hey, where’d the dog go anyway? Where does one even get a dog around here? Or through security? It’s all…well, never mind, anyway, then I am surrounded by these three, and I kicked poor Peter in the shin—”

“Quite all right!” Peter rushes out, hands held high. “We did sort of skulk up on you.”

“Right—”

“Skulk.” James can barely manage the word. The image of all this so clearly unfolds in his head—every disastrous second of it—it’s really quite a wonder he can even speak at all. ”You skulked up on her.”

“I actually recognised Remus quickly enough,” Lily jumps in. “We were in Defense Club together at Hogwarts.”

“Defense Club.”

“Yes. Before I left. He was very good with Shield Charms. But see, I didn’t catch sight of him before I’d already kicked Peter—”

“—no harm done!—”

“—and Fuck Off there was looming a bit murderously, so I cannot be blamed—”

“It wasn’t murderous,” Sirius says. “That’s just my face.”

“—but it was sorted pretty quickly, all in all,” Lily finishes. And grins.

They are all grinning, in fact. Looking at him all innocently, all very ha-ha-isn’t-this-humorous-so-many-chuckles-no-harm-no-foul-let’s-move-on-shall-we? Like they haven’t…like they haven’t…

James attempts to regulate his breathing—attempts to regulate his outrage, and the need to howl, and wail, and maybe send prayers up to the heavens—and struggles to reach the ha-ha place of let’s-move-on.

But he’ll have to be forgiven for not quite getting there just yet.

He turns slowly toward his mates.

“All I asked,” he manages shortly, his voice chillingly measured and low, “is for you lot not to scare her off. That’s it. Be decent. Normal. At the barest level, don’t give her more reason to ditch me arse-over-head on the side of the pitch than I already have done all on my own. And yet that somehow, in your feeble minds, leaves amble room for shanghaiing her, in a dark corner, looming murderously, with a dog, to—to—”

“It wasn’t a dark corner,” Peter mutters. “There was plenty of light.”

James cannot even muster a response for that. Instead, he whirls on Sirius. “You!” He jabs a furious finger. “This was you.” Now Remus: “And you let him!”

Remus shrugs helplessly as Sirius scoffs, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You were clearly a biased party, and we just wanted to chat with her, Prongs.”

“Chat with her?” James shouts. “And you couldn’t chat with her later, at a perfectly normal location I’d already set up? Without the skulking and the bloody dog—”

“You are very hung up on this dog,” Lily says.

“I’m going to kill all of you,” James declares, glaring at the traitors he’d previously had the stupidity to consider family. “Kill you.”

“See? That’s murderous,” Sirius mutters to Lily.

James fairly lunges at him and Lily wraps an arm around his waist as Sirius dodges away with a cackle.

“James! Honestly.” Her arm squeezes him. “It’s fine. Fine.”

“It’s not fine!”

“It is,” she insists again, hand stroking and patting his side now. Like he’s a skittish lamb in need of coddling. “We had a good chat, that’s all.”

“About what?”

She presses her lips together, clearly still finding this humourous. “Intentions,” she says.

He shoots another deadly look at his mates.

“It’s all sorted now,” Lily continues. “After a bit of back and forth, we’ve all settled that I am in fact not after a promotion, or your fame, or your money, or—what was it, Sirius? The ‘begetting of an ill-gained bastard child to set myself up for life’?”

James’s eyes fly to Lily’s.

She winks.

Fucking hell. The colorful example wasn’t like Sirius’s. It was Sirius’s.

“Run screaming,” James advises her quietly. “Truly. Go on. Save yourself.”

“For the record,” the traitorous bastard James formerly called brother interjects, “I stated very clearly I’d still serve as godfather for any fruit of your loins, ill-gained or otherwise.”

“Bit difficult to do when you’ll be three leagues beneath the ground,” James retorts.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Really, she took this all loads better than you’ve done.”

“To be fair,” Lily adds, “I was bribed.”

James eyes her cup. Now it’s all starting to click together. ”With 5,000 beverages? You settled too low.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no. That was a bet. Much later.”

“What, then?”

She takes a long sip of her drink, then innocently offers, “Pornographic banners, actually.”

Pornographic banners.

James chokes. He sputters. His head whips around to glare accusingly at Peter, who only shrugs helplessly. “What? Apparently she’s hot for Pot. Who could’ve known?”

James considers homicide. He considers suicide. He considers several other -cides, or possibly something that includes time travel, or sudden short-term amnesia, or even hypnotism, but in the end he merely settles on not quite meeting her eyes. “Er.” He coughs. “Those are…erm, fake.”

Except it comes out as “…fake?” rather more than “fake.”

He really wishes he could recall if they were fake.

Lily smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, seemingly equally as unconvinced by this claim. “Mm-hm.”

“It was cold in the room,” is what Sirius offers.

“We were all young and impetuous once,” is Remus’s input.

“I’ve got at least a dozen more,” Peter confides, and he grins like he means it.

Shite, he probably does mean it.

And then they are all speaking at once, which is sort of a relief and sort of isn’t, because Lily is looking intrigued and Peter is looking smug and Sirius is having far too much fun for someone who James only minimally has determined he no longer has to throttle immediately, and Remus is cocking his brows at James in that way that very clearly states, Yes, well, sorry, but it’s all wrapped up quite nicely, hm?

If a witch can somehow overlook being shanghaied by one’s mates, and was still willing to stand here a few hours later, bartering for pornographic banners like a wily grandmum taking on the grocer for her weekly vittles…

Well, that’s something, isn’t it?

Very, very much something.

The snitches inside James’s stomach are dancing. They are dancing in giddy, frantic, uncontrollable delight and he wants to hug someone and hit someone and really, the fraying string can keep fraying so long as he can hold this moment just here, right now, for quite a long time.

Click. Flash. In his brain. The good kind of click flash.

He is not the one who interrupts it. He has in fact joined in, unable to keep quiet after hearing Peter’s absurd claim that there is in fact a banner featuring a naked James lounging beside a sleeping lynx at the London Magical Menagerie (which had to be impossible…right?), when one of the ever-present exhibition errand lads squirms between the lot of them, thrusts a folded note at Lily, and says, “Here!”

She takes it absently, flipping it open as she’s still arguing, “…I don’t care how much money you’ve donated. They don’t let naked wizards stroll into the lynx cages at the London Magical Menagerie for drunken photoshoots.”

“No one said we asked,” Sirius says.

“That is so—” Lily jerks. She’d already been half ready to toss her arms in outrage, but her body instead stiffens as her eyes fixate on the note. Her mouth closes. She looks…perturbed?

“What is it?” James asks.

Instead of answering, she whips around and raises two fingers to her mouth. She lets loose a shrill whistle, and shouts out a pointed, “Oy!” to the errand lad who was already starting to scurry away through the crowds.

The boy turns back to her, exasperated.

Lily lifts the note. “This came from Hopper?”

The boy nods impatiently.

Lily closes the note and turns back around, the boy running off again behind them. She’s frowning, staring off at some dead space to their right. She appears to be more confused than anything else, but it’s certainly a far cry from her laughing teasing of moments before. When he touches her arm, she jumps, her gaze jerking up.

“All right?” he asks again.

“It’s…yes. Yes, fine.” She shakes her head, seems to attempt to shake off the moment, then quirks her lips gamely. “Sorry. Work. You know.”

“You’re not…in trouble?” he asks it softly, pointedly. “Not…you know, all this…?”

“What?” She blinks. “Oh. You and…? No. No, it’s fine. We’re fine. I just…” Her lips press together. She is watching him rather stringently, but James can’t discern whether that’s because she’s contemplating him specifically, or he’s simply an obstacle in the way of her distracted stare. He can practically see her mind whirling at lightning speed.

She starts again, and lets off an unsteady laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” She waves her hand. The closed note flutters between her fingers. “Sorry,” she tells his mates, too. She lifts the note. “I’ve got to take care of this. Work.”

“Sure,” Remus says, but his brow is a bit furrowed now, too.

“If you’d like to begin an exposé on nude Quidditch banners,” Peter states, “I am a very reliable source.”

Lily smiles more easily. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She turns back to James. “I’ll…I have to…but I’ll see you…?”

“Later?” James fills in. She nods, but certainly she’s acting strangely, isn’t she? Could it be something about Dalton? Lily had been witness to the whole thing. Maybe someone at the Prophet had questions. Could she get in trouble for that, if not their relationship (if he could indeed call it a relationship)? But then James feels a bit conceited for thinking everything was somehow about him. Likely, it wasn’t. Likely everything was fine. The news never stopped, did it? And this was her job. “Still reckon we ought to tour The Cornish Pixie with the lads? And you’ve 4,999 free drinks still coming, yeah?”

“4,998,” Sirius corrects. Then, again, “Collusion.”

They all, wisely, ignore him.

“Eight? Meet you there?” James asks Lily.

She nods. “Yes. That’s good.”

She says her goodbyes quickly—still rather jittery, half-distracted, but genuine enough despite the speed of the whole process. Before she takes off, she grabs James’s hand and squeezes it. He wishes she’d told him what was in the note and why it had thrown her, what’s zooming through that clever head of hers, but it seems not entirely his place. Likely, if they actually make a go of this, there will be numerous notes and tips and meetings where she won’t be able to tell him a thing. It might take a bit getting used to, but that doesn’t mean James can’t handle it. All of this was still incredibly new. Allowances had to be made for both of them to match their strides.

As she disappears into the milling crowds, James reckons it’s enough for now.

Besides…he has plenty to focus his attention on at present.

“So.” He turns back to his mates, claps his hands together. “Do I murder you lot now, or do we tuck in to some lunch first?”

LINK TO PART 7

#bcdaily #jily #jily*#eight days #my writing #trope fest

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crowdvscritic · 3 years ago

Text

round up // JUNE 21

In June, I met King Kong, discovered new fashion icons, and flashed back to teenage angst. Enough to pique your interest? Let’s hope so, ‘cuz we’re jumping right in...

June Crowd-Pleasers

1. HGTV Binge: Celebrity IOU (2020-) + House Hunters: Comedians on Couches (2020-)

I checked out at least five new HGTV shows this month, but apparently famous people are what really do it for me. On Celebrity IOU, the Property Brothers help celebs with even more charisma than them (like Brad Pitt, Melissa McCarthy, and Property Sister Zooey Deschanel) to transform the home of someone they love. On Comedians on Couches, funny people like John Mulaney make jokes about the over-the-top personalities and demands we watch on House Hunters. HGTV is my comfort food TV because every problem resolves in 60 minutes or less, and these shows add new twists to the tried-and-true home makeover formula.

2. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion (1997)

For months I’ve been trying to describe the bright, bombastic clothing I’ve been looking for as we come out of a pajama-clad pandemic—now I know to call it Romy and Michele! Lisa Kudrow and Mira Sorvino star as BFFs with lewks and dance moves you won’t find anywhere else. While their one-of-a-kind outlook is why we love them, they second guess their worth as they prep for their 10-year high school reunion. Kudrow and Sorvino are hilarious, and Romy and Michele are my new fashion icons. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

3. A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins (2020)

If we didn’t need a Hunger Games prequel—and we definitely didn’t—why couldn’t I put this 500-plus-page novel down? A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes is set during the 10th Hunger Games and follows Katniss Everdeen’s nemesis, President Snow, as a teenager. He hasn’t become the arch villain Donald Sutherland plays to delicious effect in the movies, but Collins develops a character we can connect while still showing whom he will become. She also knows how to keep you hooked—her end-of-chapter cliffhangers are legendary in my mind—and her innovative plotting explores the overlap between marketing and politics, the difference between vengeance and justice, and how we dehumanize others to help ourselves. If you loved the original trilogy and movies as much as I did, be sure to read her latest—as far as I’m concerned, Collins can write a novel about every Hunger Games she wants.

4. Mr. Deeds (2002)

If you prefer your Adam Sandler in the sweeter variety, Mr. Deeds is your guy. He flips from pizza parlor owner to billionaire overnight, but he has no interest in the the rich-and-famous lifestyle. Winona Ryder is the tabloid journalist trying to get the scoop on him, Peter Gallagher is the corporate suit trying to profit from him, and John Turturro is the eccentric butler waiting on him. Not a plot twist: This hilarious cast makes the most of the simple premise. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10

5. SOUR by Olivia Rodrigo (2021)

You couldn’t pay me any amount of money to be a teenager again, and Olivia Rodrigo has the wisdom and angst to capture why. Much has been gossip-ed about the inspiration for the breakup songs that make the bulk of her first record, and while they’re killer tracks reminiscent of early Taylor Swift, I also recommend her non-romance tracks like “jealousy, jealousy” and “brutal,” which feels like a spiritual successor to John Mayer’s “No Such Thing.”

6. Oxford Blues (1984)

Speaking of teenage angst, Kyla and I watched a forgotten Brat Pack feature as our latest pop culture reference on Gilmore Girls. Rob Lowe is chasing his dream girl, and her name is Lady Victoria Wingate (Amanda Pays). He moves from Vegas to Oxford, joins the rowing team, and hangs with Ally Sheedy—I’ll bet you can already guess where this is going. We say it’s a hidden gem even if the plot doesn’t really make sense. You can listen to our full episode to see if you want to check it out for yourself. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 4.5/10

7. The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard (2021)

It’s been a minute since I’ve watched a movie this dumb starring this many overqualified people. Ryan Reynolds, Samuel L. Jackson, and Salma Hayek re-team for a sequel to the 2017 action comedy The Hitman’s Bodyguard, and now they’ve roped in Antonio Banderas and Morgan Freeman. I admit it’s also been a minute since I’ve watched a movie so profane—as they say in A Christmas Story, Jackson and Hayek work in profanities the way other artists might work in oils or clay. But this bad movie knows it’s a bad movie, which I’d argue makes it a good movie in its own bad way. Banderas is hamming it up, Freeman gets to play against type, and that Reynolds sarcasm is firing on all cylinders. I’m a little embarrassed to say I had a good time in this movie, but maybe like this movie, I should just embrace who I am. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6/10

8. Movie of the Night

Ever feel like it takes longer to pick a movie than to watch it? Then it’s time to try Movie of the Night. Option 1: Filter down by genre, era, language, runtime, and which streaming platforms you subscribe to. Option 2: Search by actor or keyword. Either way, you’ll discover plenty of titles you didn’t even know you had access to that are probably right up your alley.

9. F9: The Fast Saga (2021)

This movie has everything: John Cena! Helen Mirren! Charlize with another bad haircut! A guy who comes back from the dead! A long-lost brother! Flashbacks! Electromagnets! Rocket cars! Armored cars! Cars on fire! Cars in space! Cars on ropes! Cardi B? Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

June Critic Picks

1. Double Feature – Best Picture Winners From Actor-Directors About Broken Men Turned Macho Men: Unforgiven (1992) + Braveheart (1995)

Yep, these two Best Picture winners from the ’90 have a lot in common. Along with All About Eve (keep reading for more on that film), I knocked out three more films in my Best Picture Project this month. And since this pair was so thematically in sync, I wrote joint Crowd and Critic reviews for them.

2. New York!

I finally made it to New York City! I had planned a trip last March—obviously, that didn’t happen—and while the city hasn’t opened fully, I did make it to plenty of tourist-y spots and museums on my bucket list like the Metropolitan Museum of Art (those Impressionists!), Central Park (where I relived moments from Elf, Enchanted, and Ransom), the 9/11 Memorial, the Statue of Liberty, the Ellis Island Museum of Immigration, and the Empire State Building (where I met King Kong!). Yes, this is also an unoriginal recommendation, but I’m throwing in my two bits that New York City is worth the trip.

3. Kiss of Death (1947)

Film Admissions have returned at ZekeFilm, and this month we focused on classic film noir. I checked out the crime thriller Kiss of Death, which is part family drama and part crime thriller. You can check out more about the film noir flicks our writers watched for the first time at ZekeFilm. Crowd 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

4. In the Heights (2021)

My review of the new adaptation of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s other Broadway hit for ZekeFilm is part analysis of the state of the movie musicals and part shameless praise for this very good one. It’s the kind of film I hate to write about because it’s so darn good I know I’m not doing it justice, but you can read my review anyway. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 10/10

5. The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

Robert Wise’s entry in the 1950s sci-fi canon is one of the best I’ve watched so far. We wouldn’t have modern greats like Arrival without it, and it even reminds me a bit of Jurassic Park with its focus on how different people react to ethical anomalies. If you have a penchant for sci-fi more about weird stuff happening than aliens and mythology, this is for you. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

youtube

6. New Trailer Round Up

Cinema, baby! Trailers are dropping left and right, including ones for some potential awards season contenders.

Jungle Cruise (July 30) – Emily Blunt and Dwayne Johnson on a Disney theme park ride!

Respect (Aug. 13) – Aretha Franklin biopic starring Jennifer Hudson!

The Protégé (Aug. 20) – Samuel L. Jackson as another hitman!

Reminiscence (Aug. 20) – Rebecca Ferguson and Hugh Jackman re-team for something that looks really confusing!

The Eyes of Tammy Faye (Sept. 17) – Jessica Chastain and Andrew Garfield in a true crime-y biopic!

Dear Evan Hansen (Sept. 24) – The Broadway hit with an all-star cast!

Last Night in Soho (Oct. 22) – Will I try a horror movie for the sake of Edgar Wright?

tick, tick…BOOM! (TBD) – Lin-Manuel Miranda directs Andrew Garfield!

The Harder They Fall (TBD) – Revisionist Western with Regina King, Jonathan Majors, LaKeith Stanfield, and more!

7. Solaris (1972)

Let’s get back to sci-fi where weird stuff happens. Let’s just say there’s some weird stuff going on at the Solaris space station in this Russian classic, and it makes our characters (and us) think about the nature of humanity and how science can’t explain everything. File this with 2001: A Space Odyssey under I Didn’t Totally Understand It But I Think I Liked It?

Also in June…

Kyla and I also covered All About Eve on SO IT’S A SHOW, and I covered it as part of my Best Picture Project with Crowd and Critic reviews. Spoiler alert: We’re both big fans. (I had watched it before this month, which is the only reason it’s not in this Round Up!)

While the pandemic isn’t behind us yet, I’m back at the office several days of the week, which means I’ve completed tracking every movie watched while sheltering in place on Letterboxd. My pandemic viewing capped at 966 unique titles—sigh, just shy of 1000—and I’d like to wrap up this Round Up by commemorating some of the best, weirdest, and most specific ways I tied my watching together thematically in these 14 months:

MAR 26, 2020: Family-focused rom-coms in which the female romantic interest switches her affection between brothers (Dan in Real Life, While You Were Sleeping)

APR 2: Movies with a twist ending, Daniel Craig speaking in a Southern accent, and a song about a Virginia (Knives Out, Logan Lucky)

MAY 6: A promising high school dancer loses a parent and considers giving up her dream, but her love interest from a different socioeconomic background shows up just before the final dance routine so she can achieve it (Step Up, Save the Last Dance)

JUNE 1: An unassuming businessman from NYC has to travel many places to clear his name (North by Northwest, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty)

JULY 2: ‘00s comedies about adults who vicariously live out their dreams through children (School of Rock, Kicking and Screaming)

JULY 16: Early '00s comedies in which a young woman underestimated because of her interests and blonde hair overcomes the naysayers, achieves her goal in a different way than she expected, and chooses the not-as-popular guy who believed in her over a selfish ex (Bring It On, Legally Blonde)

AUG 6: Musicals in which three sailors on leave fall in love and get caught in shenanigans that cause law enforcement to chase them, and they try to evade them by pretending to be part of a musical performance (On the Town, Hit the Deck)

AUG 7: Late ‘90s/early ‘00s high school rom-coms featuring a combination of unpopular kids dating popular kids, crazy parties, costumes, and deception about why they’re at Prom (Never Been Kissed, She’s All That, Can’t Hardly Wait, Drive Me Crazy, Get Over It!)

AUG 10: These historical boats are a-sinkin'! (Dunkirk, Titanic)

AUG 11: Early '00s action about West Coast law enforcement with an appearance by Ashley Scott (Walking Tall, S.W.A.T.)

AUG 26: Comedies in which the main character discovers something he doesn’t believe in is actually real and becomes less selfish as a result (Galaxy Quest, Bruce Almighty)

AUG 31: A good guy gets caught in a government conspiracy to protect American interests on foreign soil (Shooter, Clear and Present Danger)

SEPT 1: Rom-coms feat. Queen Latifah, Common, and a character dating a New Jersey Nets player (Brown Sugar, Just Wright)

SEPT 18: ‘80 comedies in which the female American lead gets romantically involved with a European man through unusual circumstances (Jumpin’ Jack Flash, Private Benjamin, A Fish Called Wanda)

OCT 3: Spooky Season - Misunderstood, not-totally-human children edition (Village of the Damned, Edward Scissorhands)

OCT 7: 2013 Romeo and Juliet interpretations (Romeo & Juliet, Warm Bodies)

DEC 4: ‘10s movies in which teens almost die because of an online game (Ready Player One, Nerve)

DEC 15: Early '90s movies in which young men on their way to the big city run into trouble with the law after trying to pass a slow truck on the highway and get stuck in a small Southern town because of a trial including an actor also in Home Alone (Doc Hollywood, My Cousin Vinny)

JAN 27, 2021: Comedies with Leslie Mann is contemplating her romantic future (The Other Woman, 17 Again, The Cable Guy)

JAN 28: Rom-coms in which the blonde female lead meets her true love away from home (When in Rome, New in Town, Sleepless in Seattle)

FEB 1: Comedies with redheads having a tough time in high school (Mean Girls, Sixteen Candles, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen)

FEB 4: Romantic dramas in which a character asks if it’s possible to meet the one person right for you and miss it (Before We Go, Ever After)

FEB 6: Title mentions the male sex (The Man Who Would Be King, Three Men and a Baby)

FEB 24: Starring Matt Damon, Casey Affleck, and Topher Grace (Interstellar, Ocean’s Eleven)

FEB 25: Post-apocalyptic YA adaptations in which our teen heroine tries to keep her promise to return to her younger brother and takes refuge in the wilderness from alien invaders hosting themselves in humans (The Host, The 5th Wave)

MAR 1: 2002 teen comedies in which somebody tries to ruin someone else’s life (Slap Her… She’s French, Big Fat Liar)

MAR 3-5, 9-10: The 1980s, chronologically (Caddyshack, Arthur, E.T., Flashdance, Splash, The Breakfast Club, Stand by Me, The Lost Boys, The Great Outdoors, Turner & Hooch)

APR 12: Netflix originals about people in one city getting superpowers (Thunder Force, Project Power)

APR 13: 2010 action rom-coms in which a blonde falls for a guy she meets on a trip but he turns out to be secret killer of some kind (Knight and Day, Killers)

APR 27: ‘10s action thrillers set in Nevada hotel/casinos (Wild Card, Bad Times at the El Royale)

MAY 14: Late '80s teen comedies in which our main character gets into a lot of hijinks in one night (License to Drive, Adventures in Babysitting)

MAY 18: Rom-coms set mostly in NYC with a misbehavin’ dog (Isn’t It Romantic, The Awful Truth)

MAY 20: “Two” rom-coms (Two If by Sea, Two Can Play That Game)

MAY 25: 2018 Tiffany Haddish comedies featuring spontaneous dance battles between two different generations (Uncle Drew, Night School)

Photo credits: HGTV, A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Olivia Rodrigo. New York my own. All others IMDb.com.

#Round Up #HGTV #Romy and Michele's High School Reunion #A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes #The Hunger Games #Mr. Deeds #SOUR #Olivia Rodrigo #SOUR Olivia Rodrigo #Oxford Blues #The Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard #Kiss of Death #In the Heights #F9: The Fast Saga #The Day the Earth Stood Still #Unforgiven #Braveheart #New York City #Solaris

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mingyus-noona · 7 years ago

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Void, chapter 2 (Hoshi)

Title: Void Member/Pairing: Hoshi/Soonyoung x Reader Fanfiction type: Multi-chapter Genre: angst, drama, hurt/comfort, tragedy Chapter: 2 Word count: 1,903 chapter 1 ==============================

void, adjective: not valid

Soonie, Soon-Soon, 10:10, Hoshi, jagi, pabo. Every time you thought about Soonyoung, you chuckled. You’d think of how crazy and hyper he was. How sweet and adorable. How you guys didn’t get to see each other that often, but when you did, it sure made up for not getting to spend time with each other for months at a time.

Whenever you thought of him now, you couldn’t help but think of the guys, especially Jeonghan. It was stupid of you to let them taint your memories of Soonyoung. And it wasn’t like he did anything wrong.

The guys had your best interest at heart, but didn’t they even think of you when they decided to keep it a secret? What if you never saw him again? You could have missed vital time with him. You hated to think that he could die, but he really could. Even if he did, you would have wanted to have spent that time with him, whether he was conscious or not.

They must have thought about him dying too. They said that at first, they didn’t think it was that serious, that he would get better soon, as long as he had plenty of rest and a good team of doctors to check out him out and get his body back in working order. But they must have been smarter than that. They had to have been lying to themselves, a way to cope, to convince themselves that he would be okay. But to keep this charade going for several months—to you, to themselves—that was just foolish and downright cruel. It was like you didn’t matter, like you weren’t part of his life at all. Part of theirs, even. * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hansol was feeling conflicted. He hardly went to see Soonyoung. While it was his job to keep things together at the dorms—especially when Seungcheol and Jeonghan weren’t there—once he stepped into the hospital room and saw Soonyoung lying there, the tears would fall. His shaved head, all those wires and tubes, and Soonyoung just there, just alive, but not active.

He knew all they could do was wait, that whether they stayed at home or by his bedside, it wouldn’t impact his condition much. But he also knew that avoiding going there wasn’t healthy either. There he was, holding everyone together, then falling apart in the hospital bathroom with a suspicious Seungkwan just outside, falling apart while being too cowardly to look himself in the mirror. He knew time spent with Soonyoung was important, but he was being stubborn, staying home anyway and only visiting every so often, usually for only a few minutes at a time, since it was all he could take.

He thought Soonyoung’s girlfriend should know. She’d be broken, but she’d know. She at least had that right. He would be there when Jisoo contacted her. He didn’t really know what to say, but he felt that the fact that he would be there—even though she wasn’t aware of it—was like saying he was on her side, that he felt she should have known from the start, like the rest of them.

Seungcheol had to be the strong one. He was the oldest, the leader. He’d been the stronghold through all of their problems and hardships over the last few years. A certain member was feeling inadequate: sure, they could all get through that together. One member was feeling rather down lately: Seungcheol knew what to say to him to make him feel appreciated, to get him to talk about his feelings if that’s what he wanted to do. But having to rally everyone together and help them go through the emotions they were feeling when he didn’t even know how to cope himself. He didn’t think it was possible. Even adults have to admit that they don’t have all the answers, that they fall apart sometimes too. Whenever tragedy struck when he was a kid, it seemed his parents and older relatives were ready for anything. But they just endured, pretended to be strong for his sake, for all the younger people who would have fallen apart had they seen others doing so.

He was always the one to relay info to everyone else. No news this week, he moved his hand a bit today, etc. He easily discovered how his parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents felt when someone was sick or died. He wanted to cry, punch something, but he couldn’t. He had to be strong for everyone else. If one person was strong, everyone else would be functional. Things would stay together. So he was calm, but then, like his elders must have done many years ago after funerals, he broke down when he was alone, or even with Jeonghan. He’d constantly be traveling between the dorm and the hospital to check on everyone, make sure they were eating and getting proper sleep.

He just longed for the simplicity of preparing for comebacks. His schedule was lighter now, mostly filled with driving, sitting in waiting rooms, or pacing around the dorm kitchen or his room. He’d been feeling stressed over the comeback. He’d wished for more time to rest, but he never wanted this. Not at the expense of someone else.

When he got tired of driving back and forth constantly, he would just stay out longer. He said he was going to the hospital, but he really drove and drove, stopping at some noraebang here or a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant there. He’d spend hours and hours there, drinking and eating, singing and crying. Age did not help with anything. His parents sure were invincible for having been able to carry on appearances of being strong.

Mingyu was a baby, always tearing up. But he would try to be his usual bright self, if only to keep everyone else positive. Without Soonyoung, things were always quiet. The gag trio would keep the dorms so loud that Mingyu would sometimes have to shut the door to even take a nap. But without the one, the other two were silent. It was a strange feeling, coming home everyday and being able to hear the whirring of the electrical appliances. No talking, no television, just the fridge making noise.

Wonu, ever the silent one, felt it in himself to speak up more. He would spent lots of time alone, just reading as everyone else acted crazy. But now, it was too quiet. He couldn’t even pick up his favorite book to escape the silence. He spoke more than ever now, even if he was still hiding behind a book, even if no one was listening or even if they were not in the room. He spoke. He spoke to keep himself from crying, from having to face the quiet.

Jisoo knew that Soonyoung was hurt badly. He was one of the first to truly realize the weight of the situation. He could always hope, pray, try to keep everyone positive. He cried a lot, but he tried to keep it in so no one could see. But at night, he’d play the guitar, sing, belt out a ballad accompanied by tears and howling, which would eventually wake some of the others, even though many of them were awake throughout most of the night.

Seungkwan, the mess. He knew it wasn’t all fun and games, that their industry got tough sometimes. But this was too serious. He was always with either Seokmin or Hansol, or both. Sometimes, the three of them spent the day together in one of their beds or on the sofa, clinging to each other and staying in the same position for as long as they could, long past their limbs feeling all tingly from being asleep.

Seokmin: quiet, like Seungkwan. He couldn’t stand to be alone either, so he’d often spend time with Seungkwan, with his head in the younger boy’s lap, having his head stroked just for some company. He often fell asleep in that position, but these days, he mostly slept with Seungkwan or someone else anyhow.

Jihoon was more contemplative than usual. When it became apparent that Soonyoung would be in a coma thus forward, he hardly left the studio. Artists wrote about painful experiences all the time. It was therapeutic. The guys were a bit angry that he spent so much time there when he could have been with Soonyoung. And to be honest, he didn’t write anything for the first week or so. He couldn’t. He feared he would jinx the situation. He instead channeled that energy into a song about a breakup. And while he’d done a good job at disguising the true topic of the song, he couldn’t look at it as being about anyone other than his dongsaeng.

Junhui and Minghao were always together now. Being the only two Chinese members of Seventeen, they spent a lot of time together anyway. But now, they seemed to be in sync. Whenever Junhui cried, he’d look over and there was Minghao, shedding the same exact tears. Sobbing, crying together, asking why it had to be him. When updates became less frequent, they hardly spoke to anyone else but each other. At one point, a whole week must have gone by without them uttering one sentence in Korean. The only thing they probably said in Korean was Soonyoung or hyung.

Chan had changed the most. The youngest, always associated with having found Soonyoung, having been there at the most crucial times: when he was brought to the hospital, when his condition was first examined and reported on. Everyone else wondered how he felt, what it must have been like to have found Soonyoung like that.

At first, he was always there, paying attention to everything the doctors said and keeping his eyes focused on Soonyoung, ready to catch any signs of movement. But then, when no progress was being made, he grew mad. At Soonyoung for practicing so hard, at Pledis, at himself for not having gone to look for Soonyoung sooner.

Everyone else expressed their concern, but after destroying things, punching several holes in the wall, they left him alone to deal with his anger. He got so fed up with being closed in and alone in his room. He’d sneak out to get drunk, sometimes not coming back home all day.

And then there was Jeonghan. The, you wouldn’t like to call him an instigator, but the name sort of did fit him. He’d come up with the idea, made sure people stuck with it. Even if they didn’t necessarily think it was right. And deep down, part of him wanted Soonyoung to himself, to all of them. You were part of their circle, yes, but there were things you’d never understand about them, as men, as idols, as the wonderful group known as Seventeen. He felt terrible to admit it, but there was always focus on the girlfriend in situations like these. And maybe they were being greedy—with their 12 and your one—but Jeonghan also felt he was being considerate, making sure you didn’t worry.

But if he were being completely honest, he did feel kind of guilty. It didn’t help that everyone nagged him. That was part of the reason Jisoo even decided he would call you in the first place. He was cracking. He couldn’t keep it in any longer. He couldn’t continue to act like nothing was wrong. And he could tell Jeonghan was about to crack too.

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leisurelypanda · 7 years ago

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Ballad of the Thundering Heart ch. 18

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605048/chapters/32809386

trigger warning: sexuality slurs, homophobia

“Did you hear we have a new theater director?” Tony asked as he rushed up towards them.

“Finally,” Loki said. “I hope he has some ideas already. I am already displeased to have not been in rehearsal at all this year.”

Thor could not follow it. He understood theater, of course. He incorporated more than his fair share of drama and grandstanding when he was on the field or trying to fire up a crowd, but that was as far as his skill in the theatrical arts went. Loki, however, Loki practically salivated at the thought of being on stage. He was apparently one of those lucky few who was born without any inherent sense of stage fright.

“I’m hoping for a musical or something,” Tony said. “Something lively.”

“Musicals are nice, I suppose,” his brother countered. “I’m hoping for something more classy. Like Shakespeare.”

Thor laughed as Tony made a snoring sound. Steve snickered beside him. It had been over a week since the Homecoming and whatever love bites had marked his skin had long since faded. It was worse for Steve. He had to wear long sleeve t-shirts with hoods for the first couple days after to conceal the fact that he had them. Thankfully the weather was starting to cool, though not as much as he might wish for.

They were busy studying for their physics test. Considering the last test had been much more difficult than either of them had anticipated, they had been sure to spend the entire weekend studying. Which was a shame, all things considered. But Steve, like Thor, took his studies seriously. It did not mean that they refrained from doing anything as a couple, but they did less than he would have preferred. Snogging to a movie was much more fun than studying momentum, after all.

Thor looked up, they had about 10 minutes until class started. He put his books and notes in his bag. He would take them out to study again during lunch. Next to him, Steve also put his things away. They started this little ritual last week. It was difficult to get privacy sometimes, so they took what they could get during the week.

“Do you feel ready?” he asked as they walked towards Steve’s classroom.

“Yeah, a bit,” Steve replied. “Still a bit nervous, though.”

“You will do fine, älskling. We both will,” he replied, squeezing his hand. Steve squeezed back.

“There you two are,” said a new voice from behind them. Thor turned. It was some of his teammates. The sort who were similar to Hodge, but did not seem to run in the same circles. Mean, petty men who were only on the team because the game was the only thing they were decent at. He placed himself between them and Steve.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“That’s rather hostile of you, Odinson,” their ringleader jeered. He was on the team, but usually benched as a backup in case someone on the defensive line was seriously injured. Brown, Thor remembered after a moment. Anson Brown. He was a short, stocky man with pocketed acne scars on his pale face, a wide nose that had been broken a few times, and dun, brown eyes that seemed constantly glazed over, like he was high.

That might explain a few things, Thor thought. The guy was backup for a reason.

“We want you off the team, Thor,” he said. He sounded high, too. Like his thoughts were vague and slow to come. Thor barked out a laugh.

“Why is that?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“We don’t want the football team to be led by a fuckin’ sissy,” he declared. Thor huffed.

“Right,” Thor replied. “Well, there are already 3 pointless men off the team for their injuries, what does it matter if there are a few backups to add to the list?”

“It don’t matter,” a lackey said. “We already went to the coach. Said you was bad for the team cause we can’t trust you.”

Thor felt his rage building inside him. They went behind his back? To the coach? He was really about to lay into them. Then Steve was between them and Thor’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“Back off,” he said.

“What’d you say, faggot?” one of the malcontents demanded.

“Back off,” Steve repeated. “So what if he’s gay? What does it matter to you?”

“We can’t have a faggot on the team,” Anson insisted boorishly. “It’s bad for morals.”

“Morale,” one of the lackeys corrected.

“Right, that.”

“Why?” Steve demanded. “You’ve won every game you’ve played this year.”

“Don’t matter,” he droned. “We can’t have a guy in the locker room who might be checkin’ us out. It’s not natural.”

“You know what’s not natural?” Steve hissed, stepping up to get in Anson’s face. “Your obsession with who he does or doesn’t like. That’s disgusting. You’re so worried that he might be checking you out that you’re actually obsessing over it. It doesn’t even concern you!”

They were stunned silent at that.

“You’re cowards,” Steve continued. “If you have a problem with him at least have the balls to go to him about it instead of whining to the coach.”

Anson grabbed him by the shirt and raised a fist to strike him down. Thor rushed forward. Great Baldr, please no, he prayed silently.

“Go ahead,” Steve said. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remarkably, miraculously, it seemed to work. Anson shoved him back and stalked off.

“This punk ain’t worth it,” he grumbled.

Steve released a breath all at once and slumped. Thor grabbed him in a fierce embrace.

“I’m fine, Thor, really,” he assured him. Thor released him and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Älskling,” he breathed. “That was… hot.”

Steve blushed. “Really?”

“Yes,” Thor said, holding his face. “I have never been more attracted to you than right now.”

Steve blushed. “It wasn’t anything special,” he said. “It was a dumb thing for me to do.”

“It was a brave thing for you to do,” Thor countered. “And I have never admired you more than when you did it.”

“It’s not fair for you to do all the fighting,” Steve whispered. “I just… I wanted to protect you.”

Thor kissed his lips softly. It was a chaste kiss, filled with adoration and gratitude. Steve returned it after a brief moment. His lover took a trembling breath when they parted. Thor stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers, feeling the soft, gentle features that hid so much strength.

“I thank you for it,” Thor whispered. “My little hero.”

Then Steve smiled, and Thor’s heart was glad. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

The entire rest of the day, Thor ran Steve’s confrontation with his detractors through his head again and again. It amazed him. Not just that it worked, but that Steve had actually done it. He actually had to put it from his mind a couple times during the physics test so he could focus. Of course, as soon as the test was over, they had some free time.

“You nervous about talking to the coach?” his lover asked.

“Hm? No, why should I be?” he replied.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Steve said. “But the teachers here aren’t exactly fair minded.”

“That is an understatement,” Thor huffed. “But it is very simple, Steve. If I get kicked off the team because I have a boyfriend, one of two things will probably happen. One, my parents will complain. And if there is one thing you should never do to government officials, it is give them reason to complain.”

“And if that doesn’t happen?” Steve asked.

“Then I will find something else to do with my time,” Thor whispered. “Maybe I can find a rugby club for teenagers in the city.”

“But wouldn’t you be happier staying on the team?”

“To be honest, I would rather the school have a rugby team,” Thor said. “American football is… interesting. Fun when you get used to it, but it really is a wimpy version of rugby.”

“You still need to show me a game,” Steve said, laughing.

“I do, that is true,” he said. “Are you free this weekend?”

Steve nodded.

“Wonderful!” Thor said. “I will bring you to the light, yet.”

“If you can keep off my neck long enough to explain what's going on, that is,” Steve teased.

Thor laughed, causing the teacher to look up from her desk to glare at him. He quieted himself and waved in apology.

“You're one to talk, älskling,” he whispered. “I seem to remember you being quite enamored with mine.”

His lover blushed. “It doesn't… bother you, does it?”

“I do not mind,” Thor assured him. “I am Swedish. We are not as… hung up about such things. Besides, it feels good.”

Steve’s flush grew until it encompassed his entire face as he smiled and gods the sight was beautiful. Thor was counting down the minutes until school let out when they no longer had to worry about getting in trouble for public displays of affection. At least, until he had to show up for practice, that is. Americans were so backwards and repressed. What was wrong with kissing in public? It wasn’t like they were having sex for all the world to see. Hell, all they were doing now was talking and people were giving them dirty looks.

As soon as the bell rang, Steve surprised him again by sitting in his lap and kissing him. Thor hummed with surprise but returned the kiss. It was a pleasant surprise. HIs hand fell to Steve’s thighs and brought him closer.

Someone coughed. Thor groaned and broke contact. It was one of their classmates. Becky or something. He couldn’t remember. She looked distinctly uncomfortable as she looked at them. Thor glared at her. Much as he was comfortable being affectionate in public, he did not exactly appreciate an audience. Unless they were cheering. That was different.

“What is it?” he asked, a bit more harshly than he intended.

“Do you guys mind?” Thor stared at her, but did not say anything. “I mean, it’s cool you guys are gay, that’s not a problem, but do you have to shove it down our throats every day? I mean, we get it, you’re gay but could you tone it down?”

“Ms. Davies,” the teacher said from across the room. “A moment of your time if you please.”

“Yes Ms. Foster,” she said.

“Is it any of your business what they do with each other, Nancy?” Ms. Foster asked. That’s it, Thor thought.

“Well they--”

“I’m not asking about them,” she said. “I’m asking how it involves you.”

Becca was silent and hung her head. “It doesn’t ma’am.”

“I thought not,” Ms. Foster said. “Don’t let me catch you doing that again.”

Becca practically ran out of the room. Steve was hiding his face in the crook of Thor’s neck. It annoyed him, but not because he thought Steve was too fearful. He was still new to this. The fact that he was willing to be public at all was thrilling to him. It was mostly because it made his lover feel ashamed or like he needed to hide himself. When the girl was gone the teacher walked up to them.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “You guys okay?”

“We are well, Ms. Foster,” Thor assured her.

“Good. By the way if either of you are ever interested, I’m the faculty adviser for the Gay-Straight Alliance,” she said. “We have a meeting after school this Friday.”

“I am, regrettably, unavailable after school most of the time,” Thor said.

“But… I might be… interested,” Steve said, sheepishly.

“Wonderful Steve,” she said, smiling. “It will be great to have you there.”

She said nothing more and went back to her desk. Thor was grateful. Allies were something of a mixed bag. They were well meaning, most of the time, but some were very aggressive in their brand of solidarity to the point that it was off putting. Ms. Foster, at least, seemed to be the quiet, supportive brand of ally, at least.

Thor looked up at the time and groaned. There was never really enough time.

“I have to go, älskling,” he whispered, kissing him again. Steve sighed, but got up.

Thor walked him to the front of the building before heading to the locker room. As much as he had tried to play it off like it was not a big deal, he could admit to himself that he was nervous. There was no telling what the coach or his team of assistant coaches would do. He had no idea where they stood on the matter. Considering that they lived in New York City, it was more likely than many places to be accepting. But prejudice towards queer folk was everywhere.

He tried not to worry about it as he walked into the room. He tried to ignore the dirty looks or the way people leaned and moved away from him. He tried to focus on getting dressed and ready for practice.

“Thor,” one of his teammates said. “Coach wants to see you.”

He nodded and finished getting outfitted before he headed to the office. Thankfully, only the head coach was there, Coach Phillips. He was an older man, perhaps the same age as his father. Coach Phillips and Odin, Thor had decided, would either get along famously or they would be at each other’s throats constantly and there was no in between. The man had a perpetually stern look on his face, like he had spent some time in the military and it had left him in a sour mood ever since. That being said, Thor thought him a decent man. When he entered the office, Coach Phillips motioned for him to walk with him.

“Son, I don’t know what rumors you’ve heard but I’ve had a number of complaints about you recently,” he said as he walked.

“Anson Brown informed me this morning,” Thor said. “Have there been any others?”

“Most of the complaints have been from guys like him,” Phillips said. “Bitter sons of bitches with delusions of grandeur who want to play but aren’t as good as they think they are.”

Thor chuckled at that.

“You think this funny, Odinson?” Phillips asked.

“Why shouldn’t I, sir?” Thor asked. “You made me quarterback because I am the most qualified, not because I was straight.”

“You got the right of it there, son,” he replied. “God, I hoped all this would end when Barnes went off to college.”

“You know about Bucky, Coach?”

Coach Phillips gave him a deadpan look. Of course he does, Thor thought.

“Son, this happens every time there’s a gay or bisexual or what have you guy on the team,” he explained. “And every time it happens there are some kids who want to whine about it ‘cause they think being naked in a room with someone who likes guys makes them less of a man.”

“So there is no problem then,” Thor stated.

“Not unless you plan on fuckin’ your boyfriend in the locker room,” he replied. “Now get out there, I want you all to get those plays down pat by Friday. Anyone gives you trouble, you deal with it or you send them to me, got it?”

“Yes, coach,” Thor replied and jogged to the field where people were already starting to get ready.

It could have been worse, Thor thought with relief. Wait until I tell Steve, he will be gladdened.

#thundershield #thor x steve rogers #steve rogers x thor #thorsteve #stevethor #marvel #avengers #Thundering Heart #Ballad of the Thundering Heart #fanfic #my work #trigger warning: homophobia

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shipmistress9 · 7 years ago

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Not one of Them - Epilogue 1: Payback

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

A/N; Alright, here we go. Epilogue No.1. Have fun and I'll say something about it at the end ;)

. o O o .

Tuffnut Thorston, or better known as Crazy T, let his gaze wander over the crowded dance floor below him. Just as usual, people were dancing and swaying to the music he decided to play and in his opinion, this was the best job in the world. It was his decision that influenced the people's mood, his decision whether those guys over there would go crazy over some Metal music, whether those smaller groups of girls would shyly hob back and force with their drinks still in hand or whether couples would more or less make out openly right there in front of everyone. It was fun!

Today was different though. Today, he also intended to influence the people's mood but in a different way. It made him a bit nervous but then, it wasn't his plan and he only played a small role in it. He only needed to get the ball rolling.

"Any idea when it's going to start?" he asked, but his sister who sat at a table behind him just shrugged.

"No idea. She said someone would tell us when to start. Could be any moment now or still be hours. You know how those guys are, on it like rabbits."

"Thanks, Ruff. I didn't need that picture in my mind!" answered another female voice as she approached the private table up here at the mixing desk.

T turned and greeted the newcomer with their usual high five. The young woman with the wild blond hair and voluptuous curves still grimaced but neither T nor his sister were earnestly concerned about Cami's innocence of mind. She'd traded in that card a long time ago.

"It's true though. I don't know about her but he can be a bit demanding sometimes," Ruffnut replied with a smirk and T grimaced. He knew that his sister regularly banged random blokes but he didn't need to hear her talking about it. Time to change the topic.

"I still can't believe you knew about this!" he said reproachfully. "Honestly, C. H is a friend of mine, a warning might have been nice."

The blonde just shrugged. She made a specific gesture toward one of the waiters and then slumped down on one of the empty chairs. "I see him as a friend, too," she stated nonchalantly and inspected her fingernails. "We're kind of the same, after all. Always on the hunt. And from the few times we clashed, I can say that he's one of those who never makes things complicated. I like him."

"Why did you make this bet then? Honestly, that was just disgusting!" Ruff said angrily and T nodded. He was all for playing tricks but this bet was a bit over the top, even for his taste. Cami, however, just rolled her eyes.

"There never was a bet!" she sighed exasperatedly. "Honestly, what do you think of me?"

"That someone did make a bet with that bitch. And there were enough people around you who heard you talking."

The waiter came with Cami's order and she took a big sip of her cocktail before she answered.

"Yes, Ruff, I talked to her. But I didn't make a bet with her! She was new in town and I wanted to meet her, this self-proclaimed Sex-Goddess," Cami snorted.

T and Ruff exchanged a knowing smirk. "So, you felt threatened on your thrown?" Ruff asked with a grin.

But Cami ignored her. "She claimed she could have any man she wanted for as long as she wanted. Which is hilarious! Even men aren't stupid enough to put up with someone like her for long, no matter how good the sex is. But she didn't stop bragging. Honestly, I've never met someone this annoying and I know a lot of people. Anyway, I called her a show-off and... might have mentioned that I know at least one guy she wouldn't be able to keep chained to only her bed for long. She took that as a challenge, I guess..." Cami grimaced and shook her head.

"Honestly, I never expected Haddock would fall for her seduction. But hey, he's a big boy and it's not like it would hurt him to be used for only sex." She took another sip of her drink and then placed the glass back on the table between them. When she continued talking, she sounded apologetic. "I swear, I didn't know about this 'fake relationship'-thing she was playing on him; not until he send me all that stuff the other day. I would have said something long ago if I'd known! And I definitely didn't know that Eret was part of her game, either. I still want to scratch her eyes out for that. Tricking a playboy into sex is one thing. Tricking an uninvolved girl into a disgusting lie of a relationship though?" Cami angrily shook her head.

"Well, then let's just hope there are enough other people who think like you," Ruff stated dryly. "That's kind of what Haddock's idea was, right? Not the gory part, but..." she trailed off and T stepped in.

"So, what exactly is the plan then? You said you need my help, but for what exactly?" he asked, glancing at his mixing desk. All he'd gotten was a message from H where he'd explained the situation. He'd said that C would contact him and explain the rest.

"Oh, you'll love this!" Cami grinned. "You have this App here at the club, remember? The one where you announce special theme-days and people can make song requests and all?"

T nodded. Nearly every regular visitor to this club had this app on their phone. It was convenient; they even could put in a warning when the club was full and the waiting line outside too long.

"See, I have this neighbour," Cami went on. "Justin. He's an adorable dork. He programmed a little bug for me and –"

"And you banged him in return?" Ruff threw in.

"Actually, no, I didn't. He's far too awkward for casual sex. But he's a nice guy and once fell for a girl like Heather as well. He was all too willing to help."

"Adorable awkward dork," Ruff mused. "I might need to pay him a visit someday."

T grimaced. "He programmed a bug, you said. For our App? How does that work?" The thought made him a bit uncomfortable. Surely, neither C nor H would do something to compromise him in his job or harm this club in general, but still...

"Yeah. He gave me this," Cami held up a small USB-stick. "I just needed to plug it into your computer here, and –"

"Wait, wait, wait!" T interrupted her. "You broke into the office just now?"

Once more, Cami rolled her eyes. "Of course, I didn't! I convinced one of your security guys to open it for me."

"Which one?" Ruff cackled. "Scott or Throg?"

"Scott," the other girl replied. "I promised him a weekend at my mum's holiday house in return."

"Uhg, really?" Ruff shuddered. "Fair warning, he can get a bit annoying. Never stops talking about himself."

"Ah, he's not so bad," Cami replied with an insinuating smirk. "You just need to keep his mouth otherwise occupied and then he's fantastic company." Both girls began to snicker and now it was on T to roll his eyes.

"Alright, back to the main point. You hacked our App! What are you planning? And does Mala know about it?"

Cami sobered up again and a calm smile spread across her face. "Yeah, don't worry. Your boss knows I kind of hijacked her club tonight. She knows me after all. And she knows Haddock and Astrid and what kind of girl Heather is. She's okay with paying her and Eret back. She just didn't want to know too many details and be involved directly in any way.

"And the plan is that you get most people off the dance floor. Play some slow love ballad. The happy couples in this room aren't the ones we need anyway. Then I'll send a specific song request, a codeword. It'll only work once and then the bug should inactivate itself. But once I did that, the App will send an announcement to everyone who has your App on their phone. Nearly all phones in here should start beeping at once. That should draw enough attention so people look it up directly. The announcement contains what Haddock send me, Heather's and Eret's bragging about how they tricked them. He blacked out a few parts, those who would be too detailed about his friend, I guess. But you get the idea anyway. Everyone will know what they did and believe me, no-one is going to like it. She went way too far!"

T nodded but there was still an unanswered question. "And what are we waiting for? I mean, why not do it now? As soon as people know, Heather and Eret will have a hard time fooling anyone else. Isn't that the point?"

"Ah, where would be the fun in that?" Cami smirked. "No, I had an idea that went a bit further and Haddock agreed," she took another sip from her drink, obviously holding the twins in suspense on purpose. Taking her time, she put the glass down and leaned back in her chair.

"I invited her here today," she finally went on. "Told her I want to pay my respect for her accomplishment. She'll walk in here, expecting to be hailed as the one who captured Hiccup Haddock. I'm sure there are those who would have admired her for that. But as I said, she went too far. Instead of congratulations, she'll only get insults and scorn. For someone who's so obsessed with how people regard her, a humiliation like this will be worse than being dragged to court, believe me. And it'll stick in the people's mind. She'll never be able to pull something like this ever again!"

Ruff, who seemed to have heard this part before, nodded before asking another question. "How do you know when to send this announcement though? I'm pretty sure at least Eret has our App as well. They won't show up here when they know everyone read this."

Cami glanced at her phone. "A little bird is going to tell me when it's time," she murmured mysteriously. Then she glanced up and grinned at Ruff's and T's confused expressions. "Her brother isn't all too happy with what she pulled off, either. I know Dagur from an... ah... other club. He's a decent guy and didn't know about the game she and his flatmate played. Just that they both also slept with other people, but that was nothing new. Usually, those people knew about each other, after all.

"Anyway, he'll tell me when they left his flat and are on their way. They won't stop just to check their phones, assuming they notice them beeping at all. And I arranged for them to be on the special guest list so they don't have to wait outside, either."

Cami looked at them both with a smug expression and T couldn't help but feel similar. He'd meant what he'd said earlier. He considered H to be a friend even when the man barely ever let anyone near him, metaphorically spoken. No-one but A, that is. T had wondered about what kind of relationship those two had shared, had been slightly worried about them during the past months and now was glad to know they'd finally made up their minds.

For about half an hour, not much happened. C and Ruff had started to talk about men again and T tried to tune them out and concentrated on his music instead. But when a short and slightly metallic sounding battle cry and the noises of a vibrating phone echoed toward him, he turned toward the girls again. Cami had her phone in her hand and a mischievous smirk spread across her face.

"Alright," she announced. "That's the signal. Your turn now, T. Slow and intense." She flashed him a grin which got her two pairs of rolling eyes.

"So, Haddock and Astrid won't be here for this payback?" Ruff asked instead. "I know I would want to be there if the bitch who played a trick like that on me gets grilled."

Cami gave her a thoughtful look. "Me too, I guess. But, no, they won't be here. Something about never wanting to see them again, I think," she shrugged. "Works for me," she pushed her chair closer to the railing as to have a better view of the dancefloor below. "This way, I can brag about how it went to him tomorrow. So much more fun!"

Shaking his head at her eagerness, T turned once more to his mixing desk when the song playing right now came to an end.

"Alright, guys," he called into his mic. "Have a little break and relax for once. I'm giving you slow and lovely. Don't blame me!" He started the track – Taylor Swift, not what he played often – and thereby got the ball rolling.

It was sufficient to say that everything worked as Cami had planned.

. o O o .

I freely admit that I didn't think much about any revenge when I first planned this story. I mainly focused on Hiccup and Astrid getting together. But as I wrote it out, Heather and Eret became even more horrible and I realised that, yes, there had to be some kind of payback.

Now, I don't think any legal means would work. Hiccup bought all those things for her and freely gave them over after the breakup. And as bad as it is, cheating and playing tricks isn't illegal last time I checked.

And I can't see (this) Hiccup or Astrid planning some ambush to beat them up either. Because that would be illegal!

After some while of thinking about it, I then came up with this idea. I'm sorry if some of you are disappointed but, personally, I have to say I like this outcome. Hiccup has more friends than he thinks, I guess. ;) And it was a Hel lot of fun to write! :D

The next epilogue might take a bit longer or might be up tomorrow, who knows... xD But it will be fluff and smut!

Epilogue 2

#Not one of Them #hiccstrid fanfiction #modern hiccstrid #hiccstrid #httyd fanfiction #shipmistress9

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saecris · 7 years ago

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{ ♚ } character survey .

tagged by: @basedmercury ( thank you, rice! ) + tornscales ( thank you! ) + @veratro ( thank you, nate! ) tagging: this is literally from last year, idk who’s done it and who hasn’t just take it from me.

full name: lie ren (in canon divergent, his surname is lie, and his given name is ren/in canon, his surname is ren, and his given name is lie) nickname/alias: nezha age: eighteen birthday: january eighteenth ethnic group: chinese (remnant equivalent), as well as a few other eastern influences (my main li ( @iveslain ) is also part japanese and vietnamese) nationality: mistrali language{s}: equivalent mandarin, equivalent japanese, common tongue sexual orientation: grey-a romantic orientation: demipanromantic relationship status: verse dependent class: upper/ working class home town: kuroyuri, anima current home: no situated profession: huntsman-in-training

hair: waist-length, black hair style: layered, with a slight wave when damp, often tied into a ponytail eyes: pale rose in colour, appearing monolidded nose: small, buttoned, with a long bridge face: diamond shaped, angular, strong cheekbones and sharp chin, symmetrical lips: pale pink, almost flesh toned, full, bow-lipped complexion: olive toned, warm undertone blemishes: none scars: all over body tattoos: crescent moon on hipbone, phases of the moon tattooed along spine, tbd. height: 178cm (5′10″) weight: 64kg (140lbs) features: ivory horns, visible pre-volume four allergies: none usual expression: expressionless clothing: black undershirt, green-gold-black tail coat, white trousers, black dress shoes (volume one-three) black undershirt, green silver red tail cat, white trousers, black boots, pink ombre gloves (volume four)

fear: inadequacy, loss of loved ones, suffocation aspiration: to become a huntsman positive traits: steadfast, loyal, clear-sighted, intelligent, adaptive negative traits: manipulative, cold, cynical, melancholic, willful mbti: intp zodiac: capricorn sun / gemini moon / scorpio ascending temperament: melancholic soul type: hunter animal: dragon vices: smoking habits: hair twirling, covering mouth, touching nose bridge, tilting head, sticking out tongue faith: polytheist, lunar cult religion ghosts? yes afterlife? yes reincarnation? yes aliens? possibly political alignment: — economic preference: does not care sociopolitical position: — education level: private education (incomplete), huntsman education (incomplete)

father: ren li mother: zhilan lie (alias: ren an) siblings: miscarried older sister, unborn little brother extended family: over twenty one members of extended family, deceased name meaning{s}: li and an together mean ‘lotus’ in chinese. historical connection? —

book{s}: teachings of confuciansm, compilation of chinese myths and fairytales, other than that will literally read almost anything you put in front of him, poetry books, especially that which he can copy into calligraphy movie: — five songs: koda — staying / deity: polythiest, nezha, lunar goddess holiday: winter solstice month: — season: spring place: mistral scent{s}: incense, green tea cologne, mint, earth after rain, ash, a meadow taste{s}: iron, strong coffee, tea, salt, iced candy, citrus feel{s}: all of them animal{s}: salamander, snake, cat, wolf, tiger number{s}: eight colour{s}: gold, black, white, red, green

talent{s}: dance, calligraphy, singing, cooking bad at: video games, in depth technology use turn ons: wit, humour, complexity, challenge turn offs: excessive self pity, unproductiveness, lack of drive and passion hobbies: dance, calligraphy, cooking tropes: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Characters/RWBYTeamJNPR aesthetic: http://saecris.tumblr.com/search/aes or /search/aesthetic

main faceclaim.

alternate faceclaim.

older faceclaim.

younger faceclaim.

voice claim{s}: monty oum (volume i + ii) / neath oum (volume iii + iv + onward) / huang zitao (modern + aus) / ashe (english singing)

cisswapped: no

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : the latest episode, kuroyuri (volume four; chapter ten), debunked a lot of my headcanoned backstory, to the point of having to create an au version of ren to keep my version alive. if i wanted to create a movie, it would be about the version i’ve been working on for more than a year now, and will continue to work on from this point on wards. edit: lol, no, i’m just rewriting his backstory.

Q2 : what would their soundtrack/ score sound like?

A2 : just listen to the autoplay on my blog, my music tag also helps.

Q3 : why did you start writing this character?

A3 : i just hadn’t written a male muse in a while, and ren was the very first muse i picked up that had so little canon information. working with a character that hadn’t been fleshed out made me so much more invested in him than i had been any other muse before. and in the beginning, i liked this fandom, there are still a lot of gems that make it worthwhile but— i’m not sure, i’ve never received the reactions and praise for other characters that i’ve had for ren.

Q4 : what first attracted you to this character?

A4 : i don’t really know. i was tossing up between making a blake and a ren, and i guess i went for ren because there was less canon info to work with.

Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : i really cannot think of anything i dislike about him. i’m not sure if it’s a bad thing or not. i like his virtues and his flaws.

Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : deadpan snarking. artistic abilities. smoothie addicts.

Q7 : how does your muse feel about you?

A7 :

Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

A8 : one of the most interesting interactions i’ve had is with @honoreflected‘s mulan. in the original ballad, mulan had a little brother that fell below the age of conscription, and in that verse, ren acts as the little brother.

Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse?

A9 : literally everything. ren is my longest running, and strongest muse.

Q10 : how long did this take you to complete?

A10 : at this point, this draft has probably been in the drafts for a few months now. edit: i’ve gone through three sets of tag changes already. final note: one of the people that tagged me has archived their account and moved. most of these questions were written months apart.

#i. the architecture of your bones was built by conquerors ( headcanon )#vii. brb / descending into hell ( munstuff )#gif/#long post/

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thejokersenigma · 8 years ago

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Deadly Voice Part 10

Hi guys - sorry this chapter is sooo long. I’ve been working and reworking it for a while now - but I’m finally just going to give up and post it so I apologise if its not great!

I hope you guys enjoy anyway - oh I am also on AO3 and Fanfic.net under a similar name if anyone would rather read it on there!

Thank you all for following me as well by the way - all comments are welcome and I’d love to chat or answer questions if anyone has any!

Masterlist

It was nearly a week later when I saw the Joker again; he was in his usual booth as I looked out into the crowd from the stage preforming my usual set. He was in black trousers and a white shirt with the top of his pale chest exposed to the air and decorated with golden chains.

Tonight was different to the usual though. He usually kept his gaze on me causing me to squirm, but tonight he didn’t look at me throughout the entire performance. Tonight, his attention was between his phone and the scantly glad waitresses that floated amongst the tables.

I could feel my heart drop at this and I cursed myself silently – why should I care? This should be a welcome relief from his usual behaviour. I tried to keep my head clear and carry on with my set but soon felt something stir in my stomach as I saw him look at a cocktail waitress in a particularly revealing dress – I could practically hear him purr. How could I be jealous of that girl? It was ridiculous - why would I want a murderous psycho looking at me like that?! Yes I couldn’t deny that he was handsome in a rather unusual way and he had a way of talking which could charm anyone – but he was also someone who didn’t care about anything or anyone, could kill without blinking and who would give gifts like live guns and bullets! His insanity was clearly rubbing off on me.

The rest of my performance I kept my eyes away from the back row of booths and I made myself focus solely on my songs, not noticing that my music became more and more like ballads.

As my set finished I left the stage only to be caught by Mr Grimms waiting for me in the wings.

“Hey [L/N]! I need you for the next set.” He called after me as I moved away to get changed.

“What?” I spun around confused – I was done for the night.

“I’ve had my dancer call off tonight and I know you have a background in it.” He stated.

“Yeah from 5 years ago – I haven’t done it since!” I told him.

“That’s more than anyone else has here!” He retorted. “Here!” He handed me a small dress. I held it up and marvelled at the small amount of material

“I won’t fit in that!” He raised one eyebrow at me and before I could say anything he had turned and walked away. I knew there was no use following him.

“Errr!” I huffed in exasperation - could tonight get any worse?!

I made my way to the dressing rooms with my tiny piece of fabric. Once I finally managed to squirm into the dress I looked at myself in the mirror. I could hardly recognise myself, it was a deep green fabric which wrapped around my neck and finished mid-thigh. It clung to every curve of my body and hid nothing – it was good thing I had been so low on food recently really.

After digging in the bottom of my dressing room wardrobe I found a pair of matching colour heels and then headed back to the stage, trying to stay out of sight for as long as possible and constantly pulling my skirt down paranoid.

“Hey [L/N] – hear your my dancer for the night!” chirped Ryan who stood backstage tuning a guitar. He was the singer in a band Penguin hired for Friday and Saturday nights ever since the music line up had changed.

“Yeah – that’s me.” I said unenthusiastically giving him a grimace of a smile.

“Are we really that terrible?” He laughed raising an eyebrow at my expression.

“Sorry – no it’s just this dress is a tad… revealing.” I said searching for the best word to sum up my chronic embarrassment.

“You look beautiful – doesn’t she boys?” He called off his shoulder at the rest of the band who were also tuning guitars and fiddling with other electronic equipment. His response was a chorus of ‘yeahs’ and a wolf whistle from the drummer. Ryan raised both his eyebrows at me this time with a look that said ‘see?’

“Aww cheers.” I said laughing but feeling my cheeks go hot.

“Now let’s go do this!” Ryan rallied before striding up onto the stage with confidence.

I waited for the band to file on behind him and I followed quietly behind them, stopping just out of sight behind the side curtain. I stood awkwardly fiddling with the hem of my dress as they set up their instruments and microphones.

Eventually they were ready and the drum beat started. As Ryan began to sing he gave me a slight hand signal and I nervously headed onto the stage. I knew this song quite well and I moved to the beat, trying to ignore the audience before me, focusing solely on Ryan who I liked and felt comfortable around. I made sure to move right to the lyrics Ryan sang, sauntering away, spinning and moving my hips to the changes in tone to the lyrics. By the time the song was over I could feel my insecurities beginning to slip.

“Ready for the next one?!” Shouted Ryan to the audience and then glanced at me. I gave him a slight nod and a small smile. He grinned at me and signalled for the band to start the next song.

As the songs kept going and I moved more and more I could feel myself letting go and caring less – gone were my thoughts of the gun in my room, gone were the memories of the night before, gone were my feelings of the Jokers lust filled eyes staring at waitresses.

Before I knew it the bands last song began. It had a deeper beat and sexier, more sensual tone to it, so I decided to have some fun. I swung my hips and swayed to music, sliding my hands up and down my body. I strode up to Ryan and he played along with my game until we were grinning at each other. I leaned into him and began to move my hands around him slightly and, though I kept my movements looking flirtatious, I never did anything inappropriate. I kept contact on him as I moved around him before striding off, in time to the lyrics, down the stage like a catwalk. As I reached the end of the stage I spun and dropped down to a squat before slowly rising up back up again.

I probably looked like an idiot pretending to be a stripper, but it was just me and the guys in my head and I was happy for a laugh at my idiotic moves. Finally, I strode back to Ryan and swung into him provocatively, grinding against him like I had seen some of the dancers do at the old club. I heard the last chords of the song and ended my game by flicking my hair back and leaning into Ryan to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks Ryan.” I whispered into his ear.

“Anytime – I mean it.” He murmured back and winked at me. I giggled in my still out-of-it state at his obvious hint.

I soon fell back to reality when a round of applause broke out to the band. I walked off the stage now truly feeling my embarrassment and the warmth of my skin no longing just being due to my dancing. Oh my God, what did I just do in front of everyone?! I really need a drink… I headed toward the bar fanning myself with my hand to try to cool my glowing face.

I sat myself down on a stool at the bar and ordered myself a cocktail. I took a long sip and twirled my straw between my fingers watching the rest of the club life. It was rare that I actually got to have a look out at the club when it was open and busy. I watch the couples at the tables, the huddles of girls giggling and grinding on the dance floor shooting flirtatious looks at the groups of guys chatting pick up strategies and meeting the girl’s eyes.

As I scanned the room I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander to his familiar pale face. He was facing me, watching with thunder in his eyes and I quickly glanced away and turned my attention back to my drink. I could still feel his eyes boring into me so I flicked my hair from over my shoulder so that it fell over my cheek and hid my face. I swallowed thickly. What had I done to deserve that look? Why was he so furious – deal gone south? Someone get his drink wrong? I didn’t know, and didn’t want to know, and certainly didn’t want his anger directed at me.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. My head shot up – I had been too deep in thought to notice anyone walk up behind me. I turned to see Johnny stood over me.

“Sorry Miss [L/N] – he is asking for you.” He muttered and he truly did seem sorry for his boss’s behaviour. I glanced around Johnny at the Joker. He met my eyes and raised his pale hand, beckoning me over with a finger. I shook my head at him defiantly – I was not a puppet to boss around.

“Sorry Johnny – I am not here for his convenience.” I stated, though not taking my eyes off the green haired gangsta. I heard Johnny sigh at the fact I wasn’t going easy.

The Joker raised a non-existent eyebrow at my response and, though the club was loud with music and voices, I could practically hear him growl from across the room. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his purple gun before lazily throwing his arm over the back of his chair aiming his gun into the next booth and at the nearest person.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course. I wouldn’t put it past him to pull the trigger if I refused so I abandoned my drink on the bar, slid off my stall and wove my way through the crowd pulling my dress down self-consciously.

As he saw me moving towards him he lowered his gun and gave me a wide grin. “Hello gorgeous,” he greeted eyeing me up and down in my dress as I stopped next to his booth. Now I was closer I could see the start of his muscles through the open part of his shirt and I could feel the blush on my cheeks. “Did you enjoy yourself up there darling?” He raised his invisible eyebrows and his eyes looked dangerous. I presumed he was referring to my dancing previously.

“Yes I did.” I stated simply, not understanding his problem. His grin dropped slightly and he growled dangerously. I looked at him confused.

“Sit.” He demanded his eyes not leaving my face.

“No thank you.” I muttered not moving.

“Don’t push me honey.” He growled shooting me with a deadly glare and fiddling with his gun on top of the table. I sighed at his threat and perched myself on the edge of the booth cushion. He raised one invisible eyebrow but didn’t say anything this time.

“Tell me sweetie, didn’t you like my present?” he asked innocently. His sudden mood swing took me back but I composed myself.

“You certainly have a unique idea of idea of what classes as a present.” I muttered dropping my eyes.

“Speak up sweetie you have such as lovely voice.” He purred showing me his wide grin again and his metal grill shone in the light emitted from lamp on the table. I shot him a dark look knowing full well he had heard me. “And here I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why? Why would you think that?!” I blurted out.

His eyes widen slightly at my outburst. “Careful.” He warned lowly. “Anger looks goooood on you babe.” He purred. “But don’t take it out on me.” He said innocently placing his hand on his bare chest.

“Not take it out on you?! You are the reason I am angry!” I cried.

“Is it really?” He pouted, teasing me. “What have I done that so bad?”

I couldn’t hold it back anymore – the idea that he didn’t think he was the reason just made me lose it.

What haven’t you done?! It’s all your mood swings! Your flirting and then threatening! Your staring! Your constant presence so I can never relax! The fact that I don’t know if you want to kill me or talk to me! Your weird dangerous presents! And the fact that I killed two people for you and you didn’t even thank me for it!”

“Bingo!” he cried out “We have a winner!” his red lips spreading into a menacing smile across his face.

I was confused and remained silent. “How did you justify it to yourself?” He questioned me, his eyes studying me.

“Excuse me?”

“People who don’t kill for a business – boring people – they have this thing of having to justify why they killed a person.” He explained slightly annoyed, as if normal people were the dullest people in the world. “So tell me what was yours?”

I didn’t say anything. He was right – I had justified it to myself, but why should I tell him. It wasn’t any of his business.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty….” He whispered at me but his icy eyes flashed dangerously.

“It’s not your business.” I muttered at him.

“Most people I can understand,” he said as if he didn’t hear me,” They usually have to kill for a reason – blackmail, money, lust…” he trialled off at me suggestively his eyes seemed to flash with something. “But I can’t see yours. So come on tell me pleeeasssseee.” He whined.

“I didn’t want your blood on my hands.” I admitted.

“But you were happy with the other two guy’s blood?” He questioned his face lighting up with delight at my obvious overlook. I stayed silent. He was right – why was his life any better than the other men’s? Why had I not even given a thought to the lives I was destroying? They may have done illegal things too, but I highly doubted the two of them combined had done as many illegal things or killed as many people as the Joker.

I looked away out to the stage where the next band, a jazz band, had begun to play. It was getting late now and I needed to get to bed.

“Ahh doll look at me…” he drawled. I didn’t move. He growled and slammed his hands on the table as he shoved himself up and across the booth in one fluid movement and grabbed my face pulling me up so I was inches from his. “I’ve let you get away with a lot tonight sugar, dancing with that boy, yelling at me, not looking me in the eye, but I think you need to learn some respect.” He snarled and I winced as his hand tightened on my chin and his fingers dug into my cheek.

Suddenly his grip was gone from my face and his hand slapped across my face. The shock, more than the force, caused my head to fly to the right and I stumbled catching myself on the booth cushions.

My cheek stung and I had to blink back tears as I looked up at him. He pulled his jacket straight but kept his head down, I wasn’t sure if he was trying to compose himself or if he felt bad. Hell of course he didn’t feel bad.

That was it. I wasn’t here to be teased, ridiculed and bruised. It was late and I was going to bed. I stood up abruptly and went to swiftly turn away but he shot his arm out and caught me.

He kept his head down, not looking me. “You’re not leaving me are you?” he murmured without looking up.

“I don’t want to be anywhere near you.” I snapped at him

“Ah doll your hurting me right here!” his mood changing instantly again, he was suddenly looking at me again, grinning insanely at me, pointing at his shoulder.

“I’m hurting you in your shoulder?” I demanded angrily.

“Oh I’m sorry” he let out his signature laugh, “– where’s a heart supposed to be? Here?” He gestured to his crotch, winked at me and continued to laugh loudly. He seemed to have snapped completely. His usual self was clearly only a small layer of his craziness. The slap seemed to have triggered something in him and released his true insanity.

“Oh no wait, it’s here!” he exclaimed still laughing manically and pointing at his jacket sleeve. “Because that’s where yours is baby!” he grinned maliciously.

“In your dreams!” I spat in shock at his mad behaviour.

“Some nights yeah,” he mocked, “but only because the reality inspires me!”

“Your- your…” I stuttered not knowing how I felt or how to describe him.

“‘Your’, ‘Your’,” he mimicked in a high pitch voice. “Come on sweetie – use your deadly little voice.” He purred.

But I didn’t. Instead I withdrew the arm he wasn’t gripping and didn’t hold back as I swung around to slap him in the face. I didn’t look to see what damage I had done I just ran as fast as I could up to my flat and locked the door behind me before collapsing in gasps and sobs against my front door.

#joker x reader #joker fanfic #fanfic #deadly voice #deadly voice part 10 #x reader #reader #joker #violence #johnny frost

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