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sweetbunnykook · 5 years

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Only You (7)

Word Count: 11,126 // angst (mention of physical abuse, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of physical harm, weapons), smut (unsafe sex practice, blowjob, rimjob, fingering, cumplay), a hint of fluff

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

A/N: Thank you so so so so much for waiting so long omg the universe was set on sabotaging my fanfiction career but I prevailed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I’m looking forward to the responses - 🐰

Playlist: The Very Gentle Lovers

‘I don’t love you anymore, Jungkook’

‘What?’ He looks up from his camera.

‘I said I don’t love you,’ you repeated, brushing your locks away with the back of your hand while you turn towards Seokjin, standing next to the television. ‘I’ve…I’ve been with Jin all along. He makes me feel complete, he makes me feel like a woman.’

He stands, the pencil falling from his fingers, looking between you and the man that didn’t belong in your apartment he called his safe haven.

‘N-noona what do you…mean? I-I’ve been good, haven’t I? I did everything you told me to. I-I,’ He panics, his breath catching in his throat as his hands begin to shake, sweat pooling in his palms.

You shake your head. ‘I’m sorry, Kookie.’ You lean forward and cup him softly on the cheek with one hand. He melts into your touch like butter, but before he can ask if you’ll change your mind, you’re moving away.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this, but you’re just too immature for me-’

‘I’ll do anything!’

‘-and I just think it’s best that I move in with Jin. He takes care of me,’ you smile at the broken hearted boy.

‘Noona please,’ he begs but his feet are glued to the ground.

He watches helplessly as you slide your hands in the crook of Jin’s arms with intimate familiarity. You roll your eyes at the tears streaking down his eyes as he begins to shrink, smaller and smaller, until he’s about the same height as your knees.

His cries turn into wails, the pitch of his voice rising and rising. There’s an iron man figurine in his hand and his other little fist flies up to his face to wipe his tears away.

‘Mama, don’t leave me!’ Jungkook wails. ‘Mama I’ll be good! I won’t be bad a-anymore! I won’t ask to play anymore!’

The door slams shut.

‘Mama!’

Jungkook startles awake, his fists taught on the bedsheets beneath him.

Pupils dilated. Hands shaking. Heavy breaths. Heavy heartbeats.

It’s been a while since he’s had a dream as painfully vivid as this one. Ever since he’d moved in with you and found the pleasure of holding you close every night, his nightmares lessened. It was a rather strange phenomenon but one thing he was sure about: you are his only remedy. He knows for sure now that calling Taehyung was the right decision. The man had told him to sleep on the idea first before confirming because this plan he’d brewed up over a single car ride could change your life – his life – forever. There’s no going back afterwards. The thought makes him queasy but ignites a flame deep in his core as well, because he knows no matter what Seokjin might pull, he’ll be four steps ahead. The prick must’ve thought he wouldn’t act so quick but no, oh no no no, he doesn’t wait around for things to get worse when it comes to you. You’re a woman after all. Your heart is fragile and innocent; it must be protected away from the claws of men that won’t love you the way he does.

It was distressful to bear witness to the filth you’ve been interacting with at your office behind his back. It was his woman that willingly went to Kim Seokjin for coffee. Jungkook couldn’t deny that you’re just as guilty as that prick, but he’s willing to forgive you as your doe eyes told him all he needed to know about your obliviousness.

Seokjin must’ve been nudging his way through your heart every morning you arrive at that suffocating building, preying upon your kindness, your willingness to stimulate a conversation with just about anyone out of curiosity. This eagerness of yours had scared him ever he’d first laid eyes on you. You really have no idea that men melt at any attention you give them.

Jungkook also notices well enough that the rest of the employees walked into the office right on the clock, apathetic about punctuality in contrast. They’re not as responsible as you are, as pure, as lovely. He knows for sure that your useless need to arrive to your job at least ten minutes early gave Seokjin the extra ten minutes to fantasize about you.

His fists shook just thinking about you sharing a cup of coffee with a man that obviously wanted to pull you away from your precious boyfriend who was waiting so diligently at home, alone, frightened.

“Stupid fucking homewreckers…” he mutters underneath his breath, like a mantra.

He runs his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp as he leans into your side of the bed, inhaling the scent of your perfume and swallowing his pain down to let it settle in his stomach like disease. He curls into a ball, repeating the three words over and over again, head hurting, another voice mingling with his: his mother’s.

Liar!

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

Lies! Lies! Lies!

He presses an elbow onto the mattress and propped himself up, looking around the bedroom once more. Birds chirped gingerly outside the window and the freshly laundered curtains swayed gently with the salty wind. How come the room seems so peaceful and silent while he was rotting away on the inside, losing every bet he casted, finding no water in the midst of a desert? You are what made this bedroom feel like home. Your smiles, your touches, your eyes on him and him only. He longed for your warmth to come in this time when he needed you the most.

Jungkook slides his hand towards his neck and pops the first button before tugging the cotton over his head. He relishes in the warmth the golden sunlight offered on his firm skin; a cheap substitute compared to your touch. He looked around the room once more in daze, then softly tossed the shirt on top of the vanity where your perfume collection lay. His eyes caught your dresser and he was immediately stomping over to the heavy cherrywood furniture, his arms pulling the very bottom drawer towards him.

Your underwear lay neatly layered across the interior, color-coded from the lightest shade to the deepest. Jungkook knew your intimates very well for he took upon the responsibility of handwashing the delicates and removing any blood stains during your menstrual cycles. He organized the collection as well and familiarized himself with each color and design, noting which fabric you preferred and which kind of strap dug into your back.

His fingers grazed over the cups; one pearl set, two vanilla sets, one lilac, two beige, two peachy, one pale pink (his favorite), and three black. Off to the side of the well-made sets were the plain white cotton underwear and sport bras you wore on a near daily basis. He counted the pairs, totaling exactly twelve. One of the designer sets is missing and it dawned on him that you wore the subdued golden set he’d seen in Namjoon’s villa when he’d risked sneaking into your room. He couldn’t recount the amount of times he’d traced the gentle embroidery with the tips of his fingers, admired it on your body as the cups hugged your breasts just right.

His spine prickles with sweat when it dawns on him that you wore it to office today. Underneath those modest clothes you wore something extremely special – expensive too – for work. But it simply didn’t make sense to him. You walk around your office all day, scrambling for this and that, on the phone with a client, in a meeting, organizing files after checking basic calculations. It’s not the type of place you’d wear lingerie to unless …

Unless you wanted attention, you wanted someone to notice, someone that’s not your boyfriend, someone new, someone handsome.

Kim Seokjin

Shit, shit, shit!

The evidence was damning. Jungkook couldn’t deny it any longer; you slipped through his fingers just like that. Just some time ago you were feeding him sugared words with how you’ll only love him, want him, take him. Now that the routine is back, you’re looking for someone new!

It was rich of you to avoid his advances in your office when you were strutting for Seokjin. He knows that look on your face when you’re needy; your lips pouty, pupils dilated, cheeks pink, hair slightly tousled like you slipped out of bed. He reveled in the fact that after your little promiscuous phase, he was the only man that had the pleasure of seeing that face. It didn’t sit well that Jin has probably witnessed it at some point these past few days and he felt like an idiot for slacking off his grip on you. He can tell that you haven’t slept with Jin as you couldn’t lie your way out of a paper bag when he interrogates, but it could easily become reality any day.

Jungkook knew one hundred percent for sure that he must follow through the plan he made with Taehyung. He must!

Tears brim in his eyes and he quickly blink it away, but to no avail, they start flooding. Like a child, Jungkook sits in front of the drawer, rubbing his wet eyes with his fists, small whimpers and sobs shaking his nail-marked back. Just when he thought he can be happy with you something always goes wrong. Even when you hurt him, make him sick, turn his insides sour, he doesn’t have the heart to blame you for wanting another man.

It’s alright, Jungkook tells himself, because he’ll be better for you.

It can be anything. Maybe you hated the breakfast he made two mornings ago (because he noticed the way you grimaced at the dried cranberries). Maybe you hated the detergent he used (because it accidentally left a small gray stain in the lining of your favorite blazer). Maybe you hated that he forgot to water the plants regularly and the leaves became limp. He’ll have to set a few alarms to make sure he can avoid making any mistakes. It wasn’t that long since he’d broken Kim Namjoon’s nose (which was well-deserved, in his opinion) so he’s treading on thin ice.

Jungkook slides the drawer back into its rightful compartment and clears his throat, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm before moving into your closet. It was one of his pride and joys; the ability to touch what you will be wearing for the day. The closet had two walls with built-in stainless-steel poles on both walls. The left, yours, the right, his. Compared to his side – consisting mostly of white shirts and various types of jeans – your side was much more colorful and a bit of a mess too. He shook his head, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips. No matter how much he cleans it ends in a mess; such a clumsy girlfriend you are.

Jungkook pushes the coats to one side to reveal the wooden box behind. He scrapes the wood along the matte cabinet below, pushing the black lacquered lid aside with the flick of his thumb along the metal lip. It was a poor organization system but he assumes the box holds enough sentimental value for its beauty to outweigh the inconvenience. After all, he’s seen photographs of your grandmother with the same box in her wrinkled hands – no doubt a precious family heirloom.

Thankfully, he found the papers he needed in the third plastic file (thank goodness you at least portioned the stack) and flipped through the white sheets.

Your recent blood test is perfect, although your iron levels could be a little higher, and the ear infection from last year seems to be the only stumble you’ve had in a while. You had a regular check up with Dr. Kwon two months ago and you are as fit as an average woman can be. You aren’t due for another check up at the gynecologist until December, which gives him a great time to go ahead with his plan. It was a miracle that birth control pills worked better for you than an IUD because Taehyung had explained that there’s no getting around an inserted copper. Who knew that those lovely tablets you take on the daily would be the gateway to heaven?

Taehyung had clarified he’ll need two weeks at most to replicate the pills down to its exact color, taste, and size. Placebo pills aren’t exactly difficult to make but making a batch of fifty would take considerable time and patience amidst a busy schedule. Surpassing security was another issue but Jungkook wasn’t too worried about it when Jimin can pull a few strings with the guys at the dock. If everything goes well, you’ll never be able to leave his side again.

There was only a twenty percent chance of a woman conceiving after an intercourse and Jungkook was running out of time. He’s got competition and Jungkook doesn’t take any challenges lightly, especially one that concerns his place in your life.

If he wants to get you pregnant, he’ll need to be on his best behavior, and most importantly, get the timing right.

He folds the paper at its seams before sliding it into the plastic file. He then places it back into the box before clasping the lid shut. He’s got a considerable amount of research to do to make sure you have the greatest chance of falling pregnant; he can vaguely remember the article of a study finding that women who eat yams during unprotected sex can increase the chance of giving birth to twins but-

A click yanks Jungkook away from his thoughts to the box in his hands. The bottom inch of the box slides to the left in the complete opposite direction of the lid, and it is with great wonder that he discovers there’s a small switch underneath the box hidden from view that had unlatched when he dragged the box towards him.

The first detail that caught his eye was the luxurious red velvet lining that coated all sides of the hidden compartment. He can tell it’s been well-loved by its lack of stains or rips despite having survived an entire generation. The second shocker? The pearl and diamond necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings that lay on top of the fabric. He can immediately tell this was something you couldn’t afford on your own. It was impossible that you purchased this with your father’s inheritance money as you had told him before you were saving the money for emergencies or when you want to settle down somewhere for good.

It must be your grandmother’s jewelry.

He bit his trembling bottom lip and uncoiled the heavy diamond necklace from the collection, watching the diamonds glimmer under the bright closet light. God how he wished his bank account didn’t stay so barren every month. Each gem was at least two carats and there was about eighty lining the length of the necklace from one end to the next. He could sink to the bottom of the ocean from its pure weight.

Before he can entertain himself with the thought of seeing you in this necklace with nothing else, like in Titanic, his absolute favorite romantic movie, he caught the initials on the small clasp where the two ends meet.

KNJ

Jungkook squeezed the necklace in his fist so hard the world’s strongest material would have surrendered had he not given into his broken heart. He holds his shaking shoulders, digging the diamonds into his naked biceps, and cried, and cried, and cried.

Your feet ached in your loafers. Having to deal with Jungkook’s jealousy so early in the morning, then getting your head chewed off by your boss in front of your coworkers, and then suffering through the embarrassment of having Seokjin buy you lunch because you lost your debit card had steam blowing out both ears by the time you pulled in the driveway of your apartment complex. The bite mark on your shoulder still hasn’t healed and you are trying your hardest to not let the day’s bitterness get to you by complaining to your boyfriend about it. The mark was oddly romantic but after he threw a nasty glare at your best friend of two decades, you finally understand Jungkook does a lot of unnecessary things out of jealousy under the pretense of romance.

Is he really as kind as you think he is or is he kind because he wants you to be docile and forgiving after every slip up?

You shake your head. You’re tired, you’re hungry, and most of all, you want to cuddle with your cozy boyfriend after a long day. The day is just getting to your head, that’s all.

Just as you lock your car and make your way to the elevator, rain begins to pour, small droplets thundering on the lunchbox in your hand, and then falling all at once. Your feet stomped against the concrete as you break into a job towards the elevator, watching the old man that lived down the hall drying himself inside.

“Please hold!” You call out but the old man only turns to look at you, making no attempt to keep the doors open and so you watch pathetically as the silver doors close and the elevator makes its way up to the same floor you live in.

As if your day couldn’t get worse, the lift is transparent enough for the old prick to watch you get more and more soaked as he makes his way up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You mutter under your breath as you curse not only at the old man but the way the elevator was built to be out in the open. They really couldn’t afford to put a little roof in front of the doors? The security guard in the booth next to the elevator didn’t even stir when lighting flashes, followed by an earth-shattering thunder. The building owner had the money to hire a useless guard but not enough to buy a twenty-dollar picnic umbrella from a thrift shop.

Amazing.

By the time you reach the front door of your apartment, you’re completely soaked from head to toe. You place the lunch box on top of the shoe cabinet and slip out of your loafers, wiping your feet on the door mat. Then you remove your cashmere top and skirt, shivering at the coolness of your apartment. You wring your hair on the door mat – a disgusting habit – in hopes of not bringing any moisture into the house more than you need to.

Grabbing Jungkook’s dry coat from the rack drilled next to the doorsteps, you wrap the warm material around you and make your way into the kitchen, throwing the wet clothes onto the kitchen counter.

“Jungkookie?” You look into the kitchen, expecting him to pop out from behind the polished cabinets with two glasses of wine.

You turn your head from side to side, brows furrowed in confusion as you noticed him crouching near the balcony doors.

“Kookie?” You asked again and only upon stepping closer did you notice the familiar box on the floor next to his feet, your necklaces wrapped around his fingers like snakes.

Faster than lighting you dive for his hand, the rush of madness fueling your veins to the point that you thought about shoving him towards the balcony where rain continued to pour just to hurt him. Jungkook watches you with bloodshot eyes, teeth gritted and fists tight as he pulls the jewelry out of reach.

“Those are mine!” You shouted, reaching for the diamonds as he keeps one free hand on your shoulder, pushing you away.

“You lied to me,” he snarls, his voice quiet yet you can feel his raw anger vibrate in your bones. His voice was unusually low and heavy, a complete one-eighty from the whiny boyfriend you’re used to.

“You had no right going through my stuff, Jungkook,” you glare, angry tears falling onto his lap, “this is my privacy!”

“You fucking lied to me,” he sobs, his voice rising. “I wanted to surprise you and clean your closet so you didn’t have to be stressed in the morning, noona,” he squeezes your shoulder as you reach for the jewelry again. “And I-I dropped your box by accident, I swear it was an accident. I was so afraid you were going to be mad at me-”

You growl, your eyes fixated on the jewelry.

“-but then I see that you’ve been LYING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME!” He roars and stands, dragging you up by the shoulders with him. “You’ve been hiding EVERYTHING!”

“I didn’t lie,” you seethed, the day’s exhaustion melting off of you, “these are my jewelry, my gifts.”

He scoffs, lips pulling in a sneer. “You’re really keep pretending, noona?”

You’re not sure what aspect of his question peeled your eyes away from his jewel clad fist. It could’ve been the hurt in his voice or the fact that you were both soaked and angry. It could also have been the height difference, the way you notice you’re never going to be able to reach for his fist as he is taller, stronger, bigger.

It wasn’t until you feel the sting on your palm that you realized you’d slapped him across the face, silencing the room until all you can hear is his soft little hiccups. You’ve never laid your hands on another person until Jungkook came along. Hell, you threw an entire tantrum in grade school when riding a horse because you didn’t want to spank its behind to make it run. You’re not sure where this cruelty come from or how it manifested into a disease that grew in your hands. The last time you hit Jungkook, he was doing everything he can to protect you.

You only realize now that he was trying to do the same. In his own way, through his own insecurities, he was trying to rid Kim Namjoon’s fingerprints from your history. It wasn’t his fault that he’s blinded by rage because at the end of the day, it’s because he cares.

He loves you, and you take advantage of it.

No wonder Namjoon left you.

You’re selfish.

You’re blind.

You’re poison.

You dare to raise your eyes back up to his face from your hands and immediately sink into the blackness of his eyes. Regret immediately claims you like an eager death.

“J-Jungkook, I-I’m-” you can’t speak, can’t think, can’t respond.

Jungkook’s tears steadily fall while his lips are pulled taught. If you can touch his heart, you’re sure it’s pounding against his ribcage.

“…It’s never enough for you is it?” He asks in a voice that you’ve never heard before. “No matter how long I wait for you to come around, no matter how I’ll kill for you, how I’ll give you anything – anything – you ask for…you’re never going to love me as much as you love him, huh? You’d rather love a cheater than someone who will do any-fucking-thing you ask like a servant.” He grits his teeth. “Then go. Go back to that prick and don’t come looking when want my company but not me.”

Jungkook throws the necklace into the box laying haphazardly next to the open balcony door and turns, walking towards the shared bedroom to, you assume, fetch his clothes.

You shake your head desperately, your mouth unable to move on its own. “Kookie I’m-”

Before you can wrap your head around his words you’re running to him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You were exhausted beyond belief, angry beyond belief, desperate beyond belief to keep the only light in your life that you keep dimming and dimming over again like you’re determined to sabotage your happiness. You don’t deserve him yet you’re selfish enough to reel him back him, choosing every weapon of choice: begging, kissing, touching, crying.

“Jungkook I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry,” you cry, tightening your arms around his naked chest as you shake, cheek pressed up against his cold skin. “I’m sorry I h-hit you I’m sor-ry th-that I was upset, I didn’t mean to I swear Kookie please believe me, I love you, I love you so much, I’m sorry,” you whimper, holding still even when he attempts to shrug you off of him. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough you are more than enough, you’re everything I can ever ask for, I love you, god I love you and I’m sorry Kookie please, I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if you’ll survive if he leaves. Everyone in your life leaves eventually; Namjoon, Yori, your parents, your friends, everyone. Jungkook is your pillar and your giver; a giver of dreams and affection. Your boyfriend with a heart of gold that is as fragile as glass yet it beats everyday for you. You’re a fucking fool to break someone so kind just because you’re having a bad day.

Jungkook has had his own share of bad days yet he comes home with a smile just for you. His meals were cooked full of love, his caresses on your scalp full of care and concern. How could you think about hitting someone as precious as him over a few diamonds and pearls? Are you really so vain that you’re willing to step over the person who loves you the most just to hold onto expensive memories? He’s worth more than everything in that little box of yours.

“Baby,” you sniffle, “I love you…I don’t care what you want to do with it…throw it away, toss it over the balcony…I don’t care.” You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of rain dripping down his broad back. “I just want you.” You worship his skin through a kiss.

Jungkook keeps his lips pulled taught, eyes narrowed on the doorknob to the master bedroom. He’s going to end it once it for all, this maddening habit of yours of hanging onto other men. Seokjin is a fucking prick that wants to get into your pants. Namjoon is a filthy rich brat that bought your heart years before. He’s had enough of it.

He’ll make sure today will be the last day you’ll hit him over a man. Today will be the last day you’ll think of him as more than just a lovesick puppy that wags his tail for your entertainment.

He’ll show you that he’s a man.

“You better keep your word this time,” he turns and you take a small step back, knees trembling when he cocks his head to one side and glares are you through his inky wet bangs. “Because you don’t want to know what will happen if I find anything, and I mean anything, noona, that belongs to him in our apartment. Do you hear me?” He demands, making you nod shakily as you back away after every step he takes towards you until the bottom of your shoulder blades brush against the kitchen counter. “I’ll drain that pig over a bucket if you put him over me ever again, do you know that?”

You nod again, hanging onto every word.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes or no?”

“Y-yes!” You put your hands on his chest. “There’s really nothing left, Kookie-ah, I promise, I-”

He hushes you with his lips, tilting your head to one side to deepen the kiss. His tongue, slippery and wet, snakes over yours with the intent to harm, the muscle pulling your mouth painfully close to his that your lips would surely bruise the next morning. It doesn’t matter. You’re willing to take what you can get because you’ve come so close to losing everything tonight.

All because of one bad workday.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he scoops you up in his arms, helping you wrap your legs around his waist so your pulsing heat can rest against his taught stomach. He undoes the small knot you secured the coat with and push the heavy fabric away from your shoulders, watching you shimmy your way out.

Cute.

He used to pepper your face with kisses, giggling when you brush your nose over his jaw and tongue his ear to tickle him as he laughs. Not tonight; tonight, he’ll make you work for it, let you walk around in his shoes.

You cup his chiseled face in your hands, admiring how angelic he looks even when his furrowed brows remain as a residue of his rage. Your cookie, your heart, your bunny. You brush your thumbs over his cheeks, admiring the very small scar on his left cheekbone that told the public that no, he’s not a walking sculpture but a human being who might as well be Rodin’s ideal muse. He’s ethereal from afar and alien up close. The way his eyes held so much power, like the edges of a supernova black hole distorting your reality until all you can focus on is the darkness that lulls you inside its abyss.

“I waited for you my whole life,” he whispers and you almost didn’t hear over the rain rattling the open balcony doors. He leans his inflamed cheek into your palm. “I don’t want to be punished for it.”

Jungkook closes his eyes when you lean into him to rest your forehead against his. He heaves a sigh, exhausted too you imagine, and nudges his face closer until his lips brush yours. Even when he wants you to work for his affection, he couldn’t help it but steal a kiss. Your rejection from this morning still damaged his pride.

“I’m the one who deserves to be hurt, not you.” You snake your hands down his chest to his belt and then back up towards his heart. “I’m n-not,” you swallow, “I’m not usually like this, I’ve just had a bad day.” You cast your eyes away. “I’m sorry I l-lied to you about throwing everything that belonged to him away. The necklaces were given to me after I was engaged and I just…I don’t know why I kept it still even though I’ll never wear it but I just…”

You sigh, your watery eyes holding his steel gaze. “I love you. I-I don’t want to lose you Jungkookie,” your lips tremble and you tighten your hold around his neck. “Please don’t leave me…I know I’ve hurt you but please don’t leave, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you tuck your face under his jaw, “if you leave me.”

Jungkook presses his cheek against your wet hair and inhales softly through his nose. He knows you don’t realize how easy it is for him to play on your fears. Your fear of people – of men you love – leaving you, your fear of losing control, doing something you don’t mean. Your perfectionist nature was so easy to work with that he almost wants to toy with you a little more. For a brief moment he enjoys having the upper hand in the relationship. Sometimes it’s exhausting to always be the one that feared for an ugly fight that can lead to the end. It feels healthier to show this side of him a little more so you understand your privilege; after all, it’s not everyday that you’ll find a man who’ll give you a baby just to keep you close.

“There’s nothing I won’t do for you,” you snivel softly in his ear, “I love you so much.”

Jungkook tightens his hold around your waist and drags his feet towards the bedroom door. You hold still, fingers weaving through the ends of his hair.

“Can you please say it back?” You begged pathetically, unable to take his silence any longer. You missed your sweet whiny, clingy, giggly boyfriend, the boyfriend that couldn’t go a single day without telling you how much he loves you.

Your heart pounds in your chest when you realize he’s still upset.

His strong hands unravel around your hips and he pulls you away, setting your body on the soft, messy mattress. You wipe the moisture from your eyes with the back of your hand and watch him straddle your thighs between his knees, placing the lightest amount of pressure to keep you down. You were still waiting to hear the three magical words but they don’t come.

You messed up this time.

Jungkook pulls the straps of your brassiere down your shoulders, letting you bend at the elbows to bring the embroidered material down to your navel. He reaches behind the curve of your waist and unlatches the bra, throwing it to the side with one hand while the other reaches behind him and tug your panties down your bottom with a harsh tug. You lift your hips against him and let him roll your panties down your thighs, over your knees, and down your ankles. You’ve been in this position many times, but you’ve never felt as naked as you do now.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask with wide, oblivious eyes, wanting to do just about anything to please him. Jungkook merely shakes his head.

“This isn’t for you.”

It hurt more than you thought hearing those words fall from his sweet, pink lips.

He presses his nose against your jugular and nibble on the skin, teeth sharp and painful against the epidermis. You suck in a breath and bite your tongue as he moves to do the same to the opposite side of the neck, meanwhile peeling your legs open to settle his core against your wet center. Your hands stay still on his hard shoulders, moving along with his ministrations to keep yourself grounded to his touch.

A breathy moan brushes past his ears when he latches his teeth onto your left nipple, tonguing the bud into the swollen tissue before wrapping his mouth around the areola. You squirm underneath his body, body warming, ears rushing with blood. His wet jeans rub against your inner thighs to remind you that he’s been near the balcony for god knows how long. He must’ve been so cold, so heartbroken, so betrayed, while you were at work rolling your eyes to Jin poking fun at his jealousy.

Jungkook pulls back to eye the bite mark on your shoulder and the nudge his way towards the opposite breast, practicing the same caresses with the tip of his tongue. You can tell he’s purposely making every flick of tongue as painful as possible for you. You don’t argue because you know you’ll never learn from this mistake if he doesn’t drill it into you.

“You belong to me, noona.”

You exhale and look down at his hands moving towards his belt, tugging the leather apart and pulling the silver button open along with the zipper beneath. It was with great relief that you realize your baby boy is back, even if it’s for the briefest moment, his voice desperate and whiny, just the way you liked it.

You watch the veins on his forearm protrude as he grasps his hardness at the base and smears his dripping precum over the surface. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow as he jacks off to the image of you spread so shamelessly for him, bent knees pulled apart while you pet your swollen nipples with one hand, the other laying limp next to your head in surrender.

“Every part of you is mine,” he whimpers, cheeks flushed, his wet bangs rocking back and forth with every tug of his cock. “You only get to wear what I buy you.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes…”

The loveliest groan escapes his lips when he pushes his weeping tip against your clit, rocking his hips slowly to watch his slick drip onto your thick and curly pubic hair. His eyes follow along your taught stomach up to your navel where, once the time is right, he’ll see it stretch slowly when his child grows inside you. He can already imagine how needy you will be as an expecting mother, how he’ll have the pleasure to palm your aching breasts filled with milk. He thought it was impossible to be as hard as he is already, but the pulsing in his cock hammers blood through the tip and a small spurt of cum falls onto your clit.

He doesn’t give enough time for you to prepare for his length as he rams the head of his cock into your slit, and fucks your body up to the edge of the bed where he holds the side of the mattress and crashes his soaked hips down to your center. You choke on a moan and a scream, fingers grasping his fists as you lift your hips in a bow to accommodate all of him.

“Yes, baby,” you cry, “use me all you want. I’m yours!”

Sweat sticks to his temples and you struggle to wipe away the perspiration when he’s ramming into you so hard your vision blackens. From the tips of your fingers to the ends of the toes, your body vibrates with uncontrollable fire. The head of his cock strikes into your silken walls with the intent to rip you apart from the inside. He’s dripping steadily in you, lacquering your walls with white opalescent cum that feels as scorching hot as his skin.

“Fuck…fuck,” he grips the edge of the mattress harder, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock rests in your cavern, and then slamming himself inside all over again. Your fluids squelch as he enters, dripping over the zipper of his jeans. “It feels so good, noona, you make me feel so good,” he rests his forehead against your bitten shoulder, his hips moving on its own like a piston. Not even a line of coke will feel as good as your pussy does clamping down on his throbbing erection. He swears he can feel your cervix trembling against him.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” you promise, cupping his face while he continues to pout at how little threshold he has for pleasure. You can tell when he’s about to lose control by the way he clenches his eyes shut and the veins on his neck stands for attention. He empties inside with a growl, grinding his hips completely down onto your sex to keep his cum from dripping out. He stays still only for a few seconds to catch his breath.

You couldn’t capture his lips when he pulls away to sit back on his heels and watch the base of his cock pulse slowly until he softens. He pins your knees up to your chest and pulls out before clamping his mouth over your pussy gleaming with his fluids. He gathers the cum between your folds, across your labia and underneath your clit onto the tip of his tongue. Then, spreading your folds apart with his thumb and index finger, he spits onto your hole, his tongue pushing the fluids in further while you squirm and curl your toes into the sheets.

“Jungkook,” you moan in embarrassment, your hand darting up to your face to cover your red cheeks.

As if you couldn’t feel more naked, he chuckles. “You taste the best when you’re shy, noona.”

You catch your breath while watching him tug his soaked jeans down his thighs, the stubborn material slipping off only when he rips the material an inch down its center. Scared that he might still be upset, you pull your body onto your elbows, then onto your knees. It was only when you can sense his forgiveness in the air that you trail your fingers up his arms and towards his shoulders.

“Can you make me cum too?” You tempt him, arching your back while you place his palm onto your heavy breast.

He nods gingerly, captivated by your pink nose and cheeks. You’re so beautiful when you cry; Jungkook has to fight back asking you to call him a good boy. He has the woman of his dreams wanting him to touch her, he couldn’t ask for any other luxury.

“Only if you say please.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile when he sticks his tongue through his cheek at the rejection. Riling him up when he’s pissed is not the best thing to do, but the temptation was hard to resist. Taking back your status as his lover, caretaker, and owner, you push him gently back onto the mattress and throw one leg over his chest, wiggling your bottom while you palm his inner thighs and dig your nails into his hard muscle.

“Please, baby?”

Jungkook traces his thumb down your ass and circles your clit ever so slowly. You wiggle your hips again and sink your mouth down onto his semi-hard cock without warning, making him jump out of his skin and snap his back away as you chase after him. You use your own slick leftover on his solid length to lube your middle finger and rim his tight hole.

“G-god, noona!” He throws his head back into the mattress with a thump, sweat prickling its way down his abdomen, down his happy trail, and into the crook of his thighs.

There’s my baby boy.

You roll your tongue over the tip and keep your teeth tucked as you swallow him. With his curved erection, it was difficult to swallow without triggering your gag reflex but damn it you just wanted to please your boyfriend. Clamping down on the inside of his thighs with your nails to keep him spread, you pull back and spit down his length, regaining a sense of clarity when his tongue curves into your folds once more. If it wasn’t for Jungkook hooking his thick arms around your thighs to keep you locked in place, you would’ve fallen onto his face.

When your knees buckle he pull away, prolonging your orgasm with just the right amount of pressure in your womb to keep you aching.

You grip him hard in a fist and move up and down, pulling his foreskin taught. Your tongue dips between the gap of his balls and circles his tight, blushing hole. His choked whimper tells you all you need to know about where your tongue needed to press. Just when Jungkook tilts his head to the side to see your hair fall over your shoulders, he feels your nail curl slowly into his weeping slit. You look behind when you feel his gaze.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You inquire with the most innocent expression you can muster. He would have came immediately if he wasn’t so enamored with your perfect pussy so close to his tongue.

“D-Don’t, uh, tease me.”

You giggle, watching his eyes glaze over when you pump him harder, the small squelches from his cum making your insides clench with glee.

“Let me watch you cum first,” you whisper and keep pumping whilst grinding your hips down onto his fingers.

Jungkook gathers as much strength as he can and slips his middle and ring finger inside you, unraveling only when he feels his fluids resting on your milky walls. His breath hitches in his throat and every muscle in his body tenses, spurts of his milk catching in your hair, on your lips, and jaw.

You could look at his face forever; his rosy lips parted, the same shade as his cheeks, overwhelmed tears panting his thick lashes, his eyebrows furrowed, his bangs glossy and wavy around his face. Jungkook was an addiction.

Just the sight of him alone makes your wet sleeve tighten around his fingers. You follow his high, reaching down to circle your clit slowly as you grind down on his fingers.

Jungkook’s eyes widen upon realization and he curls his fingers inside, helping you reach that place between reality and an illusion. The warmth, the lightness, the nirvana that an orgasm from a lover brings you – irreplaceable.

“Kookie…” you sigh, your bones melting on the spot under his loving stare.

You lay your cheek on his thigh, catching your breath first, before crawling towards him to nestle your face in his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he tells you at last, bringing you back to earth.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and brings him down to your chest. He pulls your body close with one hand on your waist and wraps his mouth around your breasts, suckling softly, moaning his forgiveness into your skin.

Your breathing steadies as you listen to the rain and the soft nibbling of his teeth around your bud. You’re not sure when you succumbed to the exhaustion that nestled deep in your psyche, but by the time Jungkook finish showering your breasts with the love and attention they deserve, you lay limp in his arms.

It would be so easy, Jungkook thought, watching your naked chest rise and fall as he thumbs the faint trail of veins on your neck, to dig his knife into your throat and drain you. It was captivating to watch as he dragged his fingertips across the stretch of muscles underneath, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you struggle to keep yourself awake. If you opened your eyes, you can still see your glistening juices painted on his bottom lip, his pink tongue darting out to take the remaining sweetness back into his mouth as if he couldn’t bear the thought of wasting a drop of your honey. Your skin was smooth to the touch, only scars from hormonal acne during your youth remaining on the back of your arms and back. A musky scent of sex and cologne drifts around you like the humid summer air of Seoul.

Jungkook snakes his hand up your chest and feels your heart beating under his palm. He then slumps down on the cotton pillow next to you, heaving a sigh of satisfaction, lifting the sheets up to cover your weakened body.

Jungkook lifted his hand up to your pink cheeks and swiped the stray tears that stained down your temples. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your lips, groaning when your lips move sluggishly against him in an attempt to please him, even in your sleep. It made him feel powerful, wanted, needed.

Once again, you’re his to keep.

As long as you’re a prisoner to his heart, he’ll be your servant and your loving boyfriend who will always serve you like a goddess. He’ll remain pious, as long as you remain his woman only. Through fights, through sex, through tears, through laughter, he’ll etch away every memory you held of other men until the only thing you’ll see is his rabbit smile.

“Welcome home, noona.”

“I really don’t understand why we couldn’t do this later.” The plump woman groaned, walking down the carpeted hallway next to a man that was at least half a foot taller. She wore a black wrap dress with a matching black coat, her hands deep in her pockets. Her cheeks were soft and round, the lovebird blush on the cheekbones giving her a youthful color that had her lover soppy on the inside. She looked rather normal and plain compared to her modelesque partner who stood out like a sore thumb with his lab coat and turtleneck. It would have been a sweet date if they weren’t on the way to blackmail two men.

Her eyes dart from one side to another, beady pupils following the sound of the air conditioner. Now where was room again? Hong Kong really is a maze.

“Meerkat Manor will come again next Tuesday.”

“Oh that’s rich, Tae” she roll her eyes, “as if you’re not working six days a week, every week of the year. This was the only time we could watch it together without you passing out every other episode.”

He stays quiet, absorbing every detail of the hallway from the tacky mock-chandelier light fixtures to the royal purple doorknobs. The building reeked of cheap prostitutes and boxed wine.

Jungkook really has him flying to such an unsavory place just to stop a man in South Korea from developing a crush on this precious ‘noona’ of his. God, the things he does for his little brother. First, the pregnancy, and now Kim Seokjin’s men. He’ll dream of retirement when he’s dead.

“Keep your tone light and remember to use these if you need to.” He tapped the side of her thigh where his scalpels are strapped. “Play it safe.”

Taehyung has always had a sharp sense of direction, which always irked his lover for reasons unknown. In a job like this, no one can risk not knowing. It’s the survival of the fittest.

The door to Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi’s apartment was two doors down from where they were standing. There’s very little room for failure.

Taehyung unstrapped the pistol from the back of his dress pants and loaded the gun, keeping it pointed down and away from his lover. He stood a foot away, back glued to the wall as she knocked once, and then twice, on the wood.

“Excuse me,” she yelped in Cantonese, giving another hard knock. “Is there a Jung and Min here?”

The lock unlatches after a few seconds and a man whose voice can only be described as tired and smoky, responded.

“We don’t have any money,” he said in broken Cantonese. “Um…uh, room service…uh…no need, okay?”

The woman tilted her head at him and smiled, noticing that he is, in fact, armed by the way his cheap blazer couldn’t hide the bulky leather gun-strap underneath. She shrugged off her coat and hiked one side of her dress upwards, inquiring if there are…other services, he might need.

Yoongi, looking back and forth from his boyfriend making eggs in the kitchen to the woman standing with one side of her dress hiked, scratches his ears in frustration.

“Um…the service,” he started in Cantonese and groaned, reminding himself to scour for a new apartment in a better town. He was already late to a meeting with the district police.

It was only when he took a step forward to kick the woman out for good that he saw a figure in the corner of his eyes. He was only able to take one glimpse at the man – the aristocratic nose, the blank expression, the black neatly-combed hair – to realize something didn’t feel right.

That was when the woman grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face onto her bare knee, a resounding crack giving her the confidence she needed to slip her scalpel out and hold it against his jugular.

“Move, and I’ll slit your throat.”

Taehyung quickly tugged the sides of Yoongi’s blazer upwards and stuffed both pistols in his back pocket, keeping his lover in charge as he walks into the apartment with an ease of a husband coming back from work.

“Hello, officer Jung.”

Yoongi can vaguely hear the sound of a pan dropping from in the kitchen, and it was with great relief that the woman holding him at knife-point kicked him back into the apartment. He held his broken nose with both hands and rolled inside, kneeling at the doorstep as he stayed glued to the floor. The carpet was doing a great job of sucking up his fluids. His eyes, however, remains on the gun pointed towards his boyfriend, dressed in a simple pair of pajamas and an apron, who began to walk towards the armed man.

“What do you want?” Hoseok asked, keeping his hands in the air. “Did Li send you?”

Taehyung shook his head. “I have no ties with your associates.”

“T-Then what’s this-?” Hoseok asked again, eyes widening when he realized Yoongi’s nose is crushed. His partner splutters blood over the house slippers he kept next to the entrance to the bathroom.

“I need you to stop working with Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi feels the scalpel press against his skin harder, a bead of blood falling onto his shaky hands.

“Jin?”

Taehyung nodded. “Yes.”

Hoseok focused on the man’s face, then Yoongi, then the knife pressed against Yoongi’s neck.

He nods eagerly, agreeing on the spot. “I-I will, just let Yoongi go, I promise I will.”

Taehyung pulls back the hammer with his thumb, causing Yoongi to struggle as he trembles on the floor. Hoseok’s eyes begin to water but he keeps his gaze focused on Taehyung’s uneven eyelids. This wasn’t the time to show any weaknesses.

“This means there will be no contact with you and Kim Seokjin whatsoever. No emails, phone calls, or letters. You will not send him information about anyone, dead or alive.”

“You’ll have my word.” Hoseok nods.

“And one more thing,” Taehyung walks over to the laptop settled next to the bed on the nightstand, tapping it once before moving the gun back to position. “I want you to email Seokjin with my exact words before you cut all ties.”

Taehyung pushes the barrel against Hoseok’s shoulder and rests his index finger on the trigger.

“Tell him…if he minds his own business,” the barrel pushes harder, “he’ll have two working arms.”

Bang

“Did you hear something?”

He glances nervously at the open bedroom door. You sit up on the bed, shivering when the air conditioning rattles awake and rain continues to pound against the bedroom windows. Jungkook groans while he shuts off the storm alert on his cellphone.

“It’s just the wind, Kookie, come back to bed.”

He rolls towards you and places his head on your lap, his lips pushed against the small pouch of fat on your lower belly. It was obvious neither of you are getting a full night sleep. Sex didn’t nearly solve as many problems as they wish it had. Not to mention, guilt hung around your neck like a stone every time you catch a glimpse of his slightly swollen cheek.

Jungkook had been awake for most of the night, his heart refusing to calm because he’s utterly, completely, absolutely happy. He notices that you couldn’t sleep much tonight either, a sign that he’s gotten under your skin, but he continues to worship your body every time your breathing evens and you curl against his side. He kisses every inch – from the space between your fingers to the crook of your legs. He palms your shapely body with the heel of his hand, massaging his way down your waist and stretchmarked hips.

He prays that when the time comes, you’ll bless him with a child that would hammer the last nail to this cage he built for you to stay in. He can just imagine your belly stretching farther and farther as the months pass. He wonders if you’ll taste just as sweet on his tongue, or maybe, you’ll be even sweeter? It was thrilling to prepare for this new future. He’s not sure what to expect as you are his first and only love. You might be scared at first, you might even break his heart a little when you panic, but it’s nothing the relationship can’t withstand. You are a responsible woman and he’s the love of your life; isn’t that all you need in a relationship? Just love?

A child will be a proof of that. The baby will be just as intelligent and educated as you but also as caring and protective like him; a perfect split between two loving parents. It would be a little difficult for a few years to take care of a baby and he would have to deal with receiving only half your attention. However, he knows it’ll be worth the exhaustion in the long run.

He’ll finally have the family of his dreams.

But first, he needs to settle the foundation to begin your journey towards motherhood. A little dose of empathy here and there, a little bit of his story sprinkled in between, a little bit more terror, more vulnerability on his part. He’ll have to expose a few unpleasant things so you’ll understand that he does have a justifiable reason for the pouty, clingy mess that he is.

“I just-” Jungkook hesitates, sitting up on the edge of the bed, but you sense his nervousness immediately and pull him closer.

“What is it?” You swallow. Please don’t be mad at me, Jungkook. Please.

“Storms scare me,” he confesses. “I hate loud noises…but you always make me feel safe here though. You’re going to protect me, aren’t you?” His attempt to lighten the mood was pathetic to say the least, but you don’t mind. You couldn’t take the silence when you startle awake every hour, finding Jungkook awake every time, staring at the mirror cabinet in the bathroom. Each time you succumb to subconscious, you couldn’t help but worry that maybe he’s thinking about leaving you in the morning. Maybe he thinks keeping you isn’t worth it.

Your lips pull into an uncertain smile and the corner of his sleepy eyes crinkle at the sight. “I’d do anything for my baby.”

“Tch,” he lightly slaps your arm away.

You sensed that he was shy about his fears and drops the subject in hopes of not embarrassing him any further. However, you needed to address the elephant in the room and Jungkook couldn’t meet your eyes knowing that you’re on the verge of tears yet again.

While you were bathing in fear, he was so happy inside he could die.

“Kookie…” you turn to him again, your eyes roaming over his long, thick lashes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

He catches his bottom lip under his rabbit teeth and cast his eyes towards the floor. Taking the sheets with him, he covers your bare body and takes your fingers in his hands, bringing it up to his lips. You watch him linger on your ring finger – where Namjoon’s ring once adorned – and flash you a knowing smile, swallowing the pain down.

“I…” he sighs, not sure how to approach the subject. It was rare to see such vulnerability on your part that he couldn’t help but take advantage of your kindness. Just a little though, just enough for you to keep that guilt alive no matter where you go and who you talk to.

“I wish you didn’t have to hit me, noona.” He swallows once more, knowing this is the only chance he’ll have to tell you the truth. He wants to sew that guilt deep inside your heart so you’ll never dare to hurt him again. “I know you were angry…and I know I’m just as unreasonable when I’m angry…but I don’t want to end up like my parents.”

You place a comforting hand on his back despite the heavy pressure weighing your heart down to your stomach. Jungkook throws a cautious glance at your face and continues when he sees he has your full support.

He focuses his eyes first on the alarm clock flashing four with bold red numbers, then gathers the courage to meet your eyes.

“My mom…um….my mom used to hit dad and I for most of my childhood,” he confesses, voice small and shaky yet you can sense the strength it took for him to say it out loud. It doesn’t make it any less easier for you to swallow the guilt. You’ve been physical with someone who’d suffered unimaginable trauma at a young age and in both times that you’ve hit him, his thoughts were all about you. If someone offered to break every bone in your body at the moment, you’d take the deal.

“He wasn’t the best either b-but um…” he takes your free hand in his, shakily brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. He squirms in discomfort, licking his lips every now and then while he tries to find his words. “I-I promised myself I won’t end up like him.”

You pull his head in your chest, letting him rest his weight. He sniffles then, shuddering when you wipe away the stray tears that glistened in the glow that the streetlights outside offered. He can feel that warmth again – your love – that’s created all for him. This is where he belongs, this is where he’s meant to be.

“I’m so sorry, baby, oh my god…I’m sorry.” You coo, wrapping your arms around him at last. His shoulders are too wide for your arms, but you take what you can get. You need to learn that you’re not the only person with boundaries, with a history of trauma, in this relationship. Your sweet boyfriend had been suffering silently behind your back too.

“I’ll never, ever, lay my hands on you like that, Kookie. I mean it. I-” you blink back yours tears, knowing the texts from his mom in your memory never settled comfortably, “I’ll never hurt you again. God J-Jungkook, I can’t imagine-”

He nods, nuzzling his cheeks closer to your heart. “It’s okay, noona, you didn’t know-”

“No!” You shake your head. “It’s not okay. It’s n-not okay for me to do that. I’m supposed to take care of you yet I…I’ve done nothing but hurt you. Oh baby,” you brush his bangs back and place a tender kiss on his hairline. He wraps his arms around you in return, rubbing his cheeks into your naked breast.

“I’m not lying when I said I’ve waited my whole life for you.” He exhales, letting you comb his hair gently through your fingers. “You’ve given me everything I’ve always dreamed of. It still feels like…like a prank sometimes. When are you going to disappear…when are you going to fall for someone else…I get scared when I think of things like that.”

“Why would I leave you, Kookie?” You hold him tighter.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know…I think I’m just scared it’ll eventually happen because I-I know I have issues and I’m not that educated and I’m-“

“Stop!” You grab his face, holding both his cheeks in your hands. “Don’t say things like that about yourself! Understand?”

He holds your wrists. “Noona-”

“I mean it. I don’t care about your job or your past. I. Don’t. Care! I love you and only you. No matter how blind I am to it sometimes,” You peck him softly on his chin, “you’re mine to take care of and mine to love. There’s no other man that has my heart.”

Jungkook’s fists shakes. Endure it a little longer, don’t let her see how happy you are. Endure it!

He nods eagerly. “Do you promise?”

“Of course, baby, of course I promise.”

His eyes glow. “Truly? You won’t hit me, won’t leave me, won’t look at another man?”

You roll his earlobes in between your fingers and capture his lips, sealing the promise. “Never…I’m all yours. I want to care for you and be yours, always.”

Like music to his ears.

He sighs in relief. “Oh, noona…”

He wanted to relive this moment forever and hear those words repeat over and over again in his head. He wanted to call Taehyung and tell him that he finally found his family. After all those years of walking home from school with bruises, starving on the streets, sleeping in a bedroom that smelled of urine, he reaches paradise. If he thought he’d reached heaven on the day he swore to kill for you, he doesn’t know how to describe his frame of mind now.

“Can I…can I ask you for a favor?”

You straddle his lap, wanting every inch of your body to be encased in his heat. “Anything, baby.”

“Can I call you mommy?” He pouts, encircling his arms around your waist. “It helps, you know? W-with, um…with some of these thoughts I have…”

The small bout of silence instantly turns his stomach sour. Did he go too far? Was this not the time to play out the fantasies he had in his head? Before he had the chance to curse himself for ruining the moment, you squirm into his lap. An invitation.

“It’s okay baby,” you reassure him, seeing the stars in his eyes glow even more. He’s ecstatic, in awe even, and if his rapid heartbeat didn’t tell you his adorable expression sure did. “You’re my baby boy.”

He crashes his lips onto your swollen ones and press you down onto the bed. His fingers tangle in your hair first then with your fingers before he pushes your arms above your head, his eagerness resulting in a clumsy effort to find his place between your legs. You giggle and play your part, whispering sweet praises while he tells you how much he loves you, how you’re meant for him, how you’re his soulmate, a lover, a friend, a confidant, a mother.

“Mom-my,” he whimpers, voice cracking. He chants, over and over again, unable to get enough of your caresses and praises. “You make me feel so good, mommy, you’re so beautiful, all mine…mommy…mommy…mommy…”

You feel the sting of his penetration when he impatiently enters, just needing to be inside you and feel your pulse. He’s never looked so surreal above you, face coated with sweat and tears, cheeks as rosy as the first plum blossom in spring. He’s a walking sculpture carved from the loveliest marble. Your needy baby boy, your Jungkookie, your boyfriend with a heart made of glass.

It wasn’t until much later in the morning, when the sun has risen and the rain ceased, that you spend your own time worshipping him. Your heart aches at the thought of someone, especially the parents that were supposed to love and support him, laying their hands on someone so pure and sweet. You think back to the times you asked for his baby pictures or his past and finding him uncomfortably shifting his gaze away or avoiding the subject altogether. It must have been painful for him to endure your interrogations and your passive aggressive behavior; you finally realize now that he wasn’t annoyed with you but was afraid of your judgement. It must’ve been a habit for him to think of the worst-case scenario. He didn’t grow up in a safe place.

Actually, he didn’t grow up with a home at all.

A shack somewhere in Busan with no running water or electricity or a school that was close enough for a child to walk safely to. Just by watching the polite way he spoke to people at his gallery and admiring his ethereally handsome appearance, no one could guess he was a victim of neglect and abuse.

It wasn’t until he brings you to the balcony, where the morning wind blows through his deep chocolate hair and the smell of orange blossoms whisk around your body, that he settles you onto his lap and brings your fingers over the small scar on his cheekbones.

“I think you should know where this came from, noona…”

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vengfulfate · 5 years

Text

One Bad Coffee

Summary: Weiss Schnee spends her time in two worlds, but one bad coffee begins a chain of events that leads to her worlds coming together in a beautiful way.

One Shot written based on the White Rose 2019 prompt Coffee/First (yes I know it's late)

AN: The last few years I have noticed the phenomenon knows as White Rose Week, and it's subsequent partners, and I've always told myself I'd get involved at some point. I, however, have the misfortune of never seeing it coming before it's here and I have no time to prepare for the prompts. Another White Rose Week comes and it is the same story. But I did have this idea based on the day 1 prompts 'Coffee/First', and felt the need to write it regardless. I know it's technically 'late' for the day 1 prompts and I'm still not sure if I'm going to do the other prompts at all, so I was hesitant to officially tag this as 'White Rose Week 2019', but worst case scenario is I drop a tag if it becomes an issue.

'Coffee' takes the form of a coffee shop, 'First' takes the form of 'first IRL meeting'I hope you enjoy!

---

Weiss Schnee was a busy woman. She was trying to get her own company off the ground to spite her father, dealing with the social and political backlash of openly attacking him in the process, and subsequently got little time to herself. A quick coffee from a café in the early morning was one of her few short moments, so was it too much to ask the universe for things to go smoothly?

Apparently not.

For starters, her go-to café had apparently closed, and she had no idea until the was staring at the sign on its door apologizing for the permanent shutdown. And with her free time to get a coffee quickly shortening, she didn’t have time to decide where to go next based on any research or recommendations. So, she quickly searched for the closest coffee shop and headed straight there.

SunnyKat Kafé was one of those coffee house names that clearly meant something to the owners personally, and so was clearly small-time. It didn’t matter, as long as Weiss could quickly get some decent caffeine. She would look for another coffee shop tomorrow. She barged through the door, looking up long enough to see no one at the counter. Her attention was firmly re-planted into her phone, trying to damage control her inevitable late-ness before it came to pass.

“Welcome to SunnyKat!” A disturbingly cheerful and strangely familiar female voice rang out. “What can I get you?”

“Vanilla latte made with soy. Please,” Weiss added after a pause like it was an afterthought.

“Coming right up!” The voice seemed to shrug off Weiss’s impoliteness and seeming disinterest.

Her energy almost reminds me of Crescent, Weiss realized, before quickly squashing that thought. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about her nightly activities.

She did manage to smile that morning. It seemed her pre-emptive mitigation for her impending tardiness paid off, and she may even be able to stretch a moment to enjoy her caffeine rather than simply consume it. Maybe the universe only placed a small bump instead of a large pothole on her day. Until she received her drink.

“Here you are, ma’am!” The cheery voice called her to her beverage.

“Thank you,” Weiss nodded to the barista a bit more sincerely along with her slowly rising mood. She raised the cup to lips and took in a mouthful before promptly spitting the mouthful right back out.

“AAIIEE” The barista jumped back.

And so the universe rears its ugly head! “Are you deaf and dumb!? I said soy!” Weiss shouted.

“I’m sorry!” The barista screeched quickly.

“Sorry!? Is that all you have to say!?” Weiss’s day was already bad before it began, and it didn’t help her mood.

“Well, what am I-” the barista began before being cut off.

“It’s not even a complicated order! How hard is it to get right!?” Weiss interrupted.

“I just-” the barista tried again to get a word in.

“I am a paying customer, and you don’t even have the decency to listen!?” Weiss continued unabated.

“If you would let-”

“Do you have anything at all to say for yourself!?”

“Can I-?”

“Oh, never mind, you’re clearly useless. Where is you manager?”

Silence fell while Weiss waited to the barista to do something. “Well?”

“I go get them, ma’am…” the barista walked away, dejected and slightly frustrated.

Weiss impatiently tapped her foot while a barely audible discussion took place in the back rooms. She had managed to buy herself a few extra minutes, and now they were spent dealing with an ignorant barista and a likely apologetic manager. She couldn’t remember having a worse morning in recent memory.

“Hello,” the apparent manager, a woman with amber eyes and raven hair, finally stepped out of the back room. “Allow me to apologize for our mistake. I am willing to make you the correct drink myself, and charge you for neither.”

Weiss didn’t have to time to continue her tirade and nodded. “Vanilla latte. With. Soy.”

The manager nodded and quickly made the correct drink, handing it over with a nod. “I hope you have a better morning.”

“Just tell me that dunce will be reprimanded appropriately,” Weiss demanded.

“We have our policies, I assure you,” The manager spoke vaguely.

It will have to do, Weiss nodded and finally left. With no time to enjoy her coffee, she couldn’t even tell the quality as she downed it.

---

Thankfully, the rest of Weiss’s day was not nearly as terrible as her morning. Aside from her father’s usual shenanigans trying to kill her career, things went quite smoothly in the office. She was in a much better mood by the time she got home, and it would only get better before bed. Because, you see, Weiss Schnee has a secret.

Between work and bed, Weiss had more free time than all the rest of her stolen minutes throughout the day put together. A solid few hours where she can do whatever she wants, and in the privacy of her own home no one would even question her chosen indulgence. An indulgence where she could truly be herself, casting aside the cold demeanor that dominated her life even after breaking free of her father and wearing a personality that, she dared say, was a little ‘warmer’.

An indulgence called Remnant Online.

Weiss grabbed a box of takeout and headed right for her computer, booting it up as she quickly sated her hunger. This was where she could be her true self. This is where she found her true friends, even if she has never met them in person. This was where she found her true happiness these days.

Myrten Aster has logged into the sever.

The virtual world loaded around her character, a white-dressed ‘battlemage’ with significant specialization in the ‘mage’ part over the ‘battle’ part. Three other player characters were already in the inn she loaded in to. Ember Celica, a gold-scaled draconic specialized in bare-handed combat and high defense. Gambol Shroud, a black dressed trickster who didn’t fight so much as use tools to inflict status effects on their foes. And finally, Weiss’s closest in-game friend if she had to choose, Crescent Scythe, a very high-level player who managed to combine high speed with using a great-weapon, a legendary scythe she’s apparently had for years before Weiss joined their group.

Crescent Scythe has sent you a party request, for Ember Celica’s party.

You have joined Ember Celica’s party.

Weiss put on her headphones in time to be assaulted by Crescent Scythe’s greeting, “AAASSTTERRR!!!”

“OW!” Weiss flinched, “I have better headphones now, Crescent, you don’t have to scream to get my attention!”

“Sorry, Aster…” Crescent’s voice sounded through the party chat. “I just couldn’t wait for you to get here!”

“I’m not late, am I?” ‘Aster’ asked. I don’t think I am.

“Nah, Crescent’s just excited for the boss!” Ember Celica, the party leader and apparently Crescent’s older sister, spoke up.

“As long as she remembered to place the warp crystal before we logged out this time,” Weiss teased.

“You forget one time…” Crescent bemoaned.

“We lost three floors of progress in that dungeon,” Weiss reminded her.

“One time! One little mistake, I’m sorry I was distracted!” Crescent shouted.

Weiss noticed this outburst was a little out of character. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything…” she apologized, “Are you okay?”

“Crescent had a rough morning at work,” Gambol Shroud informed her. “A, to use her delicate language, ‘butthole’ customer, has been stuck on her mind all day.”

“Warp crystal or no, I just need to beat something up,” Crescent confirmed.

“If they were so in the wrong, why didn’t you say anything?” Weiss’s question was met with giggles and laughter from the other three party members. “What?”

“You’ve never worked in customer service, have you?” Celica asked, “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘the customer is always right’?”

“It doesn’t literally mean ‘the customer is always right’?” Weiss was confused.

“Wow, you really don’t know anything about this, huh?” Crescent commented, “Lucky.”

“C’mon,” Gambol cut in, “Let’s get on with it. We can continue this conversation as we play.”

The group gathered around Crescent as her spell allowed them to pick up the dungeon where they left off the night before. They quickly fell into their battle routine, their roles so clearly defined and practiced between themselves communication wasn’t necessary unless someone had a plan that would take them off-script.

Myrten Aster handled a lot of long-range spells and healing, usually of Ember Celica who drew a ton of aggro and tanked the damage. Gambol Shroud made sure to make the enemies weak to certain spells and damage types. At the front of the charge was Crescent Scythe, hitting for multiple strikes per tick and causing bleeding damage with her legendary scythe.

“So, what does ‘the customer is always right’ really mean?” Weiss picked up where they left off once they had settled into their lull.

“It’s a guideline, in a way,” Celica answered, “The customer is always right, even when they’re wrong. It doesn’t always apply; we can’t give away drinks for free just cause a customer demands it. It’s more for when a customer is being rude.”

“Yeah, when someone’s being a butt, we just have to grin and take it,” Crescent vented.

“If people were to start hearing we regularly shout at customers, we’d begin to lose patronage,” Gambol explained, “Even if we had reason, people will trust a customer’s review over a manager’s assurance.”

“So we have to play nice, even if a customer doesn’t deserve it,” Crescent continued, “And yes, I did make a mistake, but it was a small mistake and she didn’t have to be sooo mean about it!”

“What happened?” Weiss didn’t mind Crescent venting to her. It was strange to hear Crescent angry, and she wanted their happy-go-lucky speed reaper back.

“Have we ever told you where we work?” Celica asked.

“No,” Weiss confirmed, “I do remember you guys saying you all work together once, though.”

“Well, Gambol and I run a coffee shop together, and Crescent is one of our loyal baristas!” Celica announced happily. “It’s our pride and joy.”

A coffee shop? The comment tripped a small twitch that she couldn’t identify in her mind.

“One of my first customers this morning was this important-looking woman I’ve never seen before,” Crescent picked up, “She ordered something with Soy, but I was… distracted, while I made the drink and forgot the Soy part.”

That made Weiss freeze. It can’t be… I mean, what are the chances we all live in the same city? I met them online, after all…

“And, yeah, she might have been lactose intolerant and that could be bad, I know I made a mistake,” Crescent continued uninterrupted, not being able to physically see Weiss’s reaction, “But it was still an understandable mistake, I’d like to think anyway.”

Weiss quickly shook herself and resumed her healing duties before Celica died and she was called out for going AFK mid-combat. “And, um, how did she react?” she asked, still holding some hope.

“She literally spit the coffee in my face, soaking my apron, and yelled at me,” Crescent vented, dashing Weiss’s fleeting hope.

“And you weren’t allowed to say anything because of ‘the customer is always right’?” Weiss pressed, surprised to learn these things. Do I really act this way? Is this how all my waiters and waitresses see me?

“Even if I could, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise!” Crescent shouted, “She demanded I explain myself and then gave me no room to do so before demanding to speak to my boss! I think she was hoping I’d get fired.”

“You didn’t get fired, right?” Weiss asked.

“You think I’d fire my little sister!?” Celica seemed offended.

“Of course not!” Weiss quickly corrected, “That’s not what I meant. I meant would you have if it were anywhere else?”

“Only if the boss was a real jerk,” Crescent affirmed, “Boss-types know how to talk down someone without making promises.”

“And when it’s a customer being unduly rude, there’s usually some silent understanding between manager and employee,” Blake added.

That made Weiss feel slightly better. “Maybe she was just having a bad morning,” Weiss found herself saying without permission from her brain.

“I’ve seen her type plenty,” Gambol countered, “Some self-important VP or CEO or something high up in some corporation. It’s like they don’t understand that the people serving their coffee and cooking their meals are human beings too. I don’t doubt this is far from the first time she’s done this.”

It was only thanks to plenty of practice with her party that Weiss was able to keep fighting while her mind was thrown into turmoil. Is that really how I act? I know I spend most of my day cold and emotionless, but I’d like to think I’m warmer underneath it all… but if I did it to Crescent, I’ve probably done it to others as well… I could blame my father’s method of raising me, but I’ve already broken free of him, so is that really any excuse?

“Aster, you in there?” Celica called out, bringing Weiss back, “You’ve been healing me for the last ten rounds, except we’re not in battle.”

“Sorry!” Weiss quickly returned her mind to RO and her party.

“Can we stop talking about butthole customers now?” Crescent asked, “I’m pretty sure this is the boss gate!”

“Let’s do this!” Celica cried.

“I’m ready to go!” Gambol cheered on.

Weiss pushed the conversation back in her head, promising herself to meditate on these thoughts later and returning to the ‘Aster’ mindset. “He won’t know what’s coming!” She was ready to support her friends.

The fight was long and tedious, but well within the party’s level. The loot was automatically generated based on their characters, and Weiss got a rare rapier for landing the last hit. “Aw, lucky!” Celica complained, “I wanted the last hit bonus…”

“You don’t use weapons?” Gambol reminded her.

“Still, I never seem to get last hit bonuses,” Celica argued.

“We can re-do this dungeon starting tomorrow?” Crescent offered.

“Nah, I’d rather start a new one,” Celica answered, “I think there’s still a couple new dungeons we haven’t touched yet in the far regions.”

As they returned to the inn and wound down the session, Weiss continued to stare at Crescent’s character on screen, imagining the barista from the morning standing there in Crescent Scythe’s place. “Hey, Crescent?”

“Yeah, Aster?” Crescent spoke up.

“I’m sorry about this morning. You’re too sweet to have to deal with… people like that…” Weiss tried to apologize.

“It’s okay, Aster,” Crescent assured, “It’s not like you’re the one who spit on my clothes and shouted at me.”

A pang of guilt shot through her heart.

“I mean, if that’s how she reacted to misplaced soy, can you imagine if she discovered why I was distracted?”

Weiss’s head perked back up. “Why were you distracted?”

“Yes, my hopeless little gay-by sister, why were you distracted?” Celica spoke in a clearly teasing tone that told Weiss the older sister already knew.

Hopeless little what now?

“I… umm…” Crescent didn’t sound like she wanted to confess the point.

“C’mon, don’t be bashful now!” Celica continued to press.

“She was just… pretty…” Crescent admitted, “Like… really, really pretty…”

Not for the first time that night, Weiss’s world was rocked. She had no idea Crescent was even into women, and now she knew where she worked, what she looked like, and that she thought Weiss was pretty? “O-oh…”

“Do you mind…?” Crescent asked carefully.

“Mind what?” Weiss asked, confused. Crescent couldn’t have known Aster was her rude customer.

“Me being gay…?” Crescent clarified.

“Oh, that?” Weiss decided to be cheeky and made her character shrug, “It would be hypocritical of me, honestly.”

“Woah, really!?” Celica seemed more surprised that Crescent.

The night finally ended soon after, giving Weiss plenty to think about. It’s not like you’re the one who spit on my clothes and shouted at me. Except she was. And it made her feel like… well, like a ‘butt’, to think that was how she treated anybody, let alone Crescent. If Myrten Aster couldn’t apologize for Weiss, then Weiss just had to do it in person.

---

SunnyKat Kafé stood in front of her once again. This time, Weiss headed straight here, and that meant she had the time to enjoy her coffee and – most importantly – apologize. She stepped inside with a new mindset that had her examining the store around her. Nice and homey, bright art on the walls, little snacks that could be served alongside the café’s coffee, were all visible from the door – and things she failed to notice yesterday.

“He-EL-llo!” The barista with Crescent’s voice called out to her, hoping her squeak went unnoticed.

Of course she’s worried I’m going to yell at her again… Weiss frowned. She approached the counter, examining – and totally not checking out – the woman she knew to be Crescent Scythe. A short mop of messy dark-red hair seemed perfectly in style for Crescent’s personality. A cute, round face perfect for things Weiss really shouldn’t be thinking about. Finally, Gray eyes that looked over Weiss herself expectantly, reminding Weiss she was a customer in a coffee shop.

“Hello, again-” Weiss caught herself before she called the barista ‘Crescent’ and looked to her nametag, “…Ruby.”

“Um, hello again,” Ruby tried her best to be cheery. “It was a, umm… ‘something’ with soy, correct?”

“Vanilla latte made with soy,” Weiss ordered mechanically, “yes, please.”

Ruby blinked, feeling that today’s ‘please’ was a bit more genuine. She quickly got to work while Weiss sat nearby. Ruby was making a point not to let herself get distracted. Weiss could tell because she herself couldn’t take her eyes of the cute girl.

What the hell is wrong with you!? Weiss scolded herself, you’re here to apologize, not to ogle her!

“Here you go!” Ruby handed over the coffee carefully. Weiss took it with a smile and a nod, but her smile failed when she noted Ruby actively taking a step back. As to not get spit on.

Weiss lowered the coffee, figuring now was the time. “Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

It clearly wasn’t what Ruby expected. “What?”

“Last night I was speaking to… a close friend,” Weiss explained, “And they made me realize I had treated you unfairly.”

“So… was it just a bad day?” Ruby asked.

Weiss decided to open up to Ruby. After all, if she were to open up to anyone in her life, it would have been Crescent. “I was raised to believe myself better than everyone else. It took me a long time to break away from that life, and it seems I’m still learning about how to treat people properly.”

“That… kind of sucks,” Ruby nodded. “I think I get it, though. You’re trying to be better, right?”

“Yes, I am…” Weiss admitted shyly.

“Well… this is a good start!” Ruby smiled genuinely, “If it’s not too much for me to say, of course…”

“It’s not,” Weiss smiled. She finally took a sip of her coffee and was pleasantly surprised to discover it was a genuinely good coffee. Maybe I don’t need to find another coffee shop after all…

“Well, enjoy your coffee! I’ve got customers, so…” Ruby awkwardly shuffled away.

Weiss nodded, deciding it was time to go to the rest of her own day. As she left, she found her mind stuck on Crescent’s – or rather Ruby’s – eyes. The had been gray at first, but after her apology they changed. As Ruby’s mood brightened, so did her eyes, until they shined a beautiful silver.

---

“Oh, Aster, you’ll never guess what happened today!” Crescent cheered happily as they worked through the next dungeon.

“Oh?” Weiss didn’t have to hide her knowing smile since Ruby couldn’t see it, “Something good, I hope.”

“That mean girl from yesterday came back,” Ruby told her.

“What?” Celica cut in, “You didn’t tell me that. Do I have to smack a- ow!” she was interrupted by taking a massive hit from the mini-boss they were fighting.

“Language,” Gambol chided.

“No, no! She actually came to apologize!” Ruby defended.

“Really?” Gambol seemed surprised.

“Yeah!” Ruby’s voice seemed excited, “She said she was trying to be a better person.”

“Huh,” Gambol sounded thoughtful, “Do you think she meant it?”

“I do,” Ruby acknowledged, “she told me other things that… I’m not exactly comfortable sharing, and I’m positive she meant it!”

“You’ve always had that effect on people,” Celica sounded proud, “So… you crushin’ on Customer Lady?”

Weiss’s heart skipped a beat.

“What? Nooo,” Ruby denied, a bittersweet feeling washing over Weiss, “I don��t even know her. We’ve only spoken twice. Not even. Once, really.”

“I take it by the teasing, you’re not in a relationship?” Weiss asked.

“You’re not gunna start hittin’ on my sis, are ya Aster?” Celica responded. It sounded a lot like a threat.

“Shut up, sis!” Ruby intervened before Weiss had to respond.

“Is there anyone you’re interested in?” Weiss, once again, couldn’t help but ask.

“Is there anyone you’re interested in!?” Ruby countered in a tone Weiss couldn’t decipher.

“Touché…” Weiss nodded. While she felt she knew a lot about her RO friends simply by interacting with them, questions had never become that personal before now. She herself often rebuked questions about her history or career so she could understand wanting to stay quiet, especially online where you never know who is listening.

“You didn’t answer the question…” Gambol pointed out.

“Wait, was I supposed to?” Weiss was sincerely confused. She heard Ruby giggle. “Something you want to say, Crescent?”

“So much you still don’t know…” Ruby teased, “It just reminds me of when I first found you in the Beacon Guild’s hall. You barely knew what a hit point was!”

“Quiet, you!” Weiss’s scold was met the laughter of her friends.

---

Weiss’s mornings improved immeasurably once she became a regular to SunnyKat Kafé. She would go so far to say that ‘Weiss’ and ‘Ruby’ had become fast friends. Several weeks passed to reach this day, which started as any other. Weiss entered the store to Ruby’s cheery cry of her name, before the barista immediately set to work on Weiss’s drink that Ruby had long since memorized.

“So how was work yesterday?” Ruby asked, a habit she defended by arguing she didn’t have any way to talk to Weiss in the afternoons.

“It’s getting easier,” Weiss smiled, “I think my father is finally backing off. Or he has some new strategy, and this is just the calm before the storm.”

“I really hope it’s the first one,” Ruby’s smiled that smile that could light a pitch-black room.

“Thank you, Ruby…”

They had their usual short and pleasant conversation, and Weiss felt her resistance waning. She couldn’t hold back anymore, and her next question had been a long time coming. “Hey, Ruby?”

The barista made sure no one was at the counter before turning her attention over, “Yeah, Weiss?”

“Are… you doing anything later today? Around lunch or… maybe dinner?” Weiss gripped her latte tight as her nerves rose.

“Um… are… are you… asking me on a date?” Ruby questioned slowly.

“I… yes,” Weiss cleared her throat, “yes I am.”

“Oh…”

Weiss didn’t like the sound of that ‘oh…’.

“I… don’t get me wrong, you’re great,” Ruby tried to soften the blow, “You’re pretty and I know that you are a good person, even if you don’t think you are yourself, deep down… And I am single… But my heart already wants someone else…”

“…I see…” Weiss nodded slowly. “I’m sorry… to have put you in this position… I need to go to work.”

Weiss retreated quickly, and Ruby didn’t stop her.

---

Weiss debated logging on to Remnant Online that night. She knew Ruby had no idea Weiss equaled Myrten Aster, and the party would certainly be missing her. Celica in particular had come to rely on Aster’s healing. I just don’t know if I can separate Ruby and Crescent Scythe. Instead, the young CEO simply stared at the RO launcher.

Private Message received.

Weiss’s eyes were drawn to the corner of the launcher. It was linked to her account, so she could receive private messages even if she wasn’t technically ‘logged in’ to the world of RO. She saw the message came from Crescent Scythe, and hesitated to open it.

Crescent Scythe: Hey, you not logging on today?

Crescent Scythe: I mean, it’s cool if your not, the party just needs to know before we head out.

Crescent Scythe: Not to be ‘that person’, but I can see your reading my messages…

Myrten Aster: You’re** and yes, I’m logging in soon. Just had a rough day, I didn’t know if I was up to questing.

Crescent Scythe: No pressure! If you’re not up it I totally understand! I used you’re right that time, right?

Myrten Aster: It’s fine, I think questing might be a good distraction, in retrospect. And yes, you used it right. ‘See’ you in a moment.

Weiss put on her headphones and jumped into the game. The inn built around Myrten Aster and her party was waiting for her as always.

Crescent Scythe has sent you a party request, for Ember Celica’s party.

You have joined Ember Celica’s party.

“Hey Aster!” Celica greeted, “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Celica,” Weiss assured.

“You sure?” Celica pressed, “Cause you don’t talk about your real life, but you’ve never skipped a night online either. I doubt this is your first bad day in almost two years.”

“Has it really been that long already?” Weiss was surprised by the knowledge.

“Yeah, and you’ve come so far from the n00b I found in the guild hall!” Ruby laughed.

“Must you always lord that over my head?” Weiss groaned.

“Not until the student surpasses the master,” Ruby replied, putting on a cheesy voice.

“That’s literally impossible. You’re almost twenty levels higher than the rest of us,” Weiss pointed out, “You know I’ve gotten messages asking what blackmail I’m using to keep you around?”

“Really?” Ruby asked, “I… don’t know how to process that.”

“Actually, I have too,” Celica confessed, “I usually just ignore messages unless I recognize the screen name.”

“Same here,” Gambol spoke up.

“That is so weird…” Ruby’s character ran a ‘shake head’ emote. “So! Shall we quest? Maybe Aster will open up once she’s distracted by being knee deep in slimes!”

“Must you lord that over me as well!” Weiss scolded, knowing exactly was Ruby was trying to tease her over, “I didn’t know how to fight back then!” Her comment was only met with laughs.

Teasing finally over, the group made their way into the fields for some basic leveling for Celica, Gambol and Aster. Crescent didn’t need it, clearly, but she still wasn’t going on the next quest alone – even if she could theoretically handle it – and said quest was still a level or two above the rest of them.

“So, are we going to hear about your terrible day, Aster?” Celica asked.

“If you must know,” Weiss searched her head to pick her words carefully, “I was turned down today from something I thought might have been a sure bet…”

“Oh, that does suck,” Celica seemed to properly empathize for once. “Don’t get ice cream all over your keyboard!”

Weiss didn’t retaliate for two reasons. One, she knew Celica’s teasing came from a place of love. And two, she was totally right about Weiss indulging in ice cream while she played. “I know how not to make a mess,” was how she eventually decide to respond.

“So you are eating ice cream?” Celica was surprised, “Damn.”

“That’s… kinda funny,” Ruby responded, somewhat subdued.

“Excuse me?” Weiss asked.

“Nonono!” Ruby panicked, “I mean, I uhh… actually had to turn someone down today, is all.”

“Really?” Celica questioned, “Why am I not hearing about these things?”

Weiss quickly wracked her mind for how she would react before she knew who Crescent really was. “I bet she’s just turning down people all the time!” Weiss winced at herself. She’d call that a 50-50 success.

“Not really,” Ruby admitted, “The only social interactions I really have are with customers in the coffee shop.”

“So it was a customer,” Gambol quickly deduced.

“Who?” Celica quickly jumped in, ready to be Ruby’s big sister.

“It was that regular who was mean to me a long time ago, Weiss,” Ruby confessed.

“I could have told you that would happen,” Gambol told them.

“Why did you turn her down?” Weiss quickly interrupted before anyone could try and dissect Gambol’s comment. She quickly cursed herself for her choice in question doing so.

“B-because… I…” Ruby was hesitant.

“Because she’s already got an eye on someone,” Celica spoke up for her sister.

“YA- I MEAN CELI- AH, YOU… SISTER, YOU!” Ruby screamed, “SHUT UP!”

“What? You’re turning people down for a crush you’ve never pursued,” Celica rationalized, “It’s time to crap or get off the pot.”

“Ew,” Weiss scrunched her nose at the vulgar metaphor.

“So, Crescent does have a crush after all?” Gambol teased.

“If you only talk to people from the coffee shop, is it another regular?” Weiss asked, deciding she’s gone too far already and might as well go all in.

“No, I don’t really talk to any of them. Except Weiss,” Ruby answered, defeated.

“That just leaves Remnant Online,” Gambol seemed interested in unraveling this puzzle herself, “Do you play with anyone else regularly when the rest of us aren’t online?”

She plays without the three of us? Weiss learned, I guess that explains how she maintains her level gap over us.

“Not anyone specific, just anyone who’s free at the moment in the guild,” Ruby continued her slow, defeated reveal.

“So…” Weiss pressed.

“That means…” Gambol seemed closer to the truth herself.

“Well…” Ruby sighed, “Celica is my sister and my boss, and Gambol is both straight and my other boss…”

“That just leaves… Aster…” Gambol finished.

“Yeah…” Ruby confirmed quietly.

Weiss completely froze, her character taking hits from the enemies around the party.

“A-Aster…?” Ruby squeaked, clearly seeing Weiss’s motionless character. “Aster, say something… please…”

Myrten Aster has left the server.

Weiss smashed the log-out button. Her next discernable thought was her curled into her bed, desperately trying to process. She had panicked, oh hell, she had panicked. Her brain just couldn’t take being rejected one moment, and then approached just a few hours later by the same girl. Sure, that girl thought she was talking to two different people, but in all the emotional drama Weiss’s brain was having a hard time comprehending that fact.

When it finally came through as she calmed down a little, Weiss still faced the issue of what exactly she was going to do about it. Weiss had fallen for Ruby, and Crescent had fallen for Aster. The only issue is that Ruby/Crescent didn’t know Weiss was Aster. Weiss did, though, and the ball was in her court now. It was time to come clean, especially if she had any hope of things working out between the two of them.

The next morning, Weiss awoke and noticed RO’s launcher was still on her screen, with twelve new PMs.

Crescent Scythe: Aster! I’m so sorry! Please log back on so we can talk!

Crescent Scythe: Aster? Please log back on…

Crescent Scythe: I’m sorry I freaked you out. Can we still be friends?

Crescent Scythe: We can meet up IRL?

Crescent Scythe: Not in a girlfriend way, of course! In a friend-friend way.

Crescent Scythe: That was stupid of me, wasn’t it? I don’t even know if we live close by. You could be halfway across the world!

Crescent Scythe: You probably would have called me a dolt or something for trying to pull that, haha.

Crescent Scythe: Aster…?

Crescent Scythe: At least you’re not leaving me on ‘read’…

Crescent Scythe: I get it…

Crescent Scythe: If you don’t want to play anymore, I understand… just please let us know. You can message Ember Celica if you don’t want to talk to me.

Crescent Scythe: Goodbye, Myrten Aster.

Reading Ruby’s messages broke Weiss’s heart. Ruby clearly thought she had massively screwed up and was losing Myrten Aster. Weiss knew what she had to do. She had learned lot of things the past few weeks, and while it wasn’t the most important lesson, she knew which one would serve her here. She had to apologize in person.

---

From the outside, no one would know something was amiss inside SunnyKat Kafé. But stepping through that door, Weiss could feel it. The energy within was different, and she had a hunch she knew the cause. Behind the counter, Ruby half-heartedly cleaned out the machines. Her eyes were gray.

“Hello, Ruby,” Weiss called out cautiously.

Ruby did a double take. “W-Weiss!? You’re still coming here…?”

Weiss stepped up to the counter, nerves making her bite her lip. “Yeah, I am.”

“I mean, not to be rude, but… why?” Ruby asked. “Isn’t it… awkward…?”

Weiss shook her head. “A little, but… you did ask to meet IRL, Crescent Scythe.”

Weiss could tell Ruby completely shut down for a brief second, blinking blank eyes rapidly. She finally began returning to the world, her mouth flapping and her fingers pointing around randomly. “I don’t under… how did you… that means…” Ruby finally met Weiss’s eyes once again, “Myrten Aster…?”

Weiss nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, properly.”

“But t-that means…” Ruby was struggling to process. Weiss imagined she looked much the same way the previous night. “YANG!” The young barista suddenly called out.

“What’s up, sis!?” Celica’s voice returned the call.

“Can I go on a break!?” Ruby continued to hold a long-distance conversation.

“If no one’s up there, sure! Sun said he’s just around the corner!”

“Thank you!” Ruby shouted one last comment before leading Weiss to one of the few tables. “So… you’re really Myrten Aster?”

“I first met Crescent Scythe in the guild hall for the Beacon Guild,” Weiss answered with indisputable facts, “I had chosen my character based on appearance, and knew nothing about my own stats. I didn’t like being accidently forced into a support role, but you taught me everything I needed to know to survive Remnant Online. You constantly tease me about dying against a group of slimes in my first dungeon. You were my first online friend, and honestly… probably my first friend period.”

Ruby nodded, absorbing the info slowly. “How long have you known I was Crescent Scythe?”

“Since you complained about me to Myrten Aster,” Weiss answered honestly, “You were the ‘close friend’ that taught me the error of my ways.”

“So… you asked me out, and I turned you down…” Ruby articulated her thoughts, “Then I asked you out… no wonder you vanished… that must have been confusing…”

“It was,” Weiss nodded.

“And you’re here now to say…?” Ruby questioned, clearly unsure of herself.

Weiss smiled, “I go to lunch around ten-thirty, eleven… Are you going to be free?”

Ruby’s jaw dropped. That was clearly the last thing she expected. “Y-yeah! Of course!”

“I can send you a message when I’m coming to pick you up, if you’re willing to trade numbers?” Weiss asked.

“Definitely!” Ruby whipped out her phone and followed Weiss’s instructions to add her contact info. “We can do – oh what do people do for a first date – this is a date, right? – Of course it’s a date, dummy! – We can do… coffee…?”

Weiss giggled throughout Ruby’s rambling, even as the redhead became less sure of herself by the end. “A coffee date? Seriously? I can’t a do a coffee date with you.”

“Oh. Why not?” Ruby asked innocently.

“Because then it wouldn’t be you making my coffee,” Weiss answered, turning slightly red herself, “And then the coffee wouldn’t be perfect.”

It was Ruby’s turn to blush, “You think my coffee is perfect…?”

“It is for me, at least,” Weiss nodded.

“Hey, Rubes, I need you back on the counter,” a blonde, large in more ways than one, stepped out of the back while speaking with Celica’s voice. “Sun said he’s going to be late… oh hey. You must be Weiss.”

“Hello, Yang, was it?” Weiss skimmed her memory for whatever Ruby called her big sister a few minutes ago.

“That’s right,” Yang stepped protectively next to Ruby. “No offense, but why are you here? After yesterday… What exactly do you want with my sister?”

“Yang, wait,” Ruby cut in. “Weiss, this is my sister, Yang Xiao Long. Or, Ember Celica.”

“Why are you-”

“And Yang,” Ruby cut her sister off, “This is Weiss Schnee. Or, Myrten Aster.”

Yang blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yup,” Ruby nodded.

Yang stepped back, taking in the information. “So… everything is good here…?”

“Yup,” Ruby nodded again.

“Okay, cool… I’m gunna go bug Blake.”

“I’m guessing Blake is the black-haired one from ‘that day’?” Weiss asked as Yang retreated, “As well as Gambol Shroud?”

“That’s right,” Ruby confirmed.

“As much as I would love to meet everybody, I am already late for work,” Weiss stood up.

“Wait!” Ruby dashed back behind the counter and started working the machines. In record time she had made a vanilla latte with soy. “It’s probably not as ‘perfect’ as usual, but you still need your coffee!”

“Thank you, Ruby,” Weiss smiled, taking a sip. “It is still perfect,” she assured, “I’ll see you around lunchtime!”

“See you then!” Ruby smiled brightly, her eyes once again a gleaming silver.

---

This is most likely my only WRW2019 post, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless

#wrw2019 #white rose week #white rose week 2019 #whiterose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #coffee #first

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tiesandtea · 4 years

Text

Suede in Ray Gun (US), issue 45, April 1997

The London Suede... English voodoo Wherein we learn of the ecstacy of being Suede By Michael Krugman

RG: It's refreshing to not hear the "We're going to tour America and everyone will love us" lip service that most English bands spew about making it here.

B: I'm just honest about it. In almost every other country in the world, we've had quite a lot of success, and it just hasn't happened in the States. Maybe it's something to do with the basic make up of the band that just grates with American music. Maybe it's the fact that we haven't had a successful tour there.

RG: That's true. All of the tours here were troubled in one way or another, what with Bernard's father passing away, or Richard having just stepped in. In many ways, we've never gotten to see the real Suede.

B: No, you haven't really, which is a shame, cos you missed out on something good. It's kind of down to us really, it's our problem. But I think that's pretty much true about a lot of English bands. They fuck up in the States. It's nothing I'm going to lose much sleep about at the moment, though.

A in-depth interview with a US alternative music magazine Ray Gun, conducted in November 1996. Full transcript from Suede Scrapbook (sent in by Elizabeth) under the cut. Scans including photographs by Donald Christie can be viewed here on the Richard Oakes Fans fb page.

It seems an eternity (in pop terms, at least) since Suede were declared the best new band in Britain, one week before the release of their first single. Since that time, so much has happened, both from without - the phenomenon that is Britpop - and, more importantly, from within. Suede v1 were a heavensent combo of genius guitarist and larger-than-life flashboy in Bernard Butler and Brett Anderson. Together they led Suede through two magic records, the eponymous debut and their daring masterwork, Dog Man Star. Then, as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone, split in a burst of still-not-clear acrimony.

Or so it seemed. When Butler bolted, Brett, bassist Mat Osman and drummer Simon Gilbert weren't yet ready to call it quits. They took the high risk of replacing the best guitarist of his generation with an untested 17-year-old with a gift for mimicry, both musical and physical. Young Richard Oakes had to put up with endless "Brett's Little Dick" jokes, even as he proved his abilities on the Dog Man Star tour, a surreal time on the road that saw the band come closer together as people than they ever had before. With the question of “what's the point?” still in the air, Suede went away again, this time to refigure out their purpose and place in the post-Oasis universe.

Two years later, they've finally returned, and, lo and behold, they're as special as ever. With Coming Up, Anderson & Co. have created a chrome and steel cityscape of broken hearts and souls, resplendent in youth and lust and the pursuit of Ecstacy. The sound is vintage Suede, glamtastic guitars swirling, though Oakes and new keyboardist Neil "The Lizard" Codling have substituted a more consise Pop! vibe for Butler's manic virtuosity. The record proves once and for all that Suede are still as vital and vibrant as ever.

Backstage at the Manchester Apollo, a distracted Anderson and Gilbert sit down to talk, their minds not on the inquiry but on the imminent first gig of a long tour. Once the conversation starts, Anderson, known to his bandmates as His Lordship, comes alive, the legendary haughty veneer replaced by a candidness and a big-chested pride that comes from knowing just how good his band Suede really are.

Ray Gun: I suppose we need to start with Bernard's departure. Is there a stock answer? Do we not talk about it at all?

Brett Anderson: I've got a sheet with the stock answer.

Simon Gilbert: There's not a lot too be said. That was three years ago.

Brett: It's ancient history. The only time we ever think about that whole episode is when people ask us in interviews. It's like this bizarre thing that was in the past.

RG: Well then, why don't we talk about Richard? How did he join up?

S: He actually wrote in when he heard Bernard had left the band. He actually wrote in to the fan club, sent in a tape. We heard it, thought it was amazing and got him in for an audition. By the first song - he played "Heroine" - it sort of clicked.

B: That whole period was pretty strange, cos we were touring an album where one of the members who had co-written it with me had pissed off. It was quite frustrating and quite difficult at times. Which I got through with a lot of good will and a lot of positivity, but it was quite hard work. A lot of people had sort of thought, "Awww, the band had collapsed." We had to tour the album. It's just what you've got to do when you're in a band. For one thing, I was really proud of the album. I thought it was a fucking great album, there's a lot of songs on it that I really wanted to play live. I spent seven months writing the fucking thing, and when you put that much work into it, I was living it night and day, you just want people to hear it.

RG: Dog Man Star fell between the cracks in a way. It was overwhelmed by the very public split between the band and Bernard, and more importantly, it is a remarkably adventurous second album that came out at the same time as Britpop began to get more and more generic. Do you feel it went over people's head?

B: Yes and no. Commercially, it did. It wasn't commercial for a couple of factors. Not just because of its musical obscurity or whatever, cos it wasn't that musically obscure-

RG: It was complex.

B: It was complex, yeah. It was a combination of that and losing the guitarist. A lot of people thought the band had split up. A lot of people had a lack of confidence in the band because of that. And it was unfounded because, you know, most people experience backlash because they've made a shitty record, or cos they're not very good anymore. In some senses, Dog Man Star is probably the best record we've ever made. So yeah, it went over some people's head, and it was a difficult record to sell, but I think it was quite a landmark record. I read various snippets of things and people talk about bands trying to make their Dog Man Star. The record has definitely got a character which can be translated to other people's records. It's got a very sort of serious, epic, complex sense, d'you know what I mean.

RG: No matter what tension was going on in the studio, it remains a very brave album, in that you were a relatively straightforward pop band and you made a record that the 14-year-old segment of the audience would invariably be baffled by.

B: That had always been the idea for Suede. We'd be pushing it all the time. We've always had a sense of adventure in the music. It's a very difficult thing for people to get their heads around, cos we tend to write in a very similar, what, when it comes to singles. Like, stylistically, there's not much difference between "Trash" and "The Drowners." They're heady, poppy...a rush. If someone just looked at our singles, they'd say, "Oh this band hadn't progressed at all." But if you listen to any of the albums, we always try to change stuff around. And making Dog Man Star just seemed like a natural progression from the first album. We wanted to do something that was really really out there. And that sort of spirit of adventure has been killed off by Britpop, in a way. I think the good thing about Britpop is that it readdressed songwriting, but I think the bad thing about it is that it promoted safeness in music. And at the time of Dog Man Star, we could've written an album of tracks like "The Drowners" and "Animal Nitrate", we just didn't want to. Cos, you know, you're given a power, you're given a platform, you might as well do something that'll fucking prick up their ears, d'you know what I mean.

RG: Suede were the band that kickstarted the Britpop thing, not unlike what Nirvana did in the US with alt-rock. That is, taking a previously indie sound to the charts. Do you feel responsible for all this?

B: Yeah, totally. If you look at all of this chronologically and historically, Suede were the first band to do that. The kind of things that are in early Suede songs, talking about specifically English culture, not sort of singing songs about, y'know, rockspeak, d'you know what I mean? Just sort of bad cliches. So, not speaking rockspeak, talking about specifically English culture, which we were definitely the first band to do. Before Suede, there was a real confusion about what being in a band was all about. I mean, we came on the scene, we were so specific about what we wanted to be. We wanted to be Suede. And all the other bands around were just without a clue, just a joke. There were all these awful bands that didn't know how to write songs. I don't want to slag a load of bands off cos they're a load of crap. Just these bands that couldn't play, couldn't write a song, had no focus about what being in a band was. And Suede came along, and that's why we stuck out like a sore thumb, cos we had a certain sense of style, which no one else had. I'm not talking about we bought our clothes from fucking Armani or whatever, but there was a sense of what we were. Which was something beyond crappy student hair and shorts.

RG: But then just as you released your masterpiece, you got lost in the wake of Blur, Oasis, etc.

B: Well, yeah, we did, because of the simple fact that we'd lost a member. It would have been a completely different story if he'd stayed in the band. At the time it was quite frustrating, but I think, looking back on it, it was the best thing that could've happened. Cos I don't think we are considered a Britpop band. The same way that you wouldn't call the Stone Roses a baggy band, even though they started it. They're kind of beyond it by doing it in the first place, d'you know what I mean?

RG: Did you feel a sense of competition in making Coming Up? A need to prove yourselves?

S: There's probably an element of that, but it wasn't something we consciously had.

B: One of our strengths is that we don't particularly get influenced by what's going on around us. Some people might say that's a failing, cos you're not taking stuff in. I think Suede have definitely always had their own sense of style, they always had their own direction. I think there was a definite desire to refocus what we're about, cos I think with Dog Man Star, it went very experimental, we went in all directions everywhere. What you want to do is bring it all back to the central thing, and refocus on what the essence of the band was.

RG: That's the thing about Coming Up. It's Suede distilled to down to it's very nature. There's no wanky bits on this record.

B: Yeah. It was really important just to cut out all the dead wood, not have anything that didn't work. I wanted to make the sort of album that would work the first time you listened to a band. You don't have to like Suede to get into it, d'you know what I mean? It would just work on its own terms.

RG: In a sense, it was your first album. For any number of reasons, this Suede is not the same Suede.

B: It wasn't 'til we started writing the album, and Neil came along really, and the second phase of Suede really took off. Cos then it was really a new band. It wasn't just like the same instruments and stuff like that. I did feel as though Neil and Richard sort of combined to take it into a completely new form. No one could say, "Oh, they're just trying to replace Bernard," or whatever, it was a completely new feel to the band.

RG: The record seems to be influenced by real things, by friends and family, by being a person and not a pop star.

B: Definitely. It wasn't something I did consciously, but I did definitely retreat from all that. I pretty much retreated from the pop star shit really. I just got completely disillusioned from it and didn't particularly feel like going to the Squirrel's after show or anything like that, d'you know what I mean?

RG: As the scene became more celebrity oriented, you were noticeably absent.

B: We have this image of being this band of blokes that are kind of like obsessed with our hair and like, the superficial side of it all, and there's nothing further from the truth. I'm just so disinterested in the Face side of being a pop star.

RG: You certainly know how to use it to your advantage, though.

B: Well, sticking it in front of a fucking camera, if your face is going to be on the cover of a magazine and 100,000 people are going to read it, you don't want to look like you're just woken up, do you?

RG: The characters on Coming Up are like a chronicle of the modern drug-taking lifestyle.

B: Virtually everyone in London, a huge section of the people I know, are just complete rave heads and complete weekenders. There's this whole culture, this weekender culture, where you work throughout the week and on the weekend they just go completely insane. They're just popping pills like there's no tomorrow. And there are a lot of those sort of people on the record, yeah.

RG: And yourself? You've got a reputation as someone who enjoys a bit of chemicals.

B: No more than anyone else, really. I've always had too much of a focus on what I'm doing to ever slip too much into it. I've always almost used drugs, in a way, rather than let them use me. I've used them, yeah, (A), to let off steam. Who doesn't? When you're thinking all day, you need to just be blank for a couple of hours. And (B), to sort of like stimulate your mind sometimes. But when you say something like that and people get the wrong end of the stick. You get headlines like "BRETT PROMOTES DRUGS TO WRITE." Which is absolute bollocks. I'd say quite the opposite. I'd say it actually deters you sometimes, it actually stops you from thinking. But, y'know, when you're taking drugs and fucking hammering yourself into the ground for 15 years, which I have been doing, you actually get a sense of how to use them. There's a total difference between some 16-year-old taking drugs, and taking fucking Ecstasy for 15 years now, d'you know what I mean? So I know exactly how my body reacts, I know exactly how my mind reacts, I know exactly how to use it rather than let it use me.

RG: To be honest about it. Too many people go, "Don't do drugs" or "Drugs are the greatest!" whether they mean it or not.

B: I'll tell you what. We're doing this interview for the States, and I think there's so much fucking dishonesty about drugs in the States. It's one thing that really pisses me off. It's fashionable to say that you used to do it and you don't do it anymore. It's fashionable to be in rehab. All you have to do is say you're in rehab and make the right sort of music and you've got a hit record. And it's got nothing to do with your music, it's got to do with this society of people who go to rehab. It's absolute utter fucking bollocks.

RG: It's the culture of apology, the idea of saying, "I'm better now."

B: Exactly. Especially when it's saying, "Oh, I'm a rock 'n' roll and cool because I used to do drugs. I'm not a complete square. But I've given them up now, so I'm a good guy." Why don't you be fucking honest about it and say what you do and what you don't do. It's a load of fucking lies. It's all over the world, but it's extremified in the States, cos, y'know, everything's extremified in the States.

RG: Seeing how you've been so honest on the subject, did Damon Albarn's much-quoted comments about you being some kind of junkie piss you off?

B: I just don't like people commenting on what I do. I'm willing to talk about anything, but when other people start passing judgement on me...

RG: I want to talk about the more common Suede images, things like electricity and diesel and the sea and so forth.

B: There's a definite language that I like to make my own. I like to use words - not repetitively, I've never overused a word or phrase. The most used one is like, "hired car," which I've used about three times. I quite like establishing your own kind of language, and almost like, putting a copyright on your language, so when someone comes along and uses a word like that, then you can go, "Ah, that's one of my words," d'you know what I mean?

RG: So if someone writes about, say, the motorway...

B: Then I'll slam them into court and sue their asses. Seriously, that's why as a lyricist I have a style, like I have as a singer. I think lyrically speaking, words are generally pretty barren at the moment, and I think it's important to have a bit of pride in what you do and take it seriously.

RG: The imagery you use creates a very vivid world, albeit one that is very modern and very cold.

B: I try to put a bit of warmth in it as well. I don't see the world as this pointlessly bleak experience. There's a lot of optimism I have for life. Living in London is really exciting every day. I like to write about things that have got a timelessness, that's quite important to me. I don't like writing about things that are just of the moment. I tend to choose things like electricity or something like that, specific things that are part of the modern age, the modern age being something that happened about 96 years ago and that'll carry on for another hundred.

RG: Is there are Suede tribute band like say, No Way Sis?

B: Yes, actually, in Canada. They're called Snide. They come from London, Ontario and they do Suede and the Sex Pistols, so that's really cool. That's the only one I know, though I think there's a couple in Australia as well.

RG: Does the singer try to look like you? That's always the funniest part of those bands.

B: Yeah, like a cross between me and Johnny Rotten, if there is such a thing.

RG: Do you really want to make it in the US? Do you care anymore?

B: Not really, no. To be absolutely totally honest. I've been over there three times, three big tours, worked really hard, and at the end of the day, maybe there's just something about Suede that just doesn't connect with the American mentality. If they like the record, then they like the record. Your role as a musician is kind of like being this conquerer, and I find that really unhealthy. Everyone's always talking about breaking territories like they're fucking Alexander the Great.

RG: It's refreshing to not hear the "We're going to tour America and everyone will love us" lip service that most English bands spew about making it here.

RG: The thing with Suede is that you are pretty much a band of outsiders. In many ways, so are the kids that listen to you. Perhaps more so.

B: Totally. We do get a certain section of our audience that, you know, the Suede gigs they're coming to are the only times they've been out this year. They come in slippers, d'you know what I mean? Slippers and a dressing gown, rubbing their eyes like they just got out of bed. But yeah, we do attract a lot of people that are attracted to the band for unusual reasons, or are inspired by the band when they wouldn't be inspired by other people. It's not your run of the mill interchangeable "another band" kind of thing, and that's something I've always been determined not to be, "another band." It can sometimes be hard work, because you pretty much play on your own field, and you're pretty much cutting your own grass and making your own headway. It can be quite lonely, but it's a position we've always wanted.

#brett anderson #suede #this is genuinely a really interesting interview!#the london suede #coming up era #ray gun 1997 #coming up month #happy CU-versary!

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thedyingmoon · 5 years

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

~ A V X Reader set in an Alternate Universe wherein you and Griffon take the center stage! 👍👍👌

~ Now tagging my Sweet Peas, @heaven-on-a-landslide , @lessy86 , @gxthghoulfriend , @simmy-ships , @ehrzeth , @diabeticsugarush , @ceruleanworld , and @boundbysoul . 🖤

~ This chapter is for you, @krazy06 ! Thanks for giving me endless Griffon ideas ( albeit unintentional 😂😂😂 )! 🖤

~ Alright? LET'S DO THIS !

***

A few hours prior.

***

"I' am the villain of your story,... "

"Useless,... "

"Imbecile,... "

"Please, find him and save him before it's too late!"

"VERGIL! WHERE ARE YOU?! VERGIL!"

"I' am so sorry, my dear,... "

"Fulfill my wish, I beg you,... "

"SWEET PEA!"

You jolted wide awake as you felt a weak electric current run through every nerve of your body.

"Oh, I'm glad you're still alive!" You heard the Demonic bird as you opened your eyes, letting your sight adjust to your surroundings.

The last time you were awake, you remembered yourself being a bit tired due to your dancing and a bit sleepy due to the cold weather. You remembered V offering you a shoulder to lean on so you could take a nap, and he even offered to read for you to help you relax. You also remembered Griffon settling himself on your left side, squeezing himself closer to you, feeling warm and cozy, and you also saw how Shadow materialized and laid down next to your feet, purring shamelessly loud like the huge, Demonic cat that she was.

Not only that, you could also remember how V wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you closer. You felt the warmth of his flesh, smelled his lulling scent, heard his soft and gentle voice as he read to you,...

... you also remembered how he kissed your forehead as he told you to rest well,...

And now, you stared around the place, feeling as if something was really off in the atmosphere. The air was heavier, and you felt a shortness of breath.

"What happened?" You asked Griffon, your voice sounding strangely hoarse and emotional.

"I dunno!" The bird answered. "I woke up to ya sayin' some stuff while ya sleep. Then, I saw V,... "

At the mention of his name, you suddenly felt chills run down your spine. You glanced to your right and saw the man, himself. He was still asleep, leaning onto his cane for support.

But, what really startled you was his hair, which had turned snowy - white, and the absence of all his contract markings.

And most of all, there was a strange aura about him, a very dark and evil one. And it seemed to be the force that kept him unconscious.

"Oh, my God, V!" You worriedly muttered as you shook the man, trying to wake him up. "What happened to him?! What's wrong with him?!"

"I - i,... tried to wake him up, believe me!" Griffon shrieked, panic taking over. "I even tried calling Shadow and Nightmare! They're not here! They're gone!"

"What's happening here?" You muttered, your head still unable to process the gravity of the current situation.

"I already told ya that I dunno! What else do ya want, a fight?!"

You stood up, and went towards the window. It really was dark, but you knew full well that it can't be night already. You were only asleep for a while!

And then, right outside the studio, was the answer to your question.

With narrow and cautious eyes, you hustled to where your boots were, hastily wore them, picked up your parka and your violin case on the table, and began to leave. You turned back to Griffon and spoke.

"Stay here with V. I'll go outside and check what's going on."

"Heh! Ya don't need to tell me that! I'm stayin' here, bitch."

"Okay."

"And what do ya need that violin for? A fuckin' concert?!"

"Wha - ?!" You stuttered, looking at the violin case. "Who told you I can play the violin? I'm tone deaf!"

"Oh, alright." Griffon simply replied, then realized that the thing you're holding onto since the early hours of the day was not a freaking instrument in the first place. "WHAT IN THE ACTUAL - ?!"

But, you were already outside the room and didn't get to hear the Demonic bird's curses.

The moment you stepped outside the building, you noticed how the sky was pitch black that not even the stars, the moon, and the clouds could be seen. There was a distinct heaviness in the atmosphere, same as what you felt in V, and it was honestly making you sick.

Not sick physically but, sick in the soul.

It's as if the air itself could make you feel utterly hopeless.

You looked around the deserted road as you walked, trying to search for the root of this phenomenon, when some strange rocks protruding on the ground came into view. And you were very positive that they weren't there before.

What is this? You thought as you looked at the strange circle - like runes that were carved on the rocks.

"Sweet pea!" You heard the Demonic bird from a distance as he called after you. You turned around, almost mistaking him for the enemy.

"Griffon?! I thought I told you to stay with V?!"

"Not gonna leave ya alone!" The bird answered you matter - of - factly. "He'll be fine. Don't worry too much about Shakespeare."

"YOU'RE TELLING ME NOT TO WORRY ABOUT V?! ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

"I TOLD YA! HE'S FINE - !"

All of a sudden, you felt a dark and heavy presence looming in the area. The strange rocks lit up a sickly - looking violet, its very essence crawling its way towards your feet.

"What's that?" The bird, being a few feet above the ground and that strange light, questioned.

You didn't answer. Instead, you opened the case and took out your weapons.

"Sweet pea, that thing's not gonna do anythin' - "

"WATCH OUT!" You practically yelled as you positioned yourself in front of the bird and managed to slice through the very sudden incoming projectile of light using your bow.

However, the attacker seemed to have a lot more in store for you as you noticed a huge, violet light kind of wave that was coming rapidly towards you.

With much resolve to fight, you positioned the metallic violin in front of you like a shield, channeling the entity's power within you. The metallic instrument glowed, a sign that it has received the power it needed from you.

"Stay behind me!"

"Don't need to tell me!" The bird screeched in panic as he did what you told him.

The metallic violin emanated a strange form of light that instantly morphed into a shield, protecting you from the crashing wave of the sinister violet light that disintegrated the ground it touched.

"Ihh! What the fuck is that?!"

"There's no time to find out. Let's go!"

And so, using the special violin you had as a shield, you ran forward, making sure to not let even a small part of your skin touch the wave of light.

"Incoming projectile!" Griffon screamed behind you as he spotted a speeding blade of light going down rapidly towards the two of you.

As soon as you noticed this, you raised the bow, waited for the light to come closer, and succesfully sliced through it just like what you did with the first projectile. Then, you went on, warily watching out for more of those hostile things.

"What are those weapons?"

"Sword and shield." You simply answered, not letting your focus waver for even a second. "Well, rapier, actually. The bow is more like a rapier than a sword."

At the mention of your weapon choice, you could suddenly hear Nico in your head as she made the offer to design a weapon for you for the first time, which was eight years ago.

"Behold my genius! A shield and a rapier in the form of a violin and a bow! You could use this violin to channel the entity's power from within you. It could absorb energy and turn it into whatever form you desire! A shield, projectiles, anything! And this rapier can cut through Demon flesh as clean as possible. You won't have to worry about anything if you have these two."

"That's great!"

"One question, though: why violin? If you simply asked, I could have made somethin' more badass for you."

"That's because,... "

You smiled at the memory. You knew very well the reason behind it, and it was to remind yourself of your life - long mission to search for that white - haired man from your visions who could play the violin.

And now that you've found him, you don't intend on ever letting him get hurt.

"There!" Griffon shrieked as two glowing orbs came into view. "That's Shadow and Nightmare!"

"Let's get them!"

As you were about to reach the orbs, something sharp and spiky rose from the ground, startling the two of you and wounding your right leg. Your eyes widened in pain as you almost collapsed to the ground. The enemy gave you no time to recover as another spike rose and made a huge slash on your other leg, making you howl in unbelievable pain.

"(Y/N)! You - !" Griffon was about to electrocute the spikes when another wave of violet light appeared out of nowhere and engulfed him.

You watched helplessly as the light possessed the Demonic bird. It happened so fast that you were not able to retaliate in time to save him.

"Griffon!"

"Wait, wait, I'm fine!"

"Are you sure?!"

"Sweet pea, another spike! Let me!" The bird offered as it tried to channel his power for an attack. He folded his wings and unfurled them,...

... but nothing happened!

"Wha - ?! My powers are gone!"

You stood up, trying to ignore the pain in your legs and the blood gushing out from your wounds, when another batch of spikes rose from the round, almost killing you had you not dodged in time.

"Stay close behind me!" You ordered, waiting for the bird to do so. "I'll protect you."

With no time left to waste, you made a quick run towards V's imprisoned familiars, dodging spikes and slicing light projectiles along the way.

Twenty feet, seventeen feet, fifteen feet. You were so close to reaching them,...

... until a strange kind of portal appeared before you. And what came out of it was a creature so diabolical, the Demons you faced before could never compare.

"Malphas!" Griffon uttered in fear as the half female half avian Demon blocked your way.

"What a curious little creature!" The Demon called Malphas drawled seductively as she stalked towards you. "These creatures before you failed before my power! And soon," she lifted a skeletal finger and pointed it at you. "... your powers shall be mine!"

"HEY, YOU STINKIN' EXHIBITIONIST!" The powerless Griffon, who was still cowering behind you, yelled. "GIVE MY COMRADES AND MY POWERS BACK!"

"Take them if you can." The enemy exclaimed. "And if you fail, I will feast on your soul!"

"Not good! Not good! Let's run away before - !"

But, the bird did not have time to finish his sentence as he saw you charging forward towards the Demon.

Despite your wounds, you managed to evade the spikes and the light projectiles that the Demon sent your way. However, as your wound worsened, your movements became sluggish, giving Malphas her needed signal to finally move against you. She conjured another portal and used it to escape. And seconds later, she reappeared, almost killing you with one slash of her talon. You thankfully escaped, thanks to Griffon who grabbed your parka and lifted you off the ground, sending you a safe distance away from the Demon.

"We can't do this, sweet pea! W - we d - don't have the strength!"

You smiled despite your predicament. Your head was getting lighter and your sight was getting more and more blurry. You tried to stand up but, your wounds were really awful that you screamed once more in pain and collapsed to the ground.

"Stop that! You, we, can't fight! Let's call the pimple kid and ask for help!

"It would be too late, by then!" You exclaimed, refusing to get knocked out by your wounds and rapid bloodloss.

"And how do you propose we beat that thing, huh? Drive that skinny sword of yours through her heart? YA CAN'T EVEN FUCKIN' STAND! I CAN'T EVEN USE MY POWER! LET'S RUN AWAY AND ASK FOR HELP!"

"NO! I PROMISED TO PROTECT YOU!" You yelled at the bird, your blind convictions surely sending you to your deathbed. "And even if we run, she'll only go after us. What's the difference?"

"We'll live for a bit longer!"

You glanced up at Griffon, giving him a look of bravery despite your pitiful form. "Living for a bit longer? I can't have that. That's,..." you stood up and winced. "... unacceptable."

"And what? Ya really want a fight do ya? YA WANT IT THAT BADLY, HUH?!"

"No." You finally managed to stand up straight, fully decided and unhesitant for your next move. "But, I have no other choice."

You removed your parka and tossed it towards the bird.

"Hey! Just what do ya think you're - ?!"

Once again, the bird did not have enough time to finish as he saw you stripping the rest of your clothes, including the offensively seductive lace underwear that Nico gave you that morning.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKIN' MIND?! YES, MALPHAS IS BUTT NAKED, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YA HAVE TO - !"

"Maybe." You only answered as you took a step forward. "But, we're way out of our safe zones now."

"What do ya mean by that? Start getting clear with me, woman!"

You faced him once more, but this time, with a weird smile on your face. "You're right. I can't beat Malphas. I'm weak, as you just saw. I can't kill her but, she can."

"Ah, who?!"

Nico's voice went back to your head as you recalled her words once more.

"Now, as much as possible, you have to rely on those weapons I gave you. You would only let her take over as a last resort!"

"What if there's no other choice, then?"

"Then, you're gonna have to say byebye to your clothes! Or, at least, strip them before she comes. You can't afford to buy that many set of clothes every after mission! You'll go hungry!"

"Hunger? Clothes? Whatever." You uttered to yourself as you made your way towards Malphas.

"SWEET PEA!" Griffon pleaded as he tried once more to attack, only to fail yet again. "YOU WILL FUCKIN' DIE! STOP!"

But you only looked back at him, winked, and held up a slender finger to your bloody lips.

"Sshh,..."

The Demon noticed you as you reappeared before her, vulnerable, wounded, and exposed.

"Finally accepting your fate, mortal?"

"I don't think so."

"You! What are you - ?"

A warm kind of light suddenly engulfed your whole body, lifting you off the ground and blinding Malphas at the same time. Griffon, who was safely away from the fight, saw how your body morphed into a being of pure light that stood much taller than you were.

"Sweet Shirley! What a secret to hide!" Griffon exclaimed as he saw you come closer towards Malphas. "GO BEAT THAT EXHIBITIONIST, SWEET PEA!"

As the Diabolical Amalgam used her powers in the form of her portals, spikes, and projectiles, you only stayed where you were, receiving all the relentless attacks from her. And when the Demon realized that you have become somewhat invulnerable, she tried her best to escape, only to find herself suddenly slashed in different parts of her body. The rays of light that emanated from your very being extended out and went after Malphas in the form of hot blades, slashing her and wounding her, giving her no time to even move a finger. With a swift movement of your arms, you brought down judgment on the Demon, exuding a very bright light that melted Malphas' grotesque avian form, leaving her true form behind.

"Mercy! Mercy!" Malphas pleaded as she saw you hovering towards her.

"Ooh, this I gotta watch!" Griffon said to himself as he flew down to witness the winning fight.

"Malphas of the Underworld, you stand before the Protector of The Present." Griffon heard you proclaim in a very different voice. "I command you: speak and reveal who sent you to this Universe!"

"I do not know! I do not - AHH!" Malphas screamed as she felt another slash of hot light wound her already bloody and unrecognizable torso.

"By the name of the One Mistress who commands me, speak the truth!"

But, despite the deadly wounds she just received, Malphas only laughed.

"You know who sent me. It is she! The most powerful of all. Blood of her blood! Flesh of her flesh! Spirit of her spirit! Arisen from the Dead in pursuit of power! It is,... "

But, before she could even finish her words, Malphas slowly disintegrated, her flesh turning into ash and her dark aura vanishing.

"We won! We fuckin' won!" Griffon sang as he also felt his powers returning to him. "You did it, sweet pea! You - "

"AT THE FINAL HOURS OF THE EVENING AND THE LAST RADIANCE OF THE WOUNDED MOON, THE PAST WILL WEEP, THE PRESENT WILL KNEEL, AND THE FUTURE WILL DIE!"

"What in the - ?!"

Griffon witnessed in shock how you uttered those cryptic words in a, yet, different tone than the first one you used on Malphas. He also saw how the light slowly vanished from your body, turning you back into your old self. Your body hovered for a moment, and finally went back to the ground, leaving you with no trace, whatsoever, of your battle against the Demons.

No wounds, no blood, no injuries.

It's as if you were whole once more.

"Hey, hey, (Y/N)! Wake up!"

As you opened your eyes, you noticed how the darkness vanished from the sky, revealing its soft, afternoon glow. You also noticed how the orbs slowly disintegrate, already making their way back towards their Master.

Aside from one.

Still feeling a bit weak, you went towards that one orb glowing red and blue at the same time, like the two colors were in conflict with each other.

"Who is this?" You asked Griffon.

"Uhh, that would be the cat." The bird answered.

"Shadow? Why is she - ?" You mumbled, reaching out a hand to the orb.

At the first signs of contact, the orb's colors became even more chaotic as each of them fought for dominance.

Griffon, on the other hand, knew what's really going on.

The Yamato was taking over Shadow, it's very essence beating the familiar's consciousness,...

... just like that one time at Delphi.

But, why now, of all times?!

"Ah, Griffon? What do we do with Shadow?" You frantically asked as the orb became bluer and bluer by the second.

"Ah! Ah! V! We need V!"

At the mention of its master's name, the orb suddenly settled down and hastily disintegrated, its dark particles quickly crawling past you and back to the dance studio.

"Oh, there's no need." The bird breathed a sigh of relief. "I can tell that V is wide awake and is now running to get here."

"Oh, I see." You muttered, then suddenly, the two of you realized,...

"C L O T H E S!" You and Griffon simultaneously shrieked in panic.

A few minutes later, V arrived, looking for you and Griffon.

"Hoo, I'm glad you're wide awake, V!" Griffon shrieked obnoxiously, suddenly blocking his vision.

"As tempted as I' am to ask what occurred during my,... absence,... I would like to know: where is she?"

"I! That! She! Err!" Griffon hysterically stuttered, making the man even more suspicious.

"Hello, V."

Griffon stopped mumbling at once when he heard you speak. "Oh, there is the chick! Hahaha!"

V practically shoved his avian familiar aside as he came to meet you.

Fully clothed and with no trace of combat, you smiled at him and said, "Are you alright?"

V sighed. He knew something happened while he was knocked out. But, he dared not ask that, for you were here with him, safe and sound.

"I' am doing wonderful." The man replied with a smile.

***

"Nothing really matters, anyone can see!"

"Nothing really matters!"

"Nothing really matters,... to me!"

"Anywhere the wind,... blows!"

"BANG!"

Nico and Nero looked up as the two saw you, V, and Griffon making your way back towards the van after your first night patrol.

Nero ended his duet with Nico and his air guitar performance and ran to meet you halfway.

"Welcome back!" The boy cheerfully uttered, bringing his huge hand down on V's shoulder and squeezing it. Lightly.

"How did your first night patrol go?" Nico asked with a knowing smile.

"Fetching." V answered with a knowing smile of his, emphasizing on the word, giving Nico some false, and filthy, thoughts about how your night patrol with him went.

And, of course, you, being totally dense when it comes to those things, only shook your head helplessly.

"Normal. A few Demons here and there. Nothing special." You answered, dedicated to keep your confrontation with Malphas a secret from them.

"Can we have breakfast now? I'm starving!" Nero announced as he took a seat on one of the abandoned chairs, waiting to be served like a guest in a restaurant. "And stop hiding that apple pie, Nico! Give it to me now!"

"What are you talking about, psycho?! I'm not hiding any food from you!"

"Oh, yeah? Then, what's that strong apple pie aroma I'm smelling right now, huh?" Nero questioned, then turned to V. "You can smell it too, right?"

V, who could only smell the fresh flowers in your presence, shook his head.

"Seriously?! What? I'm the only one who can smell it?!"

Griffon was about to join in the apple pie banter when he heard someone calling him. He turned and saw you as you were about to enter the van, drowsily looking at him with one finger held up on your lips.

"Sshh,..."

***

The moment Trish entered her favorite department store, she knew something was really off.

She warily made her way towards the back of the shop, knowing the target would be there. She cautiously crouched towards the next aisle, expecting some Demon to come out, when,...

"Ooff!"

Somehow, Trish bumped into you, making you drop your items on the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" You apologized as you picked up your items.

"No, I should be the one to apologize,..." Trish uttered, trying to help you pick up your things, when she suddenly stopped as she looked down at you. She knew there was something off about you but, then, she knew you were not evil.

But, what could it be?

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I' am." You answered, giving her a sweet smile before leaving.

She waited for you to pay for your things and leave, and when you finally did, she approached one of the Sales Associates and interrogated.

"Was this her first visit here?"

"Oh, the girl? Yes, it is. Cute, isn't she?" The girl answered.

It was the first of the many occasions when Trish just had to spy on you, trying to find out that particular something in you that gave her uneasiness and sleepless nights. And in the space of two days, she found out that you worked for Dante as his assistant. You would sometimes go out and do some errands for him, like going to the grocery store, and such. Aside from that, everything about you seemed normal.

It was when she bumped into you again in that same department store did she finally realized what's off about you. It should be considered as normal but, Trish knew it in her bones that she was the only one who could sense that elusive something from you.

Everywhere you went, you leave a distinct sign about you that was very hard to ignore, especially for a Demon like her. And it was only proven further with her latest observations of Dante as she saw him frantically searching for expensive vintages whenever he had the budget and never getting satisfied, not even once.

It was your scent,...

To Trish, you smelled like chocolates.

The kind that gave her an unhealthy addiction.

***

🖤🖤🖤

Note: In case you have been wondering, yes. The song from Nero and Nico's duet is Bohemian Rhapsody from Queen.

P.S.: I have the entire last week of June filed for my vacation leave starting from the 25th to the 30th. So, yes! More chappies of this fic!

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #v #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #devil may cry griffon #devil may cry malphas #devil may cry nero #devil may cry nico #devil may cry trish #devil may cry dante #chapter 14 #fuck yeah griffon

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starwarsnonsense · 6 years

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Top 10 Films of 2018 (So Far)

Since I quite like continuing old traditions, I wanted to do a post rounding up what I consider to be the ten best films of 2018 so far. This list includes a few films that came out in 2017 in the US, since they were only released here in the UK this year.

Have you seen any of the films I cover below? Have I piqued your interest in a title you might not have heard before? Let me know, and do share your favourites too!

1. Annihilation, dir. Alex Garland

This was my most anticipated film of the year, and my hype for it was more than rewarded. This is a marvellously rich and transporting science fiction film that isn’t afraid of taking the viewer to some very weird places. However, Annihilation doesn’t simply rely on its strangeness to succeed - it is also firmly rooted in its characters and themes, which has made it incredibly rewarding to return to. Natalie Portman is fantastic as Lena, and Annihilation is a brilliant showcase for her - Lena is a complex and frequently self-destructive character, riddled by guilt and regrets that shape the pulsating, luminescent world of the mysterious ‘Shimmer’ that she has to venture into. The Shimmer might seem like an environmental phenomenon at first, but it’s really more psychological, being a space that adapts according to the people who enter into it. This film overflows with fascinating and thought-provoking ideas, and it was entirely worth the hike I made over to Brooklyn to catch one of the final showings at the theatre (since Annihilation was denied a theatrical release in the UK, I made a point of seeing it while I was on holiday in New York). I think it will go down as one of the great science fiction films, and it belongs in the same conversations as 2001: A Space Odyssey and Solaris.

2. Beast, dir. Michael Pearce

This little British film - shot mostly on location in Jersey by a first-time director - was easily the biggest (and best) surprise I’ve had so far at the cinema this year. I literally had no idea this film existed until a day or so before I watched it, and that made the experience of viewing it even more wonderful. Moll (Jessie Buckley) is an isolated young woman who is stifled by her controlling family and quiet life on a remote island, as well as a secret sin that bubbles away underneath the surface. Her life is predictable - safe, repetitive and dull - until she meets Pascal, a mysterious local man who she finds she has an affinity with. However, there is a murderer haunting the island, taking the lives of young girls in the night. Who’s to blame, and what impact will the killings have on Moll and Pascal’s swiftly escalating romance? While that is a synopsis more than a review, I felt it necessary to explain the premise to try and compel you to seek this one out. Beast is raw, woozy and utterly absorbing - the love story between Moll and Pascal is one of the most passionate and gripping you’ll ever see on screen, and their chemistry is simply sensational. There’s a real gothic, fairy-tale edge to the story which appealed perfectly to my (admittedly rather niche) tastes. This is a real hidden treasure of a film - do yourself a favour and make it your mission to watch it.

3. Lady Bird, dir. Greta Gerwig

This film was so, so relatable, despite my not really having experienced an adolescence anything like “Lady Bird’s”. While the details of her life are very different from mine, I think anyone can relate to the sweeping brushstrokes - the tensions that can arise between parents and children, the thirst for freedom and independence that builds the closer you get to the final days of school, and the feelings of love and loyalty that are always there even when they’re unspoken. Greta Gerwig captures all of this and so much more with marvellous delicacy, balancing little moments that add colour and spark with more serious scenes so deftly that it’s amazing to think that this is her first feature. Lady Bird is a very specific and very beautiful film, and it’s special precisely because it feels universal even as it feels small and personal to its director.

4. Eighth Grade, dir. Bo Burnham

This is the perfect double bill with Lady Bird, and the people who have dubbed this film “Lady Bird Jr” are right on the money. Elsie Fisher has a real star turn as the heroine Kayla, who is a very special child - she’s kind, sensitive and thoughtful, which basically means she’s my kind of superhero. But even as she is a good and sweet person, she is also going through all of the trials you’d expect a 13 year old to be facing in 2018, as she wrestles with acne, confusing feelings about super-dreamy boys, and the escalating anxiety that comes with a comment-free Instagram post. Like Lady Bird, this film succeeds in being both very specific and highly universal - the only social media I had to deal with as a teen were MySpace and Bebo, and I found that seeing Kayla wrestle with a whole kaleidoscope of feeds, devices and platforms made her strong grip on her integrity as a funny and deeply warm-hearted individual all the more remarkable. Bo Burnham, as with Gerwig, made a pretty incredible film here - in particular you should watch out for the father/daughter dynamic, which is my favourite part. Eighth Grade is funny and generous, and the perfect medicine if you’re feeling demoralised by the state of the world right now.

5. The Breadwinner, dir. Nora Twomey

The Breadwinner is a really lovely animated film telling the story of Parvana, a young girl living with her family under the Taliban. When her father is taken off to prison, Parvana sees no other choice but to dress as a boy to provide for her mother and siblings. But how long will her disguise last? The story here was what really gripped me - it’s very simple, in both the telling and the themes, but it is truly beautiful in that simplicity. The emotions are very raw, and this film goes to some shockingly dark places at times - while I think it can be watched with children as long as they are mature enough for some challenging themes and upsetting moments, it’s likely to speak most strongly to adult audiences with a fuller appreciation for the context in which the film is set. It’s a great and moving alternative to more mainstream animated efforts, and is well worth your time.

6. Phantom Thread, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

This was a delightfully twisted film with an absorbingly complicated and twisty relationship at its centre. Vicky Krieps is an absolute marvel as Alma, and it’s wonderful to see how she battles to bring the fragile and austere designer Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) to heel. It’s also a beautiful film with rather fabulous fashions - if you love couture, particularly from the ‘50s, this will be a real treat. I also appreciated the many allusions to classic cinema - there are strong shades of Hitchcock’s Rebecca, as well as the underrated David Lean film The Passionate Friends. Check this out if you like your romantic dramas weird and entirely unpredictable.

7. Revenge, dir. Coralie Fargeat

Revenge is angry, sun-soaked and batshit insane - and it is pretty great for all of those reasons. It follows Jennifer, the teenage mistress of a sleazy married man. After a horrifying assault Jennifer returns, phoenix-like, to wreak her revenge upon her attackers. This movie was very much inspired by exploitation flicks, with their penchant for showing scantily clad (and frequently bloody) women wielding shotguns to hunt down the brutes who did them wrong. However, first-time director Coralie Fargeat takes every one of those tropes and owns them, ramping up the blood and giving the action a propulsive energy that keeps you gripped even as you know exactly where things are going. The soundtrack here is also one to look out for - it’s all pulsating synths that do a great job of building the suspense and tension from the get-go.

8. Lean on Pete, dir. Andrew Haigh

This is a very painful film in many ways, but it’s only painful because it does such a great job of earning your emotional investment. The lead of this film is Charley, a sensitive and quiet teenage boy who becomes attached to an ailing race horse as he seeks to escape his troubled home-life. When he finds himself in crisis, Charley takes the horse and they head off on a journey across the American heartland. Charlie Plummer is extraordinary as the lead here - Charley is the kind of character that makes you want to reach through the screen so you can offer him a hug of reassurance and support. The photography of the American countryside is exquisite, and means this film really deserves to be seen on the big screen - the breadth of the landscape gives all of the emotional drama some (richly deserved, in my view) extra punch.

9. You Were Never Really Here, dir. Lynne Ramsay

This is a very weird film (you’re probably noticing a theme at this point) but it’s completely absorbing. It’s very much actor-led, and the film rests on the shoulders of Joaquin Phoenix’s gripping and unpredictable performance - in some scenes he’s muttering in deference to his mother like a modern-day Norman Bates, while in others he’s portrayed almost as a lost boy in an overgrown body, disorientated by his environment and engaging in acts of extreme violence as if in a sort of trance. The narrative is fuzzy and unfocused, but I didn’t find that mattered much since I was too busy following every evolution of Phoenix’s face.

10. Thoroughbreds, dir. Cory Finley

Olivia Cooke and Anya Taylor-Joy make fantastic foils to one another as two appallingly privileged teenagers whose obscene wealth is only matched by their resounding lack of morals. This is a film that plays with your loyalties, trying to wrong-foot you at every turn - it’s frequently difficult to figure out what’s genuine here, and while that did sometimes leave me feeling a bit emotionally detached that’s usually the point. This film is more of an intellectual puzzle than a lean, mean, emotion-extracting machine (see: Lean on Pete), and it succeeds brilliantly on that level. The simplicity of the story means the fun lies in picking apart lines and expressions, so go in prepared for some close viewing.

#annihilation #films #cinema #movies #list #movie recs #beast #lady bird #lean on pete #the breadwinner #phantom thread #Eighth Grade #you were never really here #thoroughbreds

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afterpinkdiamond · 6 years

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Keep Beach City Weird S1E31

Ugghhh. Ronaldo. I don’t think any character has been this personally infuriating. Even Peridot is charming after you get used to her. But creating a wacky conspiracy nut and spending an entire episode showing that he’s crazy and making everything up, just to have him spout off actual plot-relevant spoilers at the end.... well let's just focus on the fun stuff for now

Pearl comes bursting out of the beach house as Steven cries for her to save him, only for her to be tagged in a game of Steven Tag. Amethyst, shape-shifted like Steven, explains that Pearl has to shape-shift into Steven as well. Garnet in Steven-form states that’s the rule. Pearl refuses to shapeshift, and I think this was the clue that clicked it into place for me when the shattering of Pink Diamond was revealed. Here she is directly refusing to shift into Steven, who is the current form of Pink/Rose. She’s said she’s capable of it, Garnet practically told her she has to, and yet she outright refuses. Also the image of two different colored Stevens chasing each other points right back to Pink’s war against Rose. Garnet wins the game by spiking Amethyst into the beach, calling back to “Beach Party” and saying “Garnet Wins” Later, Steven is walking down the beach when Ronaldo yells at him that the section of beach is under investigation and only accessible to those with special clearance. Steven simply asks for clearance and Ronaldo grants it to him as they look at the cliffs by the beach that were chewed up by the drill bit gems. Peedee comes looking for Ronaldo and yells at him for missing work, Ronaldo yells at Peedee to cover for him and then takes Steven on a tour of all the evidence left around Beach City of the Gem’s adventures. He gives exponentially incorrect reasons for the strange phenomena leading to him taking Steven to the lighthouse and telling him his Snake People Theory.

On Ronaldo’s conspiracy board are references to more adventures Steven has had including; “Lion 2: The Movie”, “Ocean Gem”, “So Many Birthdays”, “Cat Fingers”, as well as references to the upside down diamond featured on in show currency. Steven becomes frightened of Snake People as Ronaldo explains how they control the government and distract the population with anime internet message boards. Steven runs home and tells the gems about Snake People and they remind him how all the weird things in Beach City are their fault as the result of different battles. Steven decides to go tell Ronaldo the truth and finds him making a cast of the crater Amethyst left in the beach during Steven Tag. Steven explains the weird phenomenon to Ronaldo and Ronaldo counters that “minor facts” shouldn’t distract him from the truth. Ronaldo then tries to prove himself by showing Steven the cast, which looks exactly like Steven. Ronaldo is broken, realizing he’s not in the center of some big conspiracy and starts dragging himself back to the fry shop, the cast breaking when it hits a rock. A fake Steven getting shattered. Like Mother like son.

Steven is dejected, thinking he broke Ronaldo’s heart as the Keep Beach City Weird blog is being discontinued. Pearl tries to cheer him up telling him “Humans just lead short, boring, insignificant lives, so they make up stories to feel like they're a part of something bigger. They want to blame all the world's problems on some single enemy they can fight, instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone's control.” Based on Ronaldo’s later spoiler dump, it seems to me that Pearl is voicing author commentary about storytelling and our expectations of the hero being able to defeat the villain in a nicely wrapped up story. We should never expect there to be just one evil influence in Steven Universe, and the continuing trend of making friends out of enemies reflects the complex nature of everyone, including those to whom you’re opposed. Steven gets the idea to convince Ronaldo that the snake people are real and runs off, telling Pearl and Amethyst he’ll be back in an hour. This is especially adorable as he was MIA for almost two weeks in just the last episode and the comment seems to be an attempt to prevent that from happening again.

Steven shows up at the fry shop in costume as a Sneeple and Ronaldo lose it, hitting Steven in the head with a rock and knocking him out. Steven awakes in the lighthouse hours later, chained to a chair with Ronaldo above him menacingly. Ronaldo starts an examination with Peedee filming and obviously terrified. Suddenly the Gems burst through the wall to confront Ronaldo and he accuses them of being Sneeple in false humanoid form. They accuse him of having Steven and Ronaldo challenges them, flashing his golden armor. The Gems easily give him a beating without really trying while Steven wriggles free from his chains. Steven jumps in to stop the fighting and confesses to Ronaldo that he was trying to get him to be weird again. Ronaldo says it can’t be as simple as just Steven. The gems look sheepish and Ronaldo gets depressed again. Peedee jumps in, gathering up Ronaldo’s note and newspaper clippings, trying to convince Ronaldo that Steven’s only part of a deeper puzzle with Level 8 beings behind everything. Ronaldo tells him to get serious- because Level 8 beings are a worker society incapable of organizing. Suddenly he begins rifling through his papers, wondering how he never saw it before and declares that its “polymorphic sentient rocks!” dancing with maniacal joy. Peedee, Steven, and the Gems leave Ronaldo in the lighthouse, at least happy that he’s found a new “conspiracy” to keep him busy. Ronaldo then shouts after them that the rocks have “come to hollow out the Earth, it’s part of the Great Diamond Authority, they’ll take on any form” before the iris winks out.

We are barely into the second half of season 1 and the writers have pointed out Pink’s Diamond on the currency, told us about the coming cluster arc, and name-dropped the Diamond Authority, rulers of an almost caste system of society where every gem is a worker playing a specific role that makes it incredibly difficult for anyone other than, say a Diamond to organize any kind of rebellion or Illuminati-like conspiratorial influence on human government and society. I mean... roll credits, right? By making the whole episode about proving how dependent Ronaldo is on conspiracies, they were able to info dump on us without completely spoiling the story. It’s infuriating. Ronaldo says it’s all about Steven, says he knows what the upside down diamond means and starts predicting things that we’ve not had a single hint at to date. I question the method, but it definitely worked as intended. Overall, the episode is frightening between the talks of conspiracy and the close-ups on Ronaldo’s crazed face, but tons of little and big clues about Pink Diamond and Homeworld.

#su recap #keep beach city weird #ronaldo fryman #su #su conspiracy theories #pink diamond

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zarayushas · 6 years

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(In her eyes tonight There’s a glow tonight They’re so bright they could light Fountainbleu tonight She’s so gracious So vivacious She is not thinking of me Bless her little heart Crooked to the core Acting out a part What a rollicking, frollicking bore! She’s such fun tonight She’s a treat tonight You could spread her on bread She’s so sweet tonight) “ [Verse 1] When everyone you have ever loved is finally gone When everything you have ever wanted is finally done with When all of your nightmares are for a time obscured As by a shining brainless beacon Or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world When you are calm and joyful And finally entirely alone Then in a great new darkness You will finally execute your special plan [Verse 2] One needs to have a plan someone said who was turned away into the shadows And who I had believed was sleeping or dead Imagine he said all the flesh that is eaten The teeth tearing into it The tongue tasting it's savour And the hunger for that taste Now take away that flesh he said Take away the teeth and the tongue The taste and the hunger Take away everything as it is That was my plan My own special plan for this world I listened to these words and yet I did not wonder If this creature whom I had thought sleeping or dead would ever approach his vision Even in his deepest dreams Or his most lasting death Because I had heard of such plans such visions And I knew they did not see far enough But what was demanded in a way of a plan Needed to go beyond tongue and teeth and hunger and flesh Beyond the bones and the very dust of bones and the wind that would come to blow the dust away And so I began to envision a darkness that was long before the dark of night And a strangely shining light That owed nothing to the light of day [Verse 3] That day may seem like other days Once more we feel the tiny legged trepidations Once more we are mangled by a great grinding fear But that day will have no others after No more worlds like this will follow Because I have a plan A very special plan No more worlds like this No more days like that [Verse 4] There are but four ways to die a sardonic spirit might have said to me There is dying that occurs relatively suddenly There is dying that occurs relatively gradually There is dying that occurs relatively painlessly There is the death that is full of pain Thus by various means they are combined The sudden and the gradual The painless and the painful To yield but four ways to die And there are no others Even after the voice stopped speaking I listened for it to speak again After hours and day and years have passed I listened for some further words Yet all I heard were the faintest echoes reminding me There are no others There are no others Was it then that I began to conceive for this world A special plan? [Verse 5] There are no means for escaping this world It penetrates even into your sleep And is its substance You are caught in your own dreaming Where there is no space And are held forever where there is no time You can do nothing you aren't told to do There is no hope for escape from this dream That was never yours The very words you speak are only its very words And you talk like a traitor Under its incessant torture [Verse 6] There are many who have designs upon this world And dream of wild and vast reformations I have heard them talking in their sleep Of elegant mutations And cunning annihilations I have heard them whispering in the corners of crooked houses And in the alleys and narrow back streets of this crooked creaking universe Which they with their new designs were made straight and sound But each of these new and ill conceived designs Is deranged in it's heart For they see this world as if it were alone and original And not as only one of count with others Whose nightmares all precede Like a hideous garden grown from a single seed I have heard these dreamers talking in their sleep And I stand waiting for them As at the top of a darkened flight of stairs They know nothing of me And none of the secrets of my special plan While I know every crooked creaking step of theirs [Verse 7] It was the voice of someone who was waiting in the shadows Who was looking at the moon and waiting for me to turn the corner And enter a narrow street And stand with him in the dull glaze of moonlight Then he said to me He whispered That my plan was misconceived That my special plan for this world was a terrible mistake Because, he said, there is nothing to do and there is no where to go There is nothing to be and there is no one to know Your plan is a mistake, he repeated This world is a mistake, I replied [Verse 8] The children always followed him When they saw him hopping by A funny walk A funny man A funny, funny, funny man He made them laugh sometimes He made them laugh, oh yes he did He did, he did, he did, he did Oh how he made them roll One day he took them to a place He knew a special place And told them things about this world This funny, funny, funny world Which made them laugh sometimes He made them laugh, oh yes he did He did, he did, he did, he did Oh how he made them roll Then the funny man who made them laugh Sometimes he did Revealed to them his special plan His very special funny plan Knowing they would understand And maybe laugh sometimes He made them laugh Oh yes he did He did, he did, he did, he did Their eyes grew wide beneath their lids And how he made them roll [Verse 9] I first learned the facts from a lunatic In a dark and quiet room that smelled of stale time and space There are no people Nothing at all like that The human phenomenon is but the sum of densely coiled layers of illusion Each of which winds itself upon the supreme insanity That there are persons of any kind When all that can be is mindless mirrors Laughing and screaming as they parade about In an endless dream But when I asked the lunatic what it was that saw itself within these mirrors As they marched endlessly in stale time and space He only rocked and smiled Then he laughed and screamed And in his black and empty eyes I saw for a moment, as in a mirror A formless shade of divinity In flight from its stale infinity Of time and space and the worst of all Of this world's dreams My special plan for the laughter And the screams [Verse 10] We went to see some little show That was staged in an old shed Past the edge of town And in its beginnings all seemed well The miniature curtain stage glowed in the darkness While those dolls bounced along on their strings before our eyes And in its beginnings all seemed well But then there came a subtle turning point which some have noticed And I was one Who quietly left the show No, I did not Because I could see where things were going As the antics of those dolls grew strange And the fragile strings grew taut With their tiny pullings, tiny limbs The others around me became appalled And turned away and abandoned the show That was staged in an old shed Past the edge of town But I wanted to witness what could never be I wanted to see what could not be seen But the moment of consummate disaster When puppets turn to face the puppet master [Verse 11] It was twilight and I stood in a greyish haze of the vast empty building When the silence was enriched by a reverberant voice All the things of this world it said Are of but one essence For which there are no words This is the greater part which has no beginning or end And the one essence of this world for which there can be no words Is that all the things of this world This is the lesser part which had a beginning and shall have an end And for which words were conceived solely to speak of The tiny broken beings of this world it said The beginnings and endings of this world it said For which words were conceived solely to speak of Now remove these words and what remains it asks me As I stood in the twilight of that vast empty building But I did not answer The question echoed over and over But I remained silent until the echoes died And as twilight passed into the evening I felt my Special plan for which there are no words Moving towards a greater darkness [Verse 12] There are some who have no voices Or none that will ever speak Because of the things they know about this world And the things they feel about this world Because the thoughts that fill a brain That is a damaged brain Because the pain that fills a body That is a damaged body Exists in other worlds Countless other worlds Each of which stands alone in an infinite empty blackness For which no words are being conceived And where no voices are able to speak When a brain is filled only with damaged thoughts When a damaged body is filled only with pain And stands alone in a world surrounded by infinite empty blackness And exists in a world for which there is no special plan [Verse 13] When everyone you have ever loved is finally gone When everything you have ever wanted is finally done with When all of your nightmares are for a time obscured As by a shining brainless beacon Or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world When you are calm and joyful And finally entirely alone Then in a great new darkness You will finally execute your special plan” Thomas Ligotti - I have a special plan for this world

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stormblessedcastiel · 6 years

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The MCU Generation

So I’ve been thinking about Marvel a lot lately. Specifically Infinity War. And I have some Feelings™, so I just thought I’d share. This is probably going to be long and super inaccurate and cringe-y, I don’t mean to offend anyone, but I just wanted to get it out of my system. BTW there will be lots of spoilers.

Iron Man was released in 2008, and many people including me consider it the true beginning of the cultural phenomenon that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I was eight years old when it came out, man that makes me feel old. I didn’t really know much about/pay attention to/care about superheroes much at that point, but my dad liked those kinds of movies so I had watched things like the Tobey Maguire spider man movies and Christopher Nolan’s batman movies (the first two were out at that time). They didn’t really hold much interest for me at the time. Iron man rolled around and dad seemed excited about it, but it still just seemed like another comic movie that the family would maybe re-watch if it were on TV or something. No big deal, right? Well, time went on and I started to hear talk about a bigger story. Iron man 2 came out when I was 10, and introduced nick fury and Natasha Romanoff. Still, I paid little mind to the film besides casually enjoying it like any other decent action film. Then came Thor. One year later, we got the first taste of the universe outside of Tony Stark, and that universe was much larger than I had anticipated. Looking back, the first Thor movie was definitely not the best superhero film ever made, but it did a lot of things right. Most importantly, it set the stage for more heroes who quickly joined ranks. It’s at this point that I feel the MCU really started to gain traction, at least from what I was hearing. My eleven-year-old self was beginning to view this collection of movies as something with potential, something to get excited about. In that same year, Captain America: The First Avenger hit the big screen. This is where I became truly and totally hooked. I don’t know what did it, but something about the story, the characters, or the message seemed to grab my full attention. This was the movie that had me craving the next installment. It probably helped that at about twelve years old I was starting to enter the social media world, if only in small doses. I discovered Pinterest and quickly realized that other people around my age (maybe a few years older) were talking about these movies, interacting with each other, making jokes and edits and headcanons. If I wasn’t invested in the MCU characters before then, that changed rapidly. Seeing other people’s takes on what the heroes thought or did off camera, speculation about subtext relationships, comparisons and continuations of themes from the comics, all mushed together to bring me closer to this Story than I had ever been before. So I was ready for Avengers. The Big One. The superhero movie that did what no superhero movie had done before. It brought together a cast from multiple movies into one glorious world-saving group. By this point, everyone could see that this franchise would make an impact. It truly was an entire universe, and we had just touched on the surface of this super team potential. Fans were everywhere; people at school, on the street, in commercials had their favorite heroes’ logo somewhere on their clothing or bag. There had never been (or I maybe just never noticed) such a widely spread media infatuation.

Then came phase two. Iron man 3, Thor dark world, captain America winter soldier, guardians of the galaxy, age of Ultron, and ant man. These came out between my 13 and 16th birthdays. In my opinion (back then and now), none of these movies were quite up to par with those of phase one, but nostalgia may have already been clouding my judgement, even after just a few years. However, they did give us more characters to love, and also let us enjoy learning more about our old faves. I think this phase was Marvel kind of trying to find their footing in this huge undertaking they just opened up, trying to figure out how to write their stories now that they had to feel like they were in such a large universe?? I don’t know, it just feels like Phase One took place in a box the size of a fridge, and Phase Two now had to try (or at least start) to fill out an entire swimming pool. I was still excited with every new movie announcement and was happy to watch them, but after age of Ultron I feel like I lost a bit of steam. So much that I didn’t see Antman at all when it came out. It just didn’t seem worth it.

Phase Three. Civil War. I think this movie is the turning point for the MCU, into a much darker and somber tone. Inner conflicts among the avengers that have literally been boiling for years come to a head, we see so many characters in the same place, see their stories starting to turn in different directions from each other and we, as fans, are starting to get torn apart. Team Iron Man, Team Cap, and social media is stronger than ever, and more prevalent in my life. We don’t even get a solution at the end of the movie. It ends with both sides hurt, betrayed, and with no clue where to go from here, just like us viewers. It’s fair to say that I was re-invested in this universe once more. Though it hurt, I think Marvel needed to introduce some real, lasting damage to its characters. I feel like this movie took itself more seriously as well. That was 2016. After that, we got Dr. Strange, GotG volume two, Spiderman homecoming, Thor: Ragnarok, and Black panther. While these movies were not perfect either, I think they got a lot closer to what marvel wanted to make their universe feel like. They know what they’re doing now, and we fans got some great new characters out of it, along with a fun new take on some old ones (I’m looking at you, Mr. Waititi). I do want to mention a couple little things about some of these. Spiderman was worrisome for me, because the character had had two separate franchises in the last decade or so. That’s a pretty quick turnover. Let it be known that my fears have been quelled, and Tom Holland is my true Spiderman. (Tobey will hold a special place in my heart though. Sorry Andrew, better luck next time). AND THEN. The sensation that was Black Panther. This was when I was really getting into social media; tumblr, youtube, deviantart, all that jazz. It is also when I started college, so imagine that absolute upheaval of perspective. This movie was so important for minorities, and it caused such a stir just as my life was turned 180 degrees on its head. I didn’t know what to think. But I loved it.

Everything was going good. Marvel was hitting its stride again, life was changing, and my mind was expanding and finding out things that I had never considered before. I was 18 years old.

Then it happened. The one everyone had been waiting for for several years. “The endgame.”

Infinity War.

Let me tell you what it was like when I sat down in the theater that cold spring day. I had heard whispered rumors. About loss, about death. I brushed them off as speculation, trying not to latch onto any spoilers. I wanted to be totally oblivious as to what was about to happen, so I could experience it as mine and only mine the first time. I sat down in that dark theater with my parents, brother, snacks, tissues, and blanket. Mind you, the tissues were for allergies that had been acting up the past few days. I never cried at movies. Never. The trailers played, my family and I whispered to each other about needing to keep an eye out for this or that film when it came out. Then the lights dropped to almost nothing. We settled in for the long haul as the Marvel logo began to play. You know the one, where it shows clips of the past movies, coming together to form the name of the company? Except this one said “MARVEL STUD10S.” Did you get that? There was a number 10 in the name. I was confused for a minute or so, until it dawned on me that the Marvel Cinematic Universe had been making movies for ten. years. More than half my life. I was still in elementary school when the first Iron Man came out. And now here I was, a year into college, about to watch characters that I had grown up with and come to love, in the movie that people were saying destroyed their souls. At that moment, I knew I was in trouble. I was right. Straight off the bat, we lost my favorite villain who really just needs a hug, one who really was instrumental in bringing the Avengers together in the first place. Loki Odinson, in his own words. Right up till the end, he was a trickster, but he loved his family. He and Heimdall were the first hard losses, though seeing all of Asgard torn to shreds was a wake-up call that no one was prepared for the utter destruction that had been avoided until this film. No more clean Disney kid-friendly-ness anymore. Throughout the movie, we got to see reunions, long-awaited meetings, even more characterization and growth (geez marvel, how did you even fit that in? This is the endgame movie? How are you still teaching us new things about these people?) torture, fighting. The tension to the final battle was mounting, and at some point it became clear to me that the Avengers would not be together when this threat arrived. And as anyone who has ever seen a horror movie can tell you, splitting up only leads to death. Now, here’s where my memory gets a little fuzzy. Things were happening so fast, switching from group to group of heroes trying desperately to stave off the destruction of everything we’ve ever known. Things are going wrong all over the place, no one knows where anyone else is or what they’re doing, people we love are fighting each other because they’ve never met before now. What I do remember is when we get to the fight on Titan. Half of the Guardians, Tony, Peter, Strange. Tensions are running high. When Thanos arrives, I have no Idea what’s about to happen. They start fighting, and we finally get a demonstration of some of the more amazing feats the Infinity Gauntlet can pull off. The upper hand swings back and forth so many times, but finally the heroes get their plan to work, they’ve got Thanos on the ground, the Gauntlet is almost off. And Quill… ruins it. What else can he do? He just found out that his love is dead. So he messes everything up. Thanos gets free, pummels everyone into the ground, and then… gets the stone. Strange gives up the stone, even though he swore he would let a child die before he would ever give up such a dangerous object. What the hell Strange???? Was my immediate reaction. I knew it had to be more than just some newfound compassion for these people he met a day ago (was it actually a day?? Has all of this only happened in one short day?) Obviously the doctor has a plan, but this still seems like the worst possible idea. Now to earth. We get some truly awesome moments here; Bucky and cap’s reunion, Shuri showing off her mad science skillz, epic fight moves against hordes of zombie lizards, Thor’s entrance, his little banter with Steve, “I am Groot” “I am Steve Rogers,” Scarlet Witch dropping in at the last second with that massive power move. Everything seems like it’s going ok, and then suddenly, its not. Everything drops so suddenly into Not OK Town that I can still feel the whiplash. People are scrambling to get to each other, calling for backup, getting knocked down and thrown around, and then Thanos makes his entrance. He practically wipes the floor with our remaining heroes. The only thing standing between the universe and total ruin is Wanda. I’ve been preparing for a scene like this the whole movie, but it didn’t hurt any less to finally see it. Vision begs Wanda to destroy the stone, to destroy him, we all know that she has to give in. That’s what heroes do. So she says goodbye to the man she loves and uses her power on him. Now I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’ve seen this scenario play out before. I’m expecting someone to get there at the last minute and just fricken’ knock Thanos out cold, or maybe discover that Shuri had enough time to basically detach the stone from Vision, even if it didn’t look like it. But no. Wanda destroys the mind stone and Vision actually dies at her hands. Even after all the death that’s already happened in this movie, I was still surprised and devastated.

But they couldn’t just end it like that, could they? Marvel Studios needs to drink every last drop of pain from their fans.

Thanos moves back the clock. He takes the stone. Vision’s sacrifice was in vain, Wanda had to watch her love die for nothing. Nothing that anyone did made a difference. Since Avengers came out in 2012, these characters have been fighting to keep this evil at bay, to protect the stones, even before they knew it. And now none of it matters. Because Thanos the Mad Titan has all the infinity stones. It’s all over in my mind, I wait for the quintessential Villain Laugh™, the gloating, and then whatever evil thing Thanos has planned. But wait! Thor to the rescue with his brand-new hammer-axe! My heart leaps as he skewers the big purple raisin. He gets his revenge for Loki, for Heimdall, for all of Asgard, for us. Except. except. “You should have gone for the head.”

Wait,

snap. .

. My body is rigid and I can only stare unblinking in confusion at the screen. What’s going on? What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO? Thanos disappears. Everything is quiet. “Where did he go?” Steve asks in confusion, mirroring all of our thoughts exactly.

“Steve?”

We see Bucky walking towards us, and then he just…. Dissolves. Into dust. what’s going on what was that My mind is sluggish. I don’t understand.

Wakandan warriors disappear in the wake of the battle. T’challa tries to help Okoye up but then he’s gone. Groot. Wanda. Sam. Mantis, Drax, Quill, Strange.

And oh god.

“Mr. Stark? I don’t feel so good.” Oh god no. “I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go, sir, please, I don’t want to go… I’m sorry.”

Gone.

Through this whole thing, it is silent. No music. Just emptiness, confusion, fear.

And that’s where we’re left. The audience is motionless. I do not cry at movies, but my throat is tight like a noose and my sleeves are soaked from wiping away tears.

Like all good Marvel fans, we remain still in our seats. I try to comprehend what just happened to me as the white credits scroll over a void and dramatic music accompanies them. We wait for our first end-credit scene. Instead, what we get is a fading of the music. Avengers: Infinity War shows from the center of the black screen, and a familiar melody plays. A few slow, simple notes on a piano. The triumphant theme of our heroes, earth’s mightiest protectors. It sounds lonely now. The last note plays, and the title dusts. And I almost scream.

If you’ve read this far, wow! Thank you for reading my absolute monstrosity of a garbage post! It’s been a few months now since Infinity War, and I’ve had time to think. What I figured out was this; when I’m older-old enough to be a parent myself-and looking back on my childhood, these are going to be the movies I remember like my dad remembers Star Wars. I was so lucky to be just the right age when this all started to enjoy every single one, and to remember experiencing them all for the first time. I was just the right age to forge a bond with the characters and their world. I think it was a special kind of bond that only occurs when you’re young but not too young, one that weaves webs of innocence and nostalgia through your most transformative years, and grows with you as you become a new person, and stays with you like a friend even as you see things so differently than when you first started out. What I’m trying to say is that I feel like I grew from child to adult just as the MCU did. We grew together. I don’t know if anyone my age feels the same, but these movies feel like the first big mainstream thing that really belongs to my generation. Like they came at the perfect time to shape me. It feels like they were made for me.

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dotsonabrahamsen63-blog · 6 years

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Remembering Stan Lee: The Amazing Origin Story Of The Marvel Comics Scribe

Strangely enough, Lee said he would cast himself as the opposite of all that in his own imagination, drawing a comparison to the cynical, Stan Lee Thank You For The Memories Shirt uncompromising newspaper editor J. Jonah Jameson. “I’m very frustrated that by the time they made the movie I was too old to play the role,” Lee said. “I modeled him after me. He was dumb and loudmouthed and opinionated. Of all the characters he helped create, Peter Parker remained his favorite. “In a way Spider-Man is more special than the others,” he said. What made him Lee’s favorite? “Nothing ever goes right for Peter. I think for most people in the world, nothing ever goes right. He hates people he’s never seen — people he’s never known — with equal intensity — with equal venom. “Now, we’re not trying to say it’s unreasonable for one human being to bug another. But, although anyone has the right to dislike another individual, it’s totally irrational, patently insane to condemn an entire race — to despise an entire nation — to vilify an entire religion. Sooner or later, we must learn to judge each other on our own merits. Sooner or later, if man is ever to be worthy of his destiny, we must fill our hearts with tolerance. For then, and only then, will we be truly worthy of the concept that man was created in the image of God ― a God who calls us ALL ― His children. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Oscorp Search & Destroy Pack - In The Amazing Spider-Manvideo game, Spider-Man has his own smartphone to help navigate around Manhattan, locate missions and challenges and fight crime. With this pack, Spider-Man's smartphone will feature two mini-games inspired by classic arcade fun. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Lizard Rampage Pack - The notorious Lizard is on the loose again in Manhattan! Take on the role of Dr. Connors' terrifying alter ego in a race against time. Go berserk through the streets using his devastating stomp attack and tail swipe to defeat Oscorp guards and earn mega points.

Lee knew his work was different, proudly noting that stories were drawn out over several issues not to make money but to better develop characters, situations and themes. He didn’t neglect his villains, either. One, the Moleman, went bad when he was ostracized because of his appearance, Lee wrote, adding it was “almost unheard of in a comic book” to explain why a character was what he was. Lee’s direct influence faded in the 1970s as he gave up some of his editorial duties at Marvel. But with his trademark white mustache and tinted sunglasses, he was the industry’s most recognizable figure. The Amazing Spider-Man is getting a whole bunch of DLC today, including a few different packs that will have you playing as people other than the titular wall-crawler. The Lizard Rampage pack will open up a level where you play as the Lizard, along with a new Spidey suit to wear. 49.99 on Steam, including complete integration with Steam achievements. A Nintendo 3DS demo is also now available in the Nintendo eShop. Rhino Challenge Pack - Take control of the massive, genetically engineered villain Rhino and rampage around Manhattan in an exclusive gameplay challenge of pure destruction! As Rhino, players will be able to unleash his formidable powers to destroy anything and everything in his path in a timed event full of speed, combo streaks, and of course, a ton of things to break! The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. Lee considered the comic-book medium an art form and he was prolific: By some accounts, he came up with a new comic book every day for 10 years. He hit his stride in the 1960s when he brought the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Spider-Man, Iron Man and numerous others to life. His heroes, meanwhile, were a far cry from virtuous do-gooders such as rival DC Comics' Superman. The Fantastic Four fought with each other. Spider-Man was goaded into superhero work by his alter ego, Peter Parker, who suffered from unrequited crushes, money problems and dandruff.

XXX in the world of comic books were awesome. I happen to think they’re not exactly what a lot of people think but I don’t doubt their size and endurance. I knew him since 1970, worked for him a few times, talked with him at length and fielded an awful lot of phone calls from him asking me questions about comic books he worked on. He really did have a bad memory, if not when he first started telling people he had a bad memory, then certainly later on as he turned more and more into the Stan Lee character he’d created for himself. That’s all I’m going to write now. That’s where it begins and ends with me. To those of us who have been so deeply affected by the humanity of his imagination, the understanding of reaching beyond our potential and the necessity of tapping into our immeasurable imaginations, we thank you and are forever indebted. Rest In Peace Dear Stan. You made our time here a better one. What a man. What a life. When I first broke into Hollywood, he welcomed me with open arms and some very sage advice I’ll forever take to heart. A true icon who impacted generations around the world. Rest in love, my friend. I have to say I am deeply touched by the passing of Stan Lee… I always looked forward to seeing his cameo parts in all his great movies. 1 - Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there is a spiritual quality in all the Stan Lee movies… always the good guys win. Eventually, not always right away, but eventually. And his movies most of the time ended on an upbeat thought… that allowed us to ponder our existence. 2 - Stan Lee was also a man who could have been a musician but he was not good at music at all.

Legendary Marvel Comics co-creator Stan Lee — famous for giving the world beloved superheroes including Spider-Man, Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk — died Monday. According to TMZ, Lee suffered a number of illnesses over the last year, including pneumonia. His daughter J.C. told the site, “My father loved all of his fans. Lee was born Stanley Martin Lieber to Romanian-born Jewish immigrants in New York City, spending much of his early life in Washington Heights. He returned to Timely Comics in 1945 and married wife Joan two years later. In 1950, Timely Comics publisher Martin Goodman tasked Lee with creating a new superhero team to rival DC Comics’ Justice League. “Let’s lay it right on the line. Bigotry and racism are among the deadliest social ills plaguing the world today. But, unlike a team of costumed super-villains, they can’t be halted with a punch in the snoot, or a zap from a ray gun. The only way to destroy them is to expose them — to reveal them for the insidious evils they really are. The bigot is an unreasoning hater — one who hates blindly, fanatically, indiscriminately. If his hang-up is black men, he hates ALL black men. If a redhead once offended him, he hates ALL redheads. If some foreigner beat him to a job, he’s down on ALL foreigners. Stan Lee, the comic book mastermind who changed the landscape of the superhero genre, has died at age 95. Lee revolutionized the comic world by creating Marvel Comics superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk. An attorney for Lee's daughter, J.C. Lee, said the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic world by introducing human frailties in superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk, was declared dead Monday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. In a statement to Fox News Shane Duffy, CEO of Stan Lee’s POW! I think everybody loves things that are bigger than life. I think of them as fairy tales for grown-ups," he told The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. "We all grew up with giants and ogres and witches. Well, you get a little bit older and you're too old to read fairy tales.

How long would this superhero movie thing last? He didn’t know. He was glad to be along for the ride. Happy to see the old characters he helped create being brought to life onscreen. We began talking about the origin of Spider-Man, born in 1962 after a string of other successes had made Stan Lee a powerhouse scribe at Marvel Comics. He had started working there when he was 17. Back then, Marvel Comics was known as Timely Comics, and he was known as Stanley Lieber, son of Jewish Romanian immigrants from the Bronx. His dream was to become a writer. But before any of that could happen, he earned cash by working a series of small jobs. As a theater usher, his first claim to fame was tripping and falling while showing Eleanor Roosevelt to her seat. “Are you all right, young man? Remember, this was six years before Iron Man and the launch of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The films were not yet interconnected, not that there were many to string together. Stan Lee cameos were not yet a phenomenon. He had played a beachside hotdog vendor in the X-Men film. That was it. (“You missed me?” he teased. “I was like the lead of the movie! ] idea was, I was selling sunglasses in Times Square and I was talking to this little girl, showing her a pair of glasses as Peter Parker walks by,” Lee recounted in his gruff, nasally voice. Think about the incredible characters that derived from the mind of this man. Iron Man, the X-Men, Thor, Daredevil and Dr. Strange. These are characters everyone knows and loves. Look at this list of Stan Lee's creations and think about which ones have gone onto success in other media as well as had very successful runs in comics. Every single one of them almost. Granted, a lot of that success is due to the efforts and contributions of those writers and artists who developed the characters through the years. But Stan Lee's fingerprint is on each and every one of them and will always be seen and felt. Can you name one single creator in comics that has contributed as much in terms of longevity, creativity and uniqueness? You can't because there are none. There are plenty of creators that have made great contributions and have written or drawn amazing characters and stories. But none can say they changed the face of the industry quite like Stan Lee can. No matter what happens from this day forward; no matter what superstar creators land at the Big Two. Stan Lee, Marvel Comics' own living legend, stands head and shoulders above the rest. LOS ANGELES (AP) — Stan Lee, the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic book and helped make billions for Hollywood by introducing human frailties in Marvel superheroes such as Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four and the Incredible Hulk, died Monday. Lee was declared dead at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, according to Kirk Schenck, an attorney for Lee’s daughter, J.C. As the top writer at Marvel Comics and later as its publisher, Lee was widely considered the architect of the contemporary comic book. He revived the industry in the 1960s by offering the costumes and action craved by younger readers while insisting on sophisticated plots, college-level dialogue, satire, science fiction, even philosophy.

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booklust · 6 years

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Futurelit Vol 5: Grace Byron

This time around, I had the absolute pleasure of chatting with Grace Byron, the Brooklyn-based columnist, writer and filmmaker and all-around brilliant, benevolent creative spirit whose recent book release party for NB Carrie Bradshaw (read it here via Epigraph Mag!) at Babycastles solidified my love for her and her work.

This interview was the first time I had the opportunity to conduct a classic interview over the phone instead of over text chat, or as I like to call it for reasons I’d gladly explain to you over a glass of wine, “The Tony Hawk Method.”

This resulted in a truly gorgeous conversation that flows synaptically and always takes surprising directions (Twin Peaks, the afterlife, and a tender moment involving Coldplay that occurs towards the end---when you see it then you’ll understand!). It also brought me right back to the days at my editorial internship where I would transcribe hours of interviews, but in a good way this time. I took great pains to not only get the content and diction right, but to convey the undertones of our exchange that made it so vibrant. Which, interestingly enough, makes it take on the visual form of a text chat.

Check out our conversation at the jump, with gorgeous illustrations by Becky Ebben:

You do a column called “Trans Monogamist” for the Bushwick Daily (I binged that…it’s really dope) and your latest project is NB Carrie Bradshaw (which is out now!). So I’m curious, what sort of came first: your interest in the format of an advice columnist/relationship columnist, or your love of Carrie Bradshaw?

Actually--I didn’t start watching Sex and the City until January 2017, which everyone is sort of super surprised by, and honestly? Me fucking too. Not that it’s a perfect show, but the aesthetic signals that it’s something that I should have seen a long time ago. It took me a long time to get to it. I had heard a lot of the negative stuff, which there is a lot of, and rightfully so. There’s this one terrible bisexual episode where Carrie’s just like, “I just don’t know….he’s bi .” And I’m just like… “Girl, so what.” The point is, the column writing came sort of naturally. I had a column a few years ago at my paper called Queer Art Vibes before I had even seen Sex and the City. And I was mostly writing about art, and capitalism, artists, and things I was finding interesting aesthetically. The last column that I wrote was after I had a break-up, and it was called “How To Date an Anarchist.”

Oh my God

And it got like, no comments. Because most of the columns that I was writing were about trans identity and stuff. I got all these comments like, “Why can’t people just make up their minds about gender?” And I’m just like, that’s completely irrelevant to what I’m talking about. So this column got no comments at all. There’s this huge anarchist population at Indiana University. It just closed down this month, but we had this huge anarchist bookstore that was this huge draw for the punk scene.

It was a column that didn’t make sense for where I was writing. But then as I was watching Sex and the City, and as I was doing a lot more dating my last year in college, I was thinking “yeah, this is really important to talk about.” And I started thinking of dating as a political and aesthetic and emotional practice. It’s more using this pop culture phenomenon to let people understand something about what it’s like to be trans and dating. It’s not like it’s me and my three friends that are all going through the same things. Or it’s not like me and my straight girlfriends talking about how our experiences are different. Or me and someone who is nonbinary even talking about how it’s different for both of us. But I do like that element of friendship in it, that element of comradery. But I think it’s interesting now that shows act like there’s this group of 4 friends and they’re all the same. And that was never my experience? You know, there’s always a nonbinary person, a lesbian person, and...maybe a straight man.

LOL the token straight

Right. At least that’s my college experience, where I’ve never had a group of friends that were all the same. There were always at least one other gay or queer person. It’s a helpful lens to think about dating, and think about dating how much it’s changed since the early 2000s. A column is a dispatch from the front lines, like “this is what happened this month! How’s it going with you?” The book [NB Carrie Bradshaw] has a little bit of a more narrative arc to it. But in the columns, there’s no resolution. -----keep reading below------

Right, and that’s what I like about it. There’s endless thinkpieces about dating apps, queer dating, etc, and it’s so frustratingly depersonalized. It’s very strange how the discourse tries to force dystopia instead of actually having a comprehensive view of how people feel. There’s a lot more truth in the way that you present dating than how someone tries to dissect it in a thinkpiece.

Yeah, thinkpieces are weird. I love to read them, but I also don’t know how helpful they are a lot of the time. Especially when they try to draw a definitive statement. In some things, sure, that makes sense.

Like in a college thesis, where you’re forced to come to a resolution for your life, pretty much.

What was your experience working at a college newspaper?

Basically, I came to college, and I was on the media floor--and basically what I thought that meant was cross-genre. But in reality, what it meant was journalism. And then I thought, you know, okay, it’s fine. I thought it was interesting. And so I almost went to join the newspaper as a writer and interviewer, I did a few articles. But a rule was that if you were a writer for them, you couldn’t be interviewed. And that was my biggest problem with it--I knew I wanted to do art. I knew that I wanted to get press. I didn’t want to prevent that from happening.

Right after I came out my freshman year, this guy on my floor was like, “do you want to talk about being gay at IU?” And I was like uh….sure! It was weird because it was my first time being interviewed for something real, and I was talking about being gay. But I was also trying to sneak a pitch for my website while doing it, I was like...go watch it! They promptly cut that out of the interview, though.

Good effort, tho.

I didn’t love that environment. I wasn’t taken with it. I started volunteering at a local radio station where I did stories about lots of things. That was much more interesting and fulfilling than the college newspaper. And my friend was like, “do you want to be columnist--we need one.” Not because I was special or anything, because they really needed one. And I was like, “sure.” So I started writing these extremely leftist columns, like “capitalism is the devil, and here’s why : )”

And I wrote one that was like, “nudity in art isn’t porn,” which isn’t even an extreme opinion. But I started getting all of these comments like, “Counterpoint: nudity in art isn’t not porn.” I was just like wow, I can tell that you really read this column….

People just read titles a lot of times.

Yeah for sure. Our campus was filled with a lot of views of all extremes, and not just anarchists. We also had a militant white supremacist population on campus. There were a bunch of protests from that group over the course of years--it wasn’t just one year, or just this year, which was definitely the worse than the years before. I also got tons of hateful comments from white supremacist groups on my articles. So I was just one of the people on the receiving end of those comments.

But as far as my involvement in the newspaper group itself, I think I only attended one meeting. I didn’t really feel a sense of community at IU that a lot of people there felt. I think a lot of people looked down on what I did because it was so personal. It wasn’t like I was talking about music, or like I was talking about hard-hitting stories. So I wasn’t really a part of the “IU JOURNALISM COMMUNITY.” But it wasn’t like I really wanted to be. I would still sometimes get people who appreciated my work, that came up to me and said “I love this, I love what you’re doing,” but they were usually queer people.

Which is definitely the desired reaction, which is awesome. Talking about your webseries “Idle Cosmopolitan” -- what was your favorite audience, or your favorite venue that you showed it to? And what was that sort of reaction and vibe like?

I wasn’t at all of the screenings. It showed at Bloomington at Planet Nine--which is this small VHS rental/DVD rental video place that kind of reminds me of Ghost World or something. I wasn’t there, but a lot of my friends were there, since it was my home for so many years. I assume it went well. From the pictures, I saw that it went well, at least.

It showed at Sarah Lawrence, which I know very little about how that went. I wanted to be there, but I was scheduled at work. Which is a whole thing about how I’m not a full-time artist. I say that I’m a freelance artist, which means that I make MAYBE 50 bucks a month off of my art. If it’s a good month! So I can’t always go to everything that’s happening. It’s an interesting part about being an artist in this landscape. People expect you to be global, and there’s only so global you can be if you’re working class. Which I think is important to be transparent about. It’s not always fun to be transparent about that, but it’s important.

Exactly, you want to be honest about it, but you want to portray yourself as larger-than-life-to get attention, and at least the semblance of clout (whatever that fcking means). But being an artist, you’re a part of a community, and you want to treat that community well. You don’t want to stunt and act like you’re making a living off of your art when you’re not.

It’s not cool to lie one way or the other. It’s not cool to portray yourself as a poor person if you’re not, and I’m not super poor or anything, but I’m not living off of my artwork, and I make a decent living off of my work as a childcare worker. But yeah, you shouldn’t lie because you’re fooling yourself and making art seem elitist.

There’s the lie by omission, in a way. A lot of people are internet famous, or have a certain persona that makes people say “Oh, I want to be like this person, who so clearly lives off of their artwork.” When in reality, it’s probably a side hustle at best.

Or they live with their parents. Or they have rich parents.

It distorts people’s dreams and plans--it’s important to be responsible about that.

Totally. One show I was at physically was at Secret Project Robot, at this festival of poets, and my videos were showing between poets that were reading their work. So that was interesting---I was the only video artist at the show. And as many things as I have tried--I have written poems, but I’ve never called myself a “poet.” So I thought that was kind of cool to have that multimedia experience, to see my videos projected really large in front of a big crowd of 20 or 30 people. Which doesn’t seem like a lot, but it’s actually a lot. I remember thinking wow, the crowds are gonna be so big in New York. And they are! But 20 or 30 people is a lot for DIY art. Even if you’re successful, or internet famous--it’s hard to gather a crowd wherever you are.

And it was really cool because people who were actually in the video got to see it, which was cool! Chariot is in it, and he was there, so that’s cool.

There was one livestream and q&a in the UK, which was really cool. And that was my favorite, because the moderator was super smart and always asked good question about the fantasy genre, and its intersections with queerness. It was refreshing instead of questions like-- “Why are you gay? Why is this here?” It was a good convo to have beyond the surface level.

It’s awesome that I saw so many showings of your series was in Indianapolis, in Indiana. You may not see a big crowd--DIY art isn’t an Ariana Grande concert--but What you do see is how it sort of transforms the room, and creates a living space, a community. 20 people is a community. Especially in Indiana.

Right, there’s very established artists and documentarians where the only place they have more than 20 people show up is in their hometowns. Even world-renowned documentarians may struggle to get an audience. Which is awful. But I think that one thing that is happening in the real world is that there are plenty of people I look up to, who are famous, whose twitter gets pretty very few likes! And they may have a huge amount of followers! And I’m like--why am I getting more likes than world-renowned feminist scholars? I think that’s happening in real life too. These people are having talks and showings of their work and sometimes DIY work is a different experience and maybe draws more people than these professional pieces, and there’s a community of people who can see themselves in that as artists.

I agree, it definitely changes the dynamic for people are used to when it comes to art, you think there’s the artist and this huge invisible wall and then there’s the observer, and it breaks down that dynamic.

Right, it changes the power dynamic. The artist isn’t a preacher. What we’ve seen in DIY venues is, everybody is sitting in chairs. The artist is in the front, but everyone is on the same level. There isn’t a stage to walk down from.

I think people are only starting to observe this change, and aren’t sure what to call it yet. Some people see changes like this as the death of something, like the death of some kind of empire of how art works. But especially with this project, I think I’ve not only been an optimist, but a realist in the sense that it’s for the better. So many people are screaming “death to media! Death to print!” and I’m just over here like, “You’re a Baby Boomer, please don’t talk to me.”

Ha! Right. These media aren’t dead, but they’re definitely dying. But I think they’re going to be dying for a while to come. People broadcasting the death of all of these things---like, they’re not dead yet. The Met is gonna be in trouble, but the Met is gonna be around for the next 100 years. The Met’s not just gonna crumble.

Going back to “Idle Cosmopolitan”--I love how it’s a series of very short films. And by short, I mean like, slightly longer than a Vine length. And some people may come across that and immediately compare the series to Vine culture, but my immediate thought was comparing it to poetry, with a lot of tightly-wound content being fit into a small space. So I was wondering how poetry influences your visual work, or how visual work influences your poetry, etc.

That’s interesting. I actually originally applied to go to college for poetry. I never called myself a poet, but I did think about it for a while. When I do write poetry, it’s usually about nature, and viewing nature through the lens of divinity and power dynamics. Which I think is definitely a big part of my video work. The “Queer World” in my piece is a forest. Somebody was talking to me recently, and said that “I think it’s interesting that the queer world is a forest. Do you think of urban spaces as, like, not-as-queer spaces?” I hadn’t really thought about that. But whenever I think of that sort of the afterlife, I don’t think of cities. And what’s our other option, really? Nature. An ocean would be a terrifying destination for the afterlife. I think that poetry is super important, I think when I’m writing anything, I tend towards a lyrical, poetic style. I love hard facts, but I was never super into Hemingway. I always loved the Great Gatsby. Not that I like showy, hyper-stylized stuff; I hated the Great Gatsby movie. But the suggestion of artifice, the suggestion of things like that, I think is really interesting.

There’s ton of talk about heaven and nature and sin in “Idle Cosmopolitan.” I’m sure it comes from a long line of being raised in Christianity, and having read all of the Christian classics. And as a kid, I was obsessed with the apocalypse. Once, I was between 6-9 I remember looking at clocks in restaurants and thinking, “Could this be the hour of the end?” I remember being super into Revelations, and the ghost stories that my friends and I would tell each other, and often confusing them as the same thing.

I think that’s a form of poetry true, a strange, mental form of poetry. I think the afterlife is poetic, because there’s no concrete that you can provide.

I think in terms of modality, I think I’m always writing in the form of the poetic, even if I’m not writing a poem. Even my column--it’s not a how-to column, it’s not a safari.

It’s not MTV Cribs!

Right! Definitely more reflections.

I always thought of videos sort of in musician terms, like “this is my new album---Idle Cosmopolitan.” This is the tracklist, and each has a poetic name, etc. And each year, there’s a self-image overhaul….well, there’s no image overhaul for me this year, but especially in college I was into that idea, where I wanted to amp myself up every year.

But this iteration, for me, was trying to marry these poetic ideals with my own lived experiences, to make it sort of autobiographical, but still have a flourish. I mean, I was watching Twin Peaks when I was working on it.

Yeah, I can definitely see that influence in there. Where there’s that magic-realism, but it’s so mundane. The suspension of disbelief is so well-dissolved into it.

Right as I was starting to write this, I just finished the season of Veronica Mars---I’m not sure if it directly influenced it…

But it was there

Yeah, and watching Twin Peaks: the Return. What I thought was interesting about it was its formal elements. There was this sort of suspension of disbelief present for both the characters and the audience. So then you’re just like, “Yeah, queer spirits! That makes sense!” So, it’s that magic realism that is super appealing. And also the fact that it’s episodic. One of the things about David Lynch that I’m really into is the episodic nature of his work. There’s this loose play with time and narrative, and it’s an experience.

I think what Lynch talks a lot about, especially in later seasons, is agency. But in Sex and the City, for example--Carrie isn’t a bad person, but she’s not necessarily a good person either. She has affairs, runs around doing whatever she wants, she tries to take a break from dating and has a guilt complex where she feels bad about her actions, and also places guilt on other people--it’s complex, which I think is interesting.

Like chaotic neutral, but a little more complex than that?

Yeah, definitely. I’m obsessed with people who are chaotic neutral. I don’t think I’m chaotic neutral, but I’m fascinated by that those people exists.

I’m a super-intense Virgo, Type A, Blair Waldorf type. I definitely pride myself on hard work--which could be problematic--but I have that crawl-my-way-to-the-top sort of vibe.

This character in the webseries, they’re sort of neutral. They’re a relationship writer, but it doesn’t seem like a main part of their personhood. The only thing that they seem mad about is when their boyfriend breaks up with them, which is fair. But they don’t seem to be making many choices, and there’s something very sidekick about that.

I was in this space in my life where I was having to make all these intense decisions--deciding to move to New York, having to make all of these choices about who I wanted to be as a person. The character is the exact opposite, where there’s no movement. There’s a movement in narrative, a movement in place, but it kind of happens to them.

They get a letter, a pep talk from Fate--and they’re just like, “Sure, whatever, I don’t care.” Then they enter the queer world, and they’re like “Alright.” And then the Blue Spirit is the one who was like, “No, this wasn’t actually a good choice.” And they’re like, “Okay, sure.” They never really doubt people’s motives.

There’s a sort of guilt about making choices that Type A people have. Inevitably, if you’re a type A perosn, you’re going to hurt people. Even if you’re not actually hurting them, you’re going to make choices, and choices affect people. There’s winners and losers. So what does it mean for the sort of stoner archetype, this chaotic neutral archetype, when they don’t make choices?

I’ve never been a chill person, so I gravitate towards writing characters that are like that. Because I’m always wondering….what does that feel like?

Right! I feel like it takes a lot of effort to be chill, which isn’t chill. It’s kind of a self-consuming concept. I’m not gonna say it’s the only real binary, but…

Haha, right! Ok back to influences. Actually, as far as the soundtrack goes, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback where people say it reminds them of Sex and the City, and that it’s derivative. Actually, one person said that the soundtrack reminds them of Rugrats….

Stop!!!

Right!? Well, it’s jazz, but it’s sort of this chaotic jazz.

It’s a typical theme song in a lot of ways, but it’s disarming. Which I like.

Some people said it makes them anxious.

It offsets the perceived chill in the series, which signals you to look harder.

Watching it back, I was like...something is wrong. Narratively, there’s something up. But I’m not sure if that thing ever gets hashed out or resolved, it just sort of hangs like a dark cloud.

Which is what’s so great about poetry. There’s always that lack of resolution. People always get angry at that, where they want to feel satisfied...where’s the sequel at??

Do they get the girl or not??

Yeah! It’s how we’re taught to view life. But especially with creative people, it’s paradoxical--they only thing that makes them (us) feel satisfied is poetry, that sort of form that leaves things unresolved.

Totally.

How has the internet shaped your writing?

The internet is definitely fucked up. It was created by the military, and is now owned by billionaires. That’s already strike one. But let’s assume that the internet is also provides a space that provides more access for more people. But it doesn’t provide equal access for everybody. It provides equal access for a relatively small amount of people. You have to afford a computer, internet access--and even if you go to the library, you have to afford to be there.

But let’s say it does level the playing field in that way---even still, people don’t have more of a chance of getting their art noticed because of it. It does mean more people can put their stuff out there, but it doesn’t guarantee more viewers, or more fans, or some utopia.

The internet has become this neoliberal promise of equality. This reveals itself in every aspect---who dominates media, who dominates internet celebrity, etc. This doesn’t discount the fact that there’s fantastic DIY spaces based on the internet, but there’s a lot being overlooked.

The internet as a structure is racist, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic. Even if we go back to technology like photography, for example, it was a technology developed to best depict white faces. It’s so great that the internet creates a platform for people, but that includes creating platforms for neo-nazis on 4chan, for alt-righters to doxx people. The web is pretty fucked up, and it amplifies our greatest strengths, like community. Especially the trans community, which is so important. But it also amplifies our problems, and reveals where we need to grow.

I don’t think the internet is the devil, but I think it makes it harder for people to feel like human beings. It mirrors capitalism, and degrades human beings in so many ways where we’re expected to become a brand, which is always tied to capitalism. We’re forced to reduce ourselves to something bite-sized, which is troubling me as a person and as an artist.

When did u start writing and being creative?

I was always drawing. I was super into Pokemon and all the Nintendo games. I was into anything cute and well-designed, like Zelda, and anything involving world-building. I was super into maps, and at a young age, I thought, “I wanted to do that.”

At a young age, I wanted to be a pop star. And I made the boys in the neighborhood be my band. Now I’m thinking that was sort of a strong signal of me being gay, haha. Boys---you’re gonna be in this band, and I’m gonna sing Breakout by Miley Cyrus.

I started getting really into bands. I was really into Coldplay, and I wanted to be Chris Martin.

STOP, ME TOO

I really liked “Clocks.”

ME TOO, when I first heard that, I was like, Now….that’s what I call music.

I also really liked “Lovesong” by Sara Bareilles, which is entirely different, but I was also like...that’s what I call music. Also Paramore and Deathcab, and I was like…..this is also Music. I still love all this stuff

I still listen to all this stuff pretty much on the regular, even though I laugh about it Yeah! And at the time, all of these things were coded as feminine. Even Coldplay, which was, not a boyband, but kind of more healing.

Right, like ~emotional boys~, ~soft boys~, this sort of soft masculinity before it was talked about and memed.

I went from wanting to be a popstar, to wanting to be in bands, to wanting to do comics, and then I was like...I want to be painter! I did a lot of paintings, and then I wanted to be an actor. I was fixated on stardom, on theater. I was in all the plays of my freshman year.

Then I moved schools, and this guy who didn’t even like me and stopped talking to me, but I liked him---I wrote this psycho-opera about him. It was all songs about him, and it was super awkward. I recorded an album about him. He started being nice to me, and then I was just like…...here’s an album…

I was like, that was fun, but then I started to getting into Wes Anderson. And Woody Allen, but #WORST. And then Godard, which was better. Then I started making movies. And I saw 30 Rock, and it confirmed what I wanted to do.

I love how you go from Godard to 30 Rock

I know!! I was very all over the map. Then I started watching more experimental films and wild stuff, so it’s been a journey to where I’m at now.

The wrapping up portion, something I ask at the end of every interview...this is actually the first interview I’ve done that’s over the phone, an actual physical conversation. And the form of how I’ve conducted each interview has really affected it.

How would you describe the future of literature in a tweet-length? Or a sort of verbal tweet length, also tweets are longer now so….yeah….

Smaller.

#nb carrie bradshaw #lit #futurelit #publishing #books #writing #spilled ink #becky ebben #idle cosmopolitan #trans monogamist #queer #grace byron

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

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Countless Roads - Chapter 8

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 8 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

A/N: For everyone who needs a pick-me-up today re: Leonard Snart, here's a happy chapter.

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He calls Lisa. "Lise," he says.

"Tell me you've made up with Mick," she says, right off.

"Can't say that, but I'm working on it. If I wanted to subtly tell someone he's both priceless and a hard-headed idiot -"

"Get him a diamond," Lisa says immediately. She likes shiny things; that's why she's his go-to on these things. "Hardest substance, that sort of thing."

"I get him diamonds all the time."

"Diamonds you then sell," Lisa points out. "Get him a special one. Ooh, then run a lightshow through it! Images of fire."

"...that would be cool," Len admits, but now he’s thinking of other uses for a diamond. Yes, a diamond will work just right for what he’s planning. "Is there a diamond large enough for that, though?"

"Sure, there's plenty of them," Lisa says. "Actually, I think I saw a flyer just the other day...lemme just dig it up...ah! Here it is. Kandhaq Dynasty diamond, one of a kind, coming to the Central City Museum next month. Positively gigantic, and it's in Central. Your favorite."

Len smiles. "Perfect."

He plans his next heist with care, though he recruits whoever's willing to do the job instead of going through his and Mick’s usual careful recruitment process. The people don't matter – he's planning on paying them off with the proceeds of other jobs anyway. The diamond, whether they sell or keep it, will be Mick's to decide on.

That's what you do with gifts.

The day of the heist is beautiful and everything's working shipshape and on time. They've stopped the convoy with the diamond en route to the museum, he’s got the nitrogen to freeze open the door, the guard has been disabled but not hurt, it's all good –

Until something goes wrong.

A burst of red light and yellow lightning comes out of nowhere, zipping down the streets horizontally, moving too fast for the eye to get a proper fix on, and it comes right at them. Something - Len can't tell what - shoves them all down, causing total confusion, only to leave them alone and spirit away one of the guards when he’s (unnecessarily) shot by one of Len’s now-panicking crew.

Len hates waste, but he knows when a job’s gone bad. Time to go before whatever that was comes back.

He pulls his crew out of there and hustles them back to the warehouse they’ve been using as a home base.

“Now,” he says, looking at all of them and seeing the guilty looks on their faces that suggest that this turn of events isn’t as much of a surprise to them as it is to him, “why don’t you fill me in on what I’ve been missing in Central these past few months?”

“You were out of town,” one of them says with a shrug. “If you’d been here, you’d know –”

“Which is why you should have told me,” Len says, his voice hard. “Now’s the time to make up for your earlier missteps. What is it?”

They don’t know.

All they can tell him is that it’s a new phenomenon that’s been seen around Central, a flash of light, a flash of lightning, that goes around and messes people up. Mostly criminals committing crimes, actually; never fatally, just shoves them really hard or delivers them places they don't want to be, like the CCPD.

They tell them that there’s been a lot of weird stuff happening in Central, actually, ever since the Particle Accelerator explosion nearly a year ago – people gone strange, things happening without explanation, abilities that defy logic – and then this started and now everyone's on high alert.

This new phenomenon, only a few weeks old.

This burst of lightning that seems to be stopping crime all over the city.

They call it the Streak.

It's an awful name. Who the hell thought of that? For shame.

Of course, Len's crew also think that this Streak is some sort of new force of nature, like a will-o-wisp gone mad, which is obviously ridiculous. Their own testimony reveals that this Streak is stopping crime, and stopping crime means deciding what is crime, and deciding means sentience.

And sentience, as far as Len knows, means human.

Len pulls the footage from local security cameras and – yes. There it is.

Len’s got a good eye, and he can figure out what the others haven’t yet.

The Streak’s not a phenomenon.

It's a man.

Just a man, though admittedly one moving faster than the limits of reasonable possibility.

No, wait. Len's wrong. This is not just a man.

This is a superhero.

Len feels the adrenaline rush of a new challenge. He can’t help it; he loves it, he loves the idea of it, he loves the sheer ridiculous reality of it. A brand new puzzle to solve, a new obstacle to overcome, a new hurdle to jump, a new game to play. All brand new and interesting and exciting, and, best of all, this new puzzle is a superhero just like in the comics Mick loves so much. How wonderful.

How perfectly timed.

Len can’t wait to play this brand new game.

But only if he has Mick by his side.

And for that, he needs to get that goddamn diamond, and no Streak - superhero or not - is going to stop him.

"Lisa," he says into the phone.

"Yeah?"

"How's Mick?" Len had sent Mick over to keep an eye on Lisa, nominally, though in reality Lisa was babysitting (Mick-sitting?) to make sure Mick didn't notice what was going on until the job was done.

"Still moping, but he did make me dinner yesterday. So – improvement? Or possibly he just couldn’t bear to see me order cheap take-out again."

"Well, I mean, I guess that's something...? Anyway, I've got something of a research question for you, best engineer that I know."

"I’m the only engineer you know. Yeah?"

"What do you do if you've got something moving too fast?"

"Apply duct tape."

"Lise."

"Not an option?"

"No. Too fast for that. Far, far too fast."

"Hmm. Get something cold, then."

"Cold?"

"Yeah. Atoms go faster when they're heated; they slow down when they're cold. Like the heat death of the universe – colder and colder, slower and slower. Why do you ask?"

"Thanks, sis," Len says instead, and hangs up.

Wasn't that asshole Bertolli trying to sell STAR Labs stuff a few weeks back? No one had taken him up on it – Bertolli is a known rat, selling decent shit sometimes, but he'd turn the info that you had bought it into his next sellable commodity, and at any rate no one wanted anything to do with STAR Labs after the Accelerator.

But he'd said something about temperature themed weapons...

Sure enough, Bertolli is still selling, and starting to get desperate with it, offering to take Len back to his warehouse. Len’s not sure why the guy needs a warehouse when he only has a few items, but whatever.

Two guns – but the first one Len sees and goes towards isn’t cold, no.

It’s a heat gun.

Perfect.

Len’s still smirking when he tries out the cold gun. It works like a dream; far better than any of his other plans to stop the Streak, though some of the others were probably worth elaborating on further eventually.

“So, how many people know about this?” he asks.

“Just the two of us,” the guy says, and his voice is strangely shaky.

“Boss! He has a gun!” Kiki yelps.

Len spins and points the cold gun at the goddamn rat, who is in fact pulling a piece out. Not just a piece. Standard issue Santini, as recognizable as a cop’s gun.

This is an ambush.

“No,” Len says. “Just me.” And then he fires the blast of cold straight at Bertolli, grabs the box with the heat gun, and hightails it the hell out of there just in time before a positive hail of bullets pour through the door, spraying all over the area they were both standing a minute before.

Yep, definitely a Santini ambush. Practically a classic - as usual, the Santinis never had any intention of letting their rat survive their baited trap. And they wondered why people didn't like working with them...

“You mentioned the gun but not the guys outside?” Len asks Kiki as they go out the back door. He wonders idly how he’s pissed off the Santinis today.

“Forgive me,” she says miserably, bowing a little. “I did not think to check beyond the immediate area–”

“It’s okay,” Len says. Mick always had someone run a full perimeter check, or did it himself, but it’s unfair to compare. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yes, boss.”

Time for a test drive.

Oh, look, a local theater with a daily matinee showing.

Perfect.

Len goes to the museum to case out the diamond. He makes sure he’s as obvious as obvious can be – he even takes the goddamn McFeeny Cow Savior tour twice, and no one takes that damn thing twice, so if that doesn’t get the police called on him, nothing will.

Sure enough, the police come, and with them –

The Streak.

Len retreats, smiling, to the theater, which is just letting out.

Turns out that Len’s suspicions are correct – as soon as he gets inside the theater, the Streak comes for him, slowing down enough for Len to see him clearly. Yes, the Streak is indeed a man.

Apparently a young man. In a red suit.

God, seriously? A superhero in a red suit? Can you get more cliché?

If the kid’s been reading the same comics Len has, then – and here Len raises his gun, smiling – Len’s going to have a hell of an edge.

The theater really does make a perfect spot for a superhero ambush. Multiple exits, plenty of people all going in different directions – based on the speed Len’s estimated the Streak is running at, he can’t empty out the whole place without losing his focus. Therefore, if Len is firing at people, the Streak will prioritize saving them - and if he’s focusing on other people, he can’t focus on attacking Len, giving Len plenty of time to study his reactions and figure him out.

Len aims his shiny new toy cold gun at the various fleeing people, focusing more on testing the Streak’s running capability than on intending to cause actual injury; after all, these people did nothing to him, and he has no intention of causing collateral damage when he just ripped his crew a new one over doing the very same thing to that guard – and then killed one of them who tried to back out, which seriously, the guy should've known better than to try. At least Len got lucky and the asshole didn't turn ghost over it.

Playing with the Streak's the most fun Len's had in months.

It’s great fun.

Well, it’s great fun until someone tries to shoot him. And misses. What the hell?

“Behind you!” calls a ghost lingering in one of the seats, not one Len knows. “The usher!”

Len turns and aims at the now-fleeing would-be assassin, some amateur asshole with another Santini gun, and this time he aims so that the Flash won’t be able to speed the bastard away in time.

That bullet tore Len’s fucking coat, and he’s not dying before he makes up with Mick.

…also, Lisa would kill him if he made up with Mick as a ghost. Not that he can become a ghost. But Lisa would still kill him if he got injured, because he wouldn't be able to keep himself from making the joke about it.

Len waves at the helpful ghost in the seats, who beams and waves back, then heads out of the theater before the Streak can get over the surprise.

Len’s gotten everything he wants out of that particular encounter, after all. He got to try out his new gun, he incurred no collateral damage (except the guy that shot him, fuck that guy), and, best of all, he’s now got a solid grip on what makes the Streak – the kid seriously needs a better superhero name – tick.

“What’s a good place to destabilize a runner?” Len asks a passing ghost as he meanders away from the theater through the alleyways of Central City, twist and turns that make it impossible even for a speedster to find him.

“Uh, a carousel?”

“Does Central even have one of those?”

“Man, I don’t know, I’m from Chicago.”

Len frowns at him. “Why’re you here, then?”

The ghost shrugs. “Dunno. Felt like it.”

Len shakes his head. Weird. He’s never met an out of town ghost in Central before; usually they stick around where they died and he only sees them when he goes to where that is. Mick excepted, of course. As always. “What’s your regret?” Len asks, curious.

“Not saying good-bye to my wife,” the ghost says promptly. “We lived together, worked together, owned our business together, did everything together – and then I took a different way home one night, to surprise her, but it was late and the road was wet and, well. That was it.”

Len might be feeling a bit sentimental about partners right now, so he tosses the guy some life, just enough to strengthen him for visibility. Enough for a goodbye.

“Use it well,” Len tells him, and his voice echoes a little strangely, but the guy straightens up and nods, his eyes avid, turning and rushing away.

Okay, that was definitely weird.

Ugh, Len doesn’t have time to deal with his curse taking a brand new twist. He’s got a partner to win back.

“Julie?” he asks the air, wondering if she’s near enough to – ah, there she is.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Place to destabilize a runner. Find me one while I get the diamond. Feel free to take a poll.”

Getting the diamond from the museum is easy. See, Len might prefer complicated plans that let him get in and out with the goods clean and without any evidence that he was ever there, but he didn’t start out that way, and he knows the value of a good smash-and-grab as much as the next guy. If you don't care who sees you do it, then it's always the easiest way to go about it.

Len’s not bothering with finesse this time.

Because damnit, he is getting that diamond.

Len’s fall-back plan – bribing the museum curator to put the diamond on display despite Len’s obvious attempts to case the place and then going to grab it later in the evening – works like a charm.

The whole thing goes easy as pie, actually. His cold gun lets him smash through the doorway like he's going through glass – he freaking loves this gun and he’s going to keep it even if he doesn’t have to fight speedsters after this – and a few words and an intimidating stance are enough to get the guard turning and bolting.

The diamond is just where it was supposed to be.

By the time he smashes the glass and grabs it, Julie’s back.

“Majority say a train,” she reports. “Consistent pattern, but unstable enough – you could knock him off his feet.”

Len smiles. “Perfect.”

Normally Len avoids the train-tracks, which are a rich gathering place for suicides and crashes and misery, but he’s feeling pretty damn pumped up today.

He’s got the diamond, he’s got the cold gun, he’s got the heat gun, and he’s about to bag himself a superhero.

Mick’s gonna be so proud.

The Streak comes after Len, just as Len knew he would. Not one for forward thinking or pre-planning, this Streak.

Len destabilizes the train and watches with amusement as the poor kid rushes to get everyone off the tracks, stopping afterwards just long enough to catch his breath – and for Len to freeze him in place with a well-placed shot of the gun.

Now it’s time to end it.

Though Len’s gotta admit, now that he’s managed to freeze the Streak in place, he feels kind of bad about just offing him, then and there.

Kid’s probably got a ton of regrets, what with signing up for superheroism. If Len kills him, odds are he’ll just have to put up with him as a ghost, and that’ll be a pain. Maybe he should let him go.

Besides, if he lets him go, he can bring Mick with him next time he wants to face off against a superhero. Mick’ll enjoy that even more than the diamond and the heat gun.

Well, maybe not more than the heat gun.

But how to let the kid go now while still saving face?

“Let him go!” a voice shouts behind him.

Len turns – and stares, jaw falling slightly open.

“This is a prototype cold gun,” says the kid wielding the lumpy, massive, unshapely device. There’s a handful of others standing behind him, helping him hoist it up. “Four times the size, four times the power. Unless you want a taste of your own medicine, I’d back the hell up.”

Julie floats over to examine it. “It’s a vacuum with some LED lights,” she reports.

“Definitely,” another ghost says. “I worked a story that sold these. Definitely a vacuum.”

“Lemme see,” another one says, floating up. “Oh, wow. Is he really trying to use that as intimidation? He’d better roll a nat-20, that’s all I’m say.”

“You like D&D?” Julie says brightening. “That’s awesome!”

Right, Len needs to get out of here before he gets distracted arguing with ghosts, and possibly helping people roll up new character sheets. Now is not the time.

“You’ve never killed anyone before,” Len points out to the kid. He’s walked enough newbies through the process that he knows that the kid’s first few attempts are highly unlikely to be fatal.

Even if he wasn’t talking about shooting Len with a vacuum cleaner.

The kid swallows, but barrels on forward on nothing but sheer bravado. “There’s a first time for everything, Captain Cold.”

Captain Cold?

Who is -

Holy crap, is that supposed to be Len? Is that his supervillain name? He has a supervillain name!

Okay, that’s just plain awesome. Len clearly needs to keep these stupid idiots alive just long enough to get Mick his own superhero name.

Supervillain name.

Whatever.

Oh, what the hell, he’ll give the kid his nat-20 roll. “You win, kid,” he informs the Streak. “I’ll see you around.”

He turns to go.

“Hey, leave the diamond!”

Len shoots the kid with the vacuum a skeptical expression. “Don’t push your luck.”

And then, diamond and guns in hand, he goes home.

There might be a bit of a spring to his step. He’s not admitting anything.

The way the ghosts crowd around him to try to get high off the cheeriness he’s letting off might be admitting something, but he shoos them off when he gets to the front door.

It occurs to him that he didn’t use to have quite so many ghosts crowded up to him – and they’re not unquiet ones aiming for a handful, they’re friendlies, just wanting to grab energy emanating off of him. He’s not sure when that happened.

Well, whatever. He’ll worry about it later.

Right now, he’s got Mick to think about.

Len licks his lips and goes inside. Mick should be back by now.

Sure enough, Mick’s in front of the TV.

“Mick,” Len says.

“Hey, Captain Cold,” Mick says, turning to smile at him. A real smile, with a spark of amusement in his eyes; it’s been too long since Len’s seen that. “You end up beating your superhero?”

“He lives to fight another day,” Len replies. “Mick. Can we talk?”

Mick’s brow wrinkles. “If it’s about the jobs –”

“It’s more than that,” Len says, and brings out the heat gun, popping open the box and placing it on the table in front of Mick.

Mick leans forward to examine it. “This is…”

“A heat gun,” Len says. “Heat, to match my cold. It, uh, shoots fire. Via high powered waves of heat. It’s for you.”

For all of his protestations to the contrary, Mick’s not actually all that slow. “You want me to be a supervillain with you?”

“I want you to be by my side again,” Len says. “I want you to be by my side, always, for better or for worse, through every screw-up, your mistakes and mine. I want to have every part of you. I want to share your life, and you to share mine.”

Mick swallows. “Lenny,” he says, obviously going for humor. “That sounds a bit like –”

Clearly, Len’s going to have to be blunt about this.

Len gets down on one knee.

“Len!”

“Mick,” Len says, aiming for calm and probably missing. The only thing he knows about Christian wedding traditions he knows from television, but it’ll have to do. He pulls the diamond out of his pocket and offers it up. “Wanna – would you,” he corrects himself, “do me the honor of marrying me?”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Mick says with feeling, which is less good than Len was hoping for (yes, let’s do this thing) but not as bad as he was fearing (I don’t think this is a good idea, maybe we should rethink the whole partnership thing). “You remember that I’m dead, right?”

“So what?” Len says. “I found your original birth certificate. We’ll just tell them you look real good for your age, and skip the part with the death certificate. People do it with identity theft all the time.”

“Your marriage proposal involves identity theft?”

“Well, yeah. As you said, you’re dead; it makes things tricky. You gonna give me an answer or what? My leg’s killing me here.”

“Oh, for the love of – yes, yes, get up already.”

“That’s a yes to the marriage, right?” Len asks, getting up, Nora stepping forward out of the wall to grab his hand to help hoist him up, stealing just enough energy to take his hand. He only has eyes for Mick, though.

“Yes,” Mick says, flushing. “I guess. Since you went supervillain for me, you moron.”

“I thought I was an idiot?”

“You’re both,” Nora opines, then smiles. “Congratulations, both of you. You’re handling it much better than the time I proposed to my husband.”

“...this is better?” Mick says dubiously.

“You said yes,” Len points out. He’s grinning and can’t seem to stop. “Went pretty well in my book.”

“She said husband,” Mick argues. “So he said yes, too.”

“Oh, he did. After about five minutes of hyperventilating,” Nora says, smirking. “He’d planned a nice, quiet proposal after a romantic dinner. I ended up finding the ring first, so I did one of those big surprise proposals – you know the ones, with a flash mob and the local cheerleading squad and all that.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Nearly gave him heart palpitations. It was amazing.”

“I can’t have heart palpitations,” Mick points out. “I’m dead.”

“Dead and engaged,” Len says.

Mick’s face melts into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in joy. “Yeah,” he says gruffly. “Dead and engaged. Guess I am.”

“And no one can say I didn’t get you the biggest rock.”

“Wait. Is that why you stole the stupid thing?!”

“I was making a point.”

“About what? You being an adrenaline junkie klepto? I already knew that!”

“You being as hard-headed as a goddamn diamond, that’s what!”

“Hey, you’re the one who just offered to marry me.”

“And I meant it, too. Doesn’t mean you’re not a stubborn little –”

“Oh, just kiss already,” Nora says.

#dccoldwave #leonard snart #mick rory #lisa snart #captain cold #heatwave #my fic #deadfic #nora allen #barry allen #the flash

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