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iamdeku · 3 years

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Strictly Business: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Pro hero!Izuku meeting his new personal assistant who is nervous and had previous terrible experiences with Proheros who treated her like a tool. (Reader is female)

This was a really fun request to do! I loved the idea for this and definitely got a little carried away with the word count, haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault. Bad bosses. I did not proofread.

You had been nervous when you had started working for the #1 hero. You had worked hard to get here, but it had been a long road, and it hadn’t always been fun. In fact, up until now it had been terrible. When you walked into Deku’s office, you were seriously thinking about undoing years of work and changing your career path entirely.

Your dream had been to work with heroes. Not be harassed by them.

You first job had also been your first mistake. You should have known better than to work with the Fresh-Picked hero, Grape Juice, but you were new to the industry and no one had warned you off. So you became a personal assistant to your sleaziest boss to date.

Mineta had done his best to ruin your life. He sexually harassed you at ever turn, abused his power, kept you after hours and made you do ridiculous things. When you finally gathered the courage to quit, you never looked back.

When you were looking for your next job, you decided it was better to go with an established hero, one who had been in the game a long time. Endeavor, as the former #1 hero, seemed like a solid, safe choice. You were so wrong.

You worked for Endeavor for years, unwilling to quit the paycheck, but the experience was awful. Endeavor was arrogant, with a terrible temper and a hefty helping of sexism. By the time you were in a financially stable enough place to quit that job, you had lost all faith in the heroes around you.

So now, starting your first day working for Deku, you were prepared for the worst. You were sure you were about to be introduced to some fresh torture, but you were ready for whatever he would level at you. Heroes could sink no lower in your eyes.

So naturally, you were surprised on your first day when he seemed…nice. Sweet even.

You knocked on his office door, a combination of dread and resignation swirling in your stomach. You expected a wait, but he answered it almost immediately.

“Hi! You’re my new personal assistant, right? It’s so nice to meet you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at your interview. I meant to be there but there was a crisis downtown I got called in for. I hope you got the gift basket I sent to your house to apologize. I really am so sorry, it’s terrible policy not to have met you before now.”

You had gotten that gift basket, actually, but you hadn’t thought he was aware of it. You definitely hadn’t thought it was his idea, but from the sounds of his speech it definitely had been. You blinked at him a couple of times, trying to gather your wits after that rapid speech.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m your new personal assistant. It’s very nice to meet you. What can I do for you today sir?”

He seemed confused, as though he hadn’t expected a personal assistant to be ready to work. That couldn’t be right though. He was an experienced pro.

“Didn’t they tell you when you got here? I thought we could start with lunch together, so I can get to know you since I missed your interview. I’m sorry, I should have sent you an email.”

Your heart sank at his words, all of your hopes for his kindness to be genuine crashing with it. So, it was to be the hopelessly flirtatious boss who thought you existed to fulfill his fantasies again. You had seen that before.

“I’m really not sure that would be wise, sir. I like to maintain a strict level of professionalism,” you said, making your refusal as polite as you could.

He blinked, as though it hadn’t even occurred to him that might not be professional.

“Oh. I suppose you have a point. Well, why don’t we eat here while we work then? I can ask you a few of the questions I didn’t get to for your interview while you settle in.”

You sighed internally. There was really no way you could politely turn that down, so you forced your face into a smile.

“That sounds like it could work well.”

You were pleasantly surprised when your lunch actually went well. Deku never made a move on you, other than his request for you to call him Izuku, which seemed to apply to all the employees. It could have just been a ploy to get you to let your guard down, but all the same, you wanted to believe he really was this kind.

You two worked together in his office the whole day, and you became familiar with his schedule. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable, and as the day wore on you decided cautious optimism was the way to go. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You smiled fondly at the memory, chopping carrots on the counter. Across the room from you, the man you had come to know well was pacing, mumbling frantically as he analyzed some old battle playing on his TV.

“Izuku, you’re going to throw off my cooking with all that racket, and then we’ll have nothing to eat.” You laughed lightly.

He nearly jumped 10 feet in the air. “Sorry, sorry! I guess I just got a little lost in thought. Although I guess I wasn’t the only one lost. I asked you about my schedule earlier and you didn’t seem to hear me at all.”

You blushed in shame. “Sorry.”

Izuku shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to me all the time. Obviously. What were you thinking about?”

“I was just remembering my first day working for you and how terrified I was.”

It seemed silly to you now, but back then you never could have predicted you would be best friends with your boss, let alone cooking dinner for him while working unofficial overtime as a passion project. You never thought that working for Izuku would be what you always wanted.

“Why were you terrified? Just because I’m #1? You’d worked with famous heroes before. I’m no one special.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

“You are special. You were the first hero I’d worked with who didn’t make me miserable. Every boss I had before you either sexually harassed me, overworked me or was just plain unpleasant. Usually all of those. I had given up on heroes before I met you,” you confessed casually.

Izuku blanched at you.

“What?” The word was breathless, barely audible.

“Yeah. I thought you knew my work history. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but anyone with any experience working with heroes will tell you Endeavor is not a super cuddly guy.”

“I…had no idea.” You looked up and found, to your surprise, that Izuku’s eyes were swimming with tears. “I never knew you were treated like that. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay. I have you now.” You froze at your misstep.

He would probably never notice it, but you had. It really hadn’t been your intention to fall in love with your boss, but he had been so sweet and kind to you that it had happened naturally. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the energy he had for the things he loved, his strength and dedication had all lead you here.

“I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again. Or anyone. I’ll make sure your past employers get investigated.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

There was silence in Izuku’s house as you stared down at the carrot you had been cutting. In an effort to lighten the mood, you tried to make another joke.

“You know, that first day when you invited me to lunch, I thought you were hitting on me.” You laughed a little bit at the absurdity of it. “I know now that you would never do that, obviously.”

You heard the crash when Izuku dropped the mug of tea he had been holding. Before you could move, he was scrambling to pick it up, cheeks bright red and flaming.

“I-Oh, this is terribly awkward.” Izuku mumbled, no doubt thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Wait. Were you flirting with me?” You asked, breathless.

“No! I mean…not…not then,” he stammered.

“Are you-” You stopped, taking a moment to gather your courage as Izuku stood, effectively giving up on the shards of pottery at his feet. “Are you flirting with me now?”

He stiffened, looking deeply uncomfortable as he met your gaze.

“Yes. I mean, not intentionally! It’s just that I have feelings with you, but I would never act on them. I would never want to make you uncomfortable and if you feel like you need to resign now because of that, I understand. I would be happy to recommend you to any of the other pro-heroes I know, and I can assure you they would make excellent bosses.”

You crossed the room to stand in front of him, taking one of his awkwardly flailing hands in your own.

“I think I am going to have to resign, unfortunately.” You watched his face fall before quickly correcting yourself. “It seems like it would be inappropriate to date my boss. I have feelings for you too, Izuku.”

Rising up on your tiptoes, you dared to kiss his cheek, hot from his blush and scattered with freckles.

“You do?”

The question is quiet, but you hear it clearly with his breath in your ear, faces still close from where you haven’t dared to move. You pull back now, surveying his awestruck face.

“Yes. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I guess it was sort of inevitable that I would fall for you.”

You smiled, biting your lip and staring down at your feet. Izuku’s warm, calloused hand reached up to your cheek, pulling your gaze up to his.

“So does this mean you want to be with me?”

The words seemed too good to be true, striking somewhere deep in your chest and knocking you breathless. Yes. Please, yes, let it be true.

“I would like that very much. If you would, I mean.”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That was never my intention with this, but after getting to know you, I really do like you. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I think you’re beautiful and clever and funny and I would love to take you out on a date, if that’s something you would want.”

You smiled, leaning gently into the palm of his hand that cupped your face, bringing your own hand up to twine your fingers together.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Izuku laughed softly, and you could hear the emotion in the sound.

“You know, I was so lonely before you. I was really just hoping for a friend when I hired you. I thought maybe we would get along okay and I could have someone to keep me company. I was crushed when you said you liked to keep it professional, but I vowed to myself I would honor your wishes.”

“Yeah. We both did a great job of keeping it professional.” You gestured to your surroundings, snickering to yourself.

“I seem to recall you inviting me into your home first,” he teased.

“Hey! I was having a home decorating crisis! I could not build that shelf myself.”

“Or, as it turns out, with my help.”

You snorted at the memory of your backwards shelf, which you had eventually decided to just make do with. As it turned out, Izuku was terrible at building furniture. He was great at making you happy though.

“Well, it all turned out for the best.”

“It sure did. But I think we can both agree that you’re the one who’s not professional here.”

You rolled your eyes, rising up on your tiptoes.

“How’s this for professional?” You breathed.

Izuku seemed like he might ask questions, but before he could, you kissed him gently. When you pulled away, you were both smiling. Your hands had moved to wrap around his neck, and his hand had fallen to your waist.

“I think I’m really starting to like professionalism.”

#mha #bnha #agedup!midoriya #prohero!deku #deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku

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starring-movies · 4 years

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Killing Eve: Episode Analysis

*SPOILERS*

Season 1, Episode 2 - I’ll Deal With Him Later

We begin with Villanelle’s kill in Bulgaria, and speaking with her target he asks her “who are you?”, to which she replies “huge question”. This is indeed a huge question for Villanelle and one where finding the answer to it is another theme for her throughout the series.

Amongst the disguises she uses for her jobs, ‘Villanelle’ as we know her is really only a perfectly preened facade which she inhabits and created to hide and bury ‘Oksana’. A facade that she has spent the majority of her adult life building up and we see start to crack and break down at the end of Season 2 and during Season 3.

For the first time we also see her looking bored or perhaps unfulfilled after completing a job. We see her boredom discussed in S2E6 and the lack of fulfilment from her job in Season 3, but this reaction is slightly confusing at this moment, since she doesn’t have the same reaction to killing Carla later on in the episode. I’m not quite sure why this might be, maybe because the man’s question about her identity and his question about who she works for got her thinking. We know that although she doesn’t seem bothered about these questions at first, as soon as Konstantin mentions her family is alive [S2E8] and Eve questions who she works for [S1E5], Villanelle does want to explore these things further.

There are a few funny moments here that tie into each other. During Eve and Carolyn’s breakfast meeting, Eve panics because she says “I thought you were going to pull out all the pictures we took of Frank eating”. Initially this is a weird comment that doesn’t make any sense, but its not until we see frank aggressively eating his chips in S1E5 that we find out why this is the case.

When Carolyn takes Eve to the Trafalgar Office, Carolyn apologises to Eve saying, “excuse the smell”, and soon after Kenny comes in and also says “sorry about the smell”. In the temporary base in Russia, Carolyn again apologises using the exact same words that Kenny used previously, “sorry about the smell”. Amusingly, from Bear’s comment about Kenny in S3E2, that “he had started wearing deodorant”, we can assume that poor Kenny was the cause of the smell.

Although he sometimes acts questionably in his relationship with Villanelle, we can see that Konstantin does seem to have some genuine care for her. He only wants her to get assessed to protect her, so she won’t get signed off for the next job because he can see she is playing up and acting erratically. He tells her in S1E7, “do you know how many times I had to argue to get you another chance?”, and since The Twelve were originally not going to break Villanelle out of the Russian prison, we can probably assume she would have been terminated.

In any other show the reason for Villanelle having a preference for speaking English over her native language would have just been glossed over as a ‘just because’ element to her character, or would have been explained in some exposition. However, like everything else, Killing Eve goes that one step further in their attention to detail and in the assessment scene we are told why this is the case for Villanelle. Except for his initial greeting, after Konstantin tells him she won’t speak Russian, the only thing the ‘psychologist’ says to Villanelle in Russian is his question about if she still has dreams about Anna. Demonstrating that not speaking Russian and Anna are linked and therefore Anna is the reason Villanelle no longer speaks Russian.

When the faceless picture with dark, voluminous, curly hair is shown to Villanelle, it is another reaction that is quite difficult to discern. She looks obviously affected and uncomfortable, the psychologist says the picture is Anna and Villanelle then says it’s her mother, but then says she’s joking because her mother had “really thin, shitty hair”. We know Villanelle has strong reactions to being reminded of Anna, so that is obviously one of the reasons for her discomfort. The mention of her mother might have been an unsuccessful attempt at a joke for deflection (like she does with the pictures of the dog and the man).

Or Villanelle saying the picture was her mother might have also been truthful. When we meet Villanelle’s mother in S3E5, her hair doesn’t seem to be particularly “thin” or “shitty”, its lighter in colour than Anna’s but still quite voluminous; so perhaps the picture did remind Villanelle of her mother, which contributed to her discomfort, but she said she was joking to try to cover up her accidental moment of vulnerability. It also could have been that it was not just being reminded of only Anna or only her mother, but of both of them - both were parental or parental-like figures who let her down and didn’t care for her in the way that they should have.

The drawing, however, was most likely Eve. Konstantin must have found the drawing after Villanelle had done the Kasia kill, when Villanelle had been obviously struck by Eve and killed the whole hospital room of people. Konstantin obviously thought the image was of Anna since we know he knew of Villanelle’s relationship with her, and because of Villanelle acting out at the hospital and then finding the drawing of someone he knows Villanelle is deeply affected by, that’s what caused him to want to get Villanelle off her jobs for a bit. However, Konstantin wasn’t aware that Villanelle had met Eve, who has the same hair, right before she killed all those people. However, because the image is faceless, the drawing could easily have been from being reminded of her mother, Anna, Eve, or a culmination of them all.

We get another example of Villanelle’s mimicking when she uses the dolphin-like laugh that she heard on the radio while out on her walk with Sebastian.

With Sebastian she’s obviously not herself; she’s in character using the fake laugh, not answering some of his more personal questions and she tells him her name is Julie. Nevertheless she does seem to make some effort in her attempt to do something normal; she makes conversation with Sebastian, listens to him talk about himself, she calls him her boyfriend to Konstantin and she tells Sebastian about Konstantin trying to stop her from doing her job (although she changes the details of the scenario to working in the perfume industry).

However, seeing the woman who looks like Anna cuts Villanelle’s attempt at normality short. Villanelle is so focused on the woman that she turns her whole upper body towards her and this is so noticeable that Sebastian even asks her if she knows her. Being reminded of Anna also causes Villanelle to abandon the walk to go back to Sebastian’s appartment.

Sebastian and Niko are also portrayed as very similar having caring, doting attitudes and being much softer natured than Villanelle and Eve. Sebastian is worried Villanelle is hurt when he first meets her, he brings her arnica for the bruise on her face, tells her he’s never going to hurt her and asks her if he wants her to stay when Konstantin is over. Villanelle’s relationship with Sebastian reflects Eve’s relationship with Niko and the problems in that relationship, through the similarities between the two men and the two women. Also highlighted is how Villanelle and Eve are more suited to each other - as Villanelle points out in S2E6 that Niko is “too normal” for Eve.

We see Bill’s struggle in adjusting to working under Eve and losing his authority. He says “you’re kidding me” and “you asked her first?” to Eve when he sees Elena, as well as telling Eve that “you can’t lead a team with assumptions, it’s not how it’s done”. The undermining and disapproving tone of these comments was probably because Bill was Eve’s boss and Elena was two levels underneath him, when working at MI5 - we saw the visual representation of their work hierarchy with the croissant in S1E1. (I discuss this in more detail in one of my previous posts about Eve that you can read here).

This shot of Eve and Bill speaking with each other after Eve had to chase after Bill is a visual representation of Bill and Eve’s close friendship, and makes the emotional ramifications of Bill’s death on Eve in the next episode even more impactful to the audience. The shot is very wide and highlights all the negative space around Bill and Eve, who are standing close together to each other, showing their isolation from the rest of the world but emphasising how they still have each other despite this.

When Eve goes to the toilet after being undermined by Bill, we see how struck she was with her encounter with Villanelle, as the act of tying up her hair reminds her of this moment and she gives almost exactly the same expression as she ponders the memory. Eve also doesn’t tie her her back up but continues to “wear it down” while discussing the case, just like Villanelle told her to.

While preparing her disguise to kill Carla, Villanelle says “bonjour Claudine” while holding up her outfit. This is another instance showing us that Villanelle’s disguises for her jobs aren’t just a mask she puts on, but whole characters with individual personalities that shes inhabiting.

Villanelle and Eve have the exact same expression as one another when they both realise that they’ve already met each other, and not only that they’ve met each other but, also that the person they’re both searching for is someone they’ve already met and someone who they both felt a connection with immediately.

Additionally, Eve runs her hands through her hair when she tells Bill “I think I’ve met her”.

A small detail - while Villanelle is searching on the internet for ‘Eve Polastri’, ‘La Marseillaise’ is playing on Villanelle’s laptop from the memory stick Sebastian gave as a gift to her. ‘La Marseillaise’ is the French national anthem and a very thoughtful gift since Villanelle told Sebastian on their walk that she likes national anthems.

You can read my previous Killing Eve posts here:-

The First Introduction to Villanelle

The First Introduction to Eve

S1, E1 - Nice Face

S1, E3 - Don’t I Know You?

S1, E4 - Sorry Baby

S1, E5 - I Have a Thing about Bathrooms

S1, E6 - Take Me To The Hole!

S1, E7 - I Don’t Want to Be Free

S1, E8 - God, I’m Tired

S2, E1 - Do You Know How to Dispose of a Body?

S2, E2 - Nice and Neat

S2, E3 - The Hungry Caterpillar

S2, E4 - Desperate Times

S2, E5 - Smell Ya Later

S2, E6 - I Hope You Like Missionary!

S2, E7 - Wide Awake

S2, E8 - You’re Mine

S3, E1 - Slowly Slowly Catchy Monkey

S3, E2 - Management Sucks

S3, E3 - Meetings Have Biscuits

S3, E4 - Still Got It

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 1]

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 2]

S3, E6 - End of Game

S3, E7 - Beautiful Monster

S3, E8 Are You Leading or Am I? [Part 1]

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spacecrone · 4 years

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Sorry, Cassandra.

So, it's definite then

It's written in the stars, darlings

Everything must come to an end - Susanne Sundfør

I first learned about the climate crisis in 2008, as an undergrad at Hunter College, in a class called The History and Science of Climate Change. For the next decade I would struggle with how to process and act on the scientific paradigm shift climate change required: that human activity could disrupt the climate system and create a planetary ecosystem shift making Earth uninhabitable to human life. I became a climate justice activist and attempted to work directly on The Problem which was actually, as philosopher Timothy Morton writes, a hyperobject, something so systemic and enormous in size and scope as to be almost unintelligible to human awareness. I’ve cycled through probably every single response a person could have to this knowledge, despair, ecstasy, rage, hope. I’ve landed somewhere close to what I might call engaged bewilderment. For me, his particular locale has a soundtrack, and it’s Susanne Sundfør’s cinematic dance dystopia Ten Love Songs, an album that tells a story of love and loss in the Anthropocene. Sundfør is a sonic death doula for the Neoliberal project, with a uniquely Scandinavian version of bleak optimism. To truly grapple with this time of escalating transition, we need to really face what is, not what we hope or fear will be, but what is actually happening. A throbbing beat with shimmering synths around which to orient your dancing mortal envelope can’t hurt.

Susanne Sundfør’s Ten Love Songs was released a few days after Valentine’s Day in February of 2015, six months after I had been organizing Buddhists and meditators for the Peoples Climate March. I was already a fan, having first heard her voice as part of her collaboration with dreamy synth-pop outfit m83 on the Oblivion soundtrack. Oblivion was visually striking but felt like a long music video. The soaring synths and Sundfør’s powerful voice drove the plot more than the acting, though I loved how Andrea Riseborough played the tragic character Vika, whose story could have been more central to the plot but was sidelined for a traditional Tom Cruise romantic centerpiece. But since the movie was almost proud of its style over investment in substance, the music stood out. The soundscapes were as expansive as the green-screened vistas of 2077 in the movie. It was just nostalgic enough while also feeling totally new, a paradox encapsulated in the name of m83’s similarly wistful and sweeping Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming. I am not exempt from taking comfort in style that signifies a previous era, and I am also not alone in it. It’s a huge industry, and while the MAGA-style yearning for a previous era is one manifestation, maybe there are ways to acknowledge culture as cyclical in a way that doesn’t sacrifice traditional knowledge to some imagined myth of perpetual progress.

When Ten Love Songs came out the following year, I listened to it on repeat for days. Sundfør seemed to have absorbed the music-driven sci-fi into a concept album, with m83 providing her with a whole new panopoly of sounds at her disposal. Like Oblivion, Ten Love Songs told the story of a future dystopia with high speed chases, nihilistic pleasure-seeking and operatic decadence against a backdrop of technocratic inequality. It mixed electro-pop with chamber music and I listened to it on a Greyhound ride to Atlantic City in the middle of snowy February. I hadn’t felt like this since high school, that a full album was a sort of soundtrack to my own life, which I could experience as cinematic in some way while the music was playing. This situated me in my own story, of studying climate change as an undergrad and graduating into a financial collapse, working as a personal assistant to an author writing about ecological collapse and ritual use of psychedelics, to joining a Buddhist community and organizing spiritual activists around climate justice.

Ten Love Songs is a breakup album, with lyrics telling of endings and running out of time. But it didn’t read to me as an album about a single human romantic relationship coming to an end. It felt like a series of vignettes about the planet and its ecosphere breaking up with us, all of us. People. Some songs like Accelerate, one of the album’s singles, throb in an anthem to nihilistic numbness and speeding up into a catastrophe that feels inevitable. Fade Away is a bit lighter, tonally and lyrically, (and if you listen, please note the exquisitely perfect placement of what sounds like a toaster “ding!”), but is still about fading away, falling apart. The way the songs seem to drive a narrative of anthropocenic collapse built on science fiction film scores, the combination of orchestra and techno-pop, absolutely draws on Sundfør’s experience collaborating with m83 for the Oblivion soundtrack, which itself combined Anthony Gonzalez’s love for the adult-scripted teen dramas of his own 80’s adolescence. In Ten Love Songs, Sundfør takes what she learned from this collaboration and scores not a movie but a life experience of living through ecological collapse and all of the heartbreak and desire that erupts in a time when everything seems so close to the knife’s edge.

I am reminded of another Scandinavian dance album that was extremely danceable yet harbored within it a sense of foreboding. The Visitors, ABBA’s eighth studio album, was considered their venture into more mature and complex music. The two couples who comprised the band had divorced the year before it was released, and the entire atmosphere of the album is paranoid, gloomy, and tense. The cover shows the four musicians, on opposite sides of a dark room, ignoring each other. Each song is melancholy and strange in its own way, unique for a pop ensemble like Abba. One song in particular showcases their ability to use an archetype of narrative tragedy and prophesy to tell the story of regret. Cassandra is sung from the perspective of those who didn’t heed the woman cursed by Zeus to foretell the future but never be believed.

I have always considered myself a pretty big Abba fan, something my high school choir instructor thought was riotously funny. I was born in the 80’s and nobody in my family liked disco, so I seemed like something of an anachronism. But pop music, especially synth-oriented pop, has always felt like a brain massage to me. It could get my inner motor moving when I felt utterly collapsed in resignation to the scary chaos of my early life. But I only discovered the song Cassandra in 2017, while giving The Visitors a full listen. It felt like I had never heard the song before, though, as a fan I must have. But something about 2015 made the song stand out more. It starts with piano, soft tambourine, and the ambient sound of a harbor. It has a coastal Mediterranean vibe, as some Abba songs do, foreshadowing Cassandra’s removal from her home city, an event she foretold but could not get anyone to believe. It’s a farewell song of regret, echoing the regret the members of Abba felt about their own breakups.

We feel so full of promise at the dawn of a new relationship. Only after the split can we look back and say we saw the fissures in the bond. The signs were there. Why did we ignore them? This happens on an individual level but the Cassandra paradox is an archetype that climate scientists and journalists are very familiar with. This particular Abba song, and the Visitors album overall, uses this archetype to tell the story of a breakup in retrospect. With climate change, the warnings have been there, even before science discovered the rising carbon in the atmosphere. Indigenous peoples have been warning of ecological collapse since colonization began. Because of white supremacy and an unwavering belief in “progress,” perpetual economic and technological development and growth, warnings from any source but especially marginalized sources have been noise to those who benefit from that perpetual growth model and from white supremacy itself. Is there a way to undo the Cassandra curse and render warnings signal BEFORE some major event turns us all into the chorus from Abba’s song, singing “some of us wanted- but none of us could-- listen to words of warning?” Composer Pauline Oliveros called listening a radical act. It is especially so when we listen actively to the sounds and signals of those we would otherwise overlook.

When I look back at my life in the time that Sundfør’s Ten Love Songs and m83’s movie music seems nostalgic for, the late 1980’s in New Jersey, I was a child with deeply dissociative and escapist tendencies, which helped me survive unresolved grief, loss, and chaos. I recognize my love for Abba’s hypnotic synth music as a surrendering to the precise and driving rhythm of an all-encompassing sound experience. I also see how my early life prepared me to be sensitized to the story climate science was telling when I finally discovered it in 2008. I had already grown up with Save the Whales assemblies and poster-making contests, with a heavy emphasis on cutting six-pack rings so that sea life would not be strangled to death. I knew what it was like to see something terrible happening all around you and to feel powerless to stop it, because of the way my parents seemed incapable of and unsupported in their acting out their own traumatic dysregulation. Wounds, unable to heal, sucking other people into the abyss. I escaped through reading science fiction, listening to music like Abba and Aphex Twin loud enough to rattle my bones. I wanted to overwhelm my own dysregulated nervous system. I dreamed of solitude on other planets, sweeping grey vistas, being the protagonist of my own story where nothing ever hurt because ice ran through my veins and the fjords around me. My home planet was dying, and nobody could hear those of us screaming into the wind about it.

Ten Love Songs woke up that lost cosmic child who had banished herself to another solar system. Songs of decadence, songs of endings, songs of loss. Though that album was not overtly about climate change, Sundfør did talk about ecological collapse in interviews for her radically different follow-up album Music For People In Trouble. After the success of Ten Love Songs, Sundfør chose to travel to places that she said “might not be around much longer” in order to chronicle the loss of the biosphere for her new album. It is more expressly and urgently about the current global political moment, but the seeds for those themes were present and in my opinion much more potent in the poppier album. But maybe that’s the escapist in me.

The old forms that brought us to this point are in need of end-of-life care. Capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchal theocratic nationalism, neoliberalism, they all need death doulas. Escapism makes sense in response to traumatic stimulus, and for many of us it may have helped us survive difficult circumstances. But if we are to face what it means to be alive on this planet at this moment, we might be here to be present to and help facilitate and ease the process of putting these systems to rest. And maybe this work is not at odds with a dance party. The ability to be visionary about shared alternatives to these dying systems is not inherently escapist, when we are willing to take the steps together to live into those new stories. What would happen if cursed Cassandras, instead of pleading with existing power structures to heed warnings that sound like noise to them, turned to each other to restore the civic body through listening, through bearing witness to each others unacknowledged and thwarted grief over losses unacknowledged by those same systems of coercive power?

Engaged bewilderment means my version of hope, informed by Rebecca Solnit’s work on the topic, comes from the acceptance that things will happen that I could never have imagined possible. Climate change is happening and there are certain scientific certainties built into that trajectory. Some of it is written in the stars. But as with any dynamic system change, we do not know exactly how it will all shake out. These unknowns can be sources of fear and despair, but there is also the possibility for agency, choice and experimentation. The trajectory of my individual life was always going to end in death. Does that make it a failure? Or does it render each choice and engagement of movement towards the unknown an ecstatic act? As the old forms collapse, no need to apologize to the oracles. At this point they are dancing, and hope you’ll join.

#susanne sundfør #abba #anthropocene #hope #climate crisis #climate change #ecological collapse #scandinavian music #dystopia #utopia

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cosmiciaria · 4 years

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Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order review! (Spoiler free)

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (SWJFO) appeared out of fricking nowhere and to everyone's surprise, it was a striking success? How? But… EA was so bad at making SW games!! I don't see micro transactions and… is this… actual… plot… with actual… good characters?? I'm shooketh.

So, yes, SWJFO is a good game! It's not perfect, it has its flaws, yes, but considering where we come from… Battlefront II I'm looking at you.

The game takes place between Episode III and Episode IV. I won't say it's a "bridge" between those two Episodes because it isn't, and some may argue that talking about Jedi in the middle of those two pieces of media doesn't take you anywhere, since we all know what happens next, but let me explain to you: the story fits so well. So well.

We follow Cal Kestis, your average ginger Good Boi, who's a padawan in disguise. It's been five years since Order 66 and he's been hiding all this time in Bracca, a junkyard, where he works mostly enslaved by the Empire. His good pal Prauf tells him he should go outside and explore the galaxy, since he's young and cute probably, but Cal is so scared of being found and he's suffering such a huge survivor's guilt that he doesn't take any action to leave that planet.

It all seemed to be like another ordinary day of work, dismembering old ships and searching for useful parts, when the wing that Cal and Prauf were working on suddenly falls from the body of the ship, and Cal, who hasn't been using his Force since the execution of the Jedi, is forced (pun intended) to save his friend from falling to his death. Prauf understands the stakes, and swears to keep the secret.

However, destiny seems to hate him, because the Inquisitors (the Second and Ninth Sisters to be more precise), an order of Jedi-turned-to-dark-side that serves the Empire, arrive at Bracca, looking for a remaining Force-wielder who hides among the workers. Prauf steps up for his comrade, only to be impaled quite literally in front of Cal. Cal loses his composure and snaps at the Second Sister, revealing his nature as Jedi, and so the hunt begins.

Cal faces the Second Sister, who menacingly swings her lightsaber with red emitters, but he's too weak to defeat her. Just when we thought that everything is lost, a new spaceship arrives: the Mantis, and a woman reaches out from the main gate, asking us to jump. Cal doesn't think twice, bids farewell to a very angry Second Sister and jumps into safety.

Inside the Mantis, Cal meets his saviors: Cere, a former jedi who purposely cut her link with the Force, and Greez, a lateros who is the owner and driver of the ship. Cere goes straight to the point: she's been looking for Cal (or any other Force-sensitive to be honest) for years now, because she has a clear plan: to rebuild the Jedi Order.

From here onward, the game opens up. You'll be visiting Bogano first, which is the sanctuary more or less of Cordova, a dead character that will have a great impact on the whole story. Cordova was Cere's master, and he's worked and compiled information about the Zeffo sages and other interesting mythos from around the galaxy. Cordova swears that in the ancestral chamber in Bogano, sealed by ancient technology created by the Zeffo, lies the Holocron: a cubic thingy only readable for Jedi, that holds key information about the names of the kids who are Force-sensitives. With this list of names, Cere plans to bring back the Jedi and strike back at the Empire.

So the main objective is to get this Holocron, but to get there, you'll have to go to many planets and explore many nooks and crannies. I won't spoil it for you, because I try to never spoil in my reviews, and like I said before, it may sound like this goal doesn't make any sense since we know they don't succeed in rebuilding the Order (hell, not even with Rey and it's been a whole generation since then), but hear me out: the story still fits so well! PLEASE TRUST ME IN THIS ONE

So instead of talking about the plot, let's talk about the characters!

Cal will be your main character. I read that some people think he's boring, ok, I can take that. The reality is that there's so much more to him than just his dashing appearance (alright, maybe I am biased, since I love red hairs) and his kindness and good-boy-ness. Cal is deeply regretful by his actions during Order 66 and he can't forget nor forgive what happened to his master. He feels remorseful and blames himself for the outcome of the purge. He has a scar on his face that constantly reminds him of it. He's a clear case of survivor's guilt syndrome, and it doesn't take one much to see it. I won't say when or the context, but there's a moment in which he has to ride a escape pod, and he looks around, nervously, as if he's going to suffocate, because it reminds him of the purge – man, there's a lot not said that really touches you. I don't need a character to tell me that he's sad. He can show it to me and that's exemplarily well done with him.

Another example of a sad character, more in-your-face this time, is Cere. A former master, now devoid of the Force, Cere wanders the galaxy with a clear goal in mind. But in her past, she hides torture and some too-close-for-comfort connection with the dark side. She wants to redeem herself and she trusts that this sacred mission will, not wipe out, but compensate for her mistakes. Cere is a great north in this game and she always supports Cal in everything. Her unconditional trust may seem overwhelming at first, but she's careful and she knows with what they're all dealing with. Besides she's badass af.

Greez is a less warrior character but much funnier than the rest of the cast. As the owner of the Mantis, he takes care of this ship as if it were his daughter. He has a knack for cooking and even though he tries to hide it, he does have a soft spot for Cal. Maybe his past of gambler and addiction makes him come across as the one who doesn't give a damn of what's going on, but if that were truly the case, he wouldn't be here, trying to rebuild the Order as well. He has by far the best lines in the script, and he's so unintentionally funny. There was this scene, out of context, where Cere and Cal were having an argument while eating, and he was sitting in between, in the background, adding peppermint or whatever spice to his dish, but the thing is, he never stopped throwing peppermint to his dish because he was watching them argue. Damn. I love him.

Merrin is introduced later in the game, but she does play a large role in the story. Born and raised in Dathomir, Merrin is a Nightsister, an order of 'witches' let's call them that have twisted the Force and use it in a different way than the Jedi. After General Grievous (as much as we assume, because he's mentioned as "armored man wielding lightsabers") wiped out all the life in Dathomir, Merrin remained as the sole survivor of her planet, roaming around the corpses of her sisters with no goal whatsoever. She resents the Jedi and has sworn to fight them even if it cost her life. This led her to get in with a bad crowd… but she'll find a better purpose after she meets Cal (And if you ask me, this SHIP HAS SAAAAAIIILLLLEEED).

And last but not least, the Second Sister, who, as I said before, was a former Jedi who was forced into the dark side, now hunts the remaining Force-sensitive that have escaped from the purge. She seems your ordinary villain at the start of the story, but slowly the plot will be unfolding a lot of details about her past and how she became an Inquisitor, making her as much, if not more than, important like the rest of the cast.

If there's thread connecting all these characters, is their broken pasts. These are all broken characters who now must face the consequences of their decisions, however much they don't want to look that way. They have to reconcile with their pasts and overcome their fears. They have all suffered, but in this suffering they found strength. And each other.

And I cannot not mention BD-1, your companion droid. He has personality, you can't deny it. Every time Cal went like "How is it going, BD-1?" and the droid threw his "Boops-beeps", please, they're having a profound conversation DON'T INTERRUPT THEM.

As far as gameplay goes, this game borrows from other great creations of the PS4 era: Uncharted (you'll be climbing and doing parkour a lot), Tomb Raider (sliding down and tomb raiding, yes), Dark Souls (meditation/save points where you can level up your skills and also whenever you die you lose your exp gained, but not the ability points. You can recover that exp though), and Sekiro (parry. Parry a lot). This may seem to all of you like the game lacks originality, and while it's debatable, I still think that it has a lot new and original gameplay to offer, specially when it comes to Force wielding and lightsabers. Oh, yes, you're a Jedi (padawan, actually), you'll be using the Force! The game tries really hard to integrate the Force not only in combat, but also while you explore and while you solve puzzles. The more you level up, the more powerful your abilities become, and it comes a point when you feel unstoppable. The Stormtroopers might sound cocky at first, but when you start pushing and pulling, oh, yes, fear the Jedi! So yes, the game may look like a copycat of previous works in the gaming industry, but it does make a good use of all those mechanics, while still throwing something new elements into the mix.

The level design is ASTOUNDING, sometimes I turned around one corner and appeared somewhere I thought it was like miles away from my place, and I was marveled at how well everything interconnects with everything. The level of detail also is so meticulous and well crafted, like there are so many little things that if you stop to stare and pay attention you'll be so mesmerized by them. Some of the places are so eye candy, even Dathomir with their "I AM DEATH" vibes has such a beautiful color palette, that I couldn't help but take a thousand screenshots. This game looks gorgeous, and it shows. You know, when a game has a photo mode, you know the devs are convinced of its beauty.

But, like I said earlier, the game isn't without flaws. While I praised the intricate level design, there's also one thing I hate a lot: backtracking. Yes, in these huge maps, there are no fast travels. You can create shortcuts and such, but, if you want to get to that 2% that was left unexplored in that particular area, you must return to it by foot. This is a huge let down for me. I did the game with a guide, so I grabbed most of the collectibles during my first time in each planet, but still there were some things that I missed, and I had to go all the way there to revisit places with the only purpose of grabbing that stupid chest or filling that small percentage of the map, while trying to survive against the enemies, since everything in this game, everything, wants to actively kill you. Damn, Cal was wanted.

Another huge drawback for me that it normally doesn't bother me much were the low framerates. I played it on normal PS4, not the Pro, and the rendition of the game wasn't good. I wasn't even fighting or doing a lot of stuff on screen, I was just climbing and chilling, and still the framerates would fall like under 20. When there a lot of things going on screen, the game suffers from it and it makes you know that the play station is giving its all to make it function. I believe this isn't a problem for those who have a nice computer and play it with the highest specs, but as I know that there are people out there who really care about the performance, I had to at least mention this.

Also, do not come here thinking that this is an open world game. Yes, granted, you can travel from planet to planet with no real rush and take things with time, but the maps are mostly linear (except for the interconnections between each area), and once you explored or got all chests, that's all there's to it. Now that I have completed the game and platinumed it, the planets feel barren, empty, like there's no real life breathing through the leaves or the rooms. And I think I know what this game could've benefited a lot from: sidequests. There are no NPC's here, except for some Wookies at that moment in the story or your crew members, so there's no one to give you a sidequest. But even without NPC's, they could've thrown sidequests from the different collectibles that you come across in your path, or maybe when on arriving at a certain place. There's like one thing that gets close to a sidequest and it's exploring a crashed Venator in the planet Zeffo, but that's all there's to it: more of the same killing, climbing and cutting ropes. If you're a rookie collector, then yes, this game got you covered, for there are over 200 collectibles (I think over 300 actually, considering echoes and chests and scans), but it's not like there's anything in between these, except for enemies. No banter with your crew members while you walk around, some occasional beep boops from BD-1 only.

I think those are my main complaints, but all in all I believe that the good compensates the bad. The last "mission" is reaaaaally good, and they did something I really like, which I won't spoil. I'm just going to say that I'm so glad with the decisions they took. The relationships between the characters grow vividly before our eyes, and we see Cal develop from a frightened fugitive into a fighter. There are moments in the story and in the gameplay where the game made me go like "whoa", I was truly amazed by what was going on. The acting is flawless, the music gets under your skin and the vistas are just dreamy. There so many easter eggs to appease even the most hardcore SW fan! They could polish all the things I said, but if there's another SW game developed by Respawn and with that writing team, I'll be there to buy it.

It's not perfect, but it's good. Give Cal a chance!

#cal kestis #star wars #star wars jedi fallen order #sw jfo #videogame review #review #ea games #respawn entertainment #merrin #cal x merrin #cere junda #greez dritus #bd-1

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bts-bringthescenarios · 4 years

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Genre: fluff, hints of angst. Pairing: [romantic] female reader + bts!hyung line Contents & Warnings: multiple career!reader, physical contact, swear words, Harry Potter (Books) spoilers.

***

Kim Seokjin

Jin had always been a firm believer in love at first sight. As such, he was convinced that when he met ‘the one’ a slumbering something would simply wake up inside him and let him know clearly: ‘this is your soulmate, Seokjin’. So what he wasn’t expecting was the baffling torrent of thoughts and emotions that were brought about when you talked to him for the first time, which left him feeling both exhilarated and terrified at the same time.

“Hello, worldwide handsome,” you had mocked him playfully, beaming at him as you leaned in to apply primer on his skin. “My name is (Y/N). Please let me know if anything I do tickles you or makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

And you had gotten to work, just like that. You had shaken him inside and out and gotten yourself busy without so much as an acknowledgement for the mess you’d made of him.

There was an extended BTS tour coming up, and BigHit was rallying a team of makeup artists to join them during the whole trip. You had worked with other idols for a while, and you were so good your boss personally recommended you as an asset for the tour team in BigHit. They decided to try you out for a BTS Run Episode, which lead to your first meeting with Jin.

Of course, you already knew the members from hearsay and had an idea of what to expect. Jin, on the opposite hand, was not prepared for you. Perhaps physically you weren’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even though he found you pretty and charming. What drew him to you was something he couldn’t put his finger on, more like your “aura”: you were spontaneous but also considerate, kind but funny at the same time, very professional but with a casual, laid-back attitude. You moved your body with purpose and determination, and you furrowed your eyebrows in a very cute way while you worked.

By the time you were done with him, Jin was feeling dizzy. During the whole time your face had been very close to his, and even though he had never felt uncomfortable by close proximity with previous makeup artists, this time he found it hard to talk and breathe normally. You had prattled and joked around the whole time because you noticed he was a bit uneasy, but when in the end he gave you a tense smile, you assumed he hadn’t quite liked you. This probably meant you wouldn’t have a good chance to join the tour team. His face looked fantastic, more so than usual, so you figured that ought to count for something.

Still, you were pleasantly surprised when your boss called you up to let you know you’d been selected for the job, and what astonished you the most was that Jin had personally requested you to be his makeup artist. Your boss frowned at your shocked expression, but you decided not to let her know about how tense Jin had appeared to be when you had worked on him. Maybe he was having a bad day and you had taken it too personally.

So the tour began. On the first concert date you walked down to the changing rooms, feeling a bit jet lagged and carrying your faithful makeup briefcase with you. The moment you entered the room, Jin flashed you a breathtaking grin and greeted you enthusiastically. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed how beautiful he looked when he was happy about something.

You stopped dead in your tracks. ‘No’, you told yourself firmly, ‘Kim Seokjin is off limits, (Y/N).’

“Are you alright?” Jin asked, getting up from his seat and rushing by your side.

“I’m fine! Nothing to worry about,” you answered hastily, shaking your head a little. “I’m just a little jet lagged, you know?”

“I understand,” Jin replied smilingly as he walked next to you toward his makeup chair, “I’ve gotten so used to it I barely notice it anymore.”

This time, Jin was incredibly chatty as you worked. It made your job a bit more difficult, but you were so entertained by your conversation you didn’t mind at all. He joked and made puns all the time, telling you funny tales about his previous tours and all in all making you laugh heartily. By the time his makeup was done, you had enjoyed yourselves so much you felt sorry work was over for now. Still, even after you were done he kept talking with you, until it was his queue to go to the stage.

“Okay, time to go,” he said, looking a bit down for the first time. He got up and examined his face in the mirror. “Wow, (Y/N), you really are the most talented makeup artist I’ve ever met.”

You chuckled nervously, your heart punching loudly against your chest. As Jin waved at you and left the changing room you took a second to compose yourself, monitoring your breathing. You sternly reprimanded yourself for… for whatever it was that you were feeling. You didn’t even want to think about what those feelings meant, least of all name them.

However, this wouldn’t be the last time you would censure your emotions; as a matter of fact it quickly became a routine over the next couple of months. And it was just so fucking difficult to get a grip on yourself once Jin started asking you personal questions, or finding excuses to touch you for the briefest moments. He was deeply interested in everything you said, and he started sharing more and more about himself, his life, his family…

The other makeup artists were already beginning to gossip good-naturedly about your relationship with Jin, jokingly trying to persuade you to take the leap and snatch him up. You really liked Jin, but you weren’t sure if he liked you as a friend of else. Besides, weren’t the Bangtan Boys banned from dating? You couldn’t risk both your jobs like that. So, naturally, you sought help to control yourself before you did anything stupid: you asked coworker and best friend Yu-ri to monitor you and warn you when she saw you getting a bit too involved. She was the only one who took your conundrum seriously, and you soon found she was perfect for the job: on several occasions she called you away from Jin at the nick of time before you gave your feelings away.

The Bangtan members noticed the situation too, of course. And, unlike you, they could see the toll these daily conversations had on Jin. One concert night Namjoon had a full view of his hyung’s melancholy expression as he walked away from you.

“When are you going to ask her out? You know they called off the dating ban,” Namjoon whispered as they marched towards the stage.

“I’d do it right now if I could. I’d literally turn around and ask her to go out with me right this moment,” Jin replied, and then he gave Namjoon a sad smile.

“But…?”

Jin sighed quietly as they took their positions in the elevating platform, staring into space. Namjoon waited patiently.

“The success rate of idol plus non-idol couples in this industry is low enough without me chipping in, even without dating bans. I can’t risk it,” Jin replied rubbing his temples, clearly distressed. “(Y/N) is so amazing, so unique. And the way I feel when I’m with her... I just can’t help myself. I want to get to know her, and I want her to know me. But I don’t want to ruin everything. I’d rather wait for now, maybe in a few years…” he trailed off hopelessly.

Namjoon nodded pensievely, and then squared his shoulders.

“Well, I don’t think you like her that much,” he snapped. Jin stared back in surprise. “I mean, that must be the reason why you won’t even try.”

The platform started its painfully slow rising motion, and they couldn’t continue their conversation.

Jin mulled over Namjoon’s words that night. Was he being a coward? In truth, the way he felt about you was scary to him. He’d had crushes before and knew how those felt, but with you? He was in love. He wanted it —no, he needed it to work. He should be cautious. But was waiting for who knows how long a careful thing to do? Would you just sit and wait or would you give up on him?

And then the answer popped up in his mind effortlessly. Of course he had to involve you in this decision. Why should he figure this out on his own? Why should you be left out of it?

The next day was their night off, so the whole staff was resting in their hotel rooms. You were sharing with Yu-ri, and you had decided to hang out at night and watch a show together. You were too preoccupied with your feelings for Jin to actually pay any attention to it, so you barely noticed when the room phone rang and your roommate picked it up.

“(Y/N)? It’s for you,” Yu-ri said, gazing at you meaningfully. “It’s him.”

“What?” your voice cracked. She nodded excitedly. You pressed the receiver to your ear. “It’s happening,” Yu-ri mouthed silently.

“Seokjin? It’s (Y/N).”

“Hi! Sorry to bother you on your night off. Are you free right now?” he asked, sounding rather nervous. “Could you come over? I’d like to talk to you.”

Your heart was racing in your chest as you took the elevator to his room. ‘He’s just worried about his makeup tomorrow’ you tried to convince yourself as you walked through the hallway. ‘This is NOT a date, (Y/N).’ But, if it wasn’t, then why was he summoning you to his room on his night off?

Your hand trembled as you knocked softly on the door. Jin opened the door and invited you in.

As you eyed him carefully, you noticed dark bags under Jin’s eyes, who nervously led you to the couch beside the bed and gestured you to sit down next to him. You obeyed quietly, worried. He looked a bit ill, and for a while he remained silent.

“I should have brought my makeup with me,” you finally said, going for a light-hearted tease to break the ice. “I want everyone to be rendered speechless by Mr. Kim Seokjin’s handsome looks on tomorrow’s talk show. And by the look of you, I should be getting started with your makeup right now if we want to be done by tomorrow night.”

“I’m sorry I’m taking little care of your raw material,” he chuckled, and then got serious again. “I haven’t slept at all. I have a lot on my mind these days. Or, should I say, you’ve been a lot on my mind,” he added, moving closer to you.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I think you know why I called you here, but I’d like to say something first. As you must know by now, an idol’s life is very fulfilling, but filled with complications and self-sacrifice. Specially when it comes to our personal lives. They take the biggest toll.”

“I know,” you said softly. He was sitting so close, you only had to extend your hand to touch him. You didn’t. “I see how you struggle with it, and I can only imagine how hard it must be.”

Jin’s heart melted as he saw the genuine concern on your eyes. He swallowed hard and fixed his eyes on yours.

“(Y/N), I know, believe me, that you deserve the best partner there is. I spent the last months convincing myself that I’m not the right fit for you, that you don’t want to be with someone with my job. But… I realized I never thought to ask you about it. I’ve been so scared of your answer, I couldn’t bring myself to ask you the question. So I’m doing it right now.”

As Jin’s words sunk in, the nervousness that had gripped you during the night dissipated quickly, a radiant excitement taking its place. You weren’t treading on unsure grounds now, you knew that you felt exactly the same way about him. This confidence made your heart swell and brought back your usual light-heartedness.

“So,” you grinned as you took his hand in yours, “are you asking me if I would be willing to date an idol?”

“Exactly,” Jin nodded, squeezing your hand in his.

“Hmm,” you mocked a thoughtful expression, “not just any idol, only the most handsome idol in the world. But would Worldwide Handsome Jin be willing to date a makeup artist?”

“Not just any makeup artist,” Jin teased back, caressing your cheekbones with the back of his fingers. “Only the most wonderful, most talented one I’ve ever met.”

In a motion slow enough to drive you crazy with anticipation, Jin wrapped his arms around your waist and softly pulled you closer, gazing deeply into your eyes. You held his face in your hands and leaned in, your breath warming Jin’s full lips.

Knock, knock.

Both of you stopped, your faces just a centimeter away from each other.

“Hyung, why aren’t you replying to my texts? We need to go over tomorrow’s interview,” Namjoon’s voice echoed from the other side of the door.

Jin sighed heavily, brushing his nose against yours. He knew he had to answer, but he was unwilling to let go of you yet. You slid your hands down his neck and tried to pull away, but Jin held you in place. He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.

“Can we do this in the morning?” he answered, just loud enough for his voice to carry outside.

“No, I’ll be busy,” Namjoon insisted. “Can you open up?”

“Stay right here,” Jin commanded softly. As he got up his fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver, and you knew you wouldn’t move an inch even if he took all night.

Jin opened the door, and Namjoon, too busy going over notes he was holding, walked right into the middle of the room before he saw you. Frozen in place, it took him a few seconds to react.

“(Y/N)!” he blurted out, blushing furiously. His eyes darted frantically from you to Jin, who was standing next to the door with his arms wound tightly over his chest. “Er… how are you?”

“I’m embarrassed, thanks for asking. How about yourself?” you replied humorously. Jin chuckled quietly at your answer.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for interrupting. Er… I should leave. I mean,” he said, turning to Jin. “We can talk about the interview tomorrow, right? We’ll figure something out.”

“Please,” Jin replied dryly, moving out of the way to gesture Namjoon out. Despite his hurry to have him out of his room, Jin wasn’t angry at his brother. After all, how could he resent the man whose wise words had made this whole situation possible in the first place?

Namjoon stumbled out of the room, Jin locking the door behind him. The moment he was out of range to listen, Jin and you burst out laughing.

“I don’t think I ever saw someone looking so mortified,” you said as Jin slid back next to you, embracing you again.

“Serves him right for interrupting one of the happiest moments of my life,” he whispered as he leaned in and sealed your lips with his.

***

Min Yoongi

The clinic was overworking you, and you had covered more shifts than usual this past week. It wasn’t their fault that the other two psychologists from the ER team had taken sick leave because of the flu, and you were too responsible to just leave people unattended. Your boss and team were grateful for your efforts, but they had insisted you take the rest of the weekend off after working double shifts for the past seven days, which was a good thing because you already had plans.

A few weeks ago, you had promised the boys you would visit them on Saturday and you would all go to a Karaoke Bar, and they had booked a private room to have fun away from the clicking of the paparazzi's cameras. So as soon as you finished your shift in the afternoon, you went straight to their dorms to have tea and leave together for the Karaoke Bar in the evening. You were really excited about your plans, and even though you hated to admit it, you were even more excited at the prospect of seeing Yoongi again after a while. You usually hung out with him more than with the rest of the boys, you just got along so well, but although the BigHit headquarters were only a few blocks away from the clinic where you worked, this past week had been so hectic it had been literally impossible for you two to even catch a coffee together, you had been too busy.

At first you were full of energy and enthusiasm, and even prepared tea and sandwiches with Yoongi. You laughed and joked together all the while, but he was secretly worried. Throughout the past week he had texted you regularly to make sure you were getting enough sleep, and he knew you weren’t. He had double checked if you wanted to raincheck on today’s plans, but when you insisted you were just fine he didn’t press the matter. He knew better than to argue with you, and besides he was too glad to see you again to miss out on the opportunity.

Despite your initial great mood and energy, shortly after you all had eaten together you began to feel drowsy. You still had a good hour or so before you had to set off to the Karaoke Bar, and you could barely keep your eyes open. Yoongi was sitting right next to you, and as he monitored you he became increasingly convinced there was no way you would be able to stay awake.

“Jimin, text the Karaoke Bar to cancel the booking,” Yoongi finally said aloud, making your eyes snap open. “I think we’re all just dead tired today. We should stay home and watch a movie or something.”

“I’m not tire—” Jimin began, but he was swiftly reprimanded by a slap on the arm from Namjoon. It was too late, though: you had already heard him.

“No, no, it’s fine,'' you said, suppressing a yawn. “You guys have been looking forward to karaoke all week. I just need to rest up for a bit, I’ll be as good as new in a few minutes.”

Yoongi shot you an exasperated look. Why did you have to be so goddamn stubborn? Why couldn’t you just prioritize your own wellbeing for once? Why did you have to pretend to be fine all the time when you clearly weren’t? You were just so… so like him.

“Really, (Y/N), we can reschedule for next Saturday. I’m tired too,” Hoseok added considerately, catching Yoongi’s concerned eyes.

“No, you’re not,” you answered firmly. “You were the most excited of us all, Hobi. You even played the list of tracks you’re going to sing all week during breakfast. Yeah, I read all those texts in the group chat.”

Well, it was true, Yoongi thought. And you hadn't even mentioned the fact that he actually sang along. As much as he loved his fellow member, Yoongi didn’t know if he could survive another week tolerating Hoseok’s interpretation of all his favorite songs, but then again he was worried you would just faint if you overexerted yourself. He’d rather wear headphones during breakfast for the next few days and have you rest now.

“We still have some time to decide, (Y/N),” Taehyung ventured, “we could just take it easy and watch something for now, and if you’re fine later we’ll go.”

“I want to watch the first episode of that show that aired on Thursday!” Jeongguk added, his shoulders bouncing up and down excitedly.

You knew they were trying to persuade you to stay put, but it just didn’t feel right to cancel their plans. They rarely had time for fun, since they worked so hard and toured all the time. And you had all finally managed to arrange your schedules to go out together. You weren’t going to give up easily.

But Jeongguk’s genuine excitement made you relent. He really seemed to want to watch the show. There was no harm in taking it easy for an hour, right? Once the episode was over you’d feel renewed, and then you’d all go to the Karaoke Bar together.

However, the moment you all sat down on the huge couch in the TV room you felt overwhelmingly exhausted. To nobody’s surprise, you were out like a light in less than five minutes. The boys waited until you were fast asleep before quietly exiting the room, where only Yoongi remained to make sure you were not disturbed.

He was hoping to get some work done while you were asleep, so Yoongi took out his tablet and began to write down ideas for a song he’d been unsuccessfully trying to complete this past month. He had worked out the melody and he just couldn’t find lyrics for it. Yoongi tried for a few minutes to conjure up the right words, but he was too distracted. His eyes kept darting back to you, like a magnet, and he worried about all sorts of things. Were you comfortable enough or were you going to wake up with a stiff neck? Were you cold? Should he bring a blanket? What if you woke up when he placed the blanket over you? Did you always look so beautiful when you slept?

Oh no, not these stupid ideas again, he thought, shaking his head and trying to stop himself from staring at you. He had been over and over this with himself. You hadn’t shown any sign of actually liking him in a romantic way. You were attentive and caring toward him, sure, but that was the way you were with everyone. You liked to make people feel good. You were also kind, and witty, and incredibly smart and… but he had to stop himself again. As much as he wanted your relationship to be different, he didn’t want to risk your friendship by making you uncomfortable with his feelings, especially because you were good friends with the rest of the boys. What if you felt so awkward about it that you stopped hanging out with all of them?

In spite of his efforts, he still couldn’t stop stealing glances at you all the time. After two hours or so, in which the sun set and you gradually slid to a fully horizontal position without even waking up, he simply decided to give up and make the most of the time he had. When did he ever get a chance to just look at you freely, to let his eyes roam your face without having to control his expression? And as soon as he accepted that and allowed himself to appreciate you openly without restraining his feelings, the words just began to spring up in his mind. He took his tablet and began to write the lyrics of what he knew was now a love song.

You slept for another hour, which was enough time for Yoongi to finish the lyrics that had just poured out of him. As he read and reread them, relieved to have finally found a way to express what he was feeling, he genuinely wondered if he shouldn’t just confess to you. Just because you hadn't given him a clear hint of your feelings didn't mean he had no chance, there was no way he'd know unless he tried. And besides, shouldn’t you be able to decide for yourself what to do about it if you didn’t like him back?

It was at that precise moment when you began to stir, waking up quietly from your deep slumber. You blinked a few times, a bit dazed, and the darkness in the room brought you back to reality. You sat up quickly, which made you feel dizzy and groan in confusion.

Yoongi got up hurriedly and placed his hands over your shoulders, trying to hold you in you in case you fell.

“Why the hell did you get up so fast? It’s bad for you,” he murmured.

“Karaoke”, you mumbled. “I fell asleep…”

“Yeah, you really needed it. You could barely keep your eyes open, let alone sing a tune.”

“But—”

“For fuck’s sake, (Y/N). You needed the sleep. We’ll just go some other time, okay?” he cut you short sternly, trying to stop you from getting up. But Yoongi wasn’t prepared for your heartbroken expression, which softened his voice and made his hands slide down your arms. “What is it, (Y/N)?”

“I can’t believe I ruined our plans like this,” you began, bitterness welling up inside you and mixing up with the exhaustion. You were angry, tired and sleepy, so you simply exploded. “I know how stressed you all are, I know how badly you need to have some fun. I wanted so much to just go out together, to help you relax a bit… Hell, I needed to just go out and relax, too. Why couldn’t I hold on for a little longer?” Yoongi rarely ever saw you vent like this so he just let you get it out of your system without interrupting, and unable to contain your frustration you went on. “We have had no chance to talk this week because of this stupid flu outbreak. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted you to tell me how your song was coming along, Yoongi, and I just fell asleep like an idiot and wasted all that time we could’ve spent together—”

“You wanted to see me?” Yoongi asked, unable to stop himself. It was only when he voiced it that you became aware of the implications of what you had just said. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to respond, which was enough to make Yoongi’s heart pound violently in his chest. But you didn’t know that, all you could think about was that you hadn’t intended to tell him that, you hadn’t meant to expose your feelings for him like that. What was wrong with you today? Why couldn’t you keep it together like you normally did?

Yoongi’s expression had you backtracking soon enough, though. He was gazing intensely into your eyes, and you suddenly became aware of the fact that he was kneeling with his face just a few centimeters away from you, his hands holding you firmly. Your breathing accelerated. No, it couldn’t be. Surely he didn’t reciprocate your feelings? But the look in his eyes gave you the nudge you needed to simply let the words slide out.

“Yeah”, you answered in a low, shaky voice. You couldn’t lie to him when his eyes were piercing you like that, when his whole expression had become hopeful and anticipating. You felt his grip tighten around your arms. “I… I missed you.”

Yoongi’s features brightened instantly, and he smiled his lovely gummy smile. You were grinning too before you could help yourself. “What about you?” you inquired nervously, tilting your head.

Yoongi responded lowering his gaze and fixing it on your lips, and before you knew it he was slowly pulling your body to him, your face so close to his your noses brushed softly against each other, and you could hardly mistake his intentions.

And then Yoongi froze. For a second you were confused, but then you heard it too: two people were speaking in hushed voices outside the room.

Why, why, why was this happening fucking now? Why did they have to come now of all times? Never in his life had Yoongi wanted to just make the rest of the world disappear as badly as he did at this moment, and that was saying something. He shut his eyes angrily, and you both concentrated hard to pick up what the voices were saying.

“... not answering our texts. Maybe he dozed off? Should we check on them?”, Hoseok asked quietly.

“You saw how tired (Y/N) was, she’s probably still sleeping. And Yoongi’s always willing to take a nap, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s out as well.” Jin whispered.

“But what if—”

“Will you stop trying to act stealthy and just leave us alone?!” Yoongi interrupted irritably, not yelling but loud enough for his voice to carry to the corridor. You could hear both Jin’s and Hoseok’s startled squeaks from the other side of the door, which made you chuckle.

“Sorry!” Hobi squealed, “Did we wake you?”

“Just go away!”, Yoongi retorted.

“Okay! Enjoy your naps!”

Yoongi sat back on the floor and rubbed his fingers against his temples in annoyance as you both listened to Jin’s and Hoseok’s footsteps echoing away. It was just his luck to finally get a chance to kiss you, only for it to be completely ruined.

Regardless, the interruption had made him reflect on what he was doing. It wasn’t easy for him to just speak aloud when it came to his feelings, but he knew you were shy, too, and you had taken the first step by admitting you had missed him. Now that he knew that you had feelings for him, that you wanted that kiss as much as he did, he decided to walk the extra mile and actually tell you that he… Well, that he was in love with you.

Still giggling over the incident, you pulled him up to the couch so he could sit next to you.

“Those two had a real bad timing,” you said, trying to lighten up the dampened mood. His irritation quickly dissipating, Yoongi reached out for your hand.

“Definitely, but in spite of themselves they made me realize I'm doing this backwards,” he replied, picking up the tablet as you pierced him with a puzzled look. “You asked me about my new song, right? I'd like to read it out to you now… Mainly because it is about you.”

You both realized after the first verses, however, that Yoongi wasn’t going to finish reading the lyrics. The way you were looking at him was just too much for him to handle. He dropped the tablet and leaned in toward you, cupping your face in his hands before sealing your lips with his. No one interrupted you this time. At least not for the next few hours.

***

Jung Hoseok

When Hoseok offered to show you the new song he was working on, you excitedly agreed. You were visiting the boys in the dorms this evening, and while Jin and Yoongi prepared dinner and the rest played games, Hoseok and you retreated to his room to check out his new content. However, when you got there you were distracted: Hobi had accidentally left his laptop on YouTube, and by some inscrutable algorithm it was now playing a funny, modern interpretation of the Swan Lake ballet.

“What the—” he stuttered, his face screwed up in confusion. Both of you were unable to tear your eyes away from the screen as the couple of dancers bent and twisted their arms together in bizarre synchrony. “How is that supposed to look like a swan?”

You had to agree with him. The general choreography was just weird, and when the couple pressed their palms together and began waving them around in a sort of rigid and mechanical motion, you couldn’t suppress your laughter.

“We just have to try it, Hoseokie.”

And you both knew you did. That was your thing, after all. When you became good friends with the band and began hanging out with them frequently, you also started to join them in dance practice every so often, and tried to imitate their choreographies. You weren’t a great dancer —actually, you weren’t even a good dancer— but you weren’t self-conscious about it and you really enjoyed yourself, laughing out loud and mocking yourself when you didn’t get the moves right.

And Hoseok absolutely adored that about you. He had so much fun teaching you, then watching you try hard and laugh it off when you failed. He was such a perfectionist when it came to dancing that seeing you enjoy yourself like that regardless of the outcome made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. And that was how he had begun to realize he had feelings for you, feelings that had slowly but inevitably grown stronger with time.

Of course, it had started off innocently enough. He showed you the moves and you tried to copy him. On occasions you had to adjust your arms or your shoulders, so he had to touch your body in order to get it to the right position. He had to, right? But sometimes his hands lingered unnecessarily over your arms, or he casually brushed your hair with his fingers, or needlessly held your waist in place. You liked that very much, too, which scared you to death. ‘It would be plain stupid to develop romantic feelings toward Hoseok’, you had told yourself over and over again. Well, it turns out that it was stupid but also completely unavoidable.

So today Hobi and you rewinded the choreography and began to imitate it, and soon you were both doubling down in laughter. You kept watching and pausing the bizarre ballet and mimicking the dancers until suddenly the couple in the video began to dance very closely together, their bodies in full contact with each other. The male dancer’s hands traveled softly down the woman’s outstretched arms until they reached her waist, where he lifted her up in the air.

It was as if the room had been suddenly filled with static. Hoseok paused the video, uncertain of what to do. He craved to hold you like that, but would he be able to restrain himself once he was wrapped around you? You were anxious about it too, but decided to play it off. You were afraid that if you stopped right now it would be obvious you were nervous about it, consequently giving away your feelings.

“Okay,” you mumbled, trying to project a casual tone to your voice and failing miserably. “So I just have to— to raise my arms like this, right?”

Hoseok hesitated for a moment as he watched you turn around and lift your arms upward, which allowed him to appreciate the delicate curve of your exposed neck, the perfect place to just casually plant a kiss... He shook his head, trying to chase the thought away. Then he swallowed noticeably and positioned himself behind you, pressing his chest against your back. A shiver ran down your spine the moment your bodies touched, and you just knew he had noticed.

You wanted to kick yourself for being so stupid. This would definitely make things awkward between you from now on.

You were about to make up an excuse to stop when Hobi raised his arms, and he began to imitate the dancer’s movements. The feeling of his fingers caressing you softly, almost impossibly so, was so wonderful you felt goosebumps form over your arms where he had touched you. It was as if your skin had suddenly become hyper receptive and sensitive, and the slightest touch set an electric current. You couldn’t move, you could only stay still as his hands slid all the way down to your waist, where he gripped you tightly.

Hoseok knew he was supposed to lift you up in the air, but instead he impulsively decided to turn you around. He wanted to look into your eyes, to know for sure that you were feeling what he was feeling right now. And when you spun and faced him, the intensity of his gaze confirmed what you had been too afraid to hope all along. He pulled you tightly against him, so close you could feel the whisper of his breath on your lips.

“(Y/N)! Hobi! Dinner’s ready!” Taehyung yelled from the corridor.

Hoseok and you immediately jumped away from each other, as if you had both been electrocuted.

“Oi! Did you hear what I—”

But when Taehyung reached the doorframe he realized he had interrupted something, and his suspicion was confirmed by the murderous glare Hoseok threw him, which shut Tae up instantly. He had never in his life seen that look in Hobi, but then again he didn’t know how much Hoseok had waited for a moment like this and how he would have given anything to have another minute alone with you, just a single uninterrupted minute.

“Yeah, so… Join us if you want to,” Taehyung muttered quietly, and walked away as fast as he could.

Hoseok and you stared at each other for a long while, not knowing what to say. Then you decided to take the leap.

“I don’t really feel like having dinner right now,” you whispered shyly, unmoving. Hoseok smiled brightly, relieved to hear just exactly what he wanted to know. He walked toward the door and locked it, and then he slowly marched up to you and pulled you close to him again, not wanting to waste a single second before having you back in his arms.

“Me neither,” he said, and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

***

Kim Namjoon

Jeongguk dropped his head between his arms in exasperation, his forehead smacking against the surface of the table. He wasn’t the only irritated person in the room. Hoseok was zoning out, Jin was picking up the dishes impatiently and Taehyung and Jimin were staring in disbelief. Yoongi rolled his eyes and decided to go back to his room shortly after you and Namjoon had begun one of your endless, pointless debates where you both argued hotly about the ethical and moral grounds of literally children books and Disney films. Today, the discussion had been triggered by the actions of Dumbledore from Harry Potter.

“He is not the good guy, Namjoon!” you persisted, “He is easily the most machiavellian character of the whole saga.”

“I think that’s debatable. Or are you trying to tell me that he was worse than Voldemort?” Namjoon replied fiercely.

“Of course not! Don’t undermine my argument by proposing a grotesque exaggeration of what I’m saying,” you protested, lowering your voice a little as Jeongguk raised his head again and grunted moodily. You hadn’t realized that you had both gotten carried away in a debate again, so you tried to adopt a friendlier tone. “What I mean to say is that he was willing to raise a boy only to be slaughtered in the end—”

Namjoon snorted sarcastically. “Raise a boy for slaughter? He prepared Harry as best as he could for his final confrontation against Voldemort, which was going to happen anyway because Harry was the only one who could defeat him!”

Your indignant expression when you heard Namjoon’s words convinced the rest of the members that it was finally time to follow Yoongi’s steps and leave you both alone. This kind of debates happened all the time between Namjoon and you, and it annoyed the shit out of the rest of the guys. You had noticed this, but you just couldn’t help yourselves. Both of you had hot tempers and absolutely loved a good discussion.

“Wash the dishes when you’re done deciding if a fictional wizard from a children’s book was a good person or not,” Jin said as he exited the room and shut the door.

“It’s not a children’s book! If anything, it’s children’s books. Plural,” you called after him, knowing you were being petty just for the sake of winning an argument.

Namjoon chuckled at your last comment, combing his hair back with his hand. “Is it children’s literature, though?” he followed. “I’d argue the first books are childish, but from the fifth one onward they become more like Young Adult style.”

“What about the fourth book? They literally murder a kid,” you countered, ready for the next round, and so the debate continued. However, this time you both got up and began doing your chores while you conversed. Namjoon washed the dishes in the sink while you dried them off with a towel and put them away neatly, but at no given moment did either of you stop talking.

Every now and then Namjoon glanced sideways at you to admire the fiery look on your eyes when you were defending your point of view, and it made him feel funny inside every time. He had thought you were beautiful from the moment you met, but he found you most alluring during your debates. At first he thought the aching feeling on his chest when he saw you like that was born out of respect for your intelligence and excellent reasoning, but he gradually realized that there was something else going on: he didn’t only admire you, he also felt attracted to you.

Ever since, he had been torn between confessing his feelings or just going on as friends. These past few weeks he’d tried to be more observant of you, to analyze your reactions when he touched you or sat close to you. However, it was difficult to draw any conclusions because you were never alone together, and there was hardly any true intimacy between you. So when Namjoon realized that you were both actually alone in the kitchen right now, and that the rest of the boys had retreated to the opposite side of the house, he fell immediately silent and dropped the ladle he was washing.

You interrupted your discourse in alarm, examining him carefully.

“Are you okay, Joonie?” you asked, a concerned tone coloring your voice. “Here, let’s go sit down.”

You took his hand, dragged him to the nearest chair and sat opposite of him, afraid he might be feeling faint due to the long exposure to hot water while doing the dishes. Namjoon was genuinely feeling a bit giddy, especially since you were still holding his hand even though you were both sitting now. You wrapped his hand in both of yours, enjoying the feeling of his skin. You were only realizing it now, but you liked it a bit too much.

“Would you like a glass of cold water?” you inquired, trying to catch his eyes. Namjoon shook his head and looked away, attempting to clear his head. He struggled to find something —anything— to say, but he felt as though his brain had been opened up and emptied of all words. This was a first for him.

As you watched him you became increasingly concerned, and his evasive attitude worried you. Was he feeling ill or had you said something wrong? Maybe your last argument had offended him somehow, or made him feel bad. What had it been about? You couldn’t remember exactly, maybe because you were feeling a bit panicky about Namjoon’s state. Still, you had to do something about this, so you tried to raise your hand and place it in his forehead to check if he was running a fever. Namjoon didn’t let you. When you tried to pull your hand away, he held it firmly in his and fixed his eyes on yours with such an intense look that you felt as though the floor below you had melted.

And that was when it dawned on you, too: you were both alone, sitting very close to each other and holding hands.

“(Y/N).”

How could you avoid the tickling feeling in your stomach when he was saying your name like that, with a deep voice that was sensuous enough to make your mouth feel dry. You gazed back into his eyes, unconsciously leaning toward each other. Namjoon raised his hand and placed it on the back of your neck, then he softly pulled you closer to him until his lips were touching yours.

The door opened abruptly.

“Hey, have you sorted it out already—”

You both jumped up, startled. When you whipped around to face the door, you noticed Jin was staring with his mouth hanging open. He had, of course, seen you almost kissing. You knew it was pointless to try to play it off as a misunderstanding, but the whole situation was so awkward you decided to break the silence and said the first thing that came into your mind.

“Jin, we’re kind of, uh… busy right now, so would you mind—”

And Jin was closing the door already, which was a good thing because you didn’t want him to witness you embarrassing yourself any longer with the dumb shit you were saying. You covered your face in your hands and closed your eyes, the words ‘kind of busy’ echoing in your brain and making you feel more and more stupid by the second.

Namjoon, on the contrary, thought you had been brilliant. The way you had confronted the situation immediately and without pretence made him feel even more strongly about you. And not only that, but you had expressed the desire to be alone with him. He walked around you to face you again and he softly pulled your hands away from your face. Namjoon wrapped his arms around your waist as he leaned in to kiss you without a single hint of hesitation.

#bts scenario #bts reader #bangtan boys #kpop #bts #bts pairing #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #rm #jin #suga #jhope #fluff

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inmytaste-blog · 5 years

Text

Irreplaceable

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Swearing, anticipation and salvation.

A/N: Another update! Sorry for taking a while to complete and post this but I was extremely busy. This piece is inspired by this request and I hope I lived up to the anon’s expectations! Once again, feedback is very much appreciated and I would be more than happy to hear what you want me to write next! Till next time, happy reading! x

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‘’Shawn Mendes and Y/N Y/L/N’s relationship is thriving and we couldn’t be more happy’’. That was what all the famous tabloids were saying about yours and Shawn’s relationship but it was pretty much expected since he was the worldwide phenomenon of pop music and you were a very big name in the industry of acting with over ten movies in your history.

The thing with Shawn came as something completely unplanned and unexpected which turned out to be beautiful and priceless. He had attended one of your movie’s premieres and he was congratulating on you and your acting abilities all night long being the gentleman you were soon about to find out he was. You had hit it off pretty well even from that very first introduction to one another. You were familiar with his music and his touring and you had always wanted to meet him in person. So when that happened you couldn’t help but feel yourself explode with happiness and a little bit of fangirling. He was a heartthrob for God’s sake.

The thing is that he was also a fan of your own work and career and he would be pleased if he had the chance to chat with you and perhaps catch your number in order to keep in touch. His friends would make fun of him telling him that he was being crushing on you and even stalking your Instagram account behind their backs which was partly the truth. He was stalking your Instagram account even when they were in his close proximity with no shame whatsoever. So when he saw your post that you would be attempting both the premiere and the after party for your movie he knew this was his chance to make a good first impression to you and chat you up.

And this is exactly what had happened that night. He had made his way towards you and started with his good words and his wishes for your future in the industry, something you gladly welcomed and appreciated. He made it his mission to keep the conversation going that night and he succeeded since you were stuck to the hip throughout the after party as well, sharing glances and drinks along with funny stories about what made you choose acting as your profession and how Shawn had eaten all of his sister’s birthday cake, on her birthday.

Things were pretty easy from there. It was pretty visible he fancied you and you fancied him and many people even urged you to get together since they couldn’t handle the mystified glances and the romantic activities you two shared together. At first, you would laugh at their efforts and tried to cut them off by telling them that you weren’t Shawn’s type and that he had no time for romances since he was working on his upcoming album at that time. Deep down, you were only saying those things in order to persuade your own self that maybe Shawn hadn’t properly asked you out yet because he was so caught up in his work and his music.

This was soon to be changed though when he had asked you to go to his place to run movie marathons with lots of candy and beers. You had thought nothing of it when this proposal was aimed at you since this was something very normal and ordinary for you. What you hadn’t expected though was the fact that Shawn had thought everything through and he was about to ask you to be his girlfriend that night. Something that indeed happened. And something you eagerly accepted. You had waited far too long for this moment to finally arrive and when it did, you thought that everything made sense.

Shawn was over the moon when you had announced your decision to his proposal, which wasn’t very difficult to be made anyway. He was the definition of boyfriend material and you wanted to be the only one who got to experience it.

‘’I can’t stand you anymore guys. You are always so lovey dovey and you make nothing to hide it. Yuk!’’ Brian had playfully commented on your sitting on Shawn’s lap when you were all together one night in Shawn’s place.

‘’You are only jealous because you don’t have what we have mate. And especially, you don’t have her’’ Shawn replied to his friend and averted his gaze to you, kissing you gently on your lips.

‘’I love you’’ you had truthfully said and his smile lit up the whole room.

‘’And I you’’ Shawn had confessed and continued to hold you tight to his chest, his heartbeat being your favourite soundtrack.

Everything seemed perfect and ideal and you couldn’t ask for more. Shawn’s fans were somewhat encouraging your relationship with their idol but there were also the ones who made everything in their power to bring you down and make you feel insignificant next to Shawn. Comments like these made you want to call it quits with him and exit his life thinking it would be for the better but then Shawn would come along and reassure you that you were giving him the strength to move on and keep going with his music. You were his muse and he would be damned if he let you go.

Apart from the hurtful fans though, many other obstacles started to appear in your relationship with Shawn such as his management and their plans to grow his fame and his streams. One particular plan which was employed for those reasons was the promotional stunts with famous models and singers that Shawn was made to commit to and pull off. He knew this was something you deeply despised because it made you feel like you were coming second in his heart even when he was just pretending.

He had spent countless nights explaining to you that you owned something that no one could ever own even if they tried and that something was his heart. You knew Shawn was trustworthy and faithful to whoever was by his side. Besides, he had never showed anything to you to make you question his loyalty and his devotion to you but it weren’t Shawn you were afraid of; it was all the other girls seen with him. You feared they wouldn’t pay attention to his companion-you-and that they would make a move nonetheless. That is what bothered you.

Shawn always had an ear for your darkest fears and worries and he made sure all those thoughts were erased from your mind before they took their toll further on you. But the glass was already fragile and unfortunately Shawn was the one to break it even though he tried to assure you he would never do something to hurt your or your relationship.

You had arranged a peaceful night at the pool Shawn had in his mansion with two glasses of white wine and some of your favourite snacks in order to celebrate your one year anniversary. Minutes kept ticking by and Shawn was nowhere to be seen until the front door was opened and closed almost immediately. You waited for Shawn to spot you by the pool and when he did you really wished he hadn’t. He was wasted out of his logical mind, his appearance was muffled and his clothes messily put together.

You didn’t want to believe that your boyfriend of one year had forgotten all about your anniversary but more importantly you didn’t want to believe that he had preferred a packed club to an affectionate night with his girlfriend. Just when you thought you had seen it all, your attention was casted upon his shirt’s collar which had a pinkish hue onto it. Just then, the whole yard started spinning and you swore you could faint any time.

How did that spot make its way there? Who got too close to your Shawn? But above all, how did Shawn allow it to get this far? So many unanswered questions were swirling in your mind and your tried to stop the tears which had already made their way down in your eyes threatening to spill right now and then.

‘’Really Shawn? After all we’ve discussed and solved? You just go ahead and crush it all just like that?’’ you had risen from your previous spot by now and you were walking towards him, wanting to rip that disgusting laugh from his lips.

‘’What are you talking about baby?’’ he said, briefly slurring and tripping.

‘’This! This is what I am talking about!’’ you frantically moved your hands around including your surroundings and raising your voice.

‘’I don’t think I understand Y/N. Had you been drinking?’’ Shawn had the nerve to joke around and you had just enough.

‘’What is this? Who was this close to you and why didn’t you push her off of you Shawn? Goddammit!’’ you screeched and turned your back to Shawn after tilting his shirt towards him showing the rosy mark.

‘’Ohhhhh you’re talking about this one!’’ Shawn stressed but you wanted to hear nothing.

‘’Yes this and the fact that on our one year anniversary you decide to go out, have fun doing God knows what and who knows with whom and leave me waiting here looking like a complete idiot for trusting you completely ignorant’’ your tears were spilling now and you cared less how defenseless you were appearing. You just wanted all of this to be a bad dream which would come to an end with Shawn cuddling you in your sleep.

But no. Shawn was standing right in front of you, grinning like a child and watching become smaller and smaller in a matter of seconds.

‘’You know what? I think I am going to head outside for a little while. Clear my mind of this… new you. I hope she deserved it Shawn’’ you said, putting on your coat and going inside the house, ready to storm off.

‘’Baby wait, I don’t underst-‘’ Shawn started to chase after you but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the front door being slammed at him. He took a seat on his sofa and tried to call your number before collapsing and passing out right there with his clothes on.

The next morning found him in the same spot he chose the previous night but instead of being greeted with your warm and gentle kisses he was met with a cold and a disheartening silence that tore his ears apart. He tried to stand and cursed at himself when he felt his head spinning and ready to explode, being unable to fully concentrate on what happened yesterday. The only thing he saw were the two wine glasses standing by the pool along with some snacks. He tried to connect the dots while climbing up the stairs to your bedroom, hoping he would see you peacefully sleeping, wiping all of his building worries and questions off his mind.

When he made it in your shared bedroom though, he was disappointed to discover that the sheets were covered in rose petals but you were missing. Going into the bathroom in a final attempt to find you there, he came across his awful state in the mirror and his eyes moved to his collar which was still marked by some rosy shades of lipstick. Instantly, he put the pieces together and he saw everything clear as day.

‘’Shit, shit, shit. No please no’’ he frantically pleaded while looking for his phone, ready to dial your number and spill his guts about what really happened the night before. No matter how many times he tried to contact you, his calls went straight to voicemail not giving him the chance to explain himself.

‘’Fuck! This isn’t supposed to end and it won’t! Please!’’ he desperately cried at an invisible friend in the living room as if trying to make him help him fix the mess he had made.

‘’Y/N please, give me the chance to explain. I know it seems like I fucked up big time but it is not what it seems. Please. Answer my calls and you’ll see I’m still your Shawn please’’ he cried through his speaker, leaving what felt like the hundredth voicemail to your number.

Part of you wanted to give in to his pleas and hear him out but the other part of you felt humiliated and stepped upon. How could the one you were helplessly in love with treat you like this? It was just too much to take in and you knew that if you heard his voice, your walls would come crushing down one by one. However, you felt it was unfair not letting him voice his opinion on the matter no matter what difference it would make if it would make any concerning your feelings.

-Meet me in the park in one hour.

Was the only thing you allowed yourself to send him and tried to collect yourself and prepare mentally for what was to come out of this meeting. Deep down, your decision had been made and you weren’t exactly sure if Shawn would be able to get out of this that easily. Your heart was aching at what happened and you wished it hadn’t happened but reality was there to make you see things objectively and clearly.

After one agonizing hour of thinking and crying in the depths of your bed sheets, you reminded yourself of the meeting you had arranged with Shawn in the park. The walk there was filled with anxiety, nervousness and nerves ready to snap at any given moment. You had to make sure not to let your feelings overflow and just listen to what he had to say on the situation. You wanted to make clear that he hurt you and that he cut too deep with his actions and his behavior afterwards.

Your steps came to a halt when you saw a familiar mop of curls waiting patiently under an oak tree, ready to be faced with truth and facts. You made your way to where he was standing and you cleared your throat to let him know that you had arrived.

‘’Y/N you came’’ he said letting out a breath of relief seeing you standing before him.

‘’Yes, I am curious about what you have to say so desperately’’

Shawn’s face clouded at your harsh statement but you couldn’t help how shattered you felt inside. This was something beyond your powers as it was so he needed to make it easier for both of you.

‘’I see. Y/N please I know I messed up but I want you to know that nothing happened that night at the club’’ Shawn started and you folded your arms in front of your chest in an attempt to keep yourself together.

‘’It seemed more than something to me. I can’t believe you let that happen to us Shawn’’

‘’Y/N please let me be clear. This is not what you think it is. I was at the club with the boys and then all of a sudden a girl approached me and tried to reach my neck for some reason but the boys stopped her before she could go away further. I was shocked at first but I tried to get her off of me which worked. But it was too late because she had already marked the shirt with her lipstick. I swear nothing else happened and I can get the boys here to confirm that too!’’ Shawn said all in one breath and you tried to process all the new information.

‘’And what do you have to say about being outside and having fun with your friends on our one year anniversary Shawn? You don’t know how it felt to see you coming home drunk while I was waiting for something good to celebrate back home. I felt… stupid’’ you said looking down but immediately looking at his hooded eyes.

‘’It totally slipped my mind Y/N. You know that I would cancel everything if I remembered’’

‘’That’s the thing Shawn. That you forgot. Maybe I am an obstacle in your career after all. So I’m making it easier. I will walk away so that you can be free to do whatever you want and continue with your career. Besides I have a career I need to take care of myself’’ you said and Shawn felt his heart clenching at your words. Never had he imagined that you would ask him to part and live separate lives.

‘’Y/N please don’t do this. You know you are all I need and I will make it up to you every day for the rest of my life. Just… stay’’ he pleaded and if you weren’t so hurt and damaged you would have said yes in a heartbeat. But all the hurtful comments, the stunts and Shawn’s pressuring career made you stern and cold.

‘’I am sorry Shawn but I don’t think it will work. I wish you all the best’’ you said and with that you exited a world you thought it was yours as well.

What you hadn’t thought about was the aftermath of your breakup with Shawn. Somehow, the news had leaked and all of the Instagram, the Twitter, the Pinterest and every single platform was posting things about your split up with the dearest boy of pop. You decided it was best if you just disappeared from all the social media for a little while since it wouldn’t do you any good seeing pictures of him pop up every single time of the day. You wanted to forget or at least numb the pain you were feeling and shutting off for a while seemed like the best option.

That little while lasted more than you expected however and even after two months after your parting with Shawn, you couldn’t stand seeing his face being plastered all across your account or even in the TV and the newspapers. Your social life had come down to the minimum and the only thing that kept you sane was your job on a new movie you were currently finishing. To say that your job worked as an antidote to all the aching you had built up inside of you was an understatement. It even made you more passionate in the character you had to impersonate for the movie resulting in a better outcome for the movie.

‘’Okay guys. In five days we have the grand premiere of the movie and I want you all to be there. There is going to be an after party as well but I cannot expect from all of you to be there. It would be a pleasant surprise if you did though. So clear up your schedules from now in order to be free in five days’’ the director told to the crew of the movie and everybody cheered that their newest work would be published soon, except from you.

You loved your job, you really did but the only thing your head wrapped around were the words premiere and after party remembering damn well that those were the circumstances under which you had met Shawn and started talking and hanging out. You didn’t think you had the strength to come to terms with seeing him again, let alone converse with him. Trying to push those thoughts aside, you decided it was best if you just kept your focus solemnly on your new movie and the work you had so passionately invested in it.

‘’Hey don’t you hear me girl? Wait up!’’ you suddenly heard your colleague call after you and you waited for her to catch up with you.

‘’Sorry didn’t hear you. Everything okay?’’ you asked her once she was walking beside you towards the exit of the building you were currently shooting at and offered her a small smile.

‘’I am good I wanted to ask you how you are doing though’’

‘’What do you mean?’’ you were a bit lost and you wanted to make sure you understood completely before providing your answer.

‘’I mean how are you handling your break up? I know it’s been two months but it must be hard seeing it everywhere’’ your friend explained and you were more confused than before.

‘’Can you be more specific please? I don’t think I am following’’ you honestly replied and you saw your friend fishing her mobile phone out of her pocket showing you a picture.

Just when your eyes landed on the picture held in front of your very own eyes, your breath caught in your throat and you felt like the walls were closing in on you. You felt like someone was playing tricks with your mind and just wanted to see you suffering. All of this time, you thought you had made a good job at getting over Shawn or at least trying to escape the aching feeling in your chest but this picture was the proof that you were nowhere near that point.

Right in front of you was Shawn in one of the most attractive suits you had ever seen worn by him hugging and smiling to a very pretty lady. You thought you knew she was Hailee Baldwin from what you had heard before but the sight in front of you pained you.

‘’Oh’’ was all that you said and your vision got blurry. You weren’t ready to face and accept the fact that Shawn had moved on so quickly and so effortlessly like you meant nothing to him.

‘’I thought you knew that’s why I asked you’’ your friend said feeling guilty looking at your saddened gaze.

‘’Well, it’s good I found out this way I guess. No worries though. He belongs in the past and that’s where I intend on keeping him’’ you said more to yourself than to your friend, unable to identify where this certainty came from. Was it sadness? Was it anger? Whatever it was, it hurt. A lot.

‘’I think I’m gonna head home for now. Gotta start getting ready for our movie’’ you said fake-excited and exited the building with hot tears cascading down your cheeks. You didn’t want to accept that Shawn was over you with a snap of his fingers while you were still struggling to make the day without breaking at least one vase in your apartment. Maybe you were never good enough for him and you breaking up with him was the perfect opportunity for him to be freed from you. You didn’t know what to believe anymore. All you knew was that you had to prepare for a premiere which was coming closer and closer.

What you really wished for was for Shawn to be absent and especially unaccompanied by his new lover. You couldn’t have him ruining you both with his physical appearance which was always tempting and pleasant to have around but with this Hailee girl with him as well. You were just human after all and you wanted to finally find some peace. The only thing close to peace you could find was shopping your dress for the big night and that’s exactly how you decided to spend your day.

Walking through busy streets and gazing at beautiful pieces of clothing outside of big windows till a particular one would catch your eye. Just when you were ready to enter a shop, you saw a familiar face coming towards you to greet you. It was Josh, another one of your coworkers who was very friendly and extremely funny to be around.

‘’Y/N! What a coincidence! Shopping for the premiere night aye?’’ he said after giving you a warm hug which you gladly accepted.

‘’Of course. You too?’’ you said giggling.

‘’I have to find a suitable suit I guess. Hey, I wanted to ask you something now that I have you here’’ he said and he grew hesitant by the minute.

‘’Yes of course, go on’’ you encouraged and you sensed him getting nervous.

‘’I was wondering if you’d like to go together to the premiere. Unless of course you have other plans’’ he quickly said and you contemplated your answer for a minute. If you had to endure Shawn coming with his girlfriend, you surely wouldn’t be able to get it through the night alone. Plus, it would be good to finally socialize with someone else rather than your mom and your fridge.

‘’Well, I’d love to’’ you finally agreed and he smiled up at you.

‘’Great. Pick you up at nine then?’’ he asked.

‘’Sounds good to me. See you then!’’ you said and entered the shop, wanting to buy a dress you had been eyeing for far too long.

You weren’t really sure whether what you had just gotten yourself into was for the better or for the worse but the premiere night was finally here and there was no going back now. The only thing remaining was you having fun with Josh and enjoying the thing you had poured your heart and soul into.

Josh was punctual and you both made your way to the crowded venue in which the premiere was going to take place. Arriving there, the flashes of the cameras were blinding as always and you felt thankful that you had Josh to rely upon while trying to get out of the car, ready to answer some of the paparazzis’ questions. You knew there would be a lot of Shawn related questions and you knew you had to answer them no matter what you felt inside.

What you couldn’t handle at all though was seeing him getting out of a car and waving at the screaming crowds like he was born to do this. You wanted if not needed to turn your head elsewhere but Shawn beat you to it and turned his head around first searching for someone and locking his eyes with yours when he found that someone. When your eyes locked, you saw some things that you knew he covered very well even though everyone thought he was ok. You saw sadness, despair and hope. Not wanting to ruin the night further, you averted your gaze towards Josh telling him to move in the building.

Shawn saw that your arm was locked with another guy’s and he felt like the earth was shaking and he was going to collapse at any second. He had come all the way to the premiere because he wanted to have a word with you about your relationship. For him, it was far from over and he wanted to give it another shot no matter the cost. He missed waking up next to you, hearing your steady breathing when he felt like panicking but most importantly he missed how you could keep him down to earth when everything felt a little too much. And he wasn’t willing to lose that.

The movie went smoothly and everyone was congratulating you and all the other actors on the perfect job you had done. You were proud with the outcome and you felt like something was finally going well. Up until Shawn was up next to come and speak to you.

‘’Awesome movie. Congratulations Y/N’’ he said and he shook your hand a little bit longer than necessary. His touch felt warm against your cold skin and for a moment it took you back to the days when you got to experience this every single day. But this was now and he had no right to come here and manipulate you.

‘’Thanks Shawn’’ you replied trying to keep the conversation as small as possible but Shawn had other plans. Gently, he grabbed you by the hand and guided you a bit further from the people in order to be able to talk.

‘’Shawn what are you doing? I need to speak to those people’’ you said and he wasted no time.

‘’Y/N I miss you. Us. And I know you do too. You also know that I am innocent and that nothing happened in the club that night. Please. Look what has become of me. I am half without you’’ Shawn said not caring if people could hear him and he searched in your eyes for any hint of forgiveness or consent.

‘’Who do you think you are Shawn? Coming here and telling me all this stuff while your girlfriend is patiently waiting on you in your house? Please, let me be’’ you said and Shawn was taken aback.

‘’What girlfriend? Y/N I can barely write any music or sleep for that matter and you think I replaced you? I could never do that. You are you Y/N and there is no one else I’d rather be with’’ Shawn tried one last time but you were more determined this time.

‘’Bye Shawn’’. Deep down, you were happy that he didn’t find anyone else and that he was in the same condition as you. It is not that you didn’t want to see him happy, it was just that seeing happy with someone else pained you. Even now. You wanted to jump up in his arms and forgive his stupid mistake of forgetting your anniversary but something was stopping you.

‘’Nothing is stopping you. You have to acknowledge that everyone makes mistakes and that since he didn’t cheat on you, he deeply means all that he is saying’’ you heard a voice from beside you and jumped a little.

‘’I was thinking out loud, wasn’t I?’’ you facepalmed and Josh nodded his head in agreement.

‘’I say you go over there and give him another chance. I feel sorry for him’’ he tried to joke but you knew he was right. You missed him like crazy as well. You missed how goofy he was first thing in the morning or how serious he became when he sensed that something was off with you and wanted to help. You missed how precious he made you feel without really trying or how many times he made you feel loved just by looking at you.

‘’Ugh, I love him so much but-‘’

‘’But what? Y/N I know you miss me baby. I just heard you’’ Shawn said appearing from behind you and you turned crimson red in a matter of seconds.

‘’I could always say you’re crazy and that you misheard’’ you thought for a while and he placed his strong arms around your small frame.

‘’I am crazy but only for you. Let’s go home babygirl. We waited long enough’’.

125 notes · View notes

hymn2000 · 4 years

Text

Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C5

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, mentions of corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 5 - Politics And Papers

Peter couldn’t help being annoyed that his parents had had a takeaway without him.

“How come I had to have soup and you two got a takeaway?” Peter pouted.

“You don’t like kebabs” Loki said.

“No, but I like chips. I would’ve still had something”

“You were in distress” Tony said. “You needed something nourishing”

“I could’ve had salad with my chips”

“Stop trying your luck. It’s done with” Tony said. “Now go and get dressed”

“I don’t want to”

“Tough. Do as you’re told”

Peter pouted and shook his head.

“Well in that case, I’ll get you dressed myself” Loki said, grabbing Peter and throwing him over his shoulder.

Tony chuckled at Peter’s indignant howls and struggling as Loki took him out of the room. It was a relief being able to laugh at something - even something as silly and mundane as that.

Peter put up a good fight, but he was no match for Loki, who was triumphant in his mission. Peter looked at himself in the mirror once it was over.

“I can’t wear this!” he protested.

“Why not?” Loki said.

“It makes me look... cute!”

“You are cute” Loki said. “If you hadn’t made such a fuss, you could have chosen your own outfit. I wouldn’t have had to step in if you’d just been sensible”

Peter scowled. “What am I doing today, anyway?”

“Well, that’s up to you” Loki said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know” Peter shrugged. “I still feel weird because of yesterday”

“I know, chick. Well, perhaps you should take it easy for a while then. Do you want some breakfast?”

“I’m not really hungry”

“Well, a cup of tea at least” Loki said, putting an arm round him. “Come along, chick”

Peter sighed heavily but went along without any fuss. Somehow he felt avoiding another scuffle with his father was probably a good idea.

Tony lit up when he saw Peter.

“Aww, look at you in your little dungarees! You look so cute!”

Peter scowled at him, but Tony just laughed.

“I’m gonna pop into the office. Wanna come with me? We can get bagels on the way”

“I’m not hungry”

“You need to eat, kiddo”

“Fine, I’ll eat!” Peter said, sighing in an exaggerated fashion. “Can’t I just have breakfast here? I don’t want a bagel”

“Ok, ok” Tony said. “We’ll go out in a bit. Now get yourself fed”

Peter wanted to get changed before they went out, but Tony wouldn’t let him. Peter adjusted his outfit as best he could, undoing one of the shoulder straps of the dungarees and choosing an outrageous pair of metallic Dr Martens to go with them. He pulled on a hooded jacket too, hoping to give a bit of cover. Tony gave him a squeeze.

“You’re a cute little kid” he said. “Right, let’s get going”

Peter didn’t really want to be at the office, but he supposed it was better than sitting round the house with nothing to do all day. He still felt funny after the events of the previous day, so he was hoping for a welcome distraction from that little episode.

Being at the office certainly gave him something else to focus on, as everyone was making a fuss of him. Sadly, the hooded jacket and mad boots were not enough to throw off the cuteness that Loki had bestowed upon him during the wardrobe-based conflict that morning.

“You’re just darling!” one lady was saying, pinching his cheeks. “I haven’t seen you since you were one of Kindsprengen’s teenager-turned-toddlers. You were wearing dungarees then, too!”

Peter remembered being victim of Kindsprengen’s gun, but he didn’t remember this woman. Like all of the other people who had pinched his cheeks till they were sore in the past, she just blended in as another faceless hand - not exactly something he favoured in an acquaintance.

“Alright, that’s enough” Tony said, kindly but firmly. “You’re making him look like a little Russian doll”

“He’s a cute kid” Another woman said. “Just like his father”

Tony laughed, but it sounded forced. He put his arm round Peter.

“Come on, kiddo: you can give me a hand with some of these papers”

Being in Tony’s office gave them some much needed privacy.

“Your cheeks’ll be safe for a while in here” Tony said. “Relax, kiddo! You look so tense”

“I am tense. I’m going through some stuff, remember?”

“You brought half of it on yourself, you naughty little bastard” Tony grinned. “You take after your parents”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not”

“Well, you can make up your mind while we get some work done”

There was a lot to do, and a lot Peter could help with - which was good, in a way, because it meant he didn’t have time to think about any of his problems.

“You’re good at this already” Tony said, checking Peter’s work. “You’ll make a great successor one day, chick”

Peter didn’t dare say that maybe he didn’t want to be a successor to Stark Industries. Tony was stressed enough as it was (and so was Peter). Starting an argument wouldn’t do any good for anyone.

While they were at the office, everything was fine. It was a different story, however, when they went outside. As always, word had got out that Tony was at the office, and the paps had shown up, ready with their cameras and notebooks and tape recorders.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of reporters” Tony said, putting an arm tight round Peter. “You know the drill, kiddo”

Peter nodded. Just stay quiet and walk. It was always the same.

There really were a lot of people there - much more than Peter had expected. They were loud too; shouting and asking questions, cameras flashing, people pushing and shoving, trying to get their microphones as close as possible. They really were close too: boxing them in, some of them inches away, some of them very almost grabbing them.

Just stay quiet and walk.

Peter’s heart was thumping hard. He felt overwhelmed; hot, scared. He tried to stay close against Tony, hiding as much as he could. It’d be over in a minute.

Just stay quiet and walk.

Something about the continued lack of response and Peter’s obvious apprehension just seemed to make the reporters more insistent.

“Mr Stark, you’ve yet to release a statement about the ongoing story!”

“Mr Stark, is it true that you planned to hide your biological son behind a fake adoption story forever?”

“Mr Stark, if you’re so insistent he’s not your real son, who won’t you do a DNA test to prove it?”

“Mr Stark, I'm a spokesperson for Benchmark DNA Testing, and-”

“Mr Stark, do you-”

“Mr Stark, is it true that-”

“Mr Stark-!

“Mr Stark-!”

“Mr-Stark-!”

Peter stopped walking. Everything sounded so loud, but so blurry, like he was underwater. He felt sick, and tried to bury his face in Tony’s chest to block everything out.

“Alright, kiddo, alright” Tony said, softly. “Come on; just keep walking”

“Mr Stark, your press manager said you wouldn’t be commenting on this story. What do you have to say to everyone about these rumours?”

Tony held tight to Peter and carried on walking, making Peter walk with him. He tried to ignore all of the shouted questions and statements directed at him. He tried to focus on getting his son to safety.

“Peter, have your always known about your true parentage, or is this information news to you, too?”

Tony stopped dead, turning to stare at the reporter.

“Don’t you dare talk to him! Don’t you have anything better to do than hound a little kid?!” he shouted. “Get away from us! All of you! You’re scaring my boy and I’ll sue each and every one of you if you don’t get out of our way!!”

Miraculously, the crowd parted, although there was still a lot of shouting. Tony sped through with Peter, and within a matter of moments they were in the car and on the road home.

Peter flopped back in his seat, breathing deeply and trying to calm his thumping heart.

“Here” Tony said, handing him a bottle of water.

Peter took the bottle of water and took a few mouthfuls.

“Are you alright? You were shaking like mad back there, and you still look pretty shaken now”

“...I guess I got a bit scared”

“Those bastards. Who do they think they are?” Tony growled. “Coming to my office, shouting in my face, shouting at my son, taking all those photos”

Peter just nodded. Tony looked at him.

“Maybe it was a bad idea taking you out today”

“It was ok at the office” Peter said. “It gave me something else to do. It was just the outside bit that got to me”

“Yeah...” Tony took his hand and kissed the back of it. “Bloody paparazzi. I can deal with them coming onto me: I’ve never really known any different. But I can’t stand them talking to you and pressuring you. Celebrities kids should be strictly off limits, in my opinion”

“Mm... Hey, um, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I...”

Tony glanced at him. “What’s up, chick?”

“I... I wanna see Li Allen”

“Ok” Tony said. “I can give her a call and see if she can come over some time soon”

“Thanks...”

“You know you can always ring her” Tony said. “I know you’ve got her number. And I know you’ve done it in the past”

“Yeah, I know. But sometimes it’s nicer talking to her in person” Peter said. “...I like Li Allen”

“Me too” Tony said. “She’s been brilliant all the time we’ve known her. What a woman”

Peter looked at him. “Do you fancy her?”

“What?” Tony burst out laughing. “Nice one, kid. No, I don’t fancy her. Come on! You’re almost as bad as the papers”

“Sorry...”

“Don’t be” Tony said. “Well anyway, I think it might be best if we kept you inside for a few days”

Peter pouted.

“Don’t give me that look! It’s for the best”

Tony focused on the road. He knew he’d get another ‘you can’t keep the poor thing cooped up all the time’ lecture from Loki, but he also knew it was the right thing to do: He had to keep Peter safe.

Loki confronted Tony when he got home. Tony looked at him warily.

“...What?”

“Please tell me you didn’t actually punch a reporter today”

“Well. Not physically”

“Tony, just give me a straight answer!”

“No, I didn’t punch anyone! Why would I?!”

“Because you were angry?” Loki suggested. “You’re all over social media already. Jo Jo sent me some links”

“I’m not in the habit of punching people when I haven’t got my suit on” Tony said. “Especially not in front of the kid”

Loki looked at Peter. “There’s some apple juice in the fridge”

Peter took the hint and went off to the kitchen. He didn’t want to get in the middle of that kind of dispute anyway.

Loki and Tony had a spat, and then went their separate ways to cool off. Tony went to find Loki late that afternoon.

“Hi”

Loki looked up from his book. “Hi”

“Where’s the kid?”

“Having a bath” Loki said. “If you listen carefully, you can hear the musical stylings of Peter Parker-John”

“What?” Tony listened hard. “I can’t hear anything”

“Mm, well, your ears aren’t as good as mine”

“Yeah... Oh” Tony said. “...Is he alright?”

“Well, if you go and listen outside his room and hear what he’s singing, you’ll find the answer”

Tony blinked at him. “Right. Well. Maybe I will”

“Then do” Loki said, looking back at his book. “We both know you’re his favourite”

Tony knew what Loki meant when he got to Peter’s room. He sighed and knocked on the en suite door. Peter fell silent.

“Peter, is the door unlocked?”

“Yeah”

Tony pushed the door open. “Hey, kiddo”

“Hey” Peter reached across and turned the stereo down.

“What are you listening to?” Tony asked, grabbing the folding chair and sitting down.

“...It’s from Peachtree Road”

“Oh right” Tony said, as though he knew what Peter was talking about. “...Are you alright?”

Peter shrugged.

“Hey, don’t go shutting me out, chick. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I guess today just kinda threw me off a bit” he said. “...I don’t feel too great, actually. It’s been one of those days”

“One of those weeks, I think. Maybe even one of those months” Tony sighed, resting a hand on Peter’s head.

Peter didn’t move, or say anything. They were both quiet for a moment or two, listening to the stereo. Tony knew what Loki meant now.

“Do you want me to leave you to it?”

Peter nodded, pulling away from him. “I’ll come and find you later if you want. I think I might go to sleep for a bit when I’ve had my bath”

“Good idea... I’ll see you in a bit”

Tony made Loki jump when he stormed into the living room.

“I’m cancelling the paparazzi”

“Ok” Loki said. “Wait, what?”

“I’m cancelling them. Cancelled, finished, done with, I hate them. I’m getting rid of them”

“I think you’re being a little bit too ambitious, darling”

“Whatever, I’m not having it! How dare they upset my little boy like that?! How dare they? I won’t stand for this any longer! We both know there’s one surefire way to get them off our backs”

Loki looked at him. There was a small silence.

“Oh” he said. “I see”

“I see indeed!” Tony said, taking his mobile phone out of his pocket. “I’ve gotta make some calls”

Peter sat down next to Loki late that evening. There was silence for a while, but Loki could sense himself being watched, and it was off-putting.

“What?”

“Is dad angry with me?”

Loki lowered his book. “Why would you say that?”

Peter shrugged. “He’s been all weird. Like, I said I’d find him after my bath and sleep, and I did, but he just said he was busy, and he was all quiet at tea, and then he went down to the lab and told me to go and amuse myself when I tried to follow him”

“I think he’s just a little stressed” Loki said. “I wouldn’t take it personally. Give him a little space. He’s not angry with you, I assure you”

“...Are you angry with me?”

“No. Why would I be?”

Peter shrugged. “I guess I’m just feeling a bit paranoid or mixed up or something”

Loki sighed. He set his book aside and put an arm round Peter’s shoulders. Peter leant into him.

“There now. You’re too young to worry this much. Go and have some fun. Why don’t you sneak out your bedroom window and come back drunk off WKD?”

Peter looked at him, a little shocked. “I don’t think dad would be happy about you encouraging underage drinking”

Loki laughed. “That’s just what the kids your age do, isn’t it? The ones at the Home in Scotland do. Did. My point is; act your age. Try to enjoy yourself. Let me read. Ok?”

Peter nodded slowly and slipped off the window seat. He got the message.

Peter did a little search of the house, even though deep down he knew there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in the place. Even the mouthwash and hand gel were alcohol free nowadays. His parents involvement with the AA wasn’t exactly a secret, and although he’d never been given the full facts, he’d overheard a few conversations when he was living with Thor, so he had a pretty good grasp of the situation.

Still, maybe it was just as well: Peter had had a few run-ins with alcohol in the past, and they hadn’t all ended especially well. But, that did leave him at a bit of a loss of what to do. Not being one himself, he wasn’t really sure what normal fifteen year olds did. He didn’t believe the way fifteen year olds were portrayed on the television, and he wasn’t sure he had the best example of teenagers in his real life now either.

He could think back, of course, but the Midtown lot weren’t exactly typical either: there was Ned, who was essentially just a gamer, there was Flash, who was essentially a twat, and there was MJ, who was essentially just strange... There weren’t many other people who could remember very well. The St Hendrick’s lot weren’t typical either. Most of them acted the way you’d expect a toff to act. But there was Macy, who was essentially a bitch, and perhaps a bit of a class rebel, and there was Malaki, who spent most of his time in a teachers office being shouted at. So not exactly a good indication of what he could do - unless he maybe wanted to get arrested.

Hm, that was a thought. Peter knew exactly what he’d do if he wanted to get arrested, and it mainly consisted of stealing Loki’s motorbike and driving through a shopping centre before flipping over the handlebars when he reached the escalator. Not exactly the crime of the century, sure - but effective, he supposed.

Peter wandered into the living room. Truth be told, it wasn’t a room he often had to himself. Not properly, anyway. But now, Loki was busy reading (nothing new, but he had explicitly asked to be left alone), and Tony was busy down in the lab (ditto Loki’s request). So as far as Peter was concerned, he may as well have the house to himself.

He picked up the remote, but decided he wasn’t in the mood for television, and set it aside. Instead, he turned on the stereo and loaded his playlist. Listening to music sounded like a better idea. Despite listening and singing for a while the previous day, it felt like he hadn’t listened to music properly for weeks. Generally, no one minded how loud he played his music, and they’d never complained about his singing. And besides, it was a good outlet...

Something had certainly thrown the household off-kilter, because Peter found himself waking up on the sofa on Friday morning - something that would never happen when things were going well.

He hauled himself up from the sofa, listening hard. The house was silent. Strange, considering the time, but he supposed his parents were still asleep. He went to the kitchen and fixed himself something to eat. He sat at the little table, scrolling on his phone while he had his breakfast, and rather enjoying the peace and quiet. He felt ok. Better than ok. Good, even. He only wished the kitchen had windows so that he had the morning sun shining in on him, like he always did back at the flat, but he knew it couldn’t be helped. Other than that, he couldn’t complain. Even knowing he was grounded wasn’t off-putting: given the circumstances, a day indoors sounded like a fine idea.

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Ranking : John Carpenter (1948 - present)

If one were to name off ten American directors from the past half-century or so in rapid fire fashion, I’d be willing to put money on the table that a vast majority would have the name John Carpenter on that list. His impact on horror, suspense and psychological thriller films is undeniable, and his prolific ability to score his films with iconic music he creates puts him in the realm of legends. For a director that dwells in the areas usually set aside for disposable box office fodder, it is surprising that at least five of his films (and possibly more, depending on who’s doing the debating) could be consider bonafide classics.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about putting this list together was the discovery and true understanding of just how much range that Carpenter is capable of, even if his films are distinctly his both in terms of genre-based elements and directorial style. When it comes to the films Memoirs of an Invisible Man (a personal favorite from my pre-teen years) and Starman, I didn’t even realize they were John Carpenter films because they were so different from what I’d come to know him for. Revisiting the films I was familiar with gave me great joy, and taking in the films I’d overlooked or passed on gave me a deeper understanding of John Carpenter not only as a creative spirit, but as a man trying to stake a claim to his voice in an industry famous for conformity.

With that being said, I took all eighteen of John Carpenter’s feature length films and ranked them in terms of my personal enjoyment and opinion. As always, the floor is open for discussion, so feel free to share your thoughts and open up a dialogue, and enjoy!

18. The Ward (2010) I’m going to be 100% honest with you all… coming in to this list, I pretty much had already decided that Ghosts of Mars was going to anchor this list. Fifteen movies in, it felt like my prediction would come to be. But then, something funny happened… The Ward showed up in my mailbox courtesy of Netflix DVD. I watched the film, and so many other films came to mind : Girl, Interrupted… One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest… Shutter Island… Session 9… Unsane… The Jacket… the list goes on and on. That’s the thing about this film… nearly 40 years in, the last thing you’d expect John Carpenter to be is derivative. The Ward really wants to be an asylum thriller, a revenge-based ghost story and a period piece, but it never really commits to any of its aspirations, and what we’re left with is 90 minutes of Amber Heard, and in an information age obsessed with cancel culture, what’s going on in her personal life is infinitely more compelling than what she’s going through in The Ward. There are some good shots of fire in the film, and Mamie Gummer is acting circles around everyone she shares the frame with, but otherwise there’s not much to this one. Hopefully this won’t be the last film of Carpenter’s career.

17. Ghosts of Mars (2001) If nothing else, Ghosts of Mars is an ambitious film. What it lacks in coherency, it makes up for in its amalgamation of ideas. The film is all at once a prisoner transport film, a film about a team of crack operatives, a film featuring a revolt and a tale about respecting the land that you intend to exploit for its resources. It sets itself up to be a John Carpenter take on Rashomon, with a number of stories being told through a singular unreliable narrator (due to the lack of those left to tell their own story). While there are some good ideas present in this film, not to mention some wonderful examples of non-traditional casting for an action movie, Ghosts of Mars falls short in its need to be everything to everyone. The film has garnered a cult following since its release, but as someone who saw this in theaters during its initial run, it still doesn’t do it for me.

16. Vampires (1998) If From Dusk till Dawn isn’t enough to satisfy your Vampire Western cravings, then I humbly submit to you John Carpenter’s swing at the mixture in the form of Vampires. All the earmarks of both genres are present : a crack team of experts hit hard and early, an undercurrent of religion that neither praises nor damns it, a seemingly insurmountable antagonist with a single-minded blind focus, and even a damsel in distress forced to rough it with the roughnecks. Like many of his films, the Carpenter score plays unofficial star against the bananas series of events laid out. Speaking of crazy events, leave it to the likes of James Woods and Daniel Baldwin to take what could be best classified as pulp material and elevate it into the realms of honest entertainment. While not as flashy or fantastic as some of his previous films, the special effects work is effective (no pun intended), with a nice batch of memorable kills sprinkled throughout the film. If this film would’ve been made in the 1980s, I would argue that it could’ve been timeless, but unfortunately, it screams of the 1990s in all the ways that make a film dated, which is even funnier when you consider it was released near the end of the decade. Vampires is fun, but I’d be lying if I called it a classic.

15. Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) Assault on Precinct 13 marks the proper feature debut for John Carpenter, with Dark Star essentially being a glorified student film. Interestingly enough, the film has a ton of representation across the board in its casting, making it one of the more diverse films released on a major level with its Black lead and strong supporting cast featuring women, Black and Hispanic actors/actresses. At the time the film was released, the gang problem was going from an underground and isolated situation to more of a widespread panic, and Assault on Precinct 13 provides plenty of subtext in terms of how gangs are viewed, the perception of their impact on the community and, most importantly, their everlasting struggles with the police. Speaking of the police, there are some subtle jabs at the inept practices of police in terms of administration and the way the handle prisoners, all of which lead to a perfect storm of despair for our protagonists.

14. Escape from L.A. (1996) This film marked the final collaboration between Kurt Russell and John Carpenter, and what an odd one to finalize such a rich and fruitful collaborative relationship. There are some things about the film that definitely work… Snake Pliskin is (and always will be) magic on the screen. Los Angeles certainly had the landmarks and the culture suitable for stylizing into a post-apocalyptic labyrinth of dangers. The statements the film makes on the moral majority and the isolation of people over cultural and ideological differences works as a harbinger for what could be in an extreme example, and has only become more relevant as time has passed. That being said, this film seems to not know whether it wants to be a comedy on the sly, or whether it’s just accepting of taking the often occasional odd detour for seemingly aesthetic purposes, which makes sense when one realizes that the film spent a decade in development hell simply because Carpenter was afraid to pull the trigger on a script he felt was “too light, too campy”. While a departure in comparison to Escape from New York, and definitely a tonal shift from the vast majority of the Carpenter films, it does have its moments… unfortunately, the moments are not frequent enough to put this one in the upper echelon of Carpenter’s work.

13. Dark Star (1974) For a debut film, Dark Star already had enough elements to be distinctly John Carpenter… the use of an ensemble cast, DIY special effects, a John Carpenter score, and hilariously, a Kurt Russell facsimile in the form of Cal Kuniholm. Oddly, this is really the only proper science-fiction film in the Carpenter canon (outside of the flop turned cult semi-classic Ghost of Mars), with several pieces of machinery requiring voice casting due to their intelligence and autonomy. Dark Star is also unique within the Carpenter legacy due to its reliance on wit, logic and humor more so than star power and wild premises, making it one of the more cerebral films made by Carpenter. On a personal note, my old friend Thomas spent YEARS trying to get me to watch this film, and after finally taking the time to do so, I’d love to have those years back to commit to the fandom of this film. It’s sadly been a bit lost to time, but it’s one of the John Carpenter films that I like to recommend the most, as it definitely deserves to be remembered.

12. The Fog (1980) After a massive hit like Halloween, I’m sure expectations from viewers and critics alike was sky high. With his follow-up after his first foray with fame, John Carpenter released The Fog, a supernatural affair with a much more deliberate pace than anything he’d previously released. Perhaps it was this slower, more methodical approach, combined with an extremely powerful use of subtle practical effects, that makes The Fog feel more like an uneventful slow burn than it actually is. More so than any film he’d released previously, The Fog pulls you in over your head into its tone and mood, and while nothing much on the fantastic side occurs, there are levels to visual stimulus used to engulf viewers in an emotion matching those within the world of The Fog. The sound design for The Fog does a great bit of the heavy lifting as well, which is something that should be noted, as it is some of the best work in that realm that Carpenter and company executed for any of his films. A subtle masterpiece, but it feels like the victim of being made on borrowed time, kind of like an album made by a band while in the midst of touring their breakout release.

11. Prince of Darkness (1987) In-between two of John Carpenter’s most outstanding and wonderfully outlandish offerings came Prince of Darkness, a deeply methodical slow burn that parks itself firmly in the intersection of science and religion and mines it for horrific fodder. Tinges of science fiction, mystery, horror, espionage and the supernatural are all working in tandem to create a literal house of horrors filled with intellectuals blind to the proof right in front of their eyes. As the midpoint of Carpenter’s self-appointed Apocalypse Trilogy (which also features The Thing and In The Mouth of Madness), it certainly continues the tradition of unfolding mysteries and threats that transition from vessel to vessel. Carpenter’s score is doing overtime in terms of setting the mood, nearly establishing itself as a physical presence in the manner that it accents what is presented visually, and the use of color is a bit more expressive than what is normally found in the Carpenter production style. The insect motif is also a nice touch, as it serves to literally make your skin crawl moments before traditional scares occur.

10. Christine (1983) On paper, the combination of a Stephen King story told through the lens of John Carpenter sounds fantastic, and Christine is definitely the type of Stephen King story that can fit the Carpenter bill. Being a teenager can be a frustrating section of life, and for the vast majority, the day that you own a car symbolizes an important step towards maturity and freedom. Stephen King took this ages old scenario and made it a deeper story about finding yourself outside of the protection and orders of others (be it dictator parents, picture perfect friends or a possessed vehicle), and John Carpenter picks up on every nuance of this subtext. Outside of Harry Dean Stanton, the film is cast mostly absent those in the realms of star power (and with all due respect, calling Stanton a traditional star is a stretch)... for my money’s worth, I imagine that Carpenter did this consciously in order to let Christine be the star of her story. Halloween proved that Carpenter knew a thing or two about horror films, and Christine shows that he can apply that formula with such precision that an inanimate object becomes terrifying.

9. Starman (1984) Starman is one of those movies that I’ve always been familiar with, but never took the time to seek out and watch… so much so that I didn’t even realize that it was a John Carpenter film until I started working on this list. Tonally, the film differs from other John Carpenter offerings, as it has more Spielberg energy to it than it does Carpenter stylings (although it does embrace the use of practical special effects, albeit outside of a battle or shock-based context). The invasiveness of an alien lifeform morphing into your lost love one right before your eyes is certainly jarring, but it makes for a stellar hook that yanks the viewer right into the heart of the narrative matter. By using Jeff Daniels’ Starman as a surrogate for someone with no understanding of human customs, Carpenter is able to extoll core human values without coming off as holier than thou or preachy, all the while setting up a buddy road trip scenario in order to accelerate the interaction between his leads and capture some countryside photography along the way. For a director known for doing the most, Starman is a surprisingly tender venture, succeeding via the use of less from a director associated with always doing more.

8. Village of the Damned (1995) The best thing about Village of the Damned is how much it feels like John Carpenter hitting the randomizer button and striking gold with every bit of output. Do you dig small creepy towns? How about unexplained weather anomalies? Strange occurrences and phenomena? A cult made up of psychic kids with mind control abilities that woke up and chose violence? Maybe even a little conspiracy and paranoia? This film has all of that and then some. The film actually stands out as one of the best looking in the Carpenter canon, with a surprisingly vivid use of color implemented that offsets the shades of grey the children are bathed in. Everything about this movie is drenched in a heavy creep factor, especially the performances of the children, who manage to be so pitch perfect in their characterizations that it is genuinely unsettling. Watching this story unfold is one of the most enjoyable experiences presented by Carpenter, and it stands as an example of when a fascinating concept is met with brilliant execution.

7. Memoirs of an Invisible Man (1992) Memoirs of an Invisible Man came out at an interesting crossroads between my budding interest in film, the idling of John Carpenter’s career, and the downward spiral that was Chevy Chase’s career. Looking at it through an objective lens is rough, but time (and the task at hand) has allowed me to do so, and I find that I still enjoy this film as much now as I did then. The special effects at the time were downright jaw-dropping, and many of them still hold up. The practical effects help sell the illusion, so much so that the illusion is implied in points that it would be a budgetary burden and still manages to not distract. With Chase in the lead, one would imagine that the film would be funny, and while not a comedy, it does allow for several beats of well-timed comedic moments. At the time, the film’s narrative was panned for being uninspired, but in my opinion, some of the harsh judgement may have come from the expectations set by the careers of Carpenter and Chase. While not your standard John Carpenter affair, the film does showcase his ability to “play the game” and create solid work, even if it continues to be harshly judged and misunderstood.

6. Escape from New York (1981) When it comes to actors connected to directors, it’s usually not long before the pairing of Kurt Russell and John Carpenter comes up, and Escape from New York marks the genesis of this cinematic bond. With his traditional good looks, no-nonsense attitude and penchant for sharp wit, Russell was the perfect leading man for Carpenter’s vivid cinematic exploitation ventures. As for Escape from New York, the city had yet to undertake its Disneyfication of the 1990s, and the movie stands as a bleak vision of what the crime and moral dissonance of the city (and era) could lead to if taken to the extreme. Creating the worst place in America as an inescapable pit to drop the President into immediately sets the stakes high, and with little to no background, we are given the one man seemingly capable of achieving against impossible odds in the form of Snake Pliskin. Like some kind of urban Mad Max, Escape from New York gets wilder and wilder as the minutes tick away, making it one of the most iconic New York films to date, and one of the strongest offerings from John Carpenter during his legendary run.

5. Halloween (1978) The first of many John Carpenter classic films, and arguably the most iconic of the bunch. Three films in, John Carpenter not only managed to turn one of the biggest profits in independent film history, but he created one of the all time great movie monsters in Michael Myers. The film put Jamie Lee Curtis on a rocket to success, turning her from a burgeoning television hopeful to a certified rising Hollywood star in just one role. In terms of pure production, the trend of growth continued for Carpenter as his cinematography gained more freedom of expression, the performances from his actors and actresses felt more natural, and quite possibly most importantly, his scoring ability was hitting maximum resonance, with the main theme of Halloween being equally as iconic as Michael Myers himself. The film has become an October staple for the masses, but manages to be enjoyable any time of the year due to its sheer ability to entertain and frighten audiences. If one were looking for a singular example of the John Carpenter aesthetic, Halloween stands out as a smart choice. Bonus points to John Carpenter for giving the Howard Hawks produced version of The Thing a shoutout two whole films before remaking it.

4. In the Mouth of Madness (1994) Films about collective psychosis are nothing new… be they fodder for popcorn consumption such as Fallen or Identity, or teetering on the realms of art like Jacob’s Ladder, they are always a strong foundation for something memorable. Maybe that’s why In the Mouth of Madness seems at once exciting and familiar while watching it, as collective psychosis provides John Carpenter with plenty of ingredients to make his trademark-worthy best. Building an entire referential lore around fictional fiction writer Sutter Cane builds all kinds of abstract immersion layers to explore, especially with direct references (and delightful digs) at Stephen King and his Multiverse. Sam Neill and Julie Carmen take us by the hand and yank us through the innovative twists and turns with wonderful chemistry, with Neill giving an especially cavalier performance. The film has a billion and a half production touches that put the creep factors on overdrive, with some of the directing choices nearing the realms of Lynchian. It’s also a nice touch to hear Carpenter back in the scoring chair (even in a shared capacity). Films like this one aren’t done justice via rumination, review or commentary… it’s best to just dive in and deal with the repercussions on the other side of it all.

3. They Live (1988) John Carpenter has made some amazing films in his time, but there are a small chosen few that contain genius-level writing and execution. Of this upper class of films, it’s arguable that They Live is both the most entertaining and the most thought provoking in terms of what it is saying (not to mention how much more relevant that message has gotten over time). A damning examination of capitalism, mass consumption, class divides, media influence and the use of police state tactics, Carpenter paints his science fiction with bold strokes of relevant facts that many often choose to ignore. The action in the film is top notch (including quite possibly one of the best fight scenes ever captured on film between Roddy Piper and Keith David), the makeup work on the aliens is instantly iconic, and the story not only sticks with you, but contains aesthetic elements reminiscent of Jenny Holzer’s influential artwork while being used for an identical purpose. If this list centered solely on John Carpenter minor box office successes that became top tier cult classics, They Live would likely occupy the top spot.

2. The Thing (1982) The Thing is one of those movies that works on so many levels that it’s hard to fathom. The shorthand used to set up the story gives you a clear understanding of the situation with minimal use of exposition that is replaced by loads of character and world building. The threat is initially unclear, but the indication of its eventual impact kicks off the film with context that is only understood after your first complete viewing. John Carpenter turned over the scoring helm to Ennio Morricone, perhaps the only individual who could score a Carpenter film better than Carpenter himself, and the results are classic. The special effects work is brilliant, as it is not only initially shocking to see the terrifying transformations the creature undertakes, but it is deeply traumatic in a way that sticks with viewers permanently. Carpenter could not have asked for a better ensemble cast, especially considering that it seems like everyone came prepared to play team ball rather than try and outshine one another. It’s always fascinating to me that this film was widely rejected both critically and at the box office upon release, as it took me way too long to get around to this one (and I was only 3 at the time of release). I’ve always encountered nothing but deep fandom for the film, and rightly so, as this film is a masterpiece that deserves every piece of praise it receives.

1. Big Trouble in Little China (1986) What doesn’t this film do right? Kurt Russell is giving his all as Jack Burton, and the film beautifully wraps itself around him in a hurricane of action-based slippery slopes. Setting the film in San Francisco automatically gives it a memorable aesthetic, and locking down the majority of the film in iconic Chinatown is nothing but cinematic gold. We’re told that we’re going to get an unbelievable story, then we meet our everyman that will guide us along on our journey, but very quickly his expectations (and by extension, ours) are blown clear out of the water, and things continue to escalate at an exponential rate. Memorable runs in high quantity and quality for this venture… some of the most quotable John Carpenter film lines come from Big Trouble in Little China, his score for the film ranks high among the canon, the special effects are electrifying (pun intended), the action is high octane, and the martial arts is treated with complete respect in its presentation. Outside of They Live or Vampires, this is arguably the most fun film of the Carpenter collection, and is almost guaranteed to turn the unfamiliar into fans.

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abutterflyobsession · 7 years

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We Never Cry: Strange Magic Superhero AU

coauthored by @deluxetrashqueen who basically owns this AU now. Read the previous chapter on Ao3

“Absolutely not.”

Bog folded his arms and set his jaw, looking down his nose at Marianne, resolved to be the victor of this particular encounter, regardless of the odds stacked against him.

“Why not?” Marianne asked, her own arms folded and her head tilted back so she could meet his glare with her own, “It's not bribery, it's not charity, it's not even a gift. It's me replacing something I damaged. I owe you this.”

“Something you damaged? Is this about my bike or my face?”

Bog tucked his arms a little tighter, refusing to give into the temptation of pulling the gleaming new motorcycle upright and checking out its features. The bike sat where Marianne had parked it after she had ridden it around to the loading docks of the supposedly deserted warehouse with a complete lack of discretion.

“What would people think if they saw Marianne Fairwood hanging around empty warehouses?” Bog grumbled, turning the subject away from the motorcycle.

Marianne snorted and leaned on the bike, expression dark. “Marianne Fairwood is a nice young lady who smiles sweetly for the press and poses in front of microscopes in daddy's lab for promotional marketing. Marianne Fairwood does not ride motorcycles into the industrial area of town like some sort of--”

“Nocturnal vigilante?” Bog offered.

“Yeah. People aren't looking for this.” She gestured at her long black coat and heavy boots. “Not to mention I was wearing a helmet like a responsible motorcyclist.”

Bog was forced to unfold his arms to catch the helmet Marianne tossed at him.

“Hey! I said no!”

“Oh, did you? But if you said no, how are you going to make your dramatic exit next time you hit up Fairwood labs or some bank?”

“Isn't that something you should be appreciating? Your father owns Fairwood labs. You're a vigilante. I'm a “supervillain.” Bog made air quotes with his free hand. “One, I might add, who kidnapped your sister not two weeks ago.”

“Please, Dawn thoroughly enjoyed her outing. She's even more of a celebrity now and she's milking the situation for all it's worth. Also, she likes you. 'Boggy'.” Marianne rolled the nickname off her tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Bog covered his eyes with one gloved hand and sighed.

After his mother arrived at the alley Bog and Marianne piled in the van so they could leave the area as quickly as possible. Neither of them had been particularly quiet during their fight and who knew what sort of attention might have been attracted.

“What have you done to yourself now?” His mother demanded, seeing the wreckage of his face. She was so busy peering at him in the rear view mirror that she almost hit a car when she merged into traffic. Bog was thankful that she knew better than to delay their departure with questions, and she barely did more than exclaim a few times before they were well away from the alley.

“You came alone?” Bog asked, gripping the headrest of the passenger side seat as he leaned between the seats to talk to his mother. If he weren't so tired and aching he might have ripped his claws right into the headrest, the surge of panic at the thought of his mother being unprotected nearly drowning everything else out.

“Get back there.” Griselda waved one hand at him, “If somebody sees you all banged up like that we might get stopped.”

“You should have at least--”

“Everyone else was tired from the heist. Anyway, who'd pay attention to me? Some old lady in a van. Now, who's the young lady and how did you two end up looking like you came off for the worse in a fight with a blender? I said sit down!”

Griselda snapped and Bog retreated so swiftly that Marianne chuckled. This drew his mother's attention to Marianne and she squinted into the review mirror, studying the young woman's face in the dim interior of the van.

“Aren't you--?”

“This is Marianne Fairwood,” Bog broke in, “Marianne, Griselda. My mother.”

“Your . . . mom?” A spark of true humor lit up Marianne's eyes, the flash of passing street lights catching on glints of amber. “Your mom picked us up?”

“She's not supposed to be here.” Bog growled, hunching over further in his seat.

“It's just . . . it's just,” Marianne bit her lips to try and keep back a grin, “The mighty Bog King, scourge of the authorities, feared by the helpless citizens, on the FBI's most wanted list . . . got picked up by his mom like a kid who got in trouble for fighting.”

“It isn't funny. She's not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to be here, mother. You're one of the few free agents we have at our disposal, for one thing. For another, if anything happened to you I'd--”

“Hush, son, or you're grounded.”

A laugh exploded out of Marianne and she clapped her hand over her mouth too late to stop it.

Bog eyed her, irritated by her amusement and disconcerted by the thought of what trouble his mother might have gotten into, running around by herself. He was greatly displeased by how no one was taking any of this seriously.

“Marianne Fairwood?” Griselda said, “As in Fairwood Industries? From the looks of my boy I'd say you were an unwilling hostage, but from the way you jumped right in the car I'd say you weren't. First aid kit is under your seat, Bog, if anything is bleeding too much to wait until we're back.”

“I'm fine.” Bog snapped. Which was, of course, a lie. He could still feel Marianne's boot printed on his chest and the cracked rib lanced red hot pain over his torso when he breathed too deeply. “And you,” He glared at Marianne, “So pleased with yourself, but you still live at home with daddy, don't you?”

She shrugged off the barb, “Fair point. But I wasn't laughing at you, Bog. Or you, Mrs. King. It's just so . . . mundane. It doesn't seem to fit. Like we got into a scuffle on the playground and the principal called our parents to come pick us up.”

Bog finally gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah,” he said, looking at the petite crime-fighter sitting across from him. She had delicate features that could not be disguised even by her smeared makeup and the crust of dried blood streaked across her skin. The expressions he'd seen play across her face did not seem suited to it. The deep, seething anger, the wild glee of battle . . . now a weary grin that seemed almost companionable, like a friend sharing a joke. There was nothing delicate about those looks. And there was certainly nothing delicate about her fists.

“Yeah,” Bog said again, breath hitching from another stab from his ribs, “Yeah, I guess it really doesn't fit.”

The trip back to the Bog King's base gave Marianne enough time to catch her breath and start appreciating the extent of her own injuries. She was fairly sure she had a hand print on her ankle from when King had grabbed and thrown her off. Barred lines throbbed on her arms from her hasty climb up the fire escape of the building, and she could feel the glass in her hands that had been driven in deeper by her recent activities. Loosened scales were sliding around in the sleeves of her jacket, adding an irritating itch to her aches and pains.

To top it off she was starving. Wistful thoughts of the arrangements of chocolate dipped fruit on the buffet table that she had never gotten to eat, all of it miles away and coated in dirt and glass, danced in the back of her head. They linked arms with the thought that jumping into a car with The Bog King to some unknown destination was a bad idea. Feet planted on the floor, hand resting on a baton concealed in the lining of her coat, she kept a watchful eye on her new ally.

Likewise, he was watching her, eyes glinting from underneath heavy eyebrows that seemed to rest in a default expression of glowering suspicion. His staff was on the floor under his feet, though, and his arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Whenever they hit a pothole—or the occasional curb—Marianne could see him wince.

When he swung himself out of the back of the van he grunted when his feet hit the ground and he was limping when he led Marianne through the loading bay of what was apparently an empty warehouse. A twinge of guilt plucked at her. After the heat of battle passed she always got hit by guilt and a fear she had gone too far. It was worse now because she was seeing the results firsthand instead of reading about another drug dealer being hospitalized by the city's newest vigilante. She tried to console herself with her own bruises, but it didn't help much when they stepped into a lighted area and she could see exactly how wrecked King's face really was.

“Where is everyone?” King seemed to be confused and gestured for her to follow as he strode away in long, unsteady steps, heading toward an area sectioned off by stacks of empty boxes while Griselda bustled off across the warehouse, “They should have been back before me.”

“Where's my sister?” Marianne shot back, quickening her pace to keep up with him, even though her ankle was telling her she ought to find the nearest chair, sit herself down in it, and never move again.

“Yoohoo!” Griselda King called from across the warehouse, “They're all in here!”

“In where—what are they doing in my lab!”

Disregarding his injuries, King shot over to his mother so fast that Marianne was fairly sure she missed most of his journey when she blinked. Jogging over, she jabbed an elbow into his ribs to get him out of the doorway, where he had stopped short and frozen in place, “Thanks for waiting, King. Now where is--”

“Hello!” Dawn's voice ran out, bright and cheerful as ever.

“--my sister,” Marianne finished, trying to process the sight of what appeared to be a cozy little tea party going on in the middle of a room furnished like Frankenstein's laboratory. She was almost disappointed not to see a few Tesla coils scattered around and sparking with unnecessary electricity.

“Marianne!”

Dawn was seated in a folding chair, one of several parked around an uneven card table. The other chairs were occupied by people who must have been King's cohorts. They must have been, because all of them showed signs of mutation, mostly in earthy discoloration of the skin. Dawn was snugly in the middle of things, obviously overseeing the pouring of tea into an assortment of unmatched mugs, and distributing a plate of oreoes and vanilla wafers. Upon seeing Marianne Dawn jumped up from her chair and hurled herself across the room and into her sister's arms.

“Oh, Marianne! You put on your mask and cape and came to get me? You are the sweetest!”

“What is she doing in my lab?” King demanded, regaining his voice, “Who let her in here?”

“Uh.” Said a small, nervous looking man with a beaked nose, “We had to . . . put her somewhere?”

“That is why we prepared a room!” King growled.

“How considerate,” Marianne said, rolling her eyes before checking over her sister. She grabbed Dawn's face and turned her back and forth. “You okay?”

“Oh, I'm fine now,” Dawn laughed, “They put a bag over my head but when I started to cry they took it off and apologized. Have you seen this lab? I can't believe some of the equipment they've got. So outdated, but it's all fixed up to work anyway, it's amazing. Don't tell dad where I am, just let me stay. I live here now.”

“She's fine.” Marianne said, rolling her eyes again.

“She's in my lab,” King repeated, waiting for someone to share his outrage.

“What a tragedy,” Marianne snorted, stepping away from Dawn so she could check where the intense throbbing in her head was coming from exactly.

“What about you?” Dawn pulled her sister back, “You're a total mess! There's blood in your hair—oh, that looks nasty! What happened to you two?” Her eyes darted back and forth between Marianne and King, taking in their battered forms.

“. . . each other?” Marianne shrugged, thinking longingly of a long soak in a hot bath followed by a three course dinner plus dessert and coffee, “We've kind of . . . reached a truce. I'll get you out of here soon.”

“She's in my lab.” Bog repeated.

“Yes, I am!” Dawn agreed, her brightness shadowing over just a touch at the sight of him looming in the doorway, simmering with anger. But when her eyes fell on King's exposed hands her brightness was not only restored, but it increased, “Omigosh, that looks really advanced! Oh! No wonder you wanted the research!”

“I wanted it back.” King quickly tucked his hands out of sight, “And I want you out of my lab! All of you!” The other occupants of the folding chairs rose as one and scurried out of the room, shoving at each other to try and be the first one out the door, “And tell Gus I want to talk to him. Now!”

“Yessir!” Someone yelped, just before the door banged shut behind them.

“Now,” King turned back to Dawn and Marianne, only to find Dawn tugging on his wrist and dragging his hand back into the open, “What—what are you doing?”

“I've never seen this type of mutation before! Is it at all insect-based? We've really got terribly little data on insect mutations and it's making it hard to do thorough research on reversing—um.”

Dawn shut her mouth, pressing pink lips together and shooting Marianne a look.

Marianne scratched at her wrist under her sleeve, picking out a loose scale and flicking it away, “It's okay—we sort of exchanged notes.”

“Get off!” King shook Dawn's hand off, “Don't—don't touch me!”

Marianne guided Dawn back, glaring at Bog, “Watch your tone!”

“Tell that crazy creature to keep her hands to herself!”

“This crazy creature is my sister and practically a self-made expert in the serum and the mutations caused by it!'

“I'm only still in graduate school, actually,” Dawn said, “But daddy let's me play in the company labs. There really ought to be better encryption on the network where they store the data.”

“I don't care. I want my research back so I could put you back where you belong: somewhere far from me! That's the deal.”

“More or less,” Marianne sighed, “But I believe that was some discussion about sharing information.”

“Once you've returned what's rightfully mine . . . then we can hash that out.”

“Okaaay,” Dawn sat back down at the card table and picked up a mug and gestured to the plate, “Cookie?”

“No!” Bog and Marianne snapped at the same time.

“They've got the chocolate cream,” Dawn said, nibbling an oreo.

Marianne's stomach was past the point of growling. It was past the point of registering hunger at all. A woozy, sick feeling had settled over her and it was making it hard to concentrate. “Darn it,” Marianne said, snatched up a cookie and biting into it.

King gave her a look, “Really? Cookies? Now?”

“I have been chasing after you all night,” She said through a mouthful of crumbs, “I am starving.”

“There's water in the fridge,” Dawn pointed, “No, no! The other fridge!”

“Urgh,” Marianne slammed the door on some gristly looking specimens and located bottled water in the correct refrigerator. She held the chilled bottle to the lump on her head and winced at the contact, “Not to mention blood loss,” She hissed.

“Not to mention,” King snorted, leaning by the door, arms folded and eyes alert.

“Yeah,” Marianne looked over at King's face and tried to pretend it wasn't a twinge of guilt that made her pick up a bottle of water for him, “Here!”

King caught the bottle of water Marianne lobbed at him and the plastic crinkled when he squeezed it too tight. He had straightened up, body tensing like he was under attack. He looked at the innocent bottle of water in his hand and then back at Marianne, confusion all over his face.

“Ah . . . what?”

“Say thank you,” King's mother smacked her son's shoulder as she entered the lab carrying a plate of sandwiches.

“Ow! Mom!”

“Thank her and drink your water! Then go wash your face. Actually, show Miss Fairwood where she can tidy up and see if there's a clean shirt for her somewhere. Then you go wash and change and then you will eat something,”

“Mother, I--”

“Go!”

Marianne gratefully accepted a scrounged t-shirt from a red-faced King and went into the bathroom to change. When she pulled her own shirt off a small shower of scales fluttered to the floor, sparkling in the yellow light. Small patches of scales were missing where she'd been bruised the worst, the exposed skin puckered and sickly pale where it wasn't turning purple. She ran her hands down her arms, brushing free the rest of the loose scales and making sure that her arms hadn't suffered anything worse than bruising.

Dabbing a damp hand towel to the back of her head, she became aware of restless shuffling outside the door.

“Keeping an eye on me, King?”

“So to speak,” He grumbled through the door.

“I promise I'm not going to blow out the side of the building and escape,” Marianne rinsed the hand towel until the pink washed out of the water, “You can go patch yourself up.”

“I'm fine.”

Sitting down on the closed toilet, Marianne pulled up the leg of her pants and inspected the dark bruising on her ankle while she kept talking to King, “How many of your ribs did I crack? At least one, right?”

King mumbled something too low for her to make out.

Out of habit, Marianne swept up the shed scales and funneled them into a pocket of her jacket. Donning her jacket again, she zipped up the pocket and opened the door. She shoved the first aide kit at King. “Do you need any help cleaning up the back of your head?”

“No.”

King entered the bathroom and locked himself in and Marianne found herself alone in the hall with two of Bog's cohorts. Neither seemed inclined to conversation, folding their arms and glaring at her, so she leaned back on the door and asked King some questions.

“How'd you get into the party and plant all those explosives?”

“Caterers.” King grunted.

“It's always the caterers,” Marianne sighed, “Early access to the venue for setup, lots of time to get creative with the decorations.”

Further questions were answered with distracted grunts as King shuffled around in the bathroom. When he finally limped out he was wearing a clean shirt under his jacket, a new pair of gloves on his hands, and his usual dark scowl on his face.

When they got back to the lab they found Dawn cooing over a tank of cockroaches. “Aw, look at your little antennae! Yeah, you groom them, little guy!” She had reached in and was letting one scuttle around over her fingers and palm.

King made a pained noise, deep in his throat.

“Oh, hi!” Dawn gently dropped the roach back into its habitat after kissing the air over it's twitching antennae, “Oh!”

King had slammed the lid back onto the tank the second Dawn's hand was out of the way, “Don't touch the specimens!”

“My hands were clean!”

“That's not--” He looked at the earnest little face in front of him, then glanced over at Marianne's warning expression. King ran a hand down his face and took a breath before continuing more calmly, “Please, don't meddle with my lab, thank you. You're not guests, for pity's sake . . . And aren't young--” King's eyes traveled over Dawn's pink face and bright-eyed expression, “--persons supposed to dislike that sort of thing?” He gestured with a freshly gloved hand at the roaches.

“Hm?” Dawn asked, looking up from making kissing noises through the glass at the roaches.

“Never—never mind.”

Swallowing a bite of cookie, Marianne cleared her throat and tried to bring the conversation back to recent events—despite her enjoyment over King's awkwardness, “So, King,”

“Yes, Fairwood?”

With a habitual twitch to pull down the cuffs of her jacket, Marianne pulled out a folding chair and flipped it around, sitting astride and resting her arms on the back of it, “Obviously you have a reason for thinking Fairwood Industries stole your research, and I honestly can't wait to hear what rock solid proof you have that was enough to justify you blowing the building halfway to kingdom come.”

King grunted, “It's complicated.”

“Enlighten me.”

“The thief copied the digital data and wiped the system,” Dawn said helpfully, “I checked but it's all completely gone. The hard copies were taken too, all the file cabinets.”

Marianne and King stared at Dawn.

“. . . we were talking about it while we waited for you guys to come back,” She shrugged and sipped her tea, “The thief tore their uniform getting the file cabinets out of the loading docks—which I guess means he had help—and left behind a patch with the Fairwood logo on it.”

“That's it?” Marianne stood up, knocking her chair over and kicking it out of the way as she advanced on King, “You endangered my family's lives because of a piece of uniform? You don't even know if it was actually an employee wearing that uniform! It's not like they're kept under lock and key and who would be so recklessly stupid to wear their work uniform while committing a robbery?”

“Let go of my coat, Fairwood,” King hissed.

Marianne hadn't realized she had grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down to her level. She gave his coat another tug and contemplated slamming her forehead into his, grabbing Dawn, and fighting her way out of the warehouse. Drained as she was the thought of fighting made her blood heat up again. All she wanted to do was smash King's face in for daring to threaten her family, for leading her on a wild chase, and just because she really wanted to smash something.

Pain clamped down on her ear and her head was jerked sharply to the side.

“No fighting in the lair!” Griselda said, pinching Marianne's ear, “We're short of furniture as it is without any more of you dummies getting into a brawl in the lab.”

“Ow, mom!” King's tall frame was hunched awkwardly over as he attempted to ease the pressure of his mother's fingers on his ear.

“Hush, both of you!”

Marianne found herself propelled back into her seat. Sitting back down so abruptly shook her enough to remind her of her all too recent injuries. The sharp ache in her head kept her sitting down when she wanted to jump back up and push Griselda out of the way and go for King's throat.

“Look,” Griselda said after shoving her son a safe distance away from Marianne, “There aren't exactly a lot of suspects when it comes to who might even know about this research. And we've got a long list of reasons to think it was Fairwood. Besides, who else is researching this bug juice?”

“Don't call it bug juice,” King growled from his corner.

Griselda's arguments were valid, but Marianne just folded her arms and glared at the room at large. She knew she had lost her temper and acted badly and the embarrassment of losing control—and the twinge of shame when she glanced at King's ripening bruises—made her retreat behind the protection of sullen silence.

“Anyway, I believe it,” Dawn said, “You know how dad has been taking a “whatever it takes” attitude.”

“Dad would never--!” Marianne began to object.

“And,” Dawn interrupted, “he's been very careful not to ask too many questions about the researchers’ methods. He's got half a dozen teams across the country working on this, each team headed up by corporate officials that have been given almost complete freedom in their operations. That's a nice sized pool of suspects to work with.”

“Dawn, you're so calm about all this that I'm starting to think they drugged you.”

King flung his hands up in surrender when Marianne shot him a sharp look, “Didn't give her a thing!”

“He wanted to give her something to knock her out,” Griselda said helpfully, “but we didn't want to overdose her or cause an allergic reaction so we called it quits on the idea.”

“You were going to drug my sister?!”

“I didn't!” King insisted.

“But you would have!”

“Only if I knew it was safe!”

“That doesn't make it better!”

“But he didn't,” Dawn broke in, “And I'm calm because somebody has to be! Deep breaths, Marianne, deep breaths. And you too, Boggy.”

“What did you just call me?” King demanded, a murmur of muffled laughter rising up from around the room.

Laughter exploded out of Marianne.

It only increased when King swung around to level a look of outrage at her.

“Now,” Dawn said, taking advantage of the break in the argument, “It seems to me that the best way to confirm if anyone from our company stole the data is to check out the lab. Everything is funneled into the main lab here in the city. Dad likes to have all the information immediately on hand. If your work was taken it would be put into the system immediately.”

“Oh, and I'm just supposed to sashay up to Fairwood labs and ask to take a look at their computers?” Bog scoffed.

Dawn sipped her tea and smiled her dazzling smile, “Both Marianne and I have access to the labs and computer systems. I'll give you my passcodes and you can slip in the back way. When I go home I can say that you made me give you the codes.”

“Delightful. But I still can't just walk in there. Doubtless there's security.”

“Yes, but Marianne figured out how to loop the cameras remotely.”

“For reasons we won't go into now!” Marianne said quickly.

“It's to give her an alibi when she's off dealing out justice,” Dawn explained, “Now, Boggy--”

Marianne tried not to laugh and started to choke Bog scowled at her to no effect. The situation was out of his control and was at the mercy of the sweet little mad scientist who had easily coaxed the facts out of his mother and his crew, then set herself to constructing a solution to their current problems.

Dawn Fairwood was terrifying.

Dawn waited until her sister stopped choking before continuing with laying out her plan, “Now, Boggy--”

Marianne doubled over, wheezing.

“What do you think?” Marianne had put her mask on and tucked her hair under a black knit cap she had borrowed from one of King's people.

“I think you look daft.”

“I'm trying to go the extra mile with disguise. Most of the staff at the lab know me by sight and a mask might not be enough to fool them up close.”

“I thought the idea was to not let them get close.”

“Yes, but you can't be too careful. And might I say your own disguise is magnificent? The baseball cap is a daring touch.”

King folded his arms, pulling his light jacket tight across his shoulders. Griselda had insisted he wear something less suspicious than his usual billowing gray coat and then attempted to forcibly remove it from his person. King had managed to retain custody of his coat, but only for as long as it took the leave and change in another room. The substitute was much thinner, and when the fabric stretched Marianne could see a patterned outlined on King's shoulders, hard edges poking through the jacket.

She must have been staring, because King unfold his arms and shrugged the jacket loose on his shoulders again. He occupied himself with adjusting his baseball cap, which was embroidered with the mascot of some sports team that Marianne didn't recognize except she thought it might be a football team. She kept her gaze on the mascot, keeping her eyes away from King's wrecked face.

“We're going to have to take the van,” King started walking without waiting to see if Marianne was following, “Since we're both down a motorcycle.”

“Mine wasn't wrecked,” Marianne shrugged, “If the police don't hold it as evidence I'll have a friend get it out of impound. This will be the third time this year that I've had to do that.”

“Lucky you. Let's go. Mom!” King called over to his mother who was brushing off his coat, “If I'm not back in--”

“Just keep your earpiece on, honey,” Griselda waved him off, “We'll be listening. Scream if you need anything.”

“The scope of this operation is breathtaking,” Marianne remarked.

King slung a backpack into the van, saying,“Look, princess, I know the concept of a shoestring budget is foreign to you—hey!”

A gaggle of King's people had been passing, scattering nervously at the sight of their boss. King had apparently spotted something that displeased him, seeing as he slammed his fist against the side of the van, shouting as he rushed at the fleeing crowd.

“Gus! Gus, I see you there!”

The unfortunate Gus was snagged by the collar and dragged into the open. King spun Gus around to face him, grabbing the front of his shirt and giving his victim a vicious shake. Gus was at least as twice as wide as King and almost as tall, but only the very toes of his shoes were touching the ground.

“What were you thinking?” King demanded, “Handing me a weapon at the party? We discussed this at length and yet it doesn't seem to have penetrated your remarkably dense skull!” He gave another shake for emphasis, “I could have killed someone! And then where would we be?”

“I thought—I thought it was for dramatic effect?” Gus offered, too unsettled to form a more comprehensive explanation.

“Dramatic—dramatic effect?” King's face screwed up in confusion over this unexpected response to his violent interrogation, “Why would I--? You know what, don't answer that! Just try not to be so ruddy stupid in the future!”

Gus was thrown to the floor and King swung around in a way that would have made his absent coat billow impressively.

King jumped behind the wheel of the van, twisted the key in the ignition and slammed the car into drive, barely waiting for the garage door to be opened before he stomped on the gas. Marianne waited until they were a few blocks away before saying:

“You're going the wrong way.”

King gnashed his teeth together and swung the van around so fast Marianne could feel the vehicle tipping a little.

“So,” she said slowly, “Gus . . . he's the guy who handed you your staff right before you nearly brained me?”

Silence.

“Is this something that happens a lot? You almost caving people's skulls in? As a potential associate I feel like I should know if this is a regular thing or only for special occasions and particularly annoying princesses.”

The only reply was King adjusting the settings on the air conditioner.

Marianne knew she should drop the subject. But there was something uncomfortably familiar with how he had almost smashed her head. If he really had been out of control, just like . . .

A firm shake of her head sent the train of thought spinning off to the back of her mind and also reminded her that she hurt. A lot.

“I'm sorry,” King said, so abruptly that Marianne almost couldn't make out the words.

“I'm sorry?” she asked stupidly.

“For the party.”

“Oh.”

It was hard to come up with a response to that. King had, after all, threatened all their lives, terrorized Marianne's father, kidnapped her sister, and just generally pulled no punches. Marianne rubbed her arms, feeling scales and bruises through her sleeves.

Did she forgive King?

Some small measure of trust had already been built up between them, yes, but that felt like an entirely separate issue. The circumstances had changed so drastically, so completely, Marianne wasn't sure where she stood anymore. For a glorious hour the world had been painted in stark black and white. King was the villain, Marianne was the hero. But the black and white had run together, turning into muddy grays.

“Don't mention it,” Marianne shrugged.

Getting into the lab was straightforward enough. They parked the car a couple blocks away where Marianne kept a stash of clothing and a spare phone. She always ditched her own phone at the lab and switched it out for a burner. She changed the phone regularly and only Dawn was kept apprised of the latest number in case of emergencies. The burners were also installed with the program necessary to loop the cameras and allow her to come and go unseen.

“Can you do that on other systems?” King asked, looking over her shoulder at the footage from the lab security cameras streaming on her phone.

“I'm not hacking bank security systems for you.”

“I wasn't asking.”

“Good.”

The phone streamed the unlooped footage live to Marianne's phone and helped them navigate around the security guards doing their rounds. Marianne located a computer that would give them direct access to the servers that kept all the data backed up and stored, entered Dawn's passwords, then pushed her swivel chair aside, waving a hand for King to take the keyboard.

“You know what you're looking for, have at it.”

King made a hesitant move toward the keyboard, then stopped, curling his gloved hand into a fist and letting it fall to his side, “I can't.”

“Can't what?”

King's fingers flexed, an involuntary nervous twitch that drew Marianne's eye. The gloves didn't fit right on King's hands and before he clenched his hand shut again she could see that the tip of one claw was already working its way through a hole in the tip of the glove's index finger.

Claws no doubt presented a unique challenge when it came to the use of a keyboard, Marianne realized, and the gloves only made it worse. And he would as soon take off his gloves as she would take off her jacket and expose her arms.

“Oh,” she said, “Oh! Okay. Give me some criteria to go on and I'll start digging. I know these systems almost as well as Dawn. Pull up a chair and tell me when I'm getting warm.”

Marianne scooted her chair back in front of the computer, quickly pulling up the research results she had been going over the weekend previously. King sat down in a chair so far away Marianne would have offered him binoculars if she hadn't seen how he was nervously rubbing his hands together, eyes darting back and forth across the room, keeping an eye on the exits.

They found the stolen research under the heading of “Asset BK: Serum Reversal”.

“They really did steal it. And they actually used your initials,” Marianne skimmed through some of the documents while King pulled a portable hard drive out of his backpack in preparation for retrieving the data, “That's pretty bold.”

“It's not a connection most people would be in a position to make.”

“I guess.”

The transfer of the research to the hard drive didn't take too long, but both of them were tense, locked in the dark room with only the glow of the computer for light. Turning on the lights might alert a passing guard or be seen through the window, even though they had drawn the shades.

“Lucky,” King said, wrapping the drive up in a faded towel and putting it back in his bag, “In a weird way. I had just backed up the most recent results, so the loss of my file cabinets shouldn't be too much of a wrench. I don't suppose we could go looking for those?”

“Not on your life! Even if they're here, if we could find them, I'm not helping you carry them all the way back to the car.”

“Fine,” King sighed in defeat.

Marianne pulled her mask off and rubbed her tired eyes, taking a moment to collect herself.

Someone in Fairwood labs had actually stolen King's research. They'd taken a desperate man's hope. A man who appeared to be supporting a large number of people who had also been exposed to the serum. So many people, when Marianne had thought she was the only one. One was a freak accident, two suspicious, a warehouse full of people reduced to robbing banks to finance a cure? That had all the signs of a conspiracy. Somebody was doing human testing off the books.

Someone in Fairwood was rotten.

Marianne should have been filled with righteous anger, with resolve to get to the bottom of this mess and strangle whoever was responsible. Instead, she was just very tired. It had been a long day and she still had to get her sister home safely and put the police off of King's trail.

“I'm sorry,” She said, putting her mask back on.

“For what?” King asked.

“Oh, for everything, really. Let's get out of here while we can still limp.”

“Seriously,” Marianne patted the motorcycle, “This is yours. I owe it to you. Not just for your bike, but because Fairwood stole your research. And Dawn got you this key chain.”

She tossed Bog the keys.

He caught them, finding they were attached to a bright pink plastic flower. He stood there, helmet in one hand, keys in the other, trying to ignore the tempting metallic gleam of the bike, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Marianne.

“Is this the only reason you showed up here? Just to give me a bike?”

“Should I have another reason?”

Bog raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, fine,” she waved a hand, “I figured you could use some samples of my blood for your research.”

Bog’s eyebrows remained aloft.

“Maaaybe I had a couple questions about your setup here. And just generally discuss who’s behind this whole research theft mess. Dawn’s been making inquiries, but she can only get so far without raising any red flags in the company.”

Bog’s eyebrows returned to their usual resting place, drawn down over his eyes in a frown.

His immediate instinct was to tell Marianne Fairwood to get lost and take her bike with her. He didn't need a spoiled princess and her corrupt business nosing around and messing up his operation.

But he was still marveling that Marianne had come back.

Once Dawn had been safely returned home he expected never to hear from either of the Fairwood sisters again. After they had left he had spent the rest of the night and most of the next day anxiously prowling the warehouse, waiting to hear police sirens wailing their way to his doorstep. Everything important had been packed up and everyone was on alert to make a run for it on his signal. But the police didn't come and by the next evening Bog called off the alert and let everyone rest.

Then Marianne Fairwood came back, ready to continue the partnership they had hastily formed after they finished beating each other black and blue. Bog was oddly glad to see her and loath to see her leave again.

“I can only offer you coffee,” he said, waving for her to follow him into the warehouse.

“As long as there's sugar then that's perfect,” Marianne followed after him, “You taking the bike, then?”

“I'm thinking about it.”

“I'll tell Dawn you liked the key chain.”

“Hmph.”

#strange magic #spread the lofe #butterfly bog #pixiepine #bog and dawn brotp #strange magic superhero au #superhero au #we never cry #my writing #fanfic #deluxetrashqueen #coauthored

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5questions · 7 years

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BEN TANZER

Bio: Ben is the author of the just released book Be Cool – a memoir (sort of), among others. He also oversees the lifestyle empire This Blog Will Change Your Life (changeyourlifethiswill.com) and frequently speaks on the topics of messaging, framing, social media, blogging, fiction, essay writing and independent publishing. He can be found online at tanzerben.com.

What writing or other projects are you working on currently?

Given that my current efforts to overthrow the government are going slow, and the mid-term elections are still a couple of years away, I have been working on a follow-up to my novel Orphans titled Foundlings, which shifts from the point of view of the male protagonist to that of his wife. It's a road novel and a rumination on family, story and the act of moving from dystopia to utopia. I've been working on a novel about memory as well. It traces a relationship over several decades and the impact of that relationship on both the married couple at the center of the story, as well as their daughter. I'm also continuing to expand the offerings at This Blog Will Change Your Life, my ongoing and quasi cultural lifestyle empire, which has long hosted a Zine, podcast and book riffings, but is now launching a handbook series and T-shirt business too. If any or all of that works, or someone merely sends me a large sum of money, you can also look forward to a jeans line, perfume, doughnut shop, taco stand and Gin distillery.

Your recent memoir Be Cool, along with some of your past work, has a heavy sense of setting. New York State and the City of Chicago are too of the settings that come to mind. I think setting is one of the most important elements in fiction. What do you think? How you see the Midwest as different than the Northeast? What’s similar?

Whether I'm writing fiction or nonfiction, I tend to start with a sliver of something, an idea, a conversation, a mood, or impulse. As I expand and mold that into an actual piece, I start to visualize the spaces where the story is unfolding and as I write I suck up whatever details I see in my head. In terms of the Midwest and Northeast, which are the places I have spent much of my life living in, my experience is that the small towns and urban centers have more in common with their respective small towns and urban centers than not, regardless of region. There are always unique qualities, food, industry, religion, sometimes, and music, but political leanings, and hobbies, day to day life, how people fall in love, how they fight, communicate, and don't, and how the towns look in terms of stores and plazas and gas stations, it's all very similar, something I think we saw more clearly in the recent election, though what all that means, continues to be misunderstood.

Your writing has a very detailed sense of memory and also a playful sense of humor. Who are writers you like for their humor writing? What about writers who focus on delving into memories deeply?

I'm fascinated with memory, how we tell our stories, how they change, and how other people remember things. Among my friends and family I'm known as someone who remembers everything, and yet, I am also routinely told that stories which I know to be fact, I remember incorrectly or have embellished beyond anything recognized as truth. I am also fascinated by, and value, humor, always have, though in fiction, I never consciously try to ensure a piece has humor, and in essay writing I always do, consciously trying to balance humor and pain, sometimes sentence by sentence even as I'm editing. In one way, my earliest influence in terms of thinking about writing and essay and humor, was David Sedaris, but my first, and ongoing, influence, is Jim Carroll, and The Basketball Diaries in particular, a book that can be both shockingly sordid and depressing, but is also quite funny and electric and everything I aspire to be on the page. More recently, and possibly my biggest influence in crafting my previous essay collection Lost in Space, is the writing of Sam Irby and her collection MEATY. I would also include Megan Stielstra, Wendy C. Ortiz and Scott McClanahan in this mix, because I know they have influenced me with their love of word, truth telling and verve. I wouldn't want to leave out more random influences, however, or things that surely have had some impact, for example, watching Richard Pryor in Live on the Sunset Strip, the Mr. Natural comix that floated around my house when I was kid, listening to Steve Martin's comedy album A Wild and Crazy Guy, MAD magazine, Animal House, the Beastie Boys and the RAMONES. They're all influences as well, though when, why and how they've played a role, is not always clear to me.

What's your day-to-day life like? Do you like it?

To be clear, I'm terribly boring. I have spent much of my adult life working 9-5, worrying about retirement plans, vacation time and health insurance. I have two children who I make sandwiches for on most mornings and I have been married for twenty years. That said, I get to write nearly every day, the children are beautiful, when not calling me a hypocrite or reminding me that no one reads my books, I still laugh with my wife, I meet really cool people, do readings, and podcasts, and so much of it is so very good, lovely even. But do I actually like it? Most of the time, yes, though I am contractually obligated to say that. I do mean it though, it's just that, maybe not quite being 9-5 would be nice. Say 10-4. And being able to run and write every morning to start the day because that window would actually exist to do so would be cool. Also, time to drink and surf - and no, I don't know how to surf, it's fantasy, but all of this is at the moment - and tacos, every afternoon. I might also enjoy being counted on just a little less to always know where band-aids are, which will happen eventually, the house being empty more often, which may never happen and living near the beach. I want all of those things, and maybe, somehow, I will figure that out, and when I do, I want to believe that I will like a lot.

A lot of artists and writers have had calls to action or predictions that art/literature in America will change greatly in this new era after the recent election of Trump. Could you or do you see your own work changing? I saw that you recently attended the Women’s March in Chicago with your son.

The work will change because we will change because the world has changed and because while it will not always be conscious, our work will reflect what's happening around us. So, will my work change? I'm sure it will. I won't try to write in anyway that is any more political unless I'm asked to, but I'm sure bullies and liars will certainly become more prominent characters in my work. I have already been thinking of a thing where I can see characters like those creeping-in. Will I become more political regardless though? Fuck yes. I already was, but clearly not enough. I went to marches and I made donations, but I wasn't in it, or absorbed by it, and I'm going to try and figure out how I can be. One thing for sure, and this may be minor, is that I want to focus more on what's being said and calling that out. Words matter. Facts matter. Science matters. And when there are lies, and untruths, and alternative facts being treated as actual facts, people have to draw attention to that in the same way we have to call out bullying, misogynistic, homophobic, anti-Semitic and racist behavior when we encounter it. We can't sit by and wait for someone else to do something, because when we do, we get this, and this is fucking terrible. You also get me becoming very preachy and I do apologize for that.

#racism #antisemitism #homophobia #misogyny #women's march #chicago #new york #wendy c. ortiz #Scott McClanahan #steve martin #beastie boys #ramones #this blog will change your life #this podcast will change your life #ben tanzer #be cool #andrew duncan worthington #midwest #northeast

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jessicakehoe · 5 years

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Clothing Swaps and Live Theatre Come Together at Toronto’s Fringe Festival

Amanda Barker and Dale Boyer, the longtime friends behind the inventive new play/clothing swap fittingly titled Clotheswap, have had their own Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants moment. In the 15+ years that they’ve been attending swaps together, Barker has amassed almost all of Boyer’s jeans. “The first swap that she ever had I couldn’t believe it, you know we’re not the same body type, but if Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants taught us anything, it’s that everybody can wear the same jeans,” says Barker.

It makes sense, considering their long history of hosting and attending clothing swaps, that the two writers/comedians would weave those shared experiences into a part-scripted, part-improvised theatrical performance that is currently underway at Toronto’s Fringe Festival. Earlier this week, I made my way to The Textile Museum of Canada for an afternoon performance of the show, which sees Erin (Cassie Cao), Krimp (Ashley Comeau), Geri (Tarah Consoli), and Brenda (Amanda Barker) convening in Renata’s (Karen Parker) dead grandmother’s home for a clothes swap. All sorts of insecurities, flaws, and pent-up feelings are revealed over the course of the show, the narrative script making you feel as though you’re listening in on a conversation amongst friends, while the skillfully executed improvisation opens the story up to the audience. Audience members are encouraged to bring their own clothing to be used during the performance, and participate in a real-life clothing swap after the show. The remaining pieces are donated to local charities such as Sistering and Dress for Success.

The first time Boyer and Barker saw each other was at a previous Toronto Fringe Festival back in 2002, however, they didn’t actually meet until 2003. After being cast together in “Tony N’ Tina’s Wedding” at The Second City, they started their own sketch troupe called “Shame is Right!”. Since then, they’ve worked together on countless projects, such as 2015’s Home for the Holidays with Jann Arden.

Photography Courtesy of Bryan Cacciatore

When the idea for Clotheswap started to form, Boyer says she and Barker didn’t see themselves in any of the roles. “It’s funny, we wrote this show and we actually didn’t envision ourselves within it at all. But it was really important for us to create, as best we could in 90 minutes anyway, fully fleshed women who were contradictory, even within themselves.” 76% of the people working in the garment industry are female, says Barker, and so the show is as much about the narrative of the clothing itself as the narrative of the women wearing it, driving home the point that this is very much a woman’s story to tell.

The story also comes from a deeply personal place, seeing as clothing swaps have long been a big part of both Barker and Boyer’s lives. “Probably as long as we’ve known each other we’ve been doing clothes swaps, and we kind of have a core group that do them now,” says Boyer, at whose home Barker attended her first-ever swap, back in 2002 or 2003. Since then, the women have been to countless more swaps, all of which have been organized a bit differently. “The last swap I went to actually was a very painstaking process of one piece at a time—honestly it was about an 8-hour swap,” says Barker. Others might allow ‘battles’ (where one swapper has to prove to another why she or he deserves that particular garment), and some might just be a complete free-for-all.

Clotheswap shows women of all different backgrounds, professions, and sizes coming together to swap their clothing, which is indicative of how clothing swaps work in real life. Diversity and inclusivity were a huge influence for the script, Barker explains, because it’s what they love the most about their own swaps, which she describes as “some of our most fulfilling times to get together as women, because it’s not just within an insular group. Swapping really does span all different socio-economic and cultural gaps.” Clothing swaps also bring up conversations about life, memories, attachment and body image, which aren’t female-specific, which is why Barker hopes to encourage more men to get involved as well. “This story is also about all the non-female identifying people in our lives. For us, we want men to swap, we want non-female identifiers to swap, because fabric is for everyone.”

Aside from the personal and emotional elements of a clothing swap, there’s a sustainable and eco-conscious angle to them as well. “For the last four years we’ve been studying the effects of fast fashion, how it obviously affects the world but also our day to day,” says Barker. According to her research, 86% of donated garments end up in landfills because people are giving away unwanted stained, ripped, or smelly clothing. “The textile industry in Kenya, which was once one of their most thriving and vibrant industries, no longer exists because of our donations of fast fashion.” These days, a lot of textiles can’t be recycled because they’re frequently blended with synthetic fibres, making it virtually impossible to separate one from the other.

While Barker describes herself as “not a hoarder, but close,” Boyer considers herself a “deep swapper,” rarely keeping clothing for more than a season. “The funny thing is that I have more fabulous, wonderful clothes than I have ever had in my life. When you’re not holding on to something, that’s when things show up for me.”

The post Clothing Swaps and Live Theatre Come Together at Toronto’s Fringe Festival appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

Clothing Swaps and Live Theatre Come Together at Toronto’s Fringe Festival published first on https://borboletabags.tumblr.com/

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magicmenageriestuff · 5 years

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3am Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.) – The K.L.F.

( The Ancients of Mu Mu )

Alien 3 – Paranoia In Pinewood part 2

The six stages of Film Production : as seen carved into the wall in Pinewood, Studio Five, by someone presumably better-versed in the industry than I :

Wild enthusiasm

Disillusionment

Panic

Search For The Guilty

Punish The Innocent

Reward The Non-Involved

The above quote from the diary I kept in 1991 while filming Alien 3 in Pinewood Studios. I released it into the atmosphere as My Pop Life #171 – Praying For Time. I think it’s time for part 2, don’t you?

Somebody send me a clean version of this picture. thanks.

Things settled down a little after the heart-thumping and deeply paranoid first month recorded in the previous episode. No one was sacked. I don’t think. No one was re-cast. There was a terrible accident one day when Sigourney’s make-up lady Linda was standing in a doorway on set – one of those science fiction doorways with a sliding panel which goes up and down with a swish. It was a wooden contraption with a weighted pulley which failed, and it came down suddenly onto her face, right onto her nose. I wasn’t there but it was a nasty accident and she was rushed to hospital. We never saw Linda again. Later I learned that she didn’t want to claim the medical expenses from the company, but having had a facial reconstruction and various operations I think that she eventually did settle. Dangerous places film sets.

The cast of Alien 3 with David Fincher on set, 1991

My relationship with Sigourney had subsided into a kind of sulk, and although she would make the odd remark, the earlier fire and brimstone had calmed down a bit. Not that we’d made up at all. Sadly we weren’t friends. I’d confided in other cast members – Niall Buggy thought I was completely bonkers “What are you talking about Ralph, she’s lovely!” Pete Postlethwaite and Phil Davis felt the same way. Dhobi Oparei too. I was happy that they were enjoying working with her, but just as I started feeling cornered, there was Charles Dance asking me how it was all going as we waited for a set-up. I think I was tentative at first but eventually told him what had been going on. He confessed that he’d had the same kind of experience. “Is that how you’re going to say it?” and all of the paranoia about how clean he looked, other competitive nonsense. I felt relieved that I wasn’t going totally mad. It was only people she had scenes with where the behaviour occurred. Wait – was Charles Dutton also having this relationship with her? No. He was a friend already and he was not the enemy. Charlie and I have been firm friends ever since.

Charles Dance as Clemens

One day on set Sigourney and I had a scene on a balcony, after the fire. Men had died. The Alien was trapped, locked in a loading bay. Dutton and his men were praying below us. The scene wasn’t going well. But we got it at around 8.00pm and Fincher pulled me aside. “Dude. She vampired that scene. Don’t worry I can cut around what you did, we got it. But you’re letting her get to you.” I think I said that I was trying to stand my ground. “If you ever need to leave the set, take five minutes, regain your centre, just say it OK? I got your back.” It was another welcome acknowledgement that I wasn’t paranoid. I went home, cuddled my lady and gritted my teeth for the long haul. I had to try and protect my performance at the end of the day, that was what mattered.

the balcony scene is in the “director’s cut” on the DVD

As the weeks progressed, all of the actors were called in every day, in case we were needed. First thing – put through ‘the works’ – costume and make-up – and then sat in our dressing rooms to await the call, often all day. I often went into the next-door dressing room occupied by the Prison Governor, my boss the legend Brian Glover, who’d memorably played the gym teacher in Ken Loach‘s heartbreaking film Kes. Brian was from Barnsley and did the voice overs for Tetley Tea Bags : ‘Tetley. Make tea bags. Make Tea.‘

youtube

Brian Glover as Andrews

Brian regaled me with stories from his days as a professional wrestler, fighting on the circuit with Giant Haystacks, Big Daddy and Mick McManus. ‘There’s money in ugly Ralph‘ he would announce, his squashed ear a keepsake of his years playing rugby. Every 45 minutes the lovely 2nd AD Marcia Gay would knock and pop her head around the door – ‘Gentlemen. You won’t be required for the next 45 minutes. Just relax‘. This became alarmingly irritating until one day Brian swivelled his giant head in her direction and asked ‘Is the money the same?‘ Marcia was puzzled. ‘Yes‘ she said. ‘Well Fook Off Then!‘ shouted Brian. Rude and fucking funny.

Fincher on the camera with Alex Thomson alongside him who had taken over as DP when Jordan Cronenweth was too ill to continue

There were eventually four units running at the same time – 1st Unit with David Fincher directing and another legend Chris Carreras as 1st AD. The eye of any storm, the 1st AD basically runs the set, oversees all of the departments and keeps a keen eye on who is slowing the unit down. The 1st AD is basically making the film. Chris had an amazingly calm temperament but I saw him biting his tongue a couple of times. Years later in 1999 I would contact him and ask him to 1st AD my film New Year’s Day, which he graciously agreed to do. Without him it wouldn’t have got made. I was going to create a link there to the blog where I talk about the film that I wrote and which actually got made. So scarred am I from this experience that 220 blog posts later I haven’t even started to think about discussing it. Watch this space !

Paul McGann as Golic

Meanwhile back in Pinewood, the other 3 units which might or might not need actors for any given day were : 2nd Unit with Martin Brierly directing (and Nick Heckstall-Smith assisting, whom I would also work with later), Action Unit doing Alien Stuff and other SFX, and a Fire Unit which set fire to things and put them out while stunt guys ran around with falmes one their clothes. We were all required, at one point or another, on all of these units. But there were interminable days when nothing happened. Backgammon became institutionalised, with American actors Chris Fields and particularly Holt McCallany relieving us of our wages on a regular basis with ruthless use of the doubling dice. I soon saw the error of this form of time-wasting, likewise poker and other competitive pursuits.

Clive Mantle as William, Peter Guinness as Gregor

One day when it was clear once again that nothing was going to happen a group of us decided to wander around the studio lot and see what else was going on. Like a bunch of escaped prisoners escorted by a correction facility officer. That was me. We went into one of the bigger studio buildings (Alien 3 had the majority but some were still available for hire) – I can’t remember precisely who was in that gang but I think Peter Guinness, Paul Brennan, Clive Mantle and Danny Webb certainly were. Maybe Niall Buggy and Vincenzo Nicoli too. And there was a giant pyramid structure with lights on frames around it and people with cloaks wandering about. We’d asked permission to visit of course, and the producers knew who we were, what we were doing there. The band was The K.L.F. and they were shooting a video for their single 3am Eternal which had been at Number 1 in the charts that January. A video it turned out, for the US market. We watched a take with smoke and lights, bleeps and heavy metal guitar chords, acid house beats and rap, capes and cloaks. It was all a bit mental. Then they took a break.

We wandered into the next studio through a heavy door. And there was Kylie Minogue, dressed for the Shocked video. We were all introduced and I became suddenly aware of a tiny elfin Australian blonde woman being dwarfed by half a dozen dirty shaven-headed prisoners from outer space. She shook everyone’s hand then gently wandered away and asked one of her people if they could ask us politely to leave. Which we did. Poor love.

Kylie Minogue is Shocked at the power of love in 1991

There’s a curious link here because Bill Drummond, (who with Jimmy Cauty is The K.L.F.) had worked as an A&R man for WEA (now Warners) in London in the mid-80s and had apparently spent half a million pounds on a band called Brilliant who never quite took off. Stock Aitken & Waterman were writers & producers for Brilliant, and Jimmy Cauty was in the band along with Martin Glover aka Youth from Killing Joke. And Stock Aitken & Waterman were now writing and producing for Kylie, along with a vast stable of acts including Donna Summer, Mel & Kim and Jason Donovan. Kylie & Jason had starred together in Aussie soap Neighbours, and to continue the odd waltz between the 2 acts, the K.L.F. had made a single called ‘Kylie Said To Jason‘ which was a hilarious rip-off of ‘Left To My Own Devices‘ by The Pet Shop Boys. Confused Yet ??

Bill Drummond & Jimmy Cauty

I didn’t make any of these connections at the time. I was listening to George Michael, Public Enemy, The Breeders. Catching up with Bob Marley and Miles Davis. Discovering Wagner – again. Looming on the horizon was Massive Attack. The K.L.F. seemed to me a little like The Tubes, one of my favourite bands to be sure, or the Bonzo Dog Band (see My Pop Life #77), formed by musicians who wanted to lampoon the music and the industry and anything else they could gather into their fiendish net. Like everything was in quotes. I mean who sang along with the phrase “Ancients of MuMu” without a silly grin on their face?

And of course we were still recovering from the smiley-face rave culture moment from which the K.L.F. appeared to have emerged. In fact they were rather more like a situationist art project that wanted to burn the whole thing down. Anarchists. Their career was inspired partly by the theatre show The Illuminatus Trilogy, written and directed by mad genius Ken Campbell in Liverpool where Bill had been the set designer. He walked out one day to buy a sandwich and never came back. Later he formed his Pop Group who became The Timelords with big novelty hit Doctoring The Tardis, then The JAMS (Justified Ancients of MuMu) with the single What Time Is Love which got re-issued a number of times from 1988 onward, then The K.L.F. Their brilliant warped career peaked a year later in 1992 at the BRIT Awards when Drummond machine-gunned the audience of music industry execs from the stage, and a dead sheep was left at the door of the afterparty with the message “I died for you – bon appetit” attached. A few months later in May 1992 The K.L.F. announced that they had quit the music business and deleted their entire back catalogue. Other stunts followed such as the infamous burning of a million pounds, the Soup Line, the 17 Choir and other innovative ideas. Apparently Bill Drummond lived just down the hill from me when I was in Brighton but I never met him, I don’t think.

Niall Buggy as Eric, Danny Webb as Morse

Back on the Alien3 set a few days later it was Valentine’s Day. I had been sent a card and an AD delivered it to me as we relaxed between shots. It was of course from Jenny my beloved. We were not married at that point. And I could swear Sigourney was looking over my shoulder to see who it was from. Hahaha. Fincher was shooting a lot of footage. “I’m doing long pans & track so they can’t cut into my footage” he explained one day. It meant that when we had a group scene we could open a book on how many takes it would be. Anything under five was unpopular. Over twelve was possible, common even. I think we did a tenner per set-up. Someone wrote the names down and the number they’d chosen. Often no one would win because we went up to Take 17 and no one wanted to put ten of your earth pounds on that.

Here’s an idea…

In fact Sigourney and I had one of our scenes discussing plans regarding telling the company their was an Alien on the planet, and playing a fella who wanted to go home to his wife and kids, rather than perish in some millennial cult group suicide, Aaron ’85’ suggested a plan. Ripley’s response was tentatively ‘yes maybe‘. We did a couple of wide shots, then into my single. Can’t remember how many takes it was – probably around seven or eight. Then turned round onto Sigourney. David didn’t like her tone, which suggested that Ripley thought Aaron was a dick. He didn’t think that was right at that point in the story. So. One more. Turn over. Sound Speed. Scene 178 take 17. Mark it. And….Action! Blah blah blah. Cut. Same result. He’s not your enemy. Take 22. Don’t sneer. Take 29. You think it’s a good idea. Take 34. By which time we were all so exhausted and dizzy from the repetition that Sigourney said the line in a kind of dazed acquiescence and Fincher had the take he wanted.

About a year later in Los Angeles, after the re-shoots, I had two days of ADR in a West LA studio on Olympic Boulevard. David remembered the scene well, 34 takes. He’d never done ADR before though – Automated Dialogue Replacement – where you can change the inflexion, emphasis, tone, shade and meaning of a line just by using your voice and matching the lip movements on screen in front of you precisely. Movie magic. Some actors hate it, I made friends with the process very early on after I had to voice the whole of my performance as Danny in Withnail & I for the US market. The test screenings had indicated that audience members couldn’t understand what he was saying. Who could? I did that piece of work at Twickenham Studios in 1987 where the engineer consoled me having to re-do my entire performance at the same speed except more intelligibly by telling me that Michael Caine had done Alfie and Bob Hoskins had also done The Long Good Friday for America. And yet we were expected to understand Stallone’s mumbles or Pacino’s – hey that’s what it means to be an outlying part of The Empire right? I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen the US version of Withnail but I suspect it would be a bad idea. But having said that the experience toughened me up for future sessions. Especially the Alien 3 session which was two long days – the reason for that was the amount of atmospheric smoke and steam in the design of the film which was very noisy to produce. Often back in the day on big movies the Sound Department knew that they were recording a guide track only, to be completed and polished in ADR. So here we were down on W. Olympic and David says – if I’d known about ADR in Pinewood I would never have done 34 takes just for a vocal inflection…

It’s hard to recall now in 2019 how difficult that experience was. Jenny can remember quite clearly how I would come home every day, full of doubt, full of worry and anguish, just because I was trying to do my best work. What a fantastic opportunity for me, but you know I was running fast just to stand still. I remember a visual image I used to produce while trying to explain it to friends, as a learning curve which came from my chest, looped back over my head and stabbed me in the back. I wondered if, at some point, whether the fact that we were making a horror film in space meant that we had to have a horrible experience in space. I called Richard E. Grant one day who was shooting Hudson Hawk in Italy – another picnic – and he asked me how much I was getting. I told him. He said

“well – that’s the amount of shit you have to eat then.”

I could almost understand why Bill Drummond had formed The K.L.F.

youtube

My Pop Life #220 : 3am Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.) – The K.L.F. 3am Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.) - The K.L.F. ( The Ancients of Mu Mu )

#Alien 3 #Bill Drummond #Brian Glover #Charles Dance #Chris Carreras #Danny Webb #David Fincher #Jimmy Cauty #Kylie Minogue #Paul McGann #Sigourney Weaver #The Illuminatus Trilogy

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

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These moths really weren't necessary

by Sören Heim

Monday, 04 April 2016

Trying to get a hold of the "New Weird" Movement, Sören Heim started with a modern classic.~

Some early passages of China Miéville's Perdido Street Station I'd like to have read out loud to me by Dylan Thomas' powerful bardic voice. There are poetic, even melodic moments in this book, with just the right amount of dissonance to match the fantastic-dystopic setting of New Crobuzon, loosely modeled on the cityscape of modern London. I was directed towards Miéville by fans in the aftermath of my criticism of fantasy authors mistaking being "dark" and morally ambiguous for literary merit in itself, when I asked about writers who don't either try to imitate Tolkien or outrightly criticize the genre's tropes, but tell a story for its own sake. And one can tell from the better parts of Perdido that Miéville is trying to do something special here, as it seems he is always trying, which is why Matt Hilliard wrote this about him:

"I’ll say this for the book: it might have failed with me, but it was an ambitious failure. Better to fail through overreaching than from insufficient aspirations. I don’t recommend this one but I’ll be eagerly awaiting Miéville’s next novel."

So as a type of "industrial novel", and maybe as a verbose painting of a metropolis,

Perdido Street Station

certainly has its appeal and some of its better moments remind me (mind, I don't say something like that easily) of established classics in the genre like Dos Passo's

Manhattan Transfer

, Döblin's

Berlin Alexanderplatz

, Belyj's

Peterburg

or the much too rarely read

Riverroad

by Mwangi.

Shakespeare with bugs, bad pun intended

So much for the light. There is a lot of mediocrity and some darkness, too.

Perdido Street Station

, among other things, tells the story of Isaac and Lin, him a scientist, her an artist, who both try to achieve something extraordinary in their field: Isaac tries to restore the gift of flight to Yagharek, member of a birdlike species called Garuda, who has been sentenced by his people to losing his wings, because of the incredible crime called "choice-theft in the second degree with utter disrespect". Meanwhile, Lin wants to break out of the collectivist ideal of art of her social background and therefore agrees to work on the likeness of a shady underworld mogul in New Crobuzon. As far as that goes

Perdido

is in the beginning chiefly a

“Künstlerroman”

, since science in Miévilles cosmos looks a lot like our physics, but is really much closer to what in other fantastic novels would be called magic (at least the field of thaumaturgy, which is Isaac's main interest). At the same time, the book tells the story of the unheard-of love between a human (again: Isaac) and a khepri (Lin), who is basically a human-bug chimera. Sounds interesting enough, and could easily carry the whole piece. Shakespeare made a somewhat successful play on a subject-matter maybe less risque, and one is told that a lot of writers followed in his footsteps...

But since Miéville isn't too fond of the whole "show, don't tell" business, he merely states all the possible conflicts that could arise from that love affair in two or three somewhat extended infodumps and then mostly forgets about it. Hardly ever is the reader made to

feel

the social stigma imprinted on the relationship of Lin and Isaac. Same goes for what it means being a "rogue scientist" or an artist desperately struggling with a completely new approach to ones passion. Instead, Miéville actually writes sentences like "She was an Artist, yadayadayada... He was a scientist, yadayadayada", and he does this more often than is good for any halfway decent character portrayal. He is better with his supporting cast though, which makes me wonder whether he maybe just didn't like his protagonist that much, and would also explain why he quickly has Lin taken into captivity by her mobster-artfunder and has her become the center of a substandard damsel-in-distress storyline instead of actually doing something more with her.

Writing - and failing at - three books at once

It is a common criticism of

Perdido Street Station

that China Miéville is too interested in New Crobuzon itself and doesn't care about getting the plot going for most of the first half of the book. To me, that only rings partly true. Actually, maybe there is rather too much going on plot-wise and Miéville's main problem is that he hadn't really decided what kind of book he was going to write. The künstlerroman/love story portion dominating roughly 1/3 of

Perdido

could, as mentioned above, stand quite well for itself. It's no

Portrait of the Artist

, but if it were a little bit more subtly developed it could be quite enjoyable. What does it mean for an artist, coming from a background which frowns upon individual expression, to work for a mobster who would and does kill to make it possible for her to do her job? How is Garuda society really structured besides from being described as somehow "communist"? How does this communism work without tipping over into Soviet-like totalitarianism? Does it only work because the Garuda live a nomadic lifestyle? Or because they are simply psychological so different from human beings? Or does Miéville, who styles himself a communist, know something about how to avoid previous failings of communism, he wishes to share? Also: what makes "choice-theft in the second degree with utter disrespect" a crime too complicated even to

try

to explain it in plain English to Isaac?

Learning more about all this and much more might make for an interesting read, maybe even with some story-wise pointless subplots, which could really help to

experience

the whole New Crobuzon cosmos Miéville goes on and on about without ever really showing what it

means

to live in it.

Demented Mothmonsters. I mean: Moth-Dementors. I mean Nazgul. Whatever

Instead, well... This is where

Perdido Street Station

started to lose me and got me more and more angry. Instead after some three- or four hundred pages Miéville begins to conjure up mind- and soul- sucking mothmonsters, living on the dreams of the inhabitants of New Crobuzon. If that reminds you of Rowling's Dementors or the even more prototypical Nazgul, that is because they are basically like that but much less cool. (Actually, of course, Issac conjures up the moths while investigating flying animals in order to help Yagharek regain his abilities, but since this is the point where the whole book finally falls apart shifting the blame from author to protagonist feels to me rather fishy). Suddenly, it seems as if Miéville had changed his mind completely and decided to write a mystery-thriller/detective story instead of his panoptic of a huge, vibrant city. Writing good mystery is much tougher than one might think, and Miéville is clearly not up to the task. His mystery doesn't take off, there isn't much detecting to do and while

Perdido

thus rapidly slides into

Ghostbusters

trash territory, this doesn't really work either, because a) the book never built up to be that kind of story; and b) the moth-dementors can't be busted by mere human beings anyway. Miéville solves this problem by inventing a poetry-loving spider-ex-machina which weaves and reweaves the fabric of the universe according to purely aesthetic criteria. That is mildly odd and funny. But it is much too late for

Perdido

to succeed as comedy.

When bad things happen to good books

Now, maybe I'm being a little harsh here with Miéville since the novel, as stated, clearly has its moments. But seeing how well it starts out and how completely Miéville manages to ruin

Perdido

not only for me but I think also for most readers who would have loved to experience a well-composed mystery-novel within Miéville's intriguing setting, is really disappointing. More so, since I feel I share at least some visions with the author about what a real masterpiece of speculative fiction could look like. Miéville

trying to achieve something special and he could well be the author who one day will. So when reading

Perdido

I was more than once reminded of a great moment in

Frasier

, when Kate Costas comments on Frasier completely losing track of what he was going to say: "Isn't it sad when bad things happen to good sentences?"

Yes. And it's true for books, too.

Finally, whatever exactly Miéville was trying to do with

Perdido

, his late revelation that Yagharek in Garuda society has actually raped a woman (that is the aforementioned "choice theft in the second degree", a crime impossible to translate from Garuda to English), is clearly not the way to achieve it.

It might be well-intended

, showing us how somebody we deeply invest in and care for might not be worth the effort, and how being on quests with somebody and having lived through a lot doesn't mean necessarily one has to stand up for this person. Miéville even does make his point half-way convincingly, by having Isaac turn away from Yagharek.

It still feels cheap

, since Miéville pulls "rape" out of thin air in the end, just in order to make a point. It is more for effect really, and Miéville opts out of discussing the implications much too easily by having the novel end immediately afterwards. Also: what's so difficult to explain about this "choice-theft in the second degree with utter disrespect"? Victim Kar’uchai has no trouble saying something along the lines of "you would call it rape". Maybe this is also meant to show how bad of a person Yagharek really is, concealing his crime before. But to me, it just doesn't add up convincingly.Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Books

Sci-fi / Fantasy

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James D

at 21:46 on 2016-04-04Agreed on basically all points. The "rape revelation" could have worked if it had appeared around halfway through the Kuenstlerroman version - in the actual book Isaac goes from denial to acceptance to "fuck it, I'm outta here" in the span of about a page.

In reality, how many people would immediately, unquestioningly believe a stranger's claim that their friend raped her, without evidence other than her say-so? Besides which, Isaac is financially obligated to Yagharek, who has invested lots of his own money (gained by fighting in dangerous gladiatorial bouts) in the cure. That money was spent, Isaac can't give him a refund, and besides that it's money that maintains Isaac's standard of living - would he just immediately give that up without question? And is permanent maiming even a just punishment for rape? These are legitimate questions that Isaac could easily have spent half of a much better novel considering, and probably would have, given that we see Isaac is the type of guy loathe to give up his status and comfortable life to go against the grain, i.e. his unwillingness to "go public" with his relationship with Lin for fear of jeopardizing his cushy academic position. There are SO MANY FACTORS that are set up which would cause Isaac to be highly skeptical of the victim's (totally legitimate) claims, and instead he just immediately believes her based on...well, I guess she seems trustworthy.

Instead rape, which Mieville apparently considers a serious crime, is just an offhand afterthought in the coda to the main plot.

Oh and I forgot if you mentioned the fridging of Lin but that was super lame too. I think most people agree on these criticisms, it just depends on how much they drag down your overall reading experience. In mine (and apparently yours), the answer is quite a bit.

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Ichneumon

at 04:50 on 2016-04-05I've been meaning to read this for a while, but from previous discussions and reading about the book, I thought part of the point of obscuring the wording was a way of framing just how differently the Garuda view their society from humans in that world. Everything is framed as a matter of choice, and to deprive another person of that freedom in an especially disrespectful manner is an abomination to them; thus, sexual violence is described in terms of denying a person their freedom to choose and refusing to honour a choice made by another. While not *entirely* alien, it's certainly unusual. It also comes up in at least one of his other Bas-Lag novels.

I wonder if one notices more hints in that direction on a second read. Having read some of Miéville's other work, particularly short fiction, it wouldn't surprise me if he dropped subtle hints that reward a second or third look. None of this changes that it might be a poorly structured book or unpleasantly rushed at the end, but it's worth considering.

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Arthur B

at 07:22 on 2016-04-05@JamesD:

There are SO MANY FACTORS that are set up which would cause Isaac to be highly skeptical of the victim's (totally legitimate) claims, and instead he just immediately believes her based on...well, I guess she seems trustworthy.

It's been a good long time since I read the book, but I seem to remember that Isaac's life is comprehensively wrecked by the end. Which I guess makes it easy to walk away from Yagharek, because none of the factors which could potentially have prompted him to disbelieve and stick around apply any more.

@Ichneumon:

From what I remember of the book, a reread would be more an issue of noticing all the bits which Mieville spills a bunch of ink on but which don't appreciably increase our understanding of the world or characters or advance the plot.

For instance, I seem to remember a bit where the mayor summons a demon to try to deal with the moth problem and they have this long conversation which amounts to absolutely nothing which wouldn't have been accomplished by a one-sentence aside that the mayor had sought infernal help which was refused. Likewise, the one other bit I remember strongly (there's great swathes of eminently forgettable stuff in there) is the

Dungeons & Dragons

parody when he mentions the parties of wandering adventurers who try to take down the moth, which also outstays its welcome.

To that extent I disagree that Mieville isn't into "show, don't tell" - the real problem is that he just tells us stuff that could have been more interesting if he showed it and shows us stuff which he should perhaps just told us about and moved on.

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James D

at 10:13 on 2016-04-05

You're right, Isaac had lost his girlfriend and was on the run, which would've made it easier. It's not that it's completely unbelievable that Isaac would do what he did, it's that Mieville chose the least interesting, least dramatic way to handle what could've been a really interesting character dilemma - and a much, much more interesting conflict than "we gotta kill some monsters."

And yeah there are all sorts of throwaway parts of the book which are neat for worldbuilding I guess but completely without plot significance - there was also the part where the Handlers fight the slake-moths and get their asses beat with no results. I suppose he's trying to show how the establishment of Bas-Lag is trying their best to beat the moths and failing, but these are long, drawn-out sequences that don't involve main characters, have no real stakes, and don't move the plot forward.

I think a while back we were discussing this (with valse de la lune IIRC?) and you said Mieville should just take these cool worldbuilding ideas that clutter up his novels and sell them as flashcards.

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http://arilou-skiff.livejournal.com/

at 10:57 on 2016-04-05Mieville has always felt weird in that he's half literati and half pulp, and seems to really enjoy both parts.

RE: Believing victim, IIRC Yagharek was pretty insistent that yes, he had committed a crime (though not disclosing was it was) and yes, it was a bad one. It's just that until he was directly confronted with the possibility of *what* that crime was, Isaac could feign ignorance about what it might imply to have committed a crime.

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Arthur B

at 11:28 on 2016-04-05

That's it.

To give Mieville his due, one thing I did quite like about that arc - or at least, the way I remember it - was how Isaac basically tossed aside any consideration of what Yagharek's crime might have been (and now that you remind me, I do vaguely remember Yagharek regularly being like "No, seriously, I did a really bad thing"), partly because of precisely the sort of issues James outlines with it not really being in Isaac's interests to question the point too deeply, partly down to Isaac blithely assuming "Oh, it's some cultural thing, Garuda are so ~exotic~ and ~inscrutable~ so I probably wouldn't understand it anyway."

So perhaps the handling of it is a bit more nuanced than we're giving China credit for, since it does involve Isaac assuming a stance of self-serving ignorance until he is confronted with the cold, hard, undeniable facts.

Doesn't change the fact that it feels like a cheap shot from out of left field when you read it though - or the fact that it comes slightly too late for the moment to really have the resonance it deserves.

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Sören Heim

at 12:35 on 2016-04-05

Yes, that's a more accurate way of putting it. I seem to have completely repressed the Mayor & Demon part of the book.

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Arthur B

at 12:42 on 2016-04-05On the point about Mieville apparently not liking Isaac at all - I think the rape revelation kind of lends a bit of credence to that. Think about it: not only has Isaac's life been thoroughly, absolutely, comprehensively trashed, but right at the end he finds out that all this trouble happened because he decided to help someone who, now that he knows exactly what they have done, he doesn't even want to know anymore.

Not only has Isaac destroyed himself, but he's destroyed himself for no reason. The dude never gets a break; had the book gone on for five more pages I wouldn't have been surprised if Mieville had himself manifest in front of Isaac, kick him square in the balls, and take a piss on him as he lay twitching in agony on the floor.

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Sören Heim

at 15:05 on 2016-04-05Since I haven't read any of his others I can only judge from this book, but does it have to be about liking Isaac, or couldn't it just be that Mieville wants to paint a rather bleak picture of life in general (or life under capitalism at least, which would fit with his political persuasion). None of the more idealistic characters seem to have a lot turning out well for them.

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Arthur B

at 16:23 on 2016-04-05He does have a tendency towards downer endings and plot arcs that tend to project characters into dustbins. Though some of the downer endings show a bit more... kindness? compassion?... for the protagonists in question. (I'm thinking in particular of the end of

The Iron Council

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James D

at 21:42 on 2016-04-05The funny thing is, of the novels I've read, I like Isaac by far the most out of any of Mieville's protagonists. He's clearly not perfect, but his failings are understandable and he's generally likeable. I mean his greatest problem is that he has trouble doing the right thing when it means great personal inconvenience and possibly hardship - something everyone struggles with.

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Ichneumon

at 17:02 on 2016-04-07I think this is part of why I stick with short fiction when it comes to writers like Miéville: The brevity forces a greater degree of focus, the ideas are mostly self-contained, and even the most frustrating characters don't overstay their welcome.

Which is ironic, given that I actually *do* enjoy self-indulgent digressions and "pointless" events should they be appropriately interesting or amusing in their own right. But the problem is, length increases time, and time increases the potential for impatience, particularly in novels; and because of this, novels tend to have an expected progression and degree of efficiency which undercuts the novelist's ability to spread their scope beyond a certain point.

Incidentally, I wouldn't be surprised if the turn-of-the-century "social novel" is one of Miéville's inspirations in how he structures his work. Zola and his kin certainly aligned with his political views, and the idea that every angle of a broader conflict should be explored in depth regardless of whether the individual stories really cohere beyond thematic continuity or just "fitting the whole world in a book" seems appealing to his personality and aesthetics. Likewise, the cadence of his prose has a definite hard realist feel despite the subject matter being moderately to exceedingly fantastical more often than not.

That said, the thrill of the panopticon is in seeing *everything,* and while I do think that eliding certain events is key to giving an impression of how much is going on, your comments give me the impression that more time could have been given to underexplored ideas to balance out the satirical and tangential asides.

But I dunno. I'm not very keen on whaling on books for seemingly deliberate structural choices when I can understand why they're there, even if I don't agree with them. Maybe this just reflects my impatience with how people look at novels. I get that it's somewhat of a necessity to consider them through the lens of narrative efficiency based on the time investment involved, and I do love a gripping, tightly focused read—The Shadow of the Torturer had me hurtling along at lightning speed, and I do rather enjoy a good potboiler or breezy vacation book now and then—but as I said, I also like when stuff gets convoluted and digressive and messy, and if the only point of a scene is to expound upon a theme or show a cool idea or make the world feel richer, then so be it.

However, those scenes are best when they come back to bite you in the end, especially if they seem completely meaningless at first. Incidentally, the work of fiction that immediately comes to mind in this arena is not a book (exactly), but the webcomic Homestuck, which, say what you will about it otherwise, is basically a master class on how to make the average reader think you're just throwing random shit at them and then bring it back with a grisly vengeance when they least expect it. Hussie really goes all the way down the Pynchonian self-reference rabbit hole in ways that are almost sui generis, for better or worse, and assuming that anything is simply fluff is often a mortal mistake.

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Ichneumon

at 17:33 on 2016-04-07P.S. To be quite honest, I don't especially care if he had to shoehorn in the slake-moths or the Weaver, because they are both really fun concepts if nothing else, and stuffing in fun concepts because fuck you, I'm China Miéville seems like a better rationale than, for instance, the publisher-mandated sex scene meme.

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James D

at 02:00 on 2016-04-08The thing is, that's exactly the central problem of the novel - if he wanted to write a "social novel" (something I'd probably really really enjoy if it were set in a crazy fantasy world), then the central "monster hunt" plot was terribly ill-fitting and simplistic and distracting from the genuinely interesting stuff (I found the strike-breaking scene much more interesting than the moth crap). If he wanted to write a "monster hunt" story then all the extraneous social novel stuff only served to slow down what needed to be a fast-paced thrill ride full of derring-do and whatnot. It's just a bad marriage from the ground up.

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Sören Heim

at 13:55 on 2016-04-08

It's just a bad marriage from the ground up.

- Yes. I'd have loved to read some kind of Perdido-Street-Ulysses (if well executed) and I might have liked a faced paced mothhunt ( it wouldn't have to be moths, though). It's not that I want the book to be something it just isn't, but to be at least one of the things it could be instead of trying for a bunch of them and failing at every one. Although the more I read the less I felt that Mievilles worldbuilding would allow for deeper exploration. It is opulent, but it often seems like he just took social problems he wanted to make a point about and constructed a fantastic equivalent, without worrying too much if it fits all together.

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Ichneumon

at 06:47 on 2018-08-08Hmmm.

Looking back on my prior comments after having read

The Scar

and loved it (while acknowledging that it does have its faults and weird aspects), I really do wonder how I’d feel about

Perdido Street Station

. To be frank, I can see many of the issues you have with this novel reflected in that one, and... wasn’t bothered by them at all? Your description does suggest a rougher work, maybe Miéville feeling out the tack he wanted to take with these novels, but there’s a lot there I’m sure you’d take umbrage with that I actually adored. It’s certainly an acquired taste, however, and not exactly subtle thematically speaking.

#Ferretbrain #China Miéville #Perdido Street Station #Soren Heim #Fantasy Rape Watch

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ubereyezconfessions-blog · 5 years

Text

2/6/19-2/7/19 Riders

Potentially a eye opener for a ride. With age and experience I’m becoming more aware of what sides of the city offer. From lifestyles, people, and outlooks. As some call this city a stirring pot, our lives are mixing at a scary rate. Or at least mine is.

My outlook with the work this week is to reach a certain amount of rides to hit some bonuses from the company. Nothing major to me, but this comes with having 30 rides for the first tier bonus, and 60 for the second. This night I covered about 17-18 trips. So i was thoroughly throughout the city.

Revenge Of The Nerds

My first ride that sticks out in mind is in Venice Beach. Judging the event and the occupants, this was a tech meeting or a start up of some sorts. Approaching the car upon arrival are 4 guys. I’ll call this the “Revenge of the Nerds”. One Russian, one Asian, one Middle Eastern, or perhaps two of them were. But mentally this was a very weird trip. A vast majority of the trip felt like a lot of coded conversations that I was picking up without much trying. And I can explain how this was confirmed. So heading toward the freeway, these guys were discussing being at a meeting with Google. They really felt the need to stress this or with stating this it would make me want to join in and ask about what they all were doing. But as usual I stick to my driving and focusing on the road. So there getting into some conversation where they keep talking about Speech 0″. Mental image keeps thinking of a reddit meme where it takes some Fallout scene shot. But I couldnt help but think they were speaking in the idea that I was talking. Along the ride, a song was on. And for this night I decided to hide the display of what song was playing and who was the artisit. More so, so peopl would catch the song and not all that extra info. The car becomes quiet at a certain point and these lyrics go off.

“I was trained to be a soldier for God But as soon as I used my own thoughts I kinda got lost in this smog called reality Where hell is a fallacy And Heaven is a fantasy created by man, so don't believe in it You came in here with nothing then your leaving with Nothing so retreat from this world of deceitfulness But my people it's time to rise Realize there's a heaven whether you think it's inside or in the sky Reach for it before it's gone eternally And you stuck here below the heavens for eternity“

And it breaks into a hook and the Russian in the passenger seat says “Encrypted data. Private companies use encrypted data to protect themselves but let people have it”, something along those lines. “Basically youll get the message but wont know who gave it”. Mentally that was kinda spot on.

Then off the freeway we were cruising down Venice blvd. and Im assuming with the streetlights shining in the vehicle. This allowed a view of my Black Panther keychain. Cause a conversation about Marvel ensued. The spoke upon Stan Lee creating Spiderman or being the main thing he created, amongst The Incredible Hulk. Then they brought up Into The Spiderverse, the recent film and mentally I was hit with the line “Wow, Youre like me”. If youve seen the movie, you’d understand. But with all that, just funny timing because we reach La Cienaga were there is a Captain America mural. Or maybe a coincidence from the universe. But this is were the ride finishes up and not much else is exchanged and the ride ends.

Deceptive Intentions

Now in Hollywood I pick up a rider. Originally this was just supposed to be him although he was standing with a woman. Which when they got in they explained that they both ordered separate rides but since I arrived first, they both got in and the male basically let it be known that he didnt mind paying for the ride. Once again, Im assuming its a couple already so Im completely tuning out the conversation and that when I learn the chick is a mind reader. Along the way Im just in my own world and I come across this thought that I might just be kinda set up to be a music artist and immediately at that thought the woman says “I love musicians, I just cant help it. Even if they are emotionally unstable”. And the male replies, “Probably because you are too”. She laughs and i suppose signalling she agrees. We reach her drop off and she gets out with a hug to him and a “goodnight” to me. At this point the Guy jumps back in after letting her out and this is where he changes to a new person. “SHE NEEDS TO BREAK UP WITH HER BOYFRIEND” “DID YOU SEE HOW HOT SHE WAS?”, He stated pretty hyped up. Which as I tell you, I try to distance myself from the riders. I didnt even see the woman to have a frame of reference. But kinda revealed what his intentions were with the lady. Were headed over to Santa Monica so after a forced conversation that didnt go anywhere the music just played. At a point it reached a song by a artist out of the city and he was speaking on a woman that had died but he was deeply in love with. And it was a powerful record, I cant even deny. But I heard a sniffle in the back seat. I had a notion that it may have even made the rider shed a tear. Kinda made me think Im rather desensitized to emotion growing up the way I have. But another ride done and on to the next.

Eye Opener

Now this is the trip I speak of that felt like an eye opener on revisiting the trip mentally. This was a trip immediately after the previous story. From the Westwood area heading to Venice. Prior to pulling up I noticed 3 suits walking down the road and one just broke away from 2 others. Not much of a goodbye just approached the road and that was my rider. He gets in a bit jive. Almost trying to show he’s hip to urban culture. Which is explained shortly. He’s a talkative type and starts with the usual small talk. “How long you been driving?” and blah blah blah. I explain my 3 years and the usual responses but he reaches a question of “Where in the city do you like to drive”. Which I explain that I just drive. You cant really plan out were youre driving when any given trip you can be sent 10-1000 miies all pending the request. Not remember how it came up but we got into a dialogue of where we were from. Which i explained South Central and he asked if im still there. And upon saying yes, he said “its what you know”. Then he explained he was from Ventura county about a hour away and his family is from the Northeast and the South, after I told him my family was from Virginia. Explained that that side of the family had some different views and brought many conversations that made him look at that side different. So this is where he explains to me that he doesnt like hanging out on the Santa Monica/Venice side of the city. Amongst the techie side of it all, its what he grew up with out in Ventura. Which something told me he meant those with conservative beliefs. And that he preferred Downtown and Echo Park area due to the mix of culture and artsy ways. Felt like a nod to tell me that this side isnt as for change as I’d may think. Or over that way, I can relax.

Alpha/Beta

In this night was a trip with 2 dudes. Asian I assume, but no heavy looks at them besides pick up. But I did notice they guy had a Rams hat on. On my driver profile it states “The New Orleans Saints were robbed #NeverForget”. (NFL 18-19 NFC Championship). Something triggered that he wanted me to bring that up in conversation, but me being me, that aint happen. So in this drive, its a obvious Alpha/Beta partnership between the riders. Which the Beta pretty much is subject to having all his power at a zero and listening to whatever the other says to do with their business venture. In this conversation they do a lot of name dropping and trying to sell something or a idea. Perhaps to get me to listen. But im a “tune out” type as I explain. As im ever brought back into their conversation by how loud they become. Im considered how does someone live like that. The Beta is pretty much powerless and has to listen to every idea the Alpha had. Whenever he suggested something, it was slashed and replaced with a idea from the Alpha and it seemed like a odd partnership. But to each his own. Just along with my non-talk, came towards the end of the ride when I had this feeling that they were going to get negative in their conversation being I didnt bite on whatever they were pitching. A comment of “Its nice to have a quiet ride and catch up on business”. Just felt weird but was said along with somethings that didnt feel right in spirit.

Janky Producers

Last but not least. I had a ride in mid-city. Picked up a White guy, dressed with the look of a producer. I know this simply because being a music artist, you can spot the look a million miles away. So he jumped in with headphones on, but greeted so I assumed he was gonna be in his world, as I was in mine. Totally fine. Now im playing true hip hop. Lyricist infused stuff. Something about it, I just had a feeling he was listening because of that. Anyways, he was headed to a recording studio in Hollywood, but went from a drop off to a pick up of 2 others. So amongst this short extended trip. They were speaking about what was happening at the studio. He kept talking bout working with Tory. Im assuming Tory Lanez or just name dropping to catch my attention. But they came talks of his manager that was at the studio and this is when they starting talking about that guys music skills. Mainly he was off key and that led to a lot of laughter. They ended up getting dropped off at some food spot which seemed to be a flock of musician industry folk getting grub. As a artist, id probably fit in, but my out look on life probably keeps me away. But found it rather bizarre that people can talk and gossip about people they were around through out a night. I know money is the reason. But why be around people you just look forward to laughing at after?

#ubereyez #uber #losangeles #confessions #santamonica #westwood #hollywood #venice #stories #words

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pip-personalispolitical · 5 years

Text

𝖋 𝖎 𝖑 𝖑 𝖊 𝖗 𝖖 𝖚 𝖊 𝖊 𝖓

I kind of always knew I’d get a lot of cosmetic procedures. To resist the trend of fillers seemed futile, but I swear I tried. I’d already gotten my teeth straightened and whitened (it took a God-awful amount of time) and had been to various clinics to check out their prices and procedures for breast augmentations and rhinoplasty. Fillers seemed very tame in moderation.

This is my choice, but that’s not to say this choice doesn’t come with certain implications. I’m not here to defend my choices regarding cosmetics, I’m here to explore the topic and be honest about what I’ve had done.

These unrealistic standards of beauty can only be dismantled if we’re honest about how they were achieved. I’m not saying that in stating my intention, all systematic bonds and structures of privilege are disintegrated and that all beauty standards are dropped, no, I just want to be honest. As I type this I know how problematic this is.

But, to me it’s like when some people in the fitness industry say they just workout and eat healthy, when the truth is they’re eating two meals a day, smoking instead of eating, and keying coke until 3am so they don’t deal with the calories of alcohol and their appetite is destroyed for the foreseeable future. I don’t have a problem with that - I just wish people were more honest about how those results were achieved.

So, if you didn’t already know, I have lip fillers. As of last Friday, I also have cheek fillers and fillers to erase my frown lines. And you know what? I feel fucking fabulous.

Shame the devil and tell the truth.

When I first got my lips done, I walked into work with bruising and swelling - don’t get me wrong – it didn’t look cute. (In the beginning, I was too scared to ice it, so I took paracetamol and left it to settle. Now I know icing, in moderation, is fine and greatly reduces the swelling.)

My body quickly became a topic of interest, the change in my appearance propelled my body further into public discourse and served as a welcome mat of commentary. Initially, it was just my appearance that came into question. Not only were the questions rude but they were disrespectful; people’s assumptions were that my self-esteem was so low I felt I needed it (which, if that was the case how awful would that have made me feel?!).

“You don’t need it!” Yes, Barbara, I know. I wanted it.

People’s comments were hurtful, designed to keep me from pursing further work to ensure that their male gaze was considered precedent over my agency and their ideals of beauty were kept standardized.

“You look ridiculous” was common. “I don’t like it” was a close runner up. The implications of both were “I don’t find it attractive therefore it’s a waste of money”.

In my opinion, this was a highly narcissistic move; even when my body changed, in commenting on it and their distaste they still managed to make it about them. I wish I could say this was a rare occurrence. It’s funny how no one brings attention to my teeth whitening – perhaps that is exempt from beauty standards or was deemed necessarily by my peers. * Eye roll * Go figure.

In academic discourse, this is familiar ground. Non-male bodies are often considered part of the “public,” a specimen to be controlled, validated only by heteronormativity and the male gaze, critiqued to ensure their standard of beauty was, indeed, still standard.

Suddenly, I had more money than sense and my choices became a great concern of everyone else (because clearly it affected them so deeply and directly.) As if I hadn’t worked hard for my money and wasn’t highly informed on the procedure.

Yes, not only did my economic status come under scrutiny, but so did my intelligence and agency. It was like a highly-educated woman (I have a master’s degree TYVM) couldn’t undertake cosmetic surgery because that would invalidate both her intelligence and her choices. It was as if within fifteen minutes, as the fillers were injected into my lips, every single brain cell died and was replaced by images flickering from The Kardashians, to lip gloss, and high heels. It was almost as if the space where my cells previously lived became inhabited by glitter and cosmopolitans – my eyes glossed over and I became completely vapid – all of my previous education was erased and I was no longer a feminist.

As if. Though, I do thoroughly enjoy a good dose of glitter.

I think the idea that it wasn’t for the male gaze and was just something that I had wantedto try was incomprehensible, hardly anyone could wrap their heads around it. I can only speak for myself, so my choice to have fillers was because I see cosmetic surgery (as this isn’t particularly invasive) as I view make-up: to enhance beauty that is already there, or to create a little more beauty where you feel you’d like it. But, let’s be real, in this day and age most beauty is created. Dita Von Teese has said it time and time again.

Others may do it because they feel insecure, maybe they don’t. I can’t speak for them, but what I can say is that there is no shame in that. In a culture where non-male bodies are criticised for not looking like the common standard of beauty and then in the same breath chastised for trying to obtain that (through, I don’t know, cosmetic surgery for example) there is no shame in pursuing your ideal of beauty. Jillian Michaels often comments that there is no shame in having a little vanity – what is so wrong in taking pride in your appearance? The trendy, counter-culture cynicism against vanity, selfies, avocados and vintage clothing is just that: trendy. It’s the flipside of the same culture, it’s not exactly original.

Feminism and fillers?

When feminism has become such a trendy topic of the last year and empowerment is a buzzword swung around on a rope called capitalism and commodity culture, where is the line between agency and a larger, systematic problem drawn?

In this particular time when choices are lauded as empowering, we must be aware of both the muted conversation surrounding objectification of non-male bodies, as well as the distressing similarity between “celebrating creative agency and denying systematic patterns,”[1]Quite simply, the correlation between womanhood and the desire for beauty has “long been upheld by patriarchal discourses” that resigns them to objects to be viewed, enjoyed and consumed[2].The most recent wave of feminism, whatever you want to call it (maybe even post-feminism) is lauding physical transformation as empowering [3].

That being said, condemning individuals for their choices in a culture they haven’t shaped is also harmful, “even if those decisions are ones we regard as medically unnecessary and politically distasteful,” (Angela Nuesatta.)[4]In this sense, this point adds to a complex, nuanced argument surrounding cosmetics and the non-male body. If these procedures aren’t at one with beauty standards or heteronormative desire, does it make them any more or less on par with feminism and agency?

So, let’s really get into it. I have A LOT of privilege. I’m white, I’m able-bodied, I’m a cisgender woman; these privileges grant me opportunities, whereas others who don’t have those privilege might not (and often don’t.)

More to the point, some argue that being attractive is a form of privilege; research confirms that “attractiveness” creates more opportunities, romantically and economically[5].

I wouldn’t say I’ve necessarily had more success in either of those departments after my filler-fun run, but I have felt more confident. It’s not like I didn’t like the way I looked before – in fact the one thing I’m most insecure about I haven’t undertaken, yet (it’s my nose, I dislike how large it is) – I just enjoy how different I look now. One to me is not better than the other. I don’t feel as though I need these procedures, but I want them, I enjoy their results. Just as much as I enjoyed my face before.

The problem, of course, is that as a white, cisgender, able-bodied woman I am upholding beauty standards that can be reductive. Again, I can only speak for myself and I understand that this is problematic behaviour for those reasons and more.

When I align myself with the third-wave, reclaimational feminist politics[6], myembrace of the femme would mean something completely different than to someone with another positionality. Therefore, it can greatly impact the notion of reclaimational third wave feminism.

Here is where I must acknowledge that the master’s tools will never dismantle the masters house. And I can survive in the master’s house; people who don’t look like me or have my privileges may not.

Oh my god, you have to give me the name of your surgeon!

In this particular time, these procedures have become so much more accessible. Nipping in to get your lips done has become the millennial equivalent of popping out for a nail appointment. The procedures that were once only for the rich and famous have become readily available for the everyday, 9-5 worker[7]. In this sense, it gives access and more options to those who may be striving for a visual image that matches their identity. The cost for some maybe off putting or unachievable altogether.

Knowing that I wanted these treatments, I saved up over a few months. Because these fillers last a good 7-9 months, I didn’t necessarily need a top up...but I wanted them. Thinking about it, it wasn’t exactly an extortionate amount of money...to me. My privilege is showing, isn’t it?

My practitioner is Katie Allen. She owns her own company called Alien Aesthetics and if you are looking for work I highly recommend her. Katie has always been welcoming, kind and informative every time I’ve seen her; she has two degrees under her belt and holds down a nursing job at the same time. Balancing the two is no easy feat.

Katie is highly successful, firstly, because she’s amazing at her job, and secondly, because her work ethic is unparalleled. Working with her Mom, Julie and predominantly alongside other women, Katie often stresses the importance of supporting one another in business. Her prices are more than reasonable and she frequently posts cheaper alternatives as part of a modelling deal or prize draw, rewarding her followers and regulars.

The first time I got my lips done, she talked me through everything, the procedure, the aftercare and where to reach her if I needed anything. We started small, 0.5mil. Before each injection she asked me if I was ready, and kept me up to date on where we were during my treatment. She continues to do this even as I approach my 7thor 8thappointment.

Always checking what look I’d like to achieve, we’ll chat, I’ll show her picture references and when I’m frozen, mid-procedure she’ll ask if I’m okay. I’ll try and mumble something that sounds affirmative.

After the numbing cream, it’s not exactly painless but what I’d call uncomfortable. Personally, as long as I don’t look at the needle, I’m fine. It usually takes 15 minutes to sink in and you feel like a bit of a boob sat there with white stuff plastered around your mouth (we’ve all been there, amirite ladies?) But to Katie, it’s second nature, she doesn’t bat and eyelid.

My cheek fillers were a little different, it felt like a liquid pressure was spreading onto my cheek bones. It didn’t hurt, it was initially uncomfortable but soon settled down. They’re still a little sore but look absolutely amazing and, as Katie said, create a more structured, lifted image. She also said they’d look better in two weeks, when the swelling completely settled. If it only gets better I can wait to see what it’s going to look like in two weeks – I already adore them.

I hope I’ve addressed some questions that some of you might have about it. But Katie, obviously, is the person to approach when it comes to these procedures. Pixie is the current admin of their Instagram page and is just as friendly and informative as Katie. (Don’t worry, I gotchu, her company is tagged in this post and will be linked at the bottom.)

I know I don’t have all the answers or the perspectives, I just wanted to share my experience. I don’t mind people asking me questions about the procedures, how I felt, what the process is like, who I go to. I do mind invasive and rude questions that place my self-esteem as frail and my now altered look as unattractive. Because that is invasive and rude, who raised you?

I enjoy the look fillers give me, and, why wouldn’t I? I curated it. So, I’ll say it, I’m a filler queen. I enjoy my treatments and love the results, I don’t see myself stopping them anytime soon and will more than likely begin to explore more invasive procedures (hello, new nose). But, until then, I’ll revel in my swollen cheekbones and lips.

References

[1](Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body: Bordo.)

[2](Under the Knife: Feminism and Cosmetic Surgery in Contemporary Culture: Stephanie Genz)

[3](Television and The Domestication of Cosmetic Surgery: Sue Tait)

[4].” (The Guardian: I’m A Feminist and I’ve had cosmetic surgey. Why is that a problem? Angela Nuesatter)

[5]economically (The Guardian: I’m A Feminist and I’ve had cosmetic surgey. Why is that a problem? Angela Nuesatter).

[6](HarpersBazaar: Is Teenage Plastic Surgery a Feminist Act? Kathleen Hale)

[7](Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body: Bordo.)

#lips #surgery #cosmetics #lipfillers #pip #personalispolitical #thirdwave #feminism #agency #art #curation #image #posthumanism

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