#and then casual ''fans'' always add fuel to the fire | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bnha-general-fan · 3 years

Text

Feelings Change Like Seasons

My secret santa gift, for the @fyeahbnha secret santa exchange, to @faulty-writes!!

I apologize again for not being able to gift you the whole fic >_< But as it is a multi-chaptered story, I can at least give you the first chapter! I really hope you like it, and I promise that as soon as I have the others rewritten I’ll tag you as they are posted!

(Also sorry for the title, I’m not really good at coming up with them ^.^’)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate!! And happy holidays :)

Title: Feelings Change Like Seasons

Pairing: Iida Tenya/Midoriya Izuku, hinted EraserMic

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko, Iida Tenya, Shinsou Hitoshi, Uraraka Ochako

Additional Tags: Fluff, Quirkless AU, Coffee Shop AU, Ochako and Hitoshi are Best Wingmen, As is Inko, Clueless Iida Tenya, Matchmakers Ochako, Hitoshi and Inko, a little angst, but like tiny so don’t worry, it’s just Iida being bashful, Happy Ending of course

It was an unusually warm autumn day. The calm breeze transported a few golden leaves from the trees, the cloudless sky hosted a cheerful sun, and the streets of the city were still half-empty. Overall, there was a sensation of calm and peace that Iida Tenya, letting out what must've been his fifth sigh in ten minutes, wished he could bask in.

Any other day he would be by now finishing what he considered to be his normal morning routine, which consisted of waking up early, have breakfast, and go for a run. Then he showered and headed out to classes, making a short stop at a small coffee shop beforehand.

A normal, completely uninteresting routine. So uninteresting that he had never particularly told anyone about it, because why would he? But his two friends had somehow caught wind of it and even made the effort to wake up earlier than usual to accompany him on his way to the coffee shop. How? Well, he had a slight idea…

“So, are you ever going to tell us what’s so interesting about this shop?” Came Ochako’s cheery voice, her Chesire grin as wide as it had been since Tenya found both of them waiting for him near his home.

“It must be big,” Shinsou said in his usual drawl, smirk never leaving his lips. “It made uncle Tensei rant at Pops and Dad about how his little brother suddenly changed the routine he’d been religiously following since he was fifteen and refused to tell him why. I can still hear him. ‘It’s been three months, Shouta, and he still refuses to tell me! When did my little Tenya stop telling me everything?’”

Tensei. Of course it was him. Tenya sighed again, completely unimpressed by the information.

“Oh, and talking about uncle Tensei, I casually met him the other day. Do you know what he told me, Ochako-chan?”

“What did he tell you, Hitoshi-kun?”

“He said he suspected the reason wasn’t a what but a who.”

“Oooh, that sounds interesting. Seems like it was worth waking up earlier, huh?”

“Seems like it. What do you think about the theory, Tenya-kun~?”

Tenya just stared at the pair of Chesire-cat lookalikes his friends had turned into with a tired look.

“Like I told Tensei, the idea is ridiculous. I go here because I like their food, nothing more. Why must he make a big deal about this...”

“Oh, is that really all~? Then why come to a coffee-shop that forces you to go so out of your way, I wonder?”

“Hmm, that's a good point. Also, since when were you a fan of sweets?”

“Look, we’re finally here,” Tenya said, walking faster to avoid answering their questions. “Let’s just get in so you can see for yourselves.”

Ochako and Hitoshi followed the blue-haired young man while snickering all the while. Honestly, they also thought Tensei was exaggerating a bit. Having been neighbors their whole lives, they’ve known Tenya their whole lives and they’ve never seen him ever look at others in a romantic way. But it was fun to finally be able to tease him about it, even slightly, and they weren't going to waste this opportunity.

***

Standing in line, Tenya surreptitiously looked around, feeling both relieved and slightly disappointed at not seeing that person around. Not because Tensei's accusations were right, but because at this point he suspected that even being seen on friendly terms with another person would just add more fuel to the fire.

Seriously, Tensei just made a big thing out of nothing. Tenya had just bumped into this person one morning while distracted and made him drop what he was carrying. As an apology, he helped him carry his things the rest of the way to the coffee-shop he worked in, and as a thank you, he insisted on gifting him some pastries. He liked them, which was why he returned every day. Not to see him, but for the pastries- and Tenya better stop now before even himself though he was just making excuses. Which he wasn't, but still.

"Oh, good morning Iida-kun!"

"Good morning Midoriya-san!" Tenya greeted, snapping out f his thoughts to greet the green-haired woman with a smile.

"Your usual, right? Oh, and if you have time to wait five minutes you'll be able to greet Izuku," she added with a small grin while handing him the order. "He's just attending something in the kitchen and should be out by then."

"Thank you Midoriya-san! And yes, I have enough time to greet Midoriya-kun, so I'll wait." Tenya really liked Midoriya Inko. She was a sweet woman, and she always insisted he waited for Izuku whenever he came when he was in the kitchen. He didn't really understand why, and why she always smiled so mischievously when she did, but he was glad Midoriya-san liked him enough to not mind him distracting her son while he was working.

"So, Izuku huh?"

Tenya glanced at his two friends, whose grins had somehow widened.

"He's Midoriya-san's son," Tenya defended himself. "I met him accidentally one day and made friends with him. There's still nothing that implies I have a c-"

"Oh, hello Iida-kun!"

Tenya turned around, a smile already forming as he greeted the greenette that came from behind the bar.

Midoriya Izuku looked a great deal like his mother. Fluffy green hair, wide green eyes, and a sweet smile. Smile he was directing at him that moment, and Tenya wondered if Midoriya-san had turned on the heating because suddenly, the light jacket he was wearing was slightly uncomfortable.

"How did that exam you told me about go?" Izuku asked, leaning on the bar while crossing his arms. Tenya took slight notice of how firm those arms looked before answering, immersing himself in his conversation with Izuku.

***

If Hitoshi and Ochako weren't witnessing this with their own eyes, they would never have believed it.

At first sight, there was nothing abnormal about what was happening. Tenya didn't look red or nervous like one usually did when talking to their crush. But they weren't his childhood friends for nothing, and the subtle signs they could see were all but screaming at them.

It was how his smile was warmer and softer than usual, as were his eyes. How he stumbled slightly over his words while recounting something about his classes. How his usual gestures were less frantic. And most importantly, how he seemed to have completely forgotten about their existence, seemingly in his own shared universe with Midoriya Izuku.

"It's a sight, huh?" Midoriya Inko's voice startled them slightly from behind the bar. "It's been like this for a few weeks now," she continued with a grin, looking fondly at the two young adults. "It's the first time I've seen Izuku like this."

"Us too. I mean, we've known Tenya for forever, and this is the first time we've seen him look like... that." Ochako knew she sounded amazed, but she still couldn't believe it. Tenya, her straight-laced, rule-abiding, not-really-interested-in-that Iida tenya, with a crush? Unthinkable.

And yet, there it was.

The two made a really peaceful picture, conversing animatedly in a near-empty coffee-shop while golden leaves floated on the other side of the glass wall behind them.

"Oh, then you wouldn't mind lending me a hand, right?" Inko asked with a mischievous smile, making both of them sense a kindred spirit and mirror her smile, which increased in size as Inko talked.

***

"By the way, Iida-kun, are they friends of yours?" Izuku suddenly asked.

Tenya startled, suddenly remembering he'd come with his two friends. Turning around, he found himself faced with three sets of grins, which made him blush slightly for some reason.

"A-ah, yes, they are," Tenya answered, clearing his throat slightly. "They're-"

"Hi! I'm Uraraka Ochako, and he's Shinsou Hitoshi!" Ochako interrupted him, waving at the greenette alongside Shinsou. "We're Tenya-kun's childhood friends!"

"Oh, so you are the friends Iida-kun talks so much about!" Izuku said with a smile. "I'm Midoriya Izuku, nice to meet you!"

"Oh? Tenya-kun never mentioned you. I wonder why~?" Shinsou smirked. Watching Tenya's blush intensify, and sharing looks with Ochako and Midoriya-san, Shinsou decided this was definitely going to be fun.

#scret santa gift #fcls #fcls chapter 1 #bnha fanfiction #Iideku #fluff #my fic #fyeahbnhasecretsanta

17 notes · View notes

topconfessions · 3 years

Note

I assume the Enhypen ask is a little older, but the black stan who killed herself was apparently made up. Some sick non-black fan made it up to add fuel to the fire. There's also a small possibility that it was in fact true and non-black stans are trying to cover the whole thing as fake, I wouldn't put it past them. But kpop is not a safe space for black fans. I strongly agree with you, that black fans should only be casual listeners. The colorist, ignorant af and racist idols, as well as their rabid ass racist stans are not worth the soul torture. I get that it's truly sad that black people also can't just be a fan like everyone else, but at the end of the day the joke is always on us. But on the other hand, every label wants to hit it big in the west, especially SM, so they should definitely be more aware on other cultures and be more educated, but I highly doubt anything will change because they want the white coin, while profiting off of black culture. There are just going to be more fans who excuse their racism, so it's truly not worth it to invest your money and time on people, who don't even view you as an equal.

yes exactly. plus tbh please forgive me for what I am about to say but it's fucking asia. Maybe I am not emotionally invested or hurt by this cause my skin is white and I'm kinda biracial? (please don't ask, long story, very khloe kardashian type of situation*) cause of that I'll never know what it's like or understand to the fullest extent despite being raised, growing up in and living a totally african american lifestyle like a black person...

I just idk....I wouldn't ever listen to kpop and try to isnert myself / blackness into it to fix, correct or expect something from them cause it's Asia. They owe us nothing. It's like, would you allow a korean person to roll up into the cookout and try to dictate recipes, family dances, traditional type of things or complain cause you guys aren't making things that accomdate them? you get it? Maybe I'm a bigot and very traiditonal but I believe there is a place for everything and everyone. Every country needs to be educated and open minded to an extent, but it's KOREA. You gotta take the good with the bad cause I know for a fact a literal fact a lot of black people don't give a flying fuck about asians in general and could care less when the attacks were happening to them during covid.

the ones who care are mostly black kpop fans / black people who are fans of asian culture.

Sadly kpop won't get it right anytime soon and the ones who do know their stuff are like jay park and look foolish. It's a mess honey. It's messy.

2 notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-One

Table of Content or Part Forty

Read here on wattpad.

Words: 3.2k

Warning(s): Explicit language, minor sexual situations, drug abuse, drug over dose

A/N: Had to cut this chapter in half because tumblr was being sketchy w the length of it for some reason. Anyway, second half will be up asap but I'm about to pass tf out. Also, this chapter was gonna have some smut but I put it in with the second half instead because the vibe didn't mesh well with it included in this one. Have a good night, update coming tomorrow/late tonight (Jan. 3). Goodnight!!

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphordarling @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @cruecifymesixx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror @mcnibberachi

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

I can't help but laugh a little as Nikki presses kisses up and down my neck, bottle of Jack in one hand, part of my ass in the other as our car takes the both of us through London.

Valentine's Day, 1986, started out as one of the best Valentine's Days we'd spent together.

Nikki's mood wasn't too good or too bad, it was a tolerant neutral, I suppose it's because we hadn't done much talking at all.

He'd woken me up with his tongue between my legs and it stayed that way until I had soaked the sheets and was practically begging him to give me a break because I couldn't take it anymore.

Then we proceeded to screw around, then got ready to leave to meet everyone at the Hammersmith Odeon where they were due to play that night.

"How much longer?" I ask him, pulling away from a tongue filled, lust fueled kiss, referring to the time left before we get where we're going.

"Like, ten minutes, maybe." He tells me.

My hand reaches between us, rubbing over the obvious bulge in his pants, before he reads my mind.

After our quicky, I'm pulling my panties back on while he's pulling his gear from his boot.

I just let out a breath.

"Nikki--"

"--I'm fucked on blow right now, Viv. I gotta get myself leveled out." He tells me.

I just nod a little, not bothering to argue.

Once we arrive, Fred's meeting us in the back to escort us inside as fans are already crowding around the front entrance.

Nikki's grabbing at my hand once we get out, as he and Fred start talking.

"And there's a surprise for you." Fred tells me as we walk in.

I furrow my brows before he's nodding to our left.

I see the massive, teased, blonde hair and flashy clothing and I'm leaving Nikki's side before I can help myself.

Mike's just as happy to see me and I am to see him, the both of us hugging each other tightly before pulling away to examine each other with wide smiles.

He looks incredible.

He's glowing.

He's gained back the weight he lost dramatically after Razzle died, and it's so obvious that he hasn't touched a drink or Drug in months.

He looks at peace.

"You look great." I tell him, looking him up and down.

"I feel great." He replies. "You look..." He starts, examining me similarly.

I look like I've been dragged through hell.

"Like shit." I finish for him and he rolls his eyes.

"Beautiful, Vivian. You've always been beautiful." He argues.

The shining of a silver band around his left ring finger catches my eye, despite multiple rings decorating his hands.

"Now, I've heard about this." I take his hand and look at the wedding band and he gets giddy. "But I have yet to even see her."

He's pulling his wallet out of his pocket and pulling a picture out, showing me a photo of a woman with dark hair, arched brows, who's no-bullshit demeanor is practically jumping out of the picture.

Jude Wilder had been working at CBS when she'd met Michael while working on Hanoi Rocks' project called "Two Steps From The Move."

She was nine years older than him, but that didn't surprise me. Michael's always been nine years ahead of everyone else in maturity, and they were perfect for each other.

They got married in 1985, and were inseparable.

When she died in 2001, after suffering an intracranial hemorrhage, Michael sunk into the excruciatingly low place he sunk to when Razzle died. But in true Mike Monroe fashion, he didn't allow himself to be down very long, threw the drugs out, and was remarried to a gorgeous, sweet, ball of light named Johanna by mid-2003.

"She's gorgeous, Michael." I tell him in admiration, although I know he's never necessarily been into looks as much as he's after a good personality and clear head.

"Thank you. She'll love to hear that." He chuckles, tucking the picture back into his wallet. "Have you seen the other guys here?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

He motions behind me and I see Andy, Sami, and Nasty, talking to Tommy and Nikki.

Nikki beckons for me and I go to them, trying not to be overly motherly upon seeing them, the three of us sharing the same exchange Michael and I did.

Tight hugs, and an invisible thankfulness that they're in a more positive headspace than the last time I saw them.

Well, except one.

Andy's still on heroin. It doesn't take me two seconds to pick up on it and I can tell it's gonna be a priority to keep him and Nikki separated after the show.

I don't need them fueling the fire under each other's spoons.

Sami and Nasty look better than the last time I saw them, which is amazing.

I'm surprised any of the guys want anything to do with us after the thick of their grieving.

"Are you staying for the show?" I ask Andy.

"Absolutely." Andy states, pointing at Nikki. "And I'm showing him around when it's all over."

A protective chord is struck in me, and I'm finding myself having to pull back on the reins before I offend Andy.

Nikki seems to agree, before I shit all over it.

"It's Valentine's Day." I cut in. "I was hoping we could hang out." I look to Nikki.

"You can come with us, babe." He suggests and I try to hide my true emotions about it, but Michael sees through it.

"Oh, c'mon, Nikki. It's Valentines Day." He interjects, picking up on my concern of Andy and Nikki out on the town, binging.

Nikki's pulling a handful of bills out of his pocket before handing it to Michael.

"You take her out, then." He tells him casually, and Michael looks at me, caught off guard, able tell this isn't the first time Nikki's acted like this towards me and it's as if he's saying, "he's like this now?"

"Guys, c'mon, you gotta get dressed." Doc pulls at Nikki and Tommy.

The show goes smoothly, despite a few hiccups and—as predicted—Andy and Nikki are thick as thieves.

I help Nikki get his white and black polka dotted suit off, before he's pulling on his tshirt and jeans, pulling his boots on.

Before I head for the door when he's dressed, he's grasping at my hand and stopping me.

"What is it?" I ask, raising my brows.

"C'mere." He tugs me to him and I chuckle a little.

"What is it?" I repeat, grinning, and he leans down and presses his lips to mine, sweetly.

"I really wish you would come with me tonight." He tucks some of my hair behind my ear and I shake my head a little.

"Nah, I'll just hangout with Mike."

"No, I wanna hangout with you." He argues lightly.

"You and Andy are gonna be doing things I'm not into." I point out.

"Like what?" He asks.

"You know what." I reply.

"Alright, how about you and Mike come with us so you aren't by yourself?"

"How about you just don't touch heroin?" I suggest and his smile falters, his jaw rolling. I don't even let him say anything else.

I kiss him one last time before trying to sweep whatever argument is brewing, under the rug.

"I'll see you when you get back tonight, Nikki, okay?" I ask and he sighs out.

"Whatever, Viv." He mumbles as I step out.

I find Mike and Tommy telling Nasty and Sami "goodbye", and I step to them, glancing around for Vince, who isn't anywhere to be seen.

It's obvious he's keeping his distance.

"Leaving already?" I ask the two dark haired boys.

"Got to get back home for a bit. We'll see you around, eventually." Nasty tells me, grinning as he squeezes my hand assuringly.

"I'll be meeting Mike back in the states in about a month." Sami adds. "We'll he sure to stop by."

"Okay." I nod, smiling at the both of them. "Be careful, I'll see you later." I them.

"See you, man." Mike tells the two of them, hugging the both of them.

"Big plans tonight, Viv?" Tommy nudges me and I point my thumb in Mike's direction. "What about Nikki?"

"He's married to Andy's dealer tonight." I reply and Mike raises his brows, not saying a word, and Tommy seems like he doesn't quite know how to respond.

"We're outta here!" Andy exclaims, he and Nikki stepping to the exit with Fred escorting them out to their car.

"He's really not spending tonight with you?" Tommy asks me, disappointed, and I raise my brows.

"Are you surprised?"

"..." He says everything with a single look and I nod.

"Exactly." I scoff, going to the dressing room to grab my purse.

Once I get back, Fred is waiting for Mike and I.

"Press talks." Fred warns us right before we step outside.

The paps aren't horrid here like in America, but there's enough here to spin a narrative if they choose.

"So does bullshit." I reply as he opens the car door and I slide in with Mike following me.

"Be careful, guys. I'll see you later, Viv." Fred tells me and I nod before he shuts the door.

Michael looks at me with a smile.

"What now?" He asks me and I shake my head a little.

"Food." I tell him. "And a lot of it."

Although I would have loved to spend the day of love with my husband, spending it with Michael Monroe while stuffing my face with London's very best take-out, was nice.

But there was someone who upstaged Nikki, aside from Mike.

I step into the hotel after dinner with Michael and his wife, carrying my heels in my hands because my feet are killing me, ready to go to sleep.

"Mrs. Sixx, there was a delivery made to your room by your management earlier." The woman at the front desk tells me as I walk by to the elevator.

"Alright, thank you." I reply.

When I get to my room, I unlock the door and I'm met with a large bouquet of classic red roses.

I furrow my brows, knowing they can't be from Nikki, but already know who they can be from when I see two little plastic water guns tucked into the flowers, a bottle of Pepsi and a bag of gummy worms beside them.

I pick up the card and nearly start crying.

"We miss you! Happy V-Day, V!

Love, more than Jack and Marlboro (or Pepsi and gummy worms), Tansy, Steven, Axl, Izzy, Slash, and Duff."

It's etched in Doc's handwriting, and I chuckle at the thought of Doc on the phone with Tansy while she dictates what he writes on a card for flowers she probably begged him to get me before the show ended tonight.

I keep myself from crying, a strong sense of homesickness washing over me.

I pick up the phone, trying to calculate the time difference.

It's 2:00am here, which means it's only 6:00pm in L.A.

I'm dialing their apartment—damning the overseas charge that I know will be billed to us—knowing they're probably getting ready to go out or head to a club for a gig.

"Yo." I hear Steven's voice on the other line.

"Hey, Steven, it's Viv."

"Viv?" He asks excitedly. "Aye, Viv's on the phone!" I hear him say, hearing indistinguishable sentences in the back ground.

"Yeah, I just called to let you guys know I just got back to my room and saw the flowers." I explain, fumbling with the phone chord, sitting down on the bed.

"Do you like 'em?" He asks me and I nod to myself.

"Yes, they're beautiful." I reply.

"Well, Tansy mentioned getting you something for Valentine's Day and she and Duff called the guys' manager and told him some stuff you'd like." He informs me.

"I-Is Duff there?" I ask.

"Uhh, yeah, gimme a second." He tells me. "Duff! Man, it's Viv!" He calls into the apartment. "He's comin', baby." He assures me. "Alright, here he is."

"Bye, I love you." I tell him.

"I love you, too." He replies as I hear the phone being handed off.

"Hello?" Duff answers and I rub my lips together.

"Hey, I know you're probably busy so I wasn't gonna keep you long, I just wanted to say 'thank you' for the flowers and the junkfood I really shouldn't be eating but I'm going to eat anyway." I state and he chuckles.

"I'm just waiting on the guys, and I thought about Coke and potatoe chips but I knew that would be kinda mean so I played it safe." He informs me.

"You don't have a mean bone in your body, Duff." I point out. "Oh, guess who I ate dinner with tonight?"

"Nikki?" He asks and I scoff.

"That's an entire conversation on it's own." I reply. "Michael Monroe and his lovely wife, Jude, took me out to dinner."

"You can't just say it that casually, Viv." He tells me. "You gotta cry tears of joy or something, holy shit."

"Well, I suggest you learn how to keep your cool because him and Sami Yaffa will be visiting L.A. soon and I will be introducing you and the guys, if you're interested."

"Shut up." He says it in disbelief and I smile.

"Guns N' Roses came up during dinner and I may or may not have bragged about one W.Axl Rose, Steven Adler, Izzy Stradlin, Slash Hudson, and Duff McKagan and piqued his interest."

"Shut up!" He says it louder. "Viv, I know it's not a big deal to you because he's one of your friends but...holy shit, Sixx, you didn't have to do that."

"I did, Duff. You guys deserve it." I argue. "You deserve it."

"I fucking love you." He tells me, genuinely. "And I'm not just saying that because you did something nice, like, I can't say 'thank you' enough or tell you how much I love you for being just as enthusiastic as we are and believing in us as much as you have for the past year."

"You guys are great people, Duff. And God's given the five of you incredible musical gifts. It's against my religion not to help expose those gifts to the rest of the world and I know you guys can do it, as much as you guys know you can."

"Thank you, Viv." He tells me again. "And where's Nikki at?" He asks me and I close my eyes for a second, not wanting to say something that will put a damper on his mood.

"He wasn't feeling well so he came back to the hotel while the three of us went to dinner. But he's feeling better now and he's in the shower so we'll spend some time together when he's out." I lie.

"Okay, good. The guys are about ready to go, now, so I'm gonna let you go." He tells me.

"Alright, have fun." I reply, trying to force back tears. "And tell the guys I said 'hey' and that I miss them." I add.

"I will, Viv. Goodnight. I love you." He states, and a tear topples over my lashline, pretending, just for a moment, I'm hearing those words from Nikki.

A sad, broken smile cracks at my lips.

"I love you, too, Duff." I reply. "Goodnight."

I hang up, stepping to the bathroom to take off my makeup and get a shower.

By the time I get out of the shower, I'm so tired my mind practically shuts down the second my head hits the pillow.

Typically I wouldn't be able to sleep due to being alone, however, I'm not technically alone.

A loud, startling bang rattles at my door, and I jerk awake, confused for a moment. I glance at the clock, seeing it's only 3:30am, and I roll my eyes, knowing it's Nikki and he probably left his key somewhere.

Without even looking in the peep-hole, I open the door to see a frantic, panicking Andy.

Before this continues, I need to clarify that I understand it isn't anyone else's fault that Nikki did drugs. He had his struggles and demons all without anyone offering him anything to shoot up, snort, swallow down, or drink. He could have easily said "no" to these things, but for some reason just couldn't.

But back then, I knew people knew he couldn't help himself. So no one who could have been considered an enabler was off limits. And Andy was an enabler.

All it takes is for him to say the words "Nikki's in bad trouble" and my face twists, tears toppling from my eyes, an entire wave of emotions rocking through my body, before I'm throwing both of my fists at him.

"Vivian!" He's screaming repeatedly as I'm yelling out nonsense at him, sobbing, weakly hitting him.

Once I've gotten calmed down in a couple minutes, Andy's grabbing at my shoulders, his cheek bleeding from my ring cutting him.

"Get your head clear." He practically has to pull me together for myself.

I'm running down the street from the hotel as fast as my bare feet can take me, Andy leading me to the run-down apartment he and Nikki were hanging out at.

I walk into to this rat holding a baseball bat of Nikki, about to hit him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Andy barks at him as I snatch the bat from his hands.

I'm about to hit him with it instead, but Andy's grabbing at me. "Viv, keep your head clear." He tells me again, pulling the bat from my hands and I glare into the sunken in eyes of the stranger, silently promising he'll get his when I get my blue husband awake.

I'm overwhelmed and feel defeated at the sight of him.

Blue, soaking wet from being wet down in an attempt to be woken up, and the deterioration of his body from his use is even more evident in his current state.

Andy is screaming at the guy for hitting him with a bat instead of continuing to give him mouth to mouth and pumping his chest like Andy had been doing before he came and got me.

I start CPR, trying to keep my shit together, but I obviously fail.

My stomach cramps like shards of glass are scraping at me. Except it's not my stomach, it's my uterus.

"Andy." I cry out, keeping my hands on Nikki's chest, but the Finnish rockstar keeps yelling back and forth with the dealer. "Andy." I repeat, louder, but he still doesn't hear me. "Andy!" I'm pleading in a holler, catching his attention. "I-I can't do this, I'm sick, just call an ambulance!" I beg and Andy heads to the phone hanging on the wall.

"No!" The living dead-rat argues roughly, fear in his pinned eyes as he practically snatches the phone off the wall, refusing to hand it to Andy.

"My husband is dying if not already dead! He needs help!" I argue, sweat beginning to perspire thinly on my skin, my own pain intensifies, my vision starting to blur slightly as I feel hot liquid rush from between my bare legs, and I'm blacking out along with Nikki.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mötley crüe #the dirt #gateway drug

59 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 85

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Breakdown

Summary: Genevieve’s behavior comes to a head and Alfie is forced to act as the harsh voice of reason. He's left to act in his personal life as he does in his business where he does the things no one else wants or is willing to. But he'd do anything for his Genny. Song is Breakdown by Tom Petty.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence. PTSD. Angst. Drug Abuse. Trauma. Self Hatred. Fighting, verbal and physical.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

There had been a shift in the energy of the house after Claire and Genevieve’s altercation. Genevieve was trying to behave but finding it nearly impossible. The pull of the promise of relief from her medicine was too seductive to deny for long. Each dose was reacted to like some rare delicacy, with closed eyes and moans. She couldn’t control herself. Her mind was crowded with so much the more time passed. More memories and complicated waves of emotions she didn’t understand, left her feeling overpowered no matter what she did.

She was trying and it could be seen by everyone, but she would drop everything for her medicine and it was obvious there was still dependence there no matter how little they gave her. A nervous tick when it got close to the time for it, nose twitching and eyes fluttering, trying to stay still and waiting for someone to mention it because she knew she couldn’t first. Then she’d be given that look again, and she hated the humiliation that came with it.

She tries to fill the shame, the hurt and the anger with something. She studies, but that leads to headaches and a sore throat. She paints and the things that come out are dark and twisted and make those around her uncomfortable and worry about her. She dresses up, trying to see herself how she was, but it all felt like a sham. There was no confidence where it once lived. She eats and bakes, finding a productive distraction and gaining a slight bit of weight from where she’d lost it. But her appetite was still lackluster, the medicine saw to that. She wasn’t ready to try to add her former most favorite vice, sex, to the list but at least she could fathom the idea of it without becoming physically ill. Maybe things were getting better. But the voice in her head told her no as soon as the thought passed. That she was still very much broken and a failure, feeling slow in both mind and body still it was hard for her to be positive about anything. The depression was starting to set in.

With a memory that left something to be desired still, she’s grown the tendency to be forgetful. Clumsy and forgetful was preferred to hallucinating and passed out to everyone but her. The constant state of being aware of controlling herself left her exhausted most days and always on edge. She has the occasional tantrum, it couldn’t be helped, and with the lack of medicine given to help her calm down, it only made her angrier and fueled the fire of her fits. They were less often now, but more intense when they did happen. Big sweeping mood swings that took her wherever they wanted and she was was left to be used by her whims, whether the actions she took were something she wanted to do or not. They left her a crying mess. She only wanted to feel normal again. She didn’t know who this woman was that she’d become. She hates the anger she felt about her cravings for the medicine. She hates the flux of the ups and downs from it, but in her desperate moments, it’s the only thing that gives her some stability. She didn’t want to need it the way she did, another layer of anger born from shame. She felt weak and that was something she didn’t have much experience with.

On an afternoon spent dressing herself up for no reason, just passing time and listening to music to keep herself in good spirits she’s met with an undiagnosed stressor that had slipped between the cracks. A gossip hound by the name of Dorothy who did not have Genevieve’s best interests at heart. She was paid for information, not to tell that she was doing better. A saboteur sent in by one of the posh Jewish elite who did not approve of the Alfie and Gen’s underground lifestyle. Striking while the iron was hot and they were both at the most vulnerable they’ve ever been, Dorothy was there to make sure things didn’t run too smoothly for too long. Coming from the former biggest gossip in all of London’s employ, she knew how to stir a pot. And poor Gen, trusting those around her, as she had no other choice but to in her condition, never saw it coming.

“The horn section is lovely isn’t it?” Dorothy states, dusting around the gramophone.

The use of the word makes Gen’s nose twitch just as the maid knew it would. “Yes it is.” she answers with fluttering eyes and reaching for her large powder puff to fan herself with.

“I say, you’re looking rather glowing today, Miss. Like an inner light is coming out. I’m sure Mr. Solomons loves that you’re putting forth the effort in your appearance, hmm?” she makes casual sounding backhanded compliments as she moves around the room.

She sees Gen’s body language tighten and she keeps smiling as she works.

“You’ve put on some weight too I see. Filling out nicely. Looking healthy. All good things.” she chirps. “One would think there could be a little Solomons on the way with how you’re looking.” she gives an innocent scrunch of her nose and a kind smile. “Absolutely radiant.” she ends with a flourish. “And wouldn’t a baby be lovely? An excuse for all those sweets you’ve been making!” she lets out a light-hearted laugh. “Afterall, not many men would’ve stayed around through all this. You’re so very lucky to have Mr. Solomons. What a patient man.” she speaks softly.

“Yes. I am.” she mumbles, face turning downward now.

“Well, I’m finished in here. Anything else you need miss?” she asks putting a hand to Gen’s shoulder.

“No. Thank you.” she replies softly, eyes not meeting the maids, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

“I don't care what anyone else says, I think you’re progressing just fine.” she gives a supportive nod. “Especially for what you’ve been through. My goodness. What a tragedy to befall such a woman who had such strengths. Surely a test. One you’re still working on mastering. We’re all waiting and watching...rooting for you Miss Durand. Have a good afternoon.” she says trotting out of the room, knowing the seeds were planted to make an eventful evening.

Every line had felt like a slap to the face for Gen. Every worry she had, some she hadn’t yet, all brought back out to the surface in a single conversation. If Gen had been herself she would’ve been impressed with the woman’s skill. Then she would have killed her of course for saying such things, but in this emotional state, she only felt sorry for herself. She looked at herself in the mirror. Were her breasts bigger? Was she getting too fat? Everyone was waiting for her to screw up again, she knew it. Apparently people were saying she wasn’t healing fast enough, but of course, they were. She wasn’t. And poor Alfie...he had been on the sidelines, merely a bystander in all this. It truly was a miracle he was still around. At this point he would be better off without her she thinks. She was only making his life harder.

Her eyes trail down to her stomach and she feels it flip with nausea. She had asked the doctor every time they were alone if her not bleeding was normal. There were no signs of pregnancy he said and the body can react wildly after trauma. That there was nothing he saw to worry about. But it didn’t stop the panic rising in her chest and bubbling up and out her throat in a choked sob. What if she was? What if a constant reminder of her weakness and this awful period of time we’re sitting right there. Taking root. It was her greatest fear and Dorothy had played into it seamlessly. All she had wanted before was to be pregnant. A happy accident, despite her timing the inward emissions of Alfie in her favor. Her mind had been all babies and happy thoughts attached and now it was of shame and upset. By far the biggest trigger of them all. She thinks of the children she’s seen. Wondering if they were a sign. Her dreams came true on occasion, so why not hallucinations?

Her hands clutch at the dress she wears, feeling sick rise in her throat. She gets intrusive thoughts of the time held captive again. Blood. So much blood. These were new, these weren’t her normal violent flashbacks, her eyes well up with tears and she starts to sob, feeling it all over again. Why was there so much blood she wondered? She feels it as if it’s real. Blood thick and caked on her skin, from her temples to her thighs, the sticky and awful feeling, the constant reminder of how battered she was. The constant worry there was too much of it, that was something was wrong with her. That panic takes hold of her and she starts wheezing, not catching her breath, holding her chest and gasping. She raises, wild-eyed and tries to make it to the bed to lie down, count like the doctor told her. But it was no use. This was too strong and she was too weak she thought. She knew what she needed.

She races in her tiny heels to the back innards of teh house to Aggie’s room. She’s in such a state she doesn’t hear Alfie calling for her as he sees her making a mad dash. Of course, his instinct is something is terribly wrong. And in a way it was, so he follows suit. He finds her on her knees with one of her hairpins in Aggie’s locked door.

His worry is replaced with hot anger, having to watch Gen give in and relapse in front of his eyes. “Gen!” he booms out and she doesn’t even notice. She barrels through the door and rummages loudly through Aggie’s things, finding the bottle of Morphine and finding it severely lacking in its contents.

She whimpers and whines, shaking it over her gaping mouth as she cries, mascara running down her face. She keeps wheezing, now at a total loss for how to handle herself.

Alfie barges in like a bull, one big swipe knocks the bottle out of her hands and it breaks against the wall. Her eyes turn large and terrified to him, but he doesn’t feel sympathy in the moment, only disappointment and anger. “Fuck’s sake Genevieve! Get ahold of yourself!” he says loudly as she cries, looking back over to where the bottle had broken.

“I can’t! I need it! I need it to STOP!” she wails loudly her head shaking back and forth dramatically.

“Gen!” he shouts again and she doesn’t stop, hands in her hair and groaning.

She was so desperate to make the fear and thoughts stop. But she just saw him there, silhouetted by that shifting yellow light over her. “I’m too weak. I can’t. I’m pathetic. It won't stop.” she pants, her face contorted into an ugly mash of pain and confusion.

“Get ahold of yourself woman!” he shouts, grabbing her tightly by the arms, making her stop hurting herself.

The rough handling of her snaps her from her self pity and kicks in her fight response. Her head snaps up, eyes dilated and black, intense as they glared into his own. “Don’t touch me!” she screams and struggles.

“I can’t fuckin’ trust you can I? Ya gonna fuckin’ hurt yaself!” he growls back as they wrestle back and forth. She was a lot stronger in the moment that he thought she could be in her condition.

“Stop it!” she fights back, kicking at him as he holds her up from falling and hurting herself, hitting something on the way down to the ground.

“No!” he yells angrily. “Look at you! Gen! Fuckin’ ‘ell girl CALM DOWN!” he roars, having to haul her back onto her feet.

She stops struggling and stands, face now full of betrayal as she shakes with the underlying anger.

“You need to get a grip on yaself Genny! Look at you! Why are you actin’ like this? Like a fuckin’ fiend! Are we going to have to lock you up next? Can you not be trusted anymore?” he asks with a low brow and harsh delivery.

“Let me go.” she demands, struggling against him mildly, her eyes looking more her old self in their fury.

“Fuckin’...NO! Why would I? Look at how you’re actin’! What is wrong with you?” he groans out loudly as her jaw clenches and she slaps him across the face, resulting in him very calmly letting her go and clenching his hands into fists at his sides. His nostrils flared and his eyes remained shut. He wasn’t going to hit her back. He wasn’t that sort of man. But she was bringing out the worst in him. They were bringing out the worst in each other.

“Don’t fucking touch me like that!” she shrieks, adjusting her dress. “I have a reason for acting this way! What about YOU?” she responds, shoving him out of the way and running off down the hall.

With her dress pulled high, she needed to escape. She needed out and away. She heads straight for the door, Joseph tottering after her as the staff had gathered cautiously to see what was happening.

“We’re going to London Joseph.” she announces with wild eyes and confidence to her face she hadn’t felt and no one had seen in some time.

“Miss I don’t think-”

“You are going to drive me to London or I will fucking DO IT MYSELF!” she screams as he hunches down and does as he’s told. What other choice did he have? “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I need to get out of my own head. I can’t stay. I can’t do it.” she mutters to herself, head shaking back and forth as they drive off as were her orders.

“Why are you just standing there! Go after her!” Aggie shouts in Alfie’s face, him standing where Gen had left him as he rubbed his temples.

“Send some of my boys after her. Watch her. We know what she’s fuckin’ doin’.” he shakes his head, his voice quiet and even.

“How are you so bloody calm?”

“Aggie... sweetie... calm is the last thing I am right now.” his voice was a deep hiss, his eyes almost hidden behind low brows. “But I...in my line of work have MUCH practice in withholding my true emotions. And I am using it to its full extent right now.” his jaw is tight, speaking through clenched teeth as he cracks his knuckles.

“But she’s ran away?”

“No. She’s going to get well pissed. That’s what she’s doin’. There wasn't enough of this fuckin’ JUNK to ease her and now she’s reverting to her immature behavior.”

“She’s not well Alfie, you need to remember.”

“IT’S ALL I FUCKIN THINK ABOUT YEAH?” he shouts in anger before composing himself and Aggie takes a step back. “I want to be so fuckin’ furious at her for this. I know I should be sympathetic. I know she’s not herself. But I am so close to just fucking off right now. And I know I don’t want to do that. And it’s all making me MORE angry because I can’t fuckin' control it. I control things Aggie, that’s what I fuckin’ DO. And I can’t her, right?”

“Neither can she. Remember that.”

“Oh, I do. And it just makes it worse.” he throws his arms up in the air. “I’ll go get her. Fuckin’... AGAIN.” he sighs and shakes his head. “I was prepared, yeah? To deal with the healing. I can grasp that. I can respect it. But this…” he motions to the broken bottle on the floor. “I’m having a bloody hard time respecting this.” he says with a groan. “This is just... weakness. This isn’t her. She’s not Gen when she’s on this shit.” he tells, walking around the bed and crunching the glass under his work boots. “There’s no more of this. Fuck that!” he says pointing to the same spot. “I’m done wif it. I ‘on’t care if the doctor says it’s helpin’, it’s fuckin’ not, right? Don’t get no more. Those are orders. You hear me? I know you’re soft Aggie but it’s time for some tough love for the old girl. Don’t ya think?” he asks, leaning over the small woman as she scrunches her face in a scowl. “This soft fuckin’ treatment innit doin’ a fuckin’ thing. She HATED bein’ coddled before. Remember? Do any of us ever remember fuckin’ BEFORE now?” he sighs and groans, rubbing his face.

“Yes sir.” she says coldly.

“Oh don’t give me that.” he responds with an aggressive nod. “Do you not think it’s time to reign her in?”

“I do. But I don’t like it.”

“Well, I ‘on’t fuckin’ LIKE it either! You think I want to be cruel to her? The woman I’ve promised to care for? To respect and protect?”

“It’s hard to tell with you lately.”

“Well, I fuckin’ don’t. But with someone like her…” he points in the direction Gen fled. “In a situation like this, perhaps sympathy isn’t what is needed. She needs a swift kick to the arse to make her see how she’s actin’. And I’m the only one what will tell her what she don’t wanna hear.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ll call the doctor and tell him no more medicine. In case she tries to get it herself.”

“Good girl.” he says giving her a strong pat the back and sauntering down the hall with hard steps that make his shoulder sway even more than usual.

-----

Genevieve had done exactly as Alfie knew she would. His men were out on alert for her in the city and they found her quickly. Out getting pissed at some east end shit hole where she didn’t have to pay for a thing.

“Alright. She’s had enough.” Alfie instructs, putting his watch back into his coat pocket. “Bring her out.” he orders with a flick of his wrist. “Be gentle but...make her. Try to appeal to her vanity. That usually works.” he states with a stern point of his finger to the lads given the job.

Gen, of course, did not want to leave. She didn’t want to see Alfie or hear about him or any man really. She wanted to be lost in the sounds and movements and be young and wild and free again. But the reality that she could no longer be any of those things, truly, would always come knocking. And in this instance, it was a few of the big boys of Alfie’s she knew. The muscle.

“Miss it’s time to go.” one says in her ear.

“No.” she declares defiantly. Like a child, really.

“Miss I must insist. We’re here on Mr. Solomons orders.”

“Fuck his orders.” she sass’s back and turns away and he takes her by the arm.

“We can take you out of here kicking and screaming but what would the gossip sound like if word were to get around, eh? So why don’t you walk out with us, and no one has to be any wiser as to what’s happening.”

She gives him a look that would normally make him worry, as he had heard about the things she’d done. “Don’t fuckin' touch me.” she growls, jerking out his grip. “Where is the bastard?” she spits out as she begins walking towards the door.

He waits, and it does take longer than expected. But there she came, mad as a wet cat, stomping, and hissing just the same towards his vehicle. She was uneasy on her feet, not stumbling but a drunken sway that told him he’d stopped her at just the right time.

He sits in silence, his hat on, cane in hand and posture straight as he makes her sit with her thoughts as they travel down the road. He eventually turns towards her and she’s pouting out the window.

“Gen, look at me.” he orders.

She, of course, doesn’t even acknowledge him. Sitting with her arms crossed and body language very clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Genevieve…” he warns. “Can you even hear me? Ya fuckin’ pissed innit ya?” he scoffs and waits.

She lets out a defiant huff through her nose.

“Fuckin’ look at me, woman.” he moves and takes her by the chin. He met with glossy and unfocused eyes and pouting lips. “Look at you…” he shames her and her lip quivers. “Fuckin’ mess.” he tsks and shakes his head. “Can you even respond to me ya little drunkard?” she speaks nothing and tries to move out of his grasp but he’s holding onto her too tightly. “Fuck’s sake Genny.” he presses his lips and sighs.

“I can.” she snaps back. “But what’s the fucking point?” she snarls.

“Because I asked you a fucking question dinnit I? Because you should explain this childish behavior. You’re not a fucking child. You’re not even that young, you’re a grown woman. You know better.” he speaks intensely but with a smooth delivery that makes her wants to slap him again. He was being too condescending. So patronizing it made her sick.

“Clearly I don’t.” she ejects back with a rough turn of her head that knocks her chin out of his grasp. He returns it slowly to the top of his cane.

“You’re some fuckin' junkie now and you’re just gonna give up? One bad thing happens and you just roll over and let your jellied brain just fuck you, eh?” he delivers harshly, knowing the words would hurt her, but it was his role to put the wild thing in her place before, and it only made sense he’d be the one now. He could handle her hating him. More people hated him than liked him, it wasn’t a bother to him. He knew that if she’d see a true relfection of herself, that she’d thank him one day for the honesty.

“One thing?” she shouts. “One fucking thing?” her voice cracks with emotion as she begins speaking with her hands. “My life has been nothing but bad things Alfie!” her voice was exhausted. ”One after another. Every fucking day!” she turns on her knees and screams at him. “I was there for DAYS, the things they did to me?! And you want to say it was ONE thing?” her French accent comes out, her finger pointing in his face as she let go of all that was building up inside her that the Morphine wouldn’t let her feel or communicate. “When you know how I was raised? What my father and his friends did to me? The kind’ve men I’ve had to get close to? The shit I’ve had to eat because of being a woman. ONE THING?” she screams in his face.

“And what good is complainin' and throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin' little girl gonna do, eh?” he keeps his calm, and it makes her angrier. He should be as upset as her she thought. It wasn’t fair he got to be unbothered and she was left a mess.

“Fuck you Alfie!” she barks, sitting back and crossing her arms, looking out the window.

“I’d rather hear that then you feeling sorry for yourself.” he snarks with a raised brow. He was proud of her, actually. This was the most she’d talked about what had happened. She needed to feel these feelings, get them all out and that medicine had stopped it, stunted her and left her in an emotional purgatory.

“We can’t all have steel traps up here can we?” she replies, tapping her temple “We can’t all be fuckin’...made of stone and just push forward no matter what happens. Some of us are SOFT and FEEL things.” she answers with a quieter voice, but that did not mean she was less angry.

“If you think I don’t feel things you’ve not been payin’ attention.” his voice even, and lips pursed.

“So your reaction to my problem is to shake me and shout at me? To give me barked orders like a dog?” she questions incredulously.

“You haven’t listened to anythin' else.” he gives her a side-eyed glance and he can feel the heat radiating off her towards him.

“What else have you tried lately Alfie? Huh? I don’t even remember when I first came home, and I don’t remember you being soft with me once as of late. You’ve just given me that… fuckin’... look.”

“A look?” he answers a mild chortle.

“Yes like that! Like a disappointed father. Like you don’t even want me anymore. I’m just some burden to you.”

“Genny this behavior is a burden for a man like me.” he speaks plainly and it cuts her like a knife.

“Then why don’t you just fucking leave? If you hate me so much?” her eyes welling up with tears now, the anger shifting into hurt.

“I don’t hate you, but you’re actin' like a daft cu-.” he sighs. “I don’t hate you. If I did I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have been dealing with the things I have for you... from you.” he answers with a curt tone, his hand laying out his point as he spoke.

“Do you think what a woman like me needs right now is cold indifference?” her head shakes back and forth, in disbelief at how he was speaking to her.

“I don’t know what the fuck you need any more to be honest. This whole thing has turned you into someone I don’t know.” his eyes were more honest now, she recognized it.

“I could say the same.” she glares back, hiding the swell of emotions inside her. She didn’t want to break down again. She didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. And that was exactly what he had wanted out of her. He didn’t care if she had to use him and spite for him to gain the want to control herself. He just wanted her to control herself.

She sulks the whole way home, the anger fading, turning to sadness with the tiredness that overtook her body. He followed her into the bed room, as if nothing was wrong.

“Why are you staying around me?” she snaps as he sees the softness in her face.

“Because I have to, love.” he replies as he takes off his coat. He knew another flare was incoming.

“Why are you being so mean?” her hard exterior breaks and tears start to fall.

“You want to know? Truly? Can you handle it Genevieve?” he asks with a mean face that shows so sympathy for her tears.

She nods, “Yes. I can.” she says defiantly through tears.

He takes a deep breath and gives her the truth. “Because I just want my Genny back.” he admits with a shake of his head. The brief softness in his eyes making a sob bubble up in her throat. “I don’t know who this drugged up woman is that runs off in the middle of the night.” his voice lacked bite, but still felt harsh as it came out. “You did it once, and I was sympathetic, your sister passin’ ‘n all. But not with this. Not after all this time.” his face hardens, straightening his posture and looking her up and down, judging her. “You’re smarter than this Gen.” he says with exasperation. “You aren’t who I agreed to be with right now. And I just fuckin’ want some relief, I just want my Genny back, love, that’s all.” his brow was hard, his words even more so as they hit her in the chest like a kick.

“I am your Genny.” she sobs, voice so small. Her heart was broken, her faults laid out plainly for her to see. She could no longer ignore them. “I am. I’m just... I’m…” she breaks down and begins to cry. The fog she’d been in gone, the cold reality of her behavior hitting her now. Feeling every little thing, most importantly shame for the right reasons for the first time since the incident.

“But you’re not though are ya?” he leans towards her, his face still cold to her. “You’re not her right now, sweetie. Cause my Genny? She wouldn’t do any of 'is.” he motions to her, half bent and sobbing into her hands as he begins to walk away to leave her to her catharsis.

“I am your Genny!” she shouts and her voice breaks and cries, tears and snot and the whole mess, months of backed up and delayed revelations coming at her, feeling alone and ashamed. She watches him leave the bedroom as she calls out, not seeing the hurt on his own face for putting her through this. But he knew it had to be done, it was his role to be the one to do the things no one else wanted or could.

He sleeps in his old room that night, giving her time to wail it all out. And she did. She cried herself sick. But she didn’t drink, she didn’t ask for medicine, she didn’t ask for anything. She sat in front of the fire, thinking about the past few months and let out everything in wails and sobs. A cleansing she’d desperately needed.

——-

The next morning Alfie's conscience is weighing heavy. It didn’t happen often and he hated the feel of it. But he’d slept like shit and heard her crying all night and had to deal with the dirty looks from Aggie and Claire as he rose from the spare room. He wanders into the kitchen, asking for Genevieve’s favorite tea and sweets. It isn’t questioned and he shuffles his way to her room with the serving tray balanced in his hands. House shoes scuffing the stone floors while his pajamas slicked together from the soft fabric Gen insisted on them being.

She’s asleep in the floor, laid out on pillows and blankets in front of a dying fire. Her hair was covering her face and most of her body, a silk nightgown just visible underneath the veil. He stokes the fire and feeds it, then standing over her and clearing his throat, causing her to stir.

She whines and rubs her face, pushing her hair out of the way of seeing before focusing her eyes on his shoes.

“Oh.” She says sleepily, “It’s you.” She lets him know she wasn’t too keen on seeing him.

“I brought ya your tea and biscuits.” He offers in a friendly voice. Much more polite than anything they exchanged the night before.

“Thanks.” She grumbles, pulling herself off the floor and onto the couch.

“Would you like me to make your tea? Fetch you a robe?” He inquires.

“No.” She answers quickly, moving to prepare her tea herself. “I don’t want to be fucking coddled.” She forced out through a smart tongue.

He doesn’t find himself annoyed at her behavior. Even though that was clearly the case for her towards him. She was a crumpled, sickly looking mess but she was indeed herself. And that’s all he’d wanted. He’d missed that spark, that justified emotion, even anger towards him. He knew she was feeling more herself with her demand and he felt a small glimmer of hope.

“How are you feeling this mornin'?” He inquires with a tilted head her way.

“Like hell.”

“You do favor it, sweetie.” He says with a rub of his chin.

She raises her eyes in a glare his way but finds his face not aggressive. ”You look just as well Alfie.” She snarls back.

“I’d not only agree but say I feel much the same.” He nods and purses his lips I’m hesitant agreement.

“I’m going through withdrawal and dealing with a bastard of a ma What’s your excuse?”

“Dealing with a woman going through withdrawl and being a right bastard.” He retorts.

She actually felt inclined to smile at the remark. That would’ve been the first in months. The first non-drug induced one anyway. Normally the comment would’ve been met with a laugh and a little pinch of the cheeky man. Perhaps even a kiss for the self-deprecating humor. But all he saw was a flash of sarcasm in her eyes, but that was indeed enough to satiate him for now. A “Mmph.” nodded is all he is given in the meantime.

“Do you need anythin' this mornin'?” He asks cautiously. She always asked for her medicine with breakfast when it was not freely given.

“No.” She sighs out, teacup resting on her thigh. “I’m afraid I don’t have an appetite for much of anything else anymore.” Her voice is even but her hands shake. Her color was poorly, dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. A light cast of sheen from sweat on her skin. Her stomach growls and she rubs it with a wince. “Just send Aggie in. I’m feeling rather weak in the absence of the medicine and I’ll be taking to my bed today I believe.” She rises and puts the back of her hand to her mouth for a moment, nausea sweeping about her insides.

“Will do, love.” He says with a polite bow. “Any cause to call the doctor?”

“No. There’s nothing he can do for this.” She shakes her head. “I’ll just have to suffer until it’s out of my system. And what is more suffering for a woman like me?” She shrugs and looks his way. She was tired, bless her, in so many meanings of the word.

“It is nothing for a strong woman.” He states supportively.

She lets out an amused laugh, a single forced exhale of “Ha.” A scoff really. “When I see one I will be sure to give her my problems.” She rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach again as it growl and squeals.

“Mirrors in the bathroom.” He motions and she shoots him a side-eyed glance. “If you need me further I’ll be only a phone call away.”

“I won’t require you.” She answers curtly, not looking his way. It was the first time she’d not pouted when he mentioned leaving.

“I will be home for tea. Perhaps you will feel up to having it with me?” He questions as he moves toward the door.

“Perhaps.” She calls out in response. She pauses in the bathroom doorway as he does the same to the hall. “Perhaps not.” She says with a shrug and an almost sarcastic face.

He only gives her a nod in response, shutting the door behind him. He should’ve felt a burn of her being cold. But he didn’t. He knew she’d be mad with him for some time. But he was ready to weather it. She could be as angry as she liked, didn’t matter to him. Not when their well being, their business, and her recovery were at stake. He’d take all the anger from her in the world to get his Genny back.

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

@jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbirdd @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @alitheamateur @gold-trashbag @divadinag

#Alfie Solomons #Peaky Blinders #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons au #peaky blinders au #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fan fic #alfie solomons angst #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fan fiction #tom hardy

65 notes · View notes

fayewonglibrary · 4 years

Text

Melting of the Ice Queen (2000)

Once the music world’s Ice Queen, Faye Wong warms up to motherhood and new love as Rebecca Li uncovers.

AS Faye Wong walks into the photo studio at Chai Wan, Hong Kong, casually dressed in baby-blue pants and pink No Name sneakers that look like a cross between sports shoes and ballet slippers, she looks relaxed and girlish.

The colours of her outfit suggest that her life is absolutely bright and sunny. Even without makeup, her eyes obscured by aviator shades, she still looks completely stunning.

Well-known for her nonchalance to the media and her chameleon-like image changes, Asia’s most charismatically enigmatic chanteuse seems to have mellowed. Does it have anything to do with the birth of her daughter Jingtong in February 1997?

“The greatest change in me came not after the birth of my child, but after I converted to Buddhism in 1992,” says the 31-year-old. “I used to ask myself questions like ‘Why is it so?’ But not everything in the world can be explained. If it is so, it is so; there is no why. If it is fated, then it is so! You can only learn to accept your fate. A simple principle, but easier said than done.”

LIFE GOES ON

With her divorce from Taiwanese rocker Dou Wei out of the way, Faye seems to have moved on. The big news now is that she is dating a younger man, and not just any younger man too, but Hong Kong heartthrob Nicholas Tse, who’s all of 19.

The source of the rumor? The pair was snapped by paparazzi earlier this year, kissing at a party in Hong Kong club Greenspot…during a drinking game. And to add fuel to the fire, they have also been spotted having intimate dinners together on several occasions.

Gossip aside, it’s amazing how the public just cannot get enough of this long-limbed, 1.72 metre-tall Beijing-born beauty, who first set foot in Hong Kong in 1987 at the age of 18.

Back then, the artiste formerly known as Shirley Wong Ching Man didn’t even speak a word of Cantonese, and out of boredom, she enrolled herself in singing classes that helped her develop that ethereal voice that she is now so famous for.

After spending a couple of years in New York studying music, she returned to Hong Kong in 1992, changed her name to Faye, and released an album entitled COMING HOME. The rest, as they say, is history. In 1993, she was voted “Most Popular Asian Singer” and over the years, her star has just kept rising higher.

Within a short span of time, Faye has attained the kind of pop icon status that took her favorite singer Teresa Teng an entire lifetime to achieve.

Fans from as far as France devote entire websites to her. Film critics in Sweden gave her the “Best Actress” award for her role in CHUNGKING EXPRESS. Sony Playstation felt she was appealing enough to the youth market to pay her US$1 million to sing the ending theme song for their popular video game Final Fantasy 8.

If you’d holidayed in China last year and felt a thirst for Pepsi, you would have seen her gorgeous face emblazoned all over the can (that is, before the limited edition ran out).

A Japanese cellphone company used her for their commercial, but that perhaps is not even half as flattering as the fact that a Taiwanese artiste, Kung Mei Mei, released a debut album entitled I LOVE FAYE WONG.

QUEEN OF MODESTY

Faye has proven herself as one of the very few singers who have made a successful crossover into acting, with CHUNGKING EXPRESS, LOVE AFFAIR IN OKINAWA (which hit Singapore screens on 9 August) and the yet-to-be-completed 2046. But she still remains unimpressed by her own thespian talents.

“Actually I don’t have much acting to do in LOVE AFFAIR IN OKINAWA… and it is nothing as crazy as the character in CHUNGKING EXPRESS. It is much more normal and easy-going.”

And contrary to what others say, the movie has not been tailormade for her, she clarifies. “Maybe they just know this is how I am, I simply can’t act. Maybe it is because it is a different director (Peter Chan). I have only worked with Wong Kar Wai before. I’m more familiar with what he wants… I’m afraid of the demands from other directors, that I may not be able to meet their requirements…”

Faye says that she does not like acting because it involves teamwork and requires a lot of patience.

“For me, when you are making a movie, you have to wait. It takes a lot of time, and it can be boring. When you sing, you just need to go to the studio. I would know if I have not sung a line well, so I can ask to do it again. When it comes to acting, I wouldn’t know which way is better. When the director says it is okay, then it’s okay for me, I wouldn’t have any opinion of my own.

"I have also sought advice from many actors, like Carina Lau, for example, who never went through formal training either. She said, it will be fine, just keep doing it, it will come with experience! Maybe that’s true, I’ve only made three movies, which is not much of an experience.”

While most actors eagerly dissect every film they can get their hands on, Faye says she is not even a movie buff to begin with. “I don’t like to watch martial arts movies, war movies, period movies,” she says, without pausing for breath. “I do watch comedies, but if it is blatantly slapstick, I will definitely not watch it.”

And contrary to how so-called “serious” actors try to get into their roles by trying to get under the skin of the character they’re taking on, Faye prefers not to get in too deep.

“When you are doing a Wong Kar Wai movie, you can never be quite in it, because you won’t even know what the story is all about. When I was filming CHUNGKING EXPRESS, I really didn’t know what I was doing. You have to read the script a few times to understand what he’s trying to say. As I was playing the role, I was feeling that this girl is so irritating and inexplicable. Haha…" Self-mockery has always been a virtue of survivors.

LOVE ACCORDING TO FAYE

Now that she has reclaimed her "single” status, perhaps Faye will reveal the kind of man that attracts her?

But this line of questioning doesn’t get much information out of her – Faye would rather speak in generalities, and not about any specific person. Nicholas Tse’s name is not mentioned throughout the interview.

Sexiness, Faye says, is a matter of personality, a kind of feel. For her, there are no criteria to speak of.

“I have always been one to follow my intuition. When it feels right, then it’s right. The most important thing for a man is to be upright, frank, not to make me do any second-guessing, not to say one thing and do another thing. Whether he is sexy or not is secondary. There is not particular look that I go for. Except that I don’t like guys that talk to much.”

Still, despite her ice queen persona, there’s still a hint that the man who manages to make her thaw will find a hopeless romantic underneath.

“I feel that everything is fated. When a person is in love, it is like having a magic spell cast on you, you just can’t wriggle out of it, and you can’t be so level-headed as to examine yourself objectively. Some would calculate various factors while choosing a marriage partner and decide according to one’s requirements. But I’m definitely not someone like that.”

Translated by Ts’ Ming.

FAYE ON HER LEADING MEN

Tony Leung Chiu Wai - “I have worked with him the most number of times but never really talked to him. I don’t understand him too well. He doesn’t talk much, but sometimes he would behave like … he would be very affectionate, it’s rather odd. I guess he is harder to fathom.”

Leslie Cheung - “He is a buddy. He is someone who makes clear distinctions between what he loves and what he hates. He would explain why he likes something and why he doesn’t like something … a headstrong type of person.”

Tony Leung Kar Fai - “He is a very agreeable character, he would share his private matters with others, things like where his family has gone traveling, what they have encountered, how his daughter is doing … I think he would make a perfect husband, very nice, caring, and attentive.”

Takuya Kimura - “Kimura is a very smart person. But sometimes he’s very playful too. He’s actually a very professional actor.”

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

On hobbies - “Shopping for clothes is no longer my hobby, I only shop for 'working clothes’, so that doesn’t count. Recently, I haven’t’ had any hobbies. Apart from work, I just lie around at home, or meet up with some friends. I have not played mahjong for a long time." (Right, who has time for mahjong when one is too busy dating?)

On music - "Thinking back on my first record, it was released without much thought, and it was not very me. I tend to be more carefree while recording in the studio, other than that I behave very awkwardly. I’m not one who needs to listen to music everyday.”

On pursuits - “I’m not very worried about what to eat, or what to wear, just as long as I have a place to live comfortably. Actually I’m usually not so concerned about my appearance. I think the only thing I care for is my records, choosing my songs, recording a good album. Although there are some works that I’m satisfied with, I still hope to do more.”

On happiness - “A lot of times, that’s just a state of mind. As long as you know how to let go, you will be much happier.”

On her daughter - “I never planned to have children. I’m not a patient person but I tend to be nicer to children. Fortunately, Jing Tong is not naughty at all. I will not interfere with her future, my responsibility is just to raise her. Whichever path she takes from then on would be her own, that’s beyond my control.”

MAKING OF A COVER GIRL

Faye Wong has a habit of browsing through magazines while making up. She would rather stay a while longer than to rush an interview while making up and doing her hair. Such insistence is rare among entertainers, but how else to share your thoughts with so many people around to interrupt?

So this reporter had to watch her making up, doing her hair, trying her dress and taking the polaroids for a full five hours. But that helped her to warm up and made it easier to strike up a conversation.

As expected, her daughter Jing Tong turned up at 5:30 pm sharp, insisted on a hug and kiss, and on being Faye’s personal dresser – she followed Mum into the changing room. Faye looked completely transformed as she emerged, and her daughter started to mimic her, much to everyone’s amusement.

During the interview, the cute little girl interrupted three or four times, but she also knew when to back off after every act, without being told off.

As the interview drew to a close, Jing Tong grew more and more impatient. She shouted with all her might: “Mum, Mum, let’s go home!" It sounded like a little wish that was too long suppressed.

------------------------------------------------------------------

SOURCE: ELLE

#2000

3 notes · View notes

wings-of-a-storm · 5 years

Note

I like David alright (I don’t mind him I guess), but yeah, sometimes silence is better than saying stuff like that. I’m not going to try and defend him, but I do feel his words were really poorly chosen on his part and that he didn’t really mean it to sound this way. But yeah... as you said yourself David, think before you speak, because this whole shitstorm could’ve been avoided entirely if you didn’t add so much fuel to the fire. (Also people should stop sharing those texts).

I don’t wish to sound condescending to David in this matter either, but from my perspective, he IS the head representative for his brand and as such needs to always be mindful of his words and how they might come across. Even talking in DMs to fans, he is still acting as a representative of his brand, so nothing can ever truly just be a casual comment. (And unfortunately, due to the nature of the beast, you have to always be careful and assume your words might become public.)

As you said, I’m sure he didn’t mean for it to come across the way it did but it was still pretty irresponsible to turn an explanation for a narrative choice into something personal with that “I’m not a liar” justification. That was the part that changed the game because it naturally implied that if you show optimism in a homophobic country, you are a liar…

And that then extends to Ludovico, for example, who is then suddenly a ‘liar’ for showing optimism in Italy 2018…

I think I was so personally affronted by that remark because I have always had huge respect for Skam Italia for choosing to acknowledge but not linger on the homophobia around Martino (like his father) when it would have been so easy to go down a pessimistic road. Like Italy is literally the centre of the Catholic Church! It would have been so easy for them to have focused hard on the religious ramifications for lgbt+ and shown homophobic attacks at school or even from Martino’s friends. But they chose to show that Good People exist and will stand up for their friends in homophobic environments even at risk to themselves. Which does also exist. That doesn’t make anyone a liar. It was a weird thing for David to suggest…

But yes, I rather wish the Skam France team would avoid fan discourse because it can never end well. :(

#ask #anon #it partly feels like a dream that this even happened...

3 notes · View notes

formlesscopycat · 6 years

Text

Distance of the Falling Sun

A Kuroko no Basuke fanfic.

Pairing: Aomine x Kise

Rating: G

Summary: Sometimes, Kise wonders why he even tries. Because it kind of hurts whenever he finds himself chasing after the bright streak that Aomine leaves behind.

Notesy-notes: Gifted this to my dear friend, @digimondestined because I thought she might like Teiko!Aokise with some angst and a little bit of Aho-reverence.

Inspired by this. Prompted by this.

Read on Ao3

Ten.

It takes ten years and four for Kise Ryouta to find the person, only ten seconds to fall in love.

He never expects that meeting his love would hurt—a basketball thrown into the back of his head—and when he turns around, his gaze fixes on sun-kissed skin, the color of bronze, a shock of hair the color of deep blue ocean. He never expects to be caught off-guard by the husky lilt on the boy’s tone, as he says Kise’s name with enthusiasm and familiarity, as if he’d known Kise for a long time. He never expects himself to be drawn towards the basketball gym—to where the boy headed—and see said boy battle out several opponents with quick, calculated, almost graceful movements as he strides about across the court, ball in hand, bouncing to the ground in a rhythmic tempo. Kise stands rooted to the spot, seconds turning to minutes. Within him, a spark is lit; soon, it’s a wild fire blazing as he watches the boy pull his weight, spring into the air, and slam the ball effortlessly inside the hoop with a smooth and quiet swoosh. He catches the boy’s expression and it holds the light of the sun.

Kise is captivated.

“I’d like to join the basketball club!” Later, Kise tells everyone in that gym. He’s never been so sure of anything in his life.

Nine.

For the nine, unbearably long school days he’s waited, the in-between two weeks before gets to join first string.

Kise is a little disappointed, a little exasperated that he has to start from the ground up before he can join the regulars, before he can finally play with the blue-haired boy (and well, with the rest).

He learns that the boy’s name is Aomine. Right after third string practice, Kise never fails to drop by the first string gym and watch the regulars—they always put on extra time, always staying longer and Kise can’t help contain the excitement he feels, when he sees how passionate and devoted his teammates are. And then his eyes stay glued to the tanned teenager for the rest of the time, picking out moves, techniques, style. Sometimes, Aomine just steals his breath by simply dunking a ball.

Kise admires from afar and it’s like looking up into the skies of endless blue-- Aomine, talent and all, seems too far, too high, too unreachable. Yet it fuels Kise’s desire to be good enough to share the court with Aomine someday soon.

When his time finally came, Kise manages to keep a cool exterior, schools his features just enough so he won’t look too giddy and stupid when the team manager ushers him to the first string gym, but deep down, his heart drums with exhilaration. Finally, the time has come.

“That’s amazing.” He hears Aomine say. Kise’s heart flutters a little inside his chest.

Eight.

Eight weeks later, Kise finds himself well-assimilated into the club, into the sport. Practice can be grueling, but basketball has been anything but dreary—he’s quite sure he’ll stay for a long, long time, maybe, even for good. There are lots of new things to learn, Kise’s got a huge room for improvement, the mechanics of the sport always posing a challenge to him. Not to mention, he has to work doubly hard if he wants to keep up with Murasakibara, Akashi, Midorima and Aomine. Especially with Aomine, who seems to be getting stronger and faster every day.

In eight weeks, Kise gets to hang out with a rather eclectic crowd of people, and he finds them infinitely more interesting than the bimbos who always crowd his social space, fawning even over the smallest things he does—Kise could be rolling his eyes at them and these fan girls would still worship the ground he walks on.

In eight weeks, he’s played his first official match, with lanky, little Kuroko showing him a valuable lesson, enough for him to pay the teal-haired teen a considerable amount of respect despite Kuroko’s below par basketball skills.

In eight weeks, he’s played countless one-on-one matches with Aomine and has never won a single game.

Play. Lose. Repeat. They throw him sorry looks and Kise is well-aware that the others misconstrue him as a masochist already, because why would anyone want to be repeatedly beaten to the dust by the Ace of the Generation of Miracles?

Yet Kise gets up every time, a smile tugging on his lips, as he looks up at Aomine and declares, “one more”.

What they don’t understand is how every defeat pushes Kise to discover more of his potential. Because if he wants to get better, he has to go against the best.

Aomine just smirks, throws Kise the ball and puts on a defensive stance. There’s even a hint of amusement in his ocean-blue eyes and for whatever it means, Kise finds himself wanting of a way to overcome, finds it endearing even, finds himself drawn to the fire more than ever.

Seven.

Kise thinks and comes up with reasons:

Aominecchi is mean.

Aominecchi is loud, and headstrong, and just likes to fool around. He loves provoking people, Kise particularly, and when Aominecchi is in detention, it’s most likely that he ends up in detention as well.

Aominecchi is lazy--he likes to sleep, likes to skip cleaning duties, likes to run late for practice. What an irresponsible jerkface.

Aominecchi swears a lot.

Aominecchi is an idiot, his grades are miserable. (Not that he’s any better).

Aominecchi just loves smacking his head, pushing him, throwing him the ball too hard when he’s not looking. Not a day passes by without Aominecchi and him bickering, trading bruises and bumps here and there, and it’s sometimes bothersome because Kise likes to keep his body and face (especially his face) flawless.

Aominecchi is just plain annoying.

Kise stops on the seventh. He has plentiful more reasons to hate on Aomine but he cannot bring himself to add more, just as he considers other things as well.

Because Aomine may be all of the above but childishness aside, he actually has a kind heart. He’s very protective of Momoi, he’s been a steadfast support to Kuroko, and sometimes Aomine even shows a bit of concern for Kise, too, coaxing him to eat more “or he’ll be a liability to the team if he’s too weak” and carelessly throws off comments like, “Your eye bags make you look uglier, Kise. You should sleep some.”

Aomine is fun. He’s a concentrated bundle of energy that couldn’t sit still. He’s reckless and spontaneous. Adventure sings in his veins that when Kise hears the call, he just can’t help but be pulled and lured into some irresistible exploit with Aomine. Even if it lands them both into trouble.

Aomine is honest. Often, he’s an idiot who blurts out things without thinking. But he doesn’t sugarcoat, doesn’t just say things to please anybody.

And Aomine’s not bad-looking. Not at all.

The mess of contradictions that is Aomine Daiki. Kise ponders these things in his heart most of the time, maybe so much more than he’s aware of. Lately, his day dreams are filled to the brim with the blue of Aomine’s eyes, the sharpness of Aomine’s smirk, the storm that’s born on his skin where Aomine’s touch has accidentally or intentionally made contact.

No, he tells himself.

No, he pleads with himself. Because he can’t be falling in love with Aomine.

The realization terrifies Kise.

Six.

Unstoppable, precise, effortless as always. Kise marvels in awe, a stare lingering a tad bit too long at the wearer of jersey number 6, after he scores another basket despite having been marked by three of the players from the opposing team.

Before Kise’s feet move in step closer to the Teiko Power Forward so he can voice out a compliment for the Ace, Aomine has already rushed to Kuroko’s side to give the Phantom Sixth Man a fist bump. Kise watches as the two share meaningful smiles, the clarity of the message traded across is almost glaring despite the lack of words.

As Aomine became the brightest point where all of Kise’s fantasies, hope and admiration come together, Kise also has soon become aware of his rightful place in Aomine’s world. Aomine’s light is blinding indeed, but not blinding enough for Kise to unsee where it shines at.

It’s Tetsu. Always at his Tetsu.

They’re light and shadow after all, inseparable like the yin and yang.

--x--

Kise is often told he’s beautiful. It’s not quite strange when people say he’s bright, talented, special. Yet when he looks at Kuroko, Kise sees everything that Aomine wants; Kise looks at himself in the mirror and sees that he’ll never be enough.

There are times when he’d be willing to give anything just to be in Kuroko’s shoes.

While Kise often finds himself at the receiving end of Aomine’s profanities, there’s never a single harsh word for Kuroko. While Aomine pokes fun at Kise’s skills despite his enormous improvement since that day he started playing, there’s always fond encouragement for Kuroko, who is perpetually stuck with an abysmal aim and weak stamina. While Kuroko always gets friendly taps on the shoulder, casual fist bumps and resounding high-fives, Kise gets kicked, smacked, hit by the ball and laughed at.

The more he sees, the more Kise learns that grief is really just love, a burst of emotion that demands to rush, to flow out, but cannot. He learns that it’s just love that pools at the edges of his eyes, it’s just love that brings the dull ache in his chest. Kise learns that grief is just love with no place to go.

Five.

It’s been five days since Kise decided to keep his distance. The sudden break from his usual routine leaves a strange, hallowed feeling within the confines of his heart, but at the same time, he’s washed over with relief, knowing that he’s stopped himself in time before more damage is done.

To keep the hurt at bay, he signs up for more modeling jobs and tells his teammates that he’s swamped with work so he’ll have an excuse to cut basketball practice shorter and leave school as soon as possible. During lunch, Kise gets to sit again with the bimbos who melt at his feet with just a bat of his eye lash, who laugh at the corniest joke he tells. He lets himself laugh a little too loudly at his own joke, without sparing a glance at the table where he used to be, where the famed Miracles are. He’s stopped sending funny memes or random messages to his teammates and only speaks to any of them when spoken to. Kuroko he can handle but dealing with Aomine is an entirely different matter. Kise stays as far as he can, promises himself that he’ll never sit beside the Ace during the classes they share, vows not to ask for a one-on-one again, even if it kills him not to.

It can’t be helped, Kise reasons with himself, that he has to shut off his friends at the basketball club, while being fully aware of the unfairness of his decisions, especially to Aomine and Kuroko. Though he’s grown to love basketball so much, Kise contemplates that the best course of action is to quit altogether, because everything and everyone reminds him of the pain he wants to get away from.

He’s fading.

It’s better this way.

In a short span of days, Kise lets all the bridges burn slowly, slowly, leaving behind a trail of numbing emptiness at its wake.

--x--

Making up some stupid excuse to skip basketball practice later, Kise finds Nijimura-senpai right after first period, tells his senior that he’s feeling a little bit under the weather. The Captain gives him a probing stare, Kise almost chokes out into confession as he’s sure senpai sees through his lie, but thankfully, the Captain had let Kise get away without asking questions.

Time dragged on. Last period took forever to end. At the sound of the final bell, Kise gets up from his chair, straps up his bag on his shoulders, but before he can fully exit the classroom, somebody has grabbed his right arm.

Aomine demanded for Kise to stay, fingers tight around the blond’s wrist, while he glowered at everybody else to leave the room immediately.

Four.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Aomine’s question resounds against the four walls of the empty room, making Kise reel, the shock of this sudden confrontation almost constricting him. Kise peers up at the other boy under thick lashes but he can never hold Aomine’s gaze for too long. He swallows the lump in his throat, opens his mouth to say something, but Aomine cuts in, as if reading his mind.

“And don’t you dare give me that ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about’ crap. Get to the point.”

With naked panic settling at the pit of his stomach, Kise stalls. He keeps glancing on his shoes, lets his fingers fumble on the hem of his uniform before whispering, “I’m just busy with work, is all.”

The reply comes by way of a familiar snort.

Kise bites his bottom lip. With nothing more to say and nowhere else to go, he wishes so badly for the ground to swallow him up.

And Aomine waits and observes Kise with impatient eyes. Between them, a tensed silence stretches for seconds, for an eternity too long.

Finally, Aomine lets out an audible sigh like a huge weight has to get off of his chest, too.

“I’m sorry,” Aomine says quietly, making Kise’s head snap up. “Sorry I’m mean to you… and I said a lot of stupid things to you before. And I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you…”

“Just don't…” There’s an obvious break in Aomine’s voice as he lets the last of his words hang, like it’s taking him such effort to pull their meaning out of his mouth. “…I wish you'd stop pulling away from me.”

Oh.

With emotions astir, Kise gives in, lets himself break down, tears pouring like rain down his cheeks.

“…Not Aominecchi’s fault…” Kise mumbles, lips quivering. “…it’s me.”

He finds the courage to finally meet Aomine’s eyes, finds the strength to admit the truth without holding anything back.

“I’m in love with Aominecchi. So, so much. But it’s Kurokocchi that you like so… yeah.”

The pain of saying it all out loud makes Kise weak on the knees, he holds on to a nearby chair to steady himself. Desperate to find even a morsel of comfort in the silence that followed, Kise lets the revelation sink in between him and Aomine, as he tries not to mind the dull ache that begins throbbing in his chest.

But Aomine, though caught off-guard, has to say otherwise, his own feelings becoming a jumbled mess as he rushes out to explain that Tetsu’s just his friend and nothing more, that he’s annoyed at Kise for making stupid assumptions and jumping hastily to conclusions, and also quite sorry that Kise reads them that way.

Three.

Aomine launches into a mouthful of words but Kise hears the only three that matter.

“I love you.”

And he says it again and again, stealing Kise’s breath away, luring Kise’s feet to dash into Aomine, making him fall with abandon into Aomine’s waiting arms. And among other things, Kise is grateful that Aomine has let him sob on his chest, because right there Kise finds rest as warm arms circle around him, a reassuring hand finding its way to gently stroke the back of his head.

Two.

The two of them are idiots in love, this, Kise is sure. He lifts his head and meets Aomine’s face with a smile. Happiness sweeps across Aomine’s features too, as he thumbs softly on the skin under Kise’s eyes, wiping away his tears.

“If only you told me sooner,” Aomine tells him with a smirk, their faces only inches away from each other.

“Excuse me, but you should’ve said something too.” Kise shoots back.

“Are we bickering again?”

“We’re not.”

One.

Aomine presses one kiss on Kise’s lips—quick and obviously in want of experience: chaste, gentle, but intense enough to lift his feet a little off the ground, making his heartbeat roar in his ears, making everything dissolve away, making time halt into stillness.

When he meets Aomine’s eyes again, Kise lets himself stare just a bit longer as he commits this moment in his memory, basking in the bright light that has ultimately lead his heart home.

-END-

#aokise #aomine x kise #aoki #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #knb #dailyywritingprompt #my fanfiction #fanfic

48 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

My Hero Academia Season 5 Episode 23 Review: Tenko Shimura: Origin

https://ift.tt/3leCe2P

This My Hero Academia review contains spoilers for Season 5, Episode 23.

“You’re right. I just want to destroy.”

There’s an inherent risk of ruining the magic that surrounds certain characters by answering all of the questions that contextualize them—especially when it comes to villains—but My Hero Academia has not only avoided this particular story struggle, but excelled in the territory and turned the challenge into some of the show’s most powerful episodes. They’re the perfect amount of dark and haunting without feeling exploitative or off the mark from what the series should represent.

There is no shortage of villains in the series and My Hero Academia’s “My Villain Academia” story arc has risen to the occasion by choosing some of its more vicious and unstable villains to put under the microscope. The culmination of this is of course Tomura Shigaraki, the head of the League of Villains, the series’ central antagonist, and a character who’s increasingly been positioned as Izuku Midoriya’s dark counterpoint. Previous episodes have provided flashes of Shigaraki’s grim past, but it’s nothing compared to what’s uncovered in “Tenko Shimura: Origin;” an excellent episode that, as its title suggests, there’s a lot more to Tenko “Tomura Shigaraki” Shimura than the audience realizes.

Culture

Sonny Boy: The Weird, Original Sci-Fi Anime You Should Be Watching

By Vernieda Vergara

My Hero Academia Season 5 Episode 22 Review: Sad Man’s Parade

By Daniel Kurland

Shigaraki has commanded an air of intimidation ever since his first appearance, largely because the cluster of severed hands that decorate his face is definitely a look that would give villains like Red Skull or Two-Face pause. My Hero Academia casually dropped the bomb of backstory that these hands are actually from the members of Shigaraki’s family; a morbid badge of courage over how much he’s changed. “Tenko Shimura: Origin” is the first time that the specifics of this tragedy get unpacked and it easily ranks up there with the series’ most devastating moments.

Shigaraki’s flashbacks are so heartbreaking because there’s a real sense of calm and happiness in their normal suburban life that the audience knows will decay into ash at a moment’s notice. The complete annihilation of one’s family is enough to break even the most altruistic of heroes. There’s no scenario in which this loss feels acceptable, but “Tenko Shimura: Origin” doesn’t hold back when it comes to the fear, sadness, and shame that dominates the “birth” of Shigaraki.

The episode details that Shigaraki loses everyone–not just his mother and father, but also his grandparents and even his dog–which leaves him in a newly harash world. The most gutting collateral damage from Shigaraki’s burgeoning Quirk is his sister, Hana, who was always there for him. Even after all of this pain it’s still possible to picture a version of Shigaraki that’s able to live a healthy life–possibly even as a hero–if he still had Hana by his side for support. This isn’t a villain who had nobody for support. It’s a villain who destroyed his support and left himself with nobody.

Shigaraki’s past pain helps fuel his current fight against Re-Destro. The Meta Liberation leader inadvertently triggers an epiphany in Shigaraki that leaves him more ready than ever to set the world on fire. Re-Destro preaches over the inherent connection between an individual’s Quirk and the user’s temperament, which in Shigaraki’s case paints the picture of a villain who is only interested in destruction. Re-Destro chastises Shigaraki’s undisciplined rage and that a life full of destruction that doesn’t in turn create anything beneficial isn’t sustainable. Re-Destro isn’t necessarily wrong in this assessment, but it’s still quite powerful that the sheer nature of erasure is enough for Shigaraki. He’s treated like a character who literally has nothing to lose, unlike Re-Destro, which is one of the most terrifying things in the world.

This clash of ideals and Quirks culminates in a sprawling battle that’s beautifully animated where the whole city faces destruction. Shigaraki loses more of the ties to his past as the hands of his family also slowly get destroyed. The destruction of these keepsakes is a satisfying way to provoke Shigaraki’s memories regarding each of these hands’ corresponding family members and the role that they played in his life before he fully committed himself to evil, buried himself in pain, and evolved from Tenko Shimura to Tomura Shigaraki.

These “My Villain Academia” episodes have been able to improve the series through their unique perspective, but they’ve also carefully established deeper parallels between its opposing characters. Shigaraki’s transformation into a conduit for All For One hits harder once it’s portrayed as this toxic version of the genuinely empowering and fostering relationship that exists for Midoriya as All Might’s One For All successor. This is a simple, yet thematically rich idea that My Hero Academia has teased throughout its five seasons, but it finally pushes it to an explicit point that thankfully strengthens and continues to add depth to the rivalry that exists between Shigaraki and Midoriya. It’s no coincidence that Shigaraki as a child looks almost identical to Deku.

The existing pain and residual trauma that festers from All Might and All For One’s feud becomes reignited through their successors and turns the powerful showdown to a conflict that becomes representative of something much bigger and more powerful. It’s not just a battle between a hero and villain, but ostensibly a conflict between generations of pent up good and evil. “Tenko Shimura: Origin” is even able to further fan the flames in this respect with its casual revelation that Shigaraki’s grandmother is All Might’s former mentor (and former One For All bearer), Nana Shimura. This connects the dots between heroes and villains, and One For All and All For One, in even more rewarding ways that will surely lead to an emotional blow-up between these factions next season.

“Tenko Shimura: Origin” is quite focused on Shigaraki’s past pain and it allows these moments to properly breathe rather than run the risk of rushing this necessary development and having it feel unearned. There’s still a city-wide skirmish that takes place around all of these irreproachable reminiscences. The rest of the League of Villains, in particular Spinner, lend a hand against the Meta Liberation Army’s horde of recruits. These distractions don’t amount to much and the Not-Ninja Turtle receives a massive dose of humility. It’s still a helpful reminder of the full scope of this war and that Shigaraki and Re-Destro’s showdown is just one corner of calamity.

“Tenko Shimura: Origin” is true to its name and doesn’t disappoint when it comes to its look into this fragile, hateful villain’s past. My Hero Academia’s shift to the dark side continues to bear strange, delicious fruit as it further humanizes the individuals that the series has conditioned its heroes and audience to hate. This episode opens up My Hero Academia in a major way, but with next week’s penultimate installment also set to unpeel more layers of Shigaraki, it’s currently unclear if these two episodes could have been combined into a solo entry or if there’s enough trauma in Shigaraki’s life to go around.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

After all, satisfaction is an itch that’s very hard to scratch…

The post My Hero Academia Season 5 Episode 23 Review: Tenko Shimura: Origin appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2YPqqwz

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

0 notes

fuzz1912 · 6 years

Text

I’ve got an okay feeling about this

A fan’s review of SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY.

(Spoilers ahoy, matey. Proceed with extreme caution. Running on extreme low sleep, so this will probably be updated over the next day or so.)

I’ve been pretty clear about the parameters for what I consider to be a good Star Wars film. My initial concern has been that they should at least be internally consistent, and consistent within (let alone respectful of) the established lore of the Star Wars universe. Beyond that, my mind also turns to whether or not it merely repeats what has come before or extends the universe in logical and interesting ways. Is there a need for this story to be told, or does it excessively rely on (or trivially extrapolate from) a known backstory? And finally, does it strike the right balance of humour and fan service while telling a decent story that stands on its own?

So, having been quite critical of Disney’s previous Star Wars releases on that basis, how does this latest instalment fare?

May the month of May be with you

There’s something right about Star Wars in May. Despite the attempts by all and sundry to turn a stupid dad joke into ‘Star Wars Day’ (May the Fourth - get it? No, Cinco de Quatro is much better), in fact the month of May has its own enduring significance for the franchise. Each of the original and prequel trilogy movies were released around the mid-May Memorial Day holiday. In the US, this means summer, when kids are on break and sitting in an air-conditioned cinema is preferable compared to just about anything else. For us on the other side of the world, it is on the cusp of winter, just as the weather really starts turning for the worse - the wind picks up, the chill sets in, and darkness falls before you know it.

It’s those memories of fighting to stay warm while making it to midnight on a dark, crisp winter’s night that have always accompanied first watching a new Star Wars film for me. For some entirely silly commercial reason, Disney has thus far eschewed the traditional May release window instead choosing December for its premieres, which has never felt right to me - December is for Christmas movies and Lords of the Ring, not Star Wars. So if nothing else, there’s some small satisfaction for me in being able to enjoy a new Star Wars movie for the first time again in the cold of May - perhaps its karma, but it feels like that’s translated to my reaction to this second anthology film.

Why make a movie about Han Solo?

Here is a character who is infamous for his intrigue. Many so-called fans criticise George Lucas for adding context to Star Wars where they believed none was necessary - see the “Han shot first” controversy (the real objection being that Greedo shot at all - which changes nothing about Han himself)(1) - in which case, why sacrifice the ultimate lamb and give him an origin story? That being said, I am loath to be too critical of the raison d’être for the ‘Star Wars Story anthology’ films (this and ROGUE ONE) - they have to date been somewhat respectful of Canon, made some generous nods to what is now ‘Legends’, and taken some interesting new directions in filling the gaps in the existing story. We don’t necessarily need them (much like we don’t need the Saga to continue an already concluded story), but that doesn’t mean they don’t have anything interesting to add to the stories we already love.

Back in the very early days of the Star Wars Expanded Universe (what would now be called ‘Legends’) there was a series of novellas by Brian Daley about a pre-Yavin Han Solo and his adventures with Chewbacca and (you guessed it) a couple of droids on the Millennium Falcon, as he tried to eke out a living as a white hat smuggler in the Empire-lite Corporate Sector.(2) They were some of the first EU books that I read, and simple though they were, I enjoyed them because they were episodic tales set in a different part of the world of Star Wars established by the films. They weren’t high stakes, and didn’t give Han Solo an origin or back story - they just gave a glimpse into some of the sort of swashbuckling adventures that we assumed the character we met in the Cantina Bar would have had.

This movie is nowhere near as light or insignificant as that - much like ROGUE ONE before it, it takes a throwaway line mentioned in the original film and turns it into a definitive origin story about how Han Solo became that guy who shot first.(3)

Now the story of a film that lost everything and the one director who had no choice but to bring it all together

From what little has been made public, this film has not had an easy gestation - even more so than ROGUE ONE, whose ending was completely changed (undoubtedly for the better). THE LEGO MOVIE directors were fired during the shoot due to “creative differences” with writer Lawrence Kasdan, who wrote the brilliant EMPIRE (but also the lackluster AWAKENS). Apparently their take was too humorous and not the sarcastic selfishness that characterises Han Solo - which I guess is a good thing considering how ridiculous the obvious jokes in the Disney ‘Saga’ films have been. Their replacement is none other than early Lucas protege and all-round pretty damn talented Ron Howard of Imagine Entertainment (not Orange County Imagine), whose voice is embedded in many of our heads thanks to his shoddy narration of ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT.(4)

Ron Howard reliably makes good movies. He might not have the most stylistic flair, he may not be the most innovative or creative, he may not use the most challenging source material, but it would be difficult to suggest that any of the movies he’s made are anything less than solidly watchable - and most of them have been, in their own way, pretty great. He now runs a director’s masterclass, and you’d be hard pressed to find a better teacher from whom to learn the craft.

George Lucas had offered Howard the opportunity to direct previoud Star Wars films over the years, but as with Lucas’s other bestie Steven Spielberg, Howard didn’t want to take the reigns from his longtime friend. Now that Lucas has rather foolishly handed the keys over to the Walt Disney Company, that reluctance seems to have diminished. I’ve been disappointed with the direction Disney has been leading the franchise enough times to have serious doubts about this film, but the one thing that kept me optimistic about it was that it was ultimately left to Howard to deliver the final product.

That faith was well placed - this was the first Star Wars film in some time that I really enjoyed.

“You’re the good guy”

The fundamental premise of the film appears to manifest itself in this line of dialogue that Qi’ra casually throws away towards the climax. This information will spoil the payoff of A NEW HOPE, just like knowing who Darth Vader is spoils the reveal in EMPIRE. But it’s nevertheless true to the core of the character of the Han Solo that we know and love - despite being a selfish cad and a scoundrel, he is a softy underneath.

Given the context above about the importance of the tone of the film, it would appear that the decision made by Lucasfilm to bring in Howard was on the money (though really, the question is why he wasn’t there from the start). Moments of over the top humour have been toned down (at least from what I can recall of one of the early trailers showing Han being interviewed to join the Imperial Academy). That’s not to say there aren’t any funny moments, but for the most part they feel earned and not simply played for easy laughs (like *ahem* Poe/Hux).

There are some call-backs in the dialogue to the original films that might go a little too far (L3: “They don’t even serve our kind here”), but they are mostly effective when they subvert our expectations (“I hate you”/“I know” and “I’ve got a GOOD feeling about this”) which is nice when the film itself is a giant call-back. On the other hand, there were a couple of lines of dialogue that strayed towards uncharacteristically real-world expletives - especially Han’s use of the phrase “Bantha crap”, when we all know the correct terminology is “poodoo”.

Visually the film was just as much of a treat as any Star Wars movie, exploring some new frontiers with the Maelstrom / Maw surrounding Kessel, as well as the WWI-style trench warfare and snow train hijacking scenes. What I loved about each of these was that they created new unfamiliar environments with their own mechanics that drove the plot and the plight of the characters, as Star Wars does at its best. The Kessel Run - in particular the climax with the Millennium Falcon trying to escape both a hideous space monster and a black hole / gravity well at the same time - was both spectacular and incredibly intense to watch, despite the fact that you know that the chracters you’re invested in are going to survive (and that the Falcom reliably has trouble making the jump to lightspeed). From that perspective, it far exceeded anything in the last couple of ‘Saga’ films (two hour long chases of fuel attrition, anyone?).

The music was serviceable and on par with, if not a little better than, Michael Giacchino’s score for ROGUE ONE. It was used effectively and enjoyable, with impactful use of the well-known themes and leitmotifs. While I wouldn’t have called it as memorable as John Williams at his best (he was only partially involved), it was adequate if not decent - and unlike the ‘Saga’ films, it didn’t have to be any more than that.

Finally, the performances were for the most part quite good. Alden Ehrenreich faced the near impossible task of stepping into Harrison Ford’s shoes to recreate one of cinema’s most iconic characters, and he did it pretty well. Rather than attempt to mimick or channel Ford’s trademark smirk or swagger (let alone be forced to undergo make up or CGI as was done rather poorly in ROGUE ONE), he simply stayed true to the character and made it his own. Within a few minutes, I was on board and completely accepted him in the role, made all the easier by not constantly being reminded of how Harrison Ford would have played it. To each of their credit, Howard and Ehrenreich have created a perfectly believable young Han Solo that stands on his own two feet, not in the shadow of a legend.

Similarly, Don Glover (aka Childish Gambino) perfectly captured Lando Calrissian and at no point did I feel like I missed another legend in Billy Dee Williams (though I feel like Glover may have had some prosthetic teeth put in). Having to portray the dashing Lando in his prime provided Glover with the opportunity to bring greater depth to the character than Williams, who pretty much just played himself. Woody Harrelson and Thandie Newton were both solid as far as their roles allowed them to be - as was Joonas Suotamo, for the first time reprising his role as Chewbacca (despite the subtleties of the Wookiee costume, not for a moment did I doubt it was the same character created by Peter Mayhew). Paul Bettany chewed the scenery as the slimy crime boss Dryden Vos. Wherever there is Bettany, Jon Favreau can’t be far behind, giving a short but charming life to the personable alien pilot Rio (bonus point for giving the universe a little more needed diversity). Also bringing her vocal talents to the fore was Phoebe Waller-Bridge, who created one of the more sympathetic droid personalities in L3. Perhaps the only slightly disappointing performance came from the otherwise brilliant Emilia Clarke as Qi’ra, through no real fault of her own - despite playing a duplicitous badass, she wasn’t given much meaningful to do.

“Assume everyone will betray you and you will never be disappointed.”

The film is at its essence a heist movie, and a good one at that - it effectively uses the tropes of the genre, and though largely predictable it subverted them enough to keep me engaged the whole way through. The number of double crosses was just right enough to reflect that none of these characters were naive, but they all had their fundamental weaknesses.

I feel like Lawrence Kasdan and his son Jonathan did a pretty decent job with the script. Having said that, while the plot overall was thrilling, the story itself was a little disjointed. Other than Han’s relationship with Qi’ra, there was no real thread that wove all the way through and connected the somewhat disparate few escalating heists that resulted in Han’s independence and acquisition of the Falcon. Perhaps that’s enough, given most of the second and third acts focused largely on the famous Kessel Run and its consequences - most amusingly, how the Falcon goes from Lando’s souped up, sleek hot rod, into the bucket of bolts we’re introduced to in A NEW HOPE.

The side plots involving the competing crime syndicates and the mysterious motivations of the marauders weren’t particularly compelling until they each revealed their secrets towards the conclusion - but they did an effective job of believable world building, and setting up things that we already know will follow (like the Rebellion). However, the ‘droid rights’ concept inspired by the new character of L3 seemed a little underdeveloped and out of place.(5) It actually reminded me more of Hermione Granger’s Elf welfare from Harry Potter mixed with Korg’s ‘revolution’ from Thor Ragnarok, though I’d love to see the idea more fully explored within the Star Wars universe.

The film introduced the concept of ‘hyperfuel’ (also known as coaxium) as the primary MacGuffin for driving the plotting of the heists. This acted as a deus ex machina at several points with some interesting results in the execution of the Kessel Run itself (Where were the spice mines by the way? Was Disney afraid of being sued by the estate of Frank Herbert?). While fine in isolation to this movie, this did also feel a little bit on the nose given the central role fuel bizarrely played in the plot of the last ‘Saga’ film (not to mention the ongoing focus on Han’s lucky gold dice, which was overplayed in that film and introduced here as if they were far more significant to Han’s established identity than they actually are).

But there was one final touch to the plot that got the kind of ecstatic reaction out of me that I haven’t felt in years - it genuinely shocked and thrilled me, but more on that later.

“I’m putting together a crew? Are you in?”

A good heist requires the building of a good crew that brings a variety of talents to the table. To be frank, the actual Kessel Run heist in this film itself was somewhat anticlimactic. Other than the diversion created by L3 and the subsequent fire fight, the stakes involved in boosting the coaxium from Kessel were not particularly high. On the other hand, the escape and ensuing ‘Run’,(6) as well as the inevitable series of double-crosses and competing moral and selfish imperatives after pulling it off, were full of thrills and gave the characters an opportunity to really shine through - and this was nothing if not a character piece.

The Anti-Hero: The eponymous Han Solo. Well, this is his movie, you can hardly expect us not to start with Han - who is for the first time the sole protagonist of a film. As this is an origin story, he’s not going to be leader of this pack, but he’s hopefully going to show us why he will be when he meets the Skywalker family. Despite a stray reference to his father being a shipbuilder on Corellia, we never get Han’s true family name or any other indication of his lineage; he was dubbed ‘Solo’ by the Imperial recruiter quite literally for being on his own.(7) We meet him as a street kid with a conscience and a mouth - who’ll happily point out to a superior officer in his company that they are themselves the hostiles, not the natives of the planet they’re invading for the glory of the Empire. Much like his father-in-law before him, he starts off idealistic and a little bit twee in his oft-repeated desire to become the best pilot in the galaxy (the title actually held by said future father-in-law). Also like Anakin Skywalker in PHANTOM MENACE, we don’t actually get to see a lot of those skills before he slips into the role; Anakin at least was a Force-sensitive pod racing child (let alone the Chosen One), but other than the pretty nice speeder chase opening the movie its’s not until the Kessel Run itself that we actually see Solo’s exceptional skills. Han in this film is very much driven by the loss of Qi’ra right at the start, and his quest throughout is to first find her and then win her back. Having seen his cynicism while Luke is under Obi-Wan’s tutelage, it’s a nice change to see him as the earnest student trying to learn the game from his own mentor, the master con-thief Tobias Beckett. He slots easily into the role of rogue, deserter and mercenary, and through Beckett and his crew he also learns never to trust anyone but himself - with one notable exception. And the fact that exception exists, is also why underneath all that bravado, Han truly is still the good guy - when given a choice between a quick score or the greater good, he chooses the latter. Han may start off street smart but somewhat naive, but by the end he demonstrates empathy and a canny insight that lays the foundation for the scruffy looking nerf herder with a heart of gold that Luke meets in the Mos Eisley Cantina. At the very end of the film, we can see conclusively why Han had to shoot first.(8)

The Brawn: Chewbacca. The one notable exception to Han’s rule is his future trusty co-pilot, who we’ve never yet seen not by his side. Here we get to see how they meet for the first time and forge their lifelong partnership. While I was fully expecting Chewie to show up at some point, I must admit to being misdirected by the set up leading to his meet-fight with Han. Howard’s staging suggested that the ‘beast’ the stormtroopers were feeding Han to would be something like RETURN’s Rancor and the muddy fur that was our first glimpse of him also echoed EMPIRE’s Wampa. Hearing that familiar growl was both thrill and relief, as Chewie engaged Han in ferocious combat until we hear Han speak Wookiee for the first time in order to persuade Chewie that he can devise a way for them both to escape.(9) The two are literally bound together until Han tracks down Beckett - who immediately recognises that Chewie, not Han, is the prized recruit. Han learns of Chewie’s desire to reunite with and free his tribe / family, something he can and can’t relate to at the same time. Chewie appears initially skeptical of Han, but circumstance conspires to keep them together from one job to the next and along the way they continually pull each other out of the kind of pickles that would well establish the life debt he later owes to Han (but nothing specific is singled out here as the sole cause for it). At a critical moment, we see Chewie choose to stay with Han rather than return to join others of his own kind. This cements the fact that Chewie isn’t simply sidekick, but that Han and Chewie are in fact partners in crime. It’s also probably the most agency we’ve seen Chewie use throughout the saga - except perhaps for the moment that we’d all been waiting for (and had been teased at least once with Beckett), when he finally pulls someone’s arms out of their sockets. He’s also the first to throw cold water on Han when he starts bragging about making the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs - as Chewie points out, he was already rounding it down.

The Money: Lando Calrissian. When we first met him on Cloud City, Lando presented as a smooth-talking, responsible administrator with shades of a dark past. Lando is just as charming as he ever was, but in his younger days we can see more of the conniving, selfish operator he needed to be to survive as a renowned smuggler in the galactic underworld. However, as with Han, a glimmer of his true nature shines through his relationship with L3, his partner in crime (and possibly life). While Lando’s side of that relationship wasn’t that well explored at first (other than L3 suggesting that he may be what Futurama would call “robosexual”), and it’s not clear how sympathetic he was to her robot rights crusade, it is clear following L3’s death just how much she meant to him.(10) In return for an ever-diminishing cut,(11) Lando provides the getaway vehicle for the heist - his highly-polished and specially-modified freighter, the Millennium Falcon. The Falcon we see for the first time(12) is pristine and complete, including the escape pod completing its front that we’ve as yet not seen. Having cheated Han out of his first opportunity to take possession of the Falcon, we see the foundations of the mistrust underlying their chummy rivalry, and the guile that Han brings back to the table to finally win it fair and square. Given the considerable damage Han does to the ship through the maelstrom to turn it into our beloved hunk of junk, it’s somewhat ironic that in RETURN Lando promises Han to bring the Falcon back from the Battle of Endor “without a scratch”.

The Beauty and the Brains: L3-37 and Qi’ra. I feel terrible conflating these two, particularly between the two female members of the crew, but unfortunately that’s the sort of movie this was. Qi’ra may have conceived of part of the scheme, and been the mastermind who ultimately ended up on top, but she didn’t actually have a whole lot do other than drive the plot. It’s arguable that she may have used her emotional leverage over Han to ensure that she always had the upper hand throughout most of the film. Perhaps hers is a character that has scope to grow over the course of a greater story, but in this chapter alone she felt a little underdeveloped; you never got a sense of why Han was so besotted with her, to the extent that he would spend years trying to get her back - and her convenient reappearance at just the right time was a little contrived. But I find it more interesting to look at L3 as the one who used her appearance and/or emotions most effectively to create a robot rebellion diversion to allow the heist to proceed, despite the fact that it was literally her brains that ultimately enabled the getaway. Unlike the prissy C3PO and the sardonic K2SO from ROGUE ONE, L3 is the first protocol droid we’ve encountered that is idealistic and empathetic, and she tolerates no nonsense from her beloved Lando or the rest of the crew. While her demise was somewhat inevitable, she’s probably the most ‘human’ droid to date across all of the Star Wars movies. The other resonant feature of L3 is that she literally becomes part of the Falcon, and is as such retconned into the Saga itself as the ‘peculiar dialect’ that always seems to bring bad news to C3PO.

The Leader: Tobias Beckett (and his partner Val). Beckett also doesn’t have much to do beyond driving the plot and be a representation of the mercenary that Solo would become - his Fedora Man - without the redeeming qualities. When Val vainly sacrifices herself to try to help Beckett settle the score to end his indebtedness to the Crimson Dawn crime syndicate, he loses what little remaining connection and trust he had with others (at least, that’s what Beckett would have us believe). The challenge for Han will be not to do the same when Qi’ra walks away from him (or at least, not until he rescues a princess from a hidden fortress). Beckett is a ruthless mentor for the hungry young Han, but his commitment to making sure Han learns his lessons ends up being own weakness, resulting in his ultimate demise as Han catches him monologuing. Truly the student does become the master, with some regret but no hard feelings.(13)

The Competitor: Emphys Nest. Now this is an interesting character. Initially set up as a brutal marauder captain with a proto-Ren mask, it turns out that in fact she is the leader of a group of outcasts dispossessed by the Empire, who are not in the game for the money but for survival - and ultimately, rebellion. I found the the portrayal of the marauders and their motivation a little hard to follow at first, but ultimately far more believable and earned than the ‘resistance kids’ in the ‘Saga’. Also, I love the realism of the idea (reflected in the REBELS series) that there are disparate cells of resistance across the galaxy fighting their own wars against the Empire, who eventually coalesce into the organised Rebel Alliance. The fact that Warwick Davis’s PHANTOM MENACE cameo character Weazel returns as one of Nest’s lieutenants is icing on the cake.

The Heavy: Dryden Vos. I was fully expecting the boss of the Crimson Dawn crime syndicate to be a Hutt, so it was a surprise to see an apparently humanoid villain instead.(14) Vos appears recklessly tyrannical and limitless in his arrogance. It’s hard to believe that he’s effectively just a middle manager, though he alludes to that fact along the way, setting us up for…

The Big Bad: Holy poodoo. Darth F’ing Maul (sorry, simply ‘Maul’ now that he’s ceded the mantle of Sith to the little brat watching him from the fighter cockpit). I could not contain my glee when I saw his horned face reappear. Now this is probably going to be confusing for the casual viewer, because most would have assumed that Maul was dead after Obi-Wan bisected him in PHANTOM MENACE. But those who have had the benefit of watching CLONE WARS and REBELS know that Maul survived and has tangled with our heroes (and even his former master) a number of times, all the while plotting his comeback and revenge against his almost-murderer Kenobi. Along the way, Maul and his brother Savage Oppress took over the alliance of criminal syndicates known as the Shadow Collective (of which Crimson Dawn is one part) and took control of the planet Mandalore (in the process killing Kenobi’s beloved Satine - yes, just like in MOULIN ROUGE). We also have had the benefit of seeing his final rematch with Obi-Wan on Tatooine, possibly one of the most meaningful duels of the saga. So with context, given CLONE WARS and REBELS are technically Canon, it’s unsurprising in a way that Maul would be revealed as the ultimate villain of the piece. Nevertheless, the reveal of seeing this iconic and criminally-underutilised antagonist once again in live action was simply breathtaking. Maul was portrayed by original PHANTOM MENACE actor Ray Park, and voiced by Sam Witwer. I was somewhat disappointment that the amazing Peter Serafinowicz didn’t return to reprise Maul’s voice, but given the substantially greater amount of work Witwer has done for the character since in CLONE WARS and REBELS, it’s fair to say that Witwer is now to Maul as Hamill is to the Joker.

“You look good. A little rough around the edges, but good.”

The rather unsurprising conclusion to all that is that this film has managed to meet and perhaps surpass, the bar I’ve set for what makes a good and enjoyable Star Wars movie.

Simply by virtue of the fact that they aren’t recreating the figurative wheel, Disney seems to do a much better job with these Star Wars anthology movies than the ‘Saga’ they are unnecessarily trying to continue (but in fact are simply rebooting). I really hope they take advantage of the favorable ages of Ewan McGregor and Daniel Logan to tell the Obi Wan and Boba Fett stories that are dying to be told, let alone find a way to bottle a tiny bit of Don Glover brilliance before he becomes bigger than Yeezus and stops acting altogether.(15)

At this stage we know that there will be at least two ‘spin-off’ trilogies, by Rian Johnson (ugh) and the Game of Thrones showrunners (Qi’ra returns?). If each of those manage to continue to follow the trend set by SOLO, and to a lesser extent ROGUE ONE, rather than the tired tropes of the ‘Saga’, then my outlook is optimistic on the future of Star Wars on the silver screen for years to come.

So for now: I’ll happily go see another Star War.

Notes:

(1) I’d add that despite sketching out a potential back story and cameo for an orphaned young Han Solo adopted by Chewbacca and present at the Battle of Kashyyyk in SITH, Lucas exercised restraint and omitted it from the shooting script. While not begrudging the creator his licence, it appears in hindsight that this was probably a wise move and certainly created an opportunity for this film.

(2) Actually, now that I read that back with decades of hindsight, I can totally relate!

(3) In this case, that line was Solo’s reference to the Falcon making the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs - long maligned as an incorrect reference given that parsecs are units of distance not time, though there have been some novel explanations of how that might still work that were Canon-ised by this film.

(4) Actual narration may be brilliant, please see a theralyst if doubt persists. Speaking of which, I wonder (did someone say WONDER?) which still life image he used as inspiration for this movie?

(5) I feel like the galactic resentment towards droids was signposted a little more effectively indirectly by the prequels, given the years of destruction caused by the Separatists’ droid armies.

(6) Lando set the bar at 20 parsecs, which is way higher than what Han eventually claims he achieved. It makes you wonder about the significance of the “less than” part of the claim.

(7) It may as well have been “Corellian” or “Corleone”, for that matter.

(8) But let’s not blind ourselves to the fact that that says nothing about whether or not Greedo would have taken a shot too - Greedo already delivered his verbal coup de grace and allowed Han to get a response in before Han shot (back). Han’s mid-monologue blow to Beckett was more along the lines on Indiana Jones’s similar shot against the swordsman in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. As I said before, whether Greedo shot or not changes nothing about Han, who had already been preparing for the shot himself.

(9) It’s a shame we didn't get an allusion to how Han picked up his stuttering Wookiee language skills or knowledge of their Imperial enslavement - particularly given the fact that the reason probably would have further demonstrated his empathy - hat tip to my friend Justin Scott for that one.

(10) I’ll be honest - as a COMMUNITY fan, it’s always a joy to watch Don Glover cry hysterically.

(11) He can’t seem to avoid deals that get worse all the time!

(12) Technically we did see the Falcon briefly in SITH, but let’s say that Lando has done a bit of a refurbishment since then.

(13) There hasn’t been such an effectively executed succession plan since the soon-to-be Darth Vader got ‘ahead’ of Darth Tyranus.

(14) It appears that the Hutts are being set up as the antagonists for a future Solo movie.

(15) I still vainly hold out hope for #SixSeasonsAndAMovie.

#han solo #solo #star wars

1 note · View note

sinetheta · 7 years

Photo

Conversation with Sad Asian Girls (formerly Esther Fan & Olivia Park)

As Fan and Park, known collectively as Sad Asian Girls, announced the dissolution of their partnership about two months ago, we decided to post the interview that Sine Theta magazine’s art director Elisabeth Siegel conducted with the duo last November in full as a fun retrospective and tribute to their amazing work. The interview is available in print form in Sine Theta Issue 3: “LIGHT 阴.” We at Sine Theta are excited for what’s to come for Fan and Park!

Esther Fan and Olivia Park, current seniors at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) in the U.S., founded Sad Asian Girls (SAG) as a duo, in order to carve out a creative space for Asian femmes, and to encourage them to create content and break out of the stereotypical mold prescribed by other non-Asians or non-femmes.

I met Esther and Olivia in person for the first time deep in Yale’s underground library, where they gave a casual graphic design workshop. While at Yale, they also participated in a conversation about being Asian femme creators at the Asian American Cultural Center (AACC). The way they shared their expertise along with the constructive criticism they gave attendees was reminiscent of the SAG brand and style: they’d package their thoughts into seemingly simplistic bundles or iconography, yet the underlying messages contained within were fresh, completely accessible, and totally effective.

I had the chance to chat with them over Skype and pick their brain about Asian femme identity, as well as their current and future plans as a collective.

Elisabeth Siegel: So just to start out, how did you two meet? How did SAG get started?

Olivia Park: We met essentially through classes, and then while working together on non-SAG related projects, we noticed similarities regarding our identities, and through that we decided to make work related to the Asian femme experience.

Esther Fan: We both realized that we both seemed to be the few students in our department interested in social issues or making work about it, and also the first time we collaborated it was about millennial culture, and then we moved on to things more specific to ourselves.

ES: So, the “Asian femme experience” — could you talk more about what you define that as, and what you find unique to the Asian femme identity versus Asians in general?

EF: I think at the moment there is a lot of talk about feminism and the various experiences that women have in a mostly male dominated society. Once you add Asian to that label, the experience is narrowed down, yet the experience is still so common.

OP: One thing that is unique is invisibility of Asian presence, especially in media, and healthcare in general, specifically mental health awareness — almost everything. We’re kind of just not regarded. On the one hand, I understand, because we’re only 5% or 6% of the population [in America], but we still are part of the population, and we’re the fastest growing, so America just really needs to be aware at this point.

EF: I think the experience of an Asian femme is so specific because the expectations put on women in Asian culture is quite different from the western expectations of women. It’s still similar in the fact that we need to be secondary to men and things like that, and also it depends on each family. But for us, both of our parents were or are still Christian and conservative, and the kind of things that they try to teach us in how to be a perfect woman and be the perfect “wife-y package” contributed a lot to us trying to tell our stories about Asian femmes.

ES: I definitely know what you mean. When it comes to western versus eastern as a binary — even though I think calling it an absolute binary can be quite harmful — in general, the experience for women is very different.

As you know, Sine Theta is specifically by and for those experiencing the Sino diaspora. How does the more unique experience of being part of a diaspora shaped or informed your art, on an individual level or in your collaborated projects?

OP: There are so many moments where we have identity crises. It just becomes more and more important to find something to hold onto and identify with, and so things like food become a cultural recognition and almost an awakening, and conversations happen through those moments. The “Have You Eaten?” video was a lot about the conversations we would have [with our families], and a way to have that initiated was by eating the food of our motherland.

ES: I wanted to ask you guys about specifically the name “Sad Asian Girls.” I get the asian girls part, that’s pretty obvious. I was wondering if you could talk about the inspiration behind “sad” and why you settled on SAG.

EF: It really started off just as having to think of a name really quickly so we could make a YouTube account to upload the [“Have You Eaten?”] video. It was a parody of the “sad girls club” that happens on Tumblr, and it seemed natural. Over time, when we gained a following, it started to take on a meaning of its own. In a later video, we mentioned that the term “Sad” could refer to the frustrations of having to live with both our parents’ cultures and western cultures, and the type of identity crisis that usually comes with that. Now, we just kind of kept the term sad and Asian, for consistency, and it’s kind of created an identity of its own.

ES: What sort of identity would that be? Also, as for the “identity crisis,” do you think sadness is a part of what causes the crisis, or a result of it?

EF: Maybe both, but probably more so a result of it. We’re born into having to juggle between two different identities. I think when people hear SAG, it sounds something they can resonate with, usually more ironically than seriously.

OP: I also think the name has done a lot for us. You almost immediately get an idea of what we’re about. If we were called the “Asian Student Art Collective” that might just sound like we’re trying to foster a community of neutral art that could be even purely aesthetic. But SAG says something that signals oppression, something that signals hurt, and I think that’s where the root of our work comes from. It’s from the hurt. At the same time, if you look at our work, it’s about being proactive and storing that sadness into something positive.

ES: Sometimes within activism against oppression, it can be difficult to maintain a certain level of sadness or anger, because it gets tiring...I’ve experienced this in some activist circles, that as you move forward it can be harder and harder to maintain emotional momentum.

OP: So you’re asking, how do we feel motivated to do things despite sadness?

ES: That’s definitely part of it. And with “Sad” in your name, how is “sadness” maintained in your art? Does that ever get tiring?

OP: I think also that our visuals matter a lot. If we were to use a grungy filter with blue and green it might appear to be a little more soft, mellow, kind of like “Flickr-artsy.” But we intentionally use high contrast. We blow up our typography, we use bold reds. Our site is like 255 RGB red. We always use 255 because that’s the brightest red the computer’s got so we’re going to use it. We also changed our typeface to Noto, which is Google’s free typeface that can be translated into every language. These are all very intentional design choices that we’ve made and it’s loud and it’s clear and it’s sad. Some people have said that our visual language comes off as more angry than sad, but anger to me is a more intensified form of sadness. Anger is what results when you experience sadness with no resolution. I think it’s fitting.

EF: The thing is, being a marginalized group, and this goes for any marginalized group, things aren’t ever wholly resolved. We can make progress little by little, but there is always going to be something else that is making us “sad.” In terms of a resolution for sadness, simply use that sadness as a tool or a motivation for making, a fuel for making activist art. It sounds kind of pessimistic, but without sadness and without frustration and things like that, there wouldn’t be powerful art. The strongest pieces that work come from hardships. So to answer your question as best as I can, every project that we make is based on an existing issue in the world that makes us “sad.”

ES: This issue’s theme is “Light,” and we’re going with that as also talking about the Chinese concepts yin and yang, and the tons of meaning imbued in both yin and yang. Yin has various meanings, but some of the ones that we’re looking at also have to do with femininity, as well as passivity. You mentioned “Sad Asian Girls” was an ironic title you were giving yourselves — how do you go about subverting that title within self-application?

OP: First of all, I think no matter what people are going to interpret it wrong. Some people will. So it’s all about clarity. After repeating ourselves so many times in interviews, we only solidified our stance. At first, I don’t think we explained it well enough or enforced the idea. It’s good to start out strong and confidently and go with that and stand up for it, instead of starting weak and having to explain yourself and have to apologize over and over again, going back to changing your idea or your message. Know what you’re doing. Make it strong, make it unapologetic.

EF: I think transparency is also important. Most people who start out activist work are really excited or really angry and they want to make their content as fast as they can, sometimes without thinking how that’s going to happen or how that’s going to be successful. And I think that’s okay, you need to keep that fire going, but if you do make a mistake or decide that you want to go in a different direction, that has to be clear in your work too, and so that’s why in our presentations and things we’ve kind of discussed our successes and our failures, and why we took a break, things like that. Somebody in my class last night was talking about how a lot of the time when people want to be activists or go to protests or do something, they are really excited and they do too much and they go overboard and there ends up being consequences or it fails or their project doesn’t work, and then that discourages them from doing anything else ever again. But I think after you’re excited it’s important to step back and really think critically about how you’re going to move forward and how to make whatever impact you make last and not be impulsive.

ES: To step back and look more at SAG’s presence as a collective — your site in November said you were in the process of re-branding. What is that process like?

OP: Mostly using accessible typefaces, things that people can get for free. We were using Futura before, and a lot of that typeface some people won’t have, so we thought that everybody should be able to mimic Sad Asian Girls’ vernacular. So we’re basically making it easier for people to copy us and to share the same visuals.

EF: Also making it more legible. We cut down on a lot of text on the website and different sections where everything was displayed out on one page.

OP: We don’t want to look like you have to be an angry tattooed girl.

EF: And that’s why we added that dinky little sad face. It’s a cheeky way of holding onto the sad sentiment but in a way that is still bold. It implies that there’s more that you can do with it. [Rebranding] is more about making projects in the future with the same language. I think once we generate more content with the visual language as the same as our website, with our new logo, the new brand will be more solidified.

ES: What has been your favorite work that you worked on together for SAG?

OP: It’s definitely the next project. We always get super excited about the next project, because every time, we improve. Every project gives us more experience on what we like and what we don’t like, and how to work better or narrow down our process, or things like that. It’s kind of like how your favorite song is the last song you’ve heard.

EF: Nice analogy. Wow.

ES: You guys probably don’t want to spoil what it’s going to be…

OP: It’s probably going to be about the lack of visibility in galleries, which are white spaces. It’s a commentary more specific to the art field and scene. Since we’re both graphic designers and we’re both graduating soon, it’s kind of expected that we immerse into that field. Just seeing the lack of example, and also lack of invitation of femme identities makes us worried or concerned and so we’re kind of making a statement about that.

EF: Being in art school you definitely learn a lot about the art world, and how it’s programmed to benefit white male artists. Our entire curriculum is based on white male artists. The few times that there are female artists, it’s almost in a tokenizing way. Like how the Guerilla Girls did their thing about more women in museums, and last weekend we went to the MOMA just to look around, and they were selling Guerilla Girls’ merch for profit, but we aren’t seeing any more women in museums. Their work was there just for show, basically. I think this upcoming project focuses more on actually trying to inject the Asian femme identity into these faces that are mostly predominantly white, male and old.

ES: Right! One of the topics that I heard come out of the discussion at the Asian American Cultural Center while you were at Yale was the room full of silence whenever an artist makes a work concerning race. Could you elaborate on that?

EF: We talked about how another group in our school, called Black Artists and Designers, made a project called the Room of Silence, which is what happens when a student of color decides to make a project about their race, and the different dynamics that come with that. The room full of silence occurs because nobody else who isn’t a person of color knows how to critique it, out of fear of seeming racist or they’re just indifferent, or they just don’t think it applies to them.

OP: This was a video of several interviews of mostly black students, there was asian and latinx students in their too.

EF: It kind of went viral in our school, and some professors showed it to their students. Our professor showed it to us, and I feel like it was again just to show that they know that it exists, and to show that “I’m not like other professors.” They also attempted to have a conversation and at Yale we also talked about how when our class was shown the video, nobody still knew how to talk about it. Some people were falling asleep, some people didn’t watch the whole thing, and the professor said, “Are we done talking about it? Do you want to move on? Okay…,” and then Olivia got mad about it, and she said, “No, I think you need to force the students to talk about it. It’s such an important thing that’s happening in our school, and you can’t brush it off like a snazzy project.”

OP: And even Esther added on to that conversation, but that was kind of the end, though.

EF: The last thing I said about that was that I called out one white male student in our class who consistently makes average work, but the professors would always be into it, because his being a white male makes it seem like his work is conceptual and more than it really is. Other students whose English isn’t that great, or who have accents, the professors tend to skip over them because they subconsciously feel like people who have accents are less intelligent, and that’s what I talked about. Even though that video happened, and we also had a protest last year, the school has kind of gone back to the way it was, it kind of seen as those students of color just being angry again.

OP: I think that people do want to make change, but it’s an institution after all, and for an institution to work well while pleasing everyone that is in power right now, there’s not much change that can be done, except for maybe cultural attitudes. That’s what activists and artists are doing right now, to give a voice to who we are and what we want versus what is actually happening.

ES: Could each of you talk about what your favorite thing is when working with the other person?

OP: That’s a good question. Why don’t you go first? [Laughs.]

EF: There’s a lot of things I love, there’s a lot of things I hate. Let’s do that thing from Kindergarten where you say two compliments and one criticism. When we work together, we generate ideas in conversations at the same time, but usually Olivia comes up with better ideas for execution, or places we can go, or like forms that we can use. And then I’m the person who’s doing the tweaks and how to make things say something more clearly. I’m really picky about language, like I need every sentence to say exactly what it needs to say. But I think that’s fine. I think we make a good pair in that sense, where I have things I want to talk about, and sometimes I introduce them to Olivia, and then we sit down and we discuss ideas. We have really different aesthetic tastes, and sometimes we argue over that—

OP: And that’s over stupid stuff, like over whether to make one thing twenty percent desaturated or not. We will fight for a day and I’ll be like, Okay, I don’t really care about this project anyway. And I’ll be super petty. So I think [Esther] summed it up pretty well, like I’ll come up with a weird idea, and Esther will come up with how to make it more practical, more economical. So I guess Esther really puts it together.

EF: Awww.

OP: I also spend so much fucking time on the internet that I feel like a lot of things that come up in Internet culture or social media, the different things that people talk about I like to inject in our projects sometimes.

ES: As seniors are your plans for graduation, post-graduation? Do you plan on still working together as a collective?

OP: I think that’s a really good question actually. I think we both know that we can’t undo being activist-artists anymore. At first, I really cared about food packaging or whatnot, and I couldn’t give less of a shit right now. So I think we’ll be working closely with the Asian community no matter what we do, or where we end up.

EF: Because we don’t know where we’re going to end up, as in we’re probably going to be in different states or different countries, even if we aren’t able to continue managing this Sad Asian label, I think we still will continue to make work that is relevant to our identities, or at least some type of activist work. When I’ve said this to other friends, that Sad Asian Girls probably isn’t going to be forever, they saw it as this tragic thing. But people don’t need a snazzy name to make activist work. And I think what we’ve been doing so far is encouraging other Asian femmes to continue making work, knowing that we might not continue doing it together. Ideally, people will still make work and not really need a group like us to do it.

OP: What’s more important is that young people — we’re millennials, but what about gen z? — need to get it together and make work and that’s what we’re trying to do, have some type of presence so that they know it’s an option to make work, and that’s important to me. It’s also so easy. Executing a project or thinking up ideas is so simple, and I feel like based on what I’ve read about your generation, you guys are so much more active, and you guys care so much more about social issues than previous generations, and that kind of excites me, because I wonder where you guys are going to go with that. Hopefully it’s not the new high school phase, hopefully you all bring that to college with you.

EF: You’re born on the internet. Everyone’s on the internet, so you have a bigger audience. It’s better for you. You can get your stuff out. That’s why design matters more and more. You can only get more publicity and more circulation if you have a strong voice and what you say matters to a lot of people.

ES: I’ve noticed very recently [during November] on your Instagram there’s been a lot of posts styled after what you’ve just talked about. What was that project?

OP: We went to New York a couple days ago, and there was an event called “Scamming the Patriarchy,” at the New Museum, and a ton of small art collectives got together and made art installations and also talks. Our assignment was to do some kind of instagram takeover, so we posted one video on the main museum page, and on our Instagram we got submissions from femme creatives in general to send encouraging words to other femmes. We got 90 submissions or so, and we had a lot of positive feedback.

EF: That project again came from an issue that has frustrated a lot of marginalized groups in America. We planned that project as a result of the election. During that time, what people really wanted to hear was not more facts about Trump. They wanted to hear from other people, who were in similar situations, about how to move forward, and also how to take care of yourself and where we can look to at this time. Having so many statements and just bombarding everybody who follows us with those posts also had an effect.

ES: In the same style as the Instagram posts, what sort of advice would you give to other sad Asian femmes right now?

OP: If you have a good idea, try to find the people that would love your idea, and do something with them. Even if it’s just one random small thing that you don’t even know will make a difference, if it reaches out to at least one person, I think it’s so worth it. Just make work, and generate content, and think about the way that you’re going to publish it. The web is an amazing place, and you should take advantage of it.

EF: I probably have less of a place to say anything [post-election], because I’m Canadian, but I do think that in times of turmoil, or in the event of tragic occurrences, it is important to grieve and process what is happening and be around people if that’s what you need (or be alone if that’s what you need). But also keep in mind that staying in that state of depression, not that it doesn’t change anything, but it also will hurt you in the long run. While it is trying to process things and maybe isolate yourself, I think self-care also includes doing something about it, or expressing your thoughts in a productive way that other people can resonate with. And creating community is a really crucial part of self-care.

OP: You are not alone! Don’t forget that. •

Interview & Illustrations by Elisabeth Siegel

sinθ is an international print-based creative arts magazine made by and for the sino diaspora. Values include creative expression, connection, and empowerment. Find out more here.

Follow our Sino arts blog for daily posts featuring Sino creatives and their works.

Issue 5 will be released in August 2017.

Instagram | Facebook | Blog | Donate | Submission guidelines

#sad asian girls #esther fan #olivia park #sad asian femmes #rhode island school of design #sine theta magazine #written #interview #conversation #issue3

16 notes · View notes

truelovevoltage · 7 years

Text

SCM: Fight and Make Up

“Anonymous said: hi! may I have a SCM headcanon about the guys having a big fight with MC then make up? hue karno and ziglavis if you don't mind?”

“Anonymous said: A fight and make up headcanon for SCM? Hue Karno Krioff Zyglavis (if krioff is not OK then Scorpio pls?)Thank youuuuuuu”

Requested: Yes

For: Anon

Smut: No

A/N: I decided not to add Huedhaut to this headcanon because I’ve done a similar fan fiction to this. If you want to read it, click here

Karno

Occupying yourself with work was nothing out of ordinary. You’ve been working endless hours due to the crazy amount of bills that you needed to pay. You tried to keep yourself busy this entire time because you knew Karno would be busy too. At least then he was able to tell you in advance that he was going to be busy.

Working at another job helped a lot to pay off your bills. It was hard to live off with just the planetarium because of the number of apples that you buy for your boyfriend. It was alright at first but your favourite fruits and vegetables were not in season right now and the prices for them went up.

The other job wasn’t that bad but it was tiring you out. That night Karno came to visit you and check how you were doing. Karno could tell that you were very tired and tried to cheer you up with a video of the gods trying to play video games at the mansion. The aftermath of the video wasn’t bad but you had a headache and the case that Zyglavis was bothering Leon and pissing him off and screaming at each other. “Well aren’t you gods lucky as hell that you don’t have to work as hard as we do in order to live.” You gritted your teeth and slapped the smartphone that Karno was holding. “Can you just leave me for now. I’m not in the mood hearing your fellow god screaming and doing whatever they want.”

Karno was thrown off guard with your attitude. He wanted to say that they too work hard whether they were in the Department of Punishments or Wishes. Nevertheless, he didn’t, Karno didn’t want to make such a big deal about it. He understood how tired you must be. If there was any way to take away your stress he would do it in an instant.

In a few minutes, Karno came into your room and woke you up. “Wake up Y/N! It’s time to eat.” He said cheerfully. You sat up using the headboard as your support. “Here you go Y/N, breakfast in bed. Y/N I’m sorry for adding more stress to you. I know how hard you’ve been working lately and so here is your prize, breakfast in bed.” Seeing this side of Karno surprised you. Yes he was kind and thoughtful but this threw you off guard. “I’m sorry too Karno. I should’ve just told you nicely instead, I brushed you off.”

“Enough with the apologies let’s have breakfast shall we?” Karno smiled and the two of you ate breakfast and teased each other every now and then.

Krioff

You panicked and yelled for your nephew’s name. He’s been missing for about two hours now and you kept blaming yourself for not carefully paying attention to him. You asked Krioff to help and he would occasionally tell you to calm down. Clearly, that wasn’t the best choice of word to say to you at the moment. “CALM?!?! YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN KRIOFF?!?! MY NEPHEW IS OUT THERE ALONE AND HE’S PROBABLY SCARED AND YOU’RE TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN?!?!” You screamed at your boyfriend who kept a deadpan mask. “Were you this calm as well when you sister got kidnapped? Were you calm when the evil god tried to take your sisters' power? Because maybe if you were calm back then and didn’t let your emotions run haywire and then maybe she could’ve still been a God right now. And we both know how ‘calm’ you were back then, so you don’t have the rights to tell me to calm down.” You hissed.

Krioff was taken aback by your outburst. The topic of his sister was a taboo for him. He hated himself for what happened and right now he didn’t want to be around you. He walked away not even bother saying anything to him. When Krioff was far away you realized how much your words hurt him. You knew that his sister is a sensitive topic and yet you brought it up and compared it to your situation. You cursed under your breath and continued to look for your missing nephew.

Another two hours have passed and there was no sign of your nephew nor your boyfriend. You sat on the bench and cried. You weren’t sure what to do anymore and you looked up to the sky and apologized to your sister for being so careless. “Auntie Y/N!” Your head snapped towards the direction of the voice. There you saw a child climbing down Krioff and running towards you. “Auntie... I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m sorry for leaving your side, I promise I won’t do it again. Uncle Krioff told me how upset and worried you were. Please stop crying Auntie.” Your nephew hugged you. “I’m just glad you’re okay little one.”

Your nephew fell asleep on Krioffs arms. “Krioff... Thank you for finding my nephew. I thought that you’d leave the search to me since I know you’re mad at me and I won’t blame you. I was out of the line mentioning your sister and that incident and I’m sorry. I was just being stupid and I let my emotions get to me. I shouldn’t have said those rude remarks at you.”

You heard Krioff sighed, you prepared yourself for whatever he has to say to you. “Y/N, how can you say something like that? I know that you’re the only family he has left and I really wanted to find him. I understand how you feel. That’s how I felt when my sister got kidnapped and I can’t blame you for reacting that way. I’m at fault as well for telling you to calm down, to that end I’m sorry as well.” He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips. “I forgive you, but can you forgive me as well?”

“Of course Krioff.” You smiled at him and intertwined his free hand with yours.

Scorpio

There was a long silence between you and Scorpio yet you had a lot to say to him on your mind. Scorpio casually sat there oblivious that he was making you furious. You stood up and made your way to the kitchen and looked for food to munch on.

Food always made your mood better. Searching the fridge you weren’t in the mood for making something big so you decided to just have some fruits for snack. You cut some strawberries and watermelon. Scorpio looked up and glared at you, “If you’re glaring at me cause I didn’t peel your apples, go do it yourself.” Rolling your eyes at him. Lately, he’s been making you do everything for him and you couldn’t figure out the reason. He can literally just use his powers for it and you hated it when he ordered you to do certain things after a long day at work. “What’s your problem?” He questioned.

“You.” He kept his eyes on you. Scorpio waited until you continued why. “You’ve been ordering me to do things for you when you clearly know how tired I am at work. You never even considered the thought of getting me food after work. I know that you don’t know how to cook but grabbing some food for me outside or you trying to make something simple like a sandwich would be enough, but that’s not the case. When I get home from work, you’d ask me to cook something for you as well. I’ve been really patient with the way you’re acting towards me but I’ve had it.” You got up from your seat and left a dumbfounded Scorpio. You stomped your way towards your bedroom and slept, not caring that it’s almost supper time. You could sleep through a meal and wake up the next day for all you care.

You woke up the next day feeling guilty that you yelled at Scorpio, it was a bit much but at least you were able to tell him how you feel about being treated like a maid in your own place. You got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. The moment that you left your bedroom you smelled something good. Peeking your head out of the corner you saw Scorpio muttering things to himself. “Scorpio.... What are you doing?” You asked. “I’m cooking breakfast.” He stammered. “Just relax for a bit, I’ll call you when I’m done.” You nodded at him and made your way to the living room to watch while Scorpio is cooking breakfast.

In a few minutes, you could smell something burning. You ran towards the kitchen and saw that Scorpio did, in fact, burned the pancakes he was cooking. His frown lines were showing and you could tell how frustrated he was. “Here let me help.” You offered. Scorpio apologized for being such a failure, even though all he wanted to do was help you. “Thank you Scorpio, I appreciate it. I’m actually glad that you thought of making breakfast for me but next time call me first alright?” You kissed his cheeks. “Now let's get breakfast ready together.”

“Y/N I’m sorry, I was unaware of my behaviour. You know that I’m not really good at reading your movements or how humans behave and I should’ve treated you better.” Scorpio was still feeling useless and guilty at the same time. It didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to be but he was glad that the two of you have made up and happily cooking together. You were also happy to spend the morning like with his Scorpio.

Zyglavis

“Why can’t you listen to me for once Zyglavis?!?!”You yelled in frustration. You were getting fed up with your boyfriends' attitude. “I’m always listening to you but you NEVER listen to me!” The other Gods could hear the two of you bickering back and forth. No one dared to stick their nose in to stop the war between the two lovers.

“What do you mean? I’m listening to you right now aren’t I?” He scoffed and crossed his arms. This made you more angry at him. He knew that’s not what you meant but ended up saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Zyglavis added more fuel to the fire rather than extinguishing it. “You know damn well what I’m talking about you damn weasel!”

Stomping away from Zyglavis you excused yourself from the other Gods and headed to your apartment. You recalled what happened at the mansion and couldn’t help but yell onto your pillow. Why couldn’t Zyglavis understand that the world doesn’t revolve around him? Why did he think that he can always get what he wants?

The fight between the two of you was about the time. Whenever you were not busy, he was occupied with his job and vice versa. You understand that he’ll be busy with work but why can’t he understand that he needs to be understanding about your job as well? Why did he have to get mad at you being always busy and not spending time with him on his days off?

Closing your eyes, you wanted to go to sleep and forget everything. No matter how hard you wanted your tears to stop, it didn’t happen until an hour later when you finally felt tired. Just as you were about to lose consciousness, you heard footsteps in your bedroom. You hoped that it wasn’t a robber because you didn’t have enough energy to defend yourself.

The silhouette stood in front of you. “And this is how I’m going to die.” You thought to yourself and sobbed. You were waiting for the impact of anything that could harm you in your sleep but instead, the figure brushed of the hairs that fell in front of your face. You flinched when their skin touched your forehead. “I’m sorry Y/N” There was regret and sadness mixed in his voice. “The other Gods have talked to me and even the King gave me a piece of his mind. I’m sorry if I was being selfish. I’m sorry for not putting myself in your shoes. I’m sorry for thinking that I was the only one that cared about our relationship.”

He kept apologizing for all his mistakes. “Mmmm you’re an idiot.” You teased him. “I forgive you but please let me sleep, I’m tired.” You turned your body away from him and went back to sleep. You felt the unoccupied side of the bed dip down. “Goodnight Y/N.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you closer to him. You missed the warmth of his body. The two of you were glad that you were able to make up before going to sleep, at least then you can sleep peacefully in the arms of the God you love.

#Huedhaut #Karno #Zyglavis #SCM #SCM Headcanon #SCM Headcanons #Voltage #Voltage Inc #Voltage Headcanon #Voltage Headcanons #Otome #Otome Headcanon #Otome Headcanons #truelovevoltage #truelovevoltage posts #truelovevoltage headcanons #Star Crossed Myth #Star Crossed Myth Headcanon #Star Crossed Myth Headcanons

121 notes · View notes

fancymuffinparty · 7 years

Text

Prelude

Rating: T; for language and suggestive material.

Pairing: Levi x Mikasa, RivaMika

Summary: Written for the fifth RivaMika Jam! The story of how an aspiring musician meets and falls for his muse. My partner was @zerolr and my prompt was: “Mikasa is an ordinary person working at a grocery/supermarket store and Levi is a famous musician/actor. He sees her and finds himself attracted/interested in her. So while she checks out his purchase, Levi leaves her his phone number.” I kinda deviated a little from the original premise, but I hope it still turned out okay! :) This was fun to work with and I’m glad I signed up this time around!

Word Count: 3873 (a little long lol oops)

Music is one of many ways people are able to express themselves.

Soft, slow melodies from jazz or classical styles evoke calmness and serenity. Heavier themes can be conveyed through powerhouse ballads of the rock n’ roll variety. Regardless of the genre, there’s almost always a message or meaning to these intricate works of art, crafted from some sort of stimulus.

Some musicians draw inspiration from everyday life and personal experience, travelling and exploring new sights, or through the release of pent up emotions; a coping mechanism for dealing with hardships and complexities of this cruel yet beautiful world.

Aspiring musician Levi Ackerman fears he’s lost any and all inspiration. He has talent, that much is true. However, he recognizes that plenty of other ‘up-and-comers’ and ‘desperate hopefuls’ have talent. His music has hit a plateau, unsure where to take his current career aspirations or how exactly to get where he wants to be. He yearns for a stimulating experience; something to pull him out of this awful rut and set him apart from others in the highly competitive and cut-throat industry, riddled with unoriginal material and blatant narcissism.

Enter Mikasa, and the spark comes back.

She’s a quiet, reserved cashier at a small grocery store he frequents on a weekly basis. Always calm, smiles politely to every customer, and tends the same checkout stand every time.

Every other week-night. From six to midnight. Like clockwork.

Levi’s newfound muse is exactly what he needs as a source of inspiration.

It just so happens that he’s conveniently run out of a few basic necessities, prompting a trip to the grocery store on an unseasonably warm Thursday night.

Before long, he’s face to face with her, setting his gathered items on the counter in a meticulously neat array.

As Mikasa begins ringing up his purchase, she can’t help but engage in harmless conversation.

“That’s… a lot of cleaning supplies.” She suppresses a small chuckle, swiping the items along the scanner to a steady rhythm of beeps.

Levi, the ultimate clean-freak, feels no shame in what he considers a redeemable quality. He also seeks to use the situation as a means for something a bit more meaningful.

“My roommates,” he explains, “can be a handful.” That’s one way to put it.

“I can definitely relate,” Mikasa drawls, nodding her head. “Take on most of the responsibilities, right?”

“For the most part,” Levi replies. “They might be terrible roommates, but I can’t exactly get rid of ‘em.”

Still ringing up the last of the items, Mikasa coyly turns her gaze directly his way. “Some sort of obligation?”

Levi lists off the generalities of his living situation. “Longtime friends, band-mates…”

To his surprise, Mikasa pauses and expresses interest in pursuing the matter. “Band, huh?” A hard-to-read smile perches on her lips. “Is it more of a hobby? Like a side thing?”

He’s used to these kinds of questions, therefore he’s more than willing to answer. “Started out as a hobby, until we started booking gigs and performing here and there.”

“Seems as though you like it enough.”

“The extra money is nice, especially when it’s for something I enjoy doing.” Levi pulls out his wallet, preparing to pay for the cleaning haul. “Some venues are better than others. Some crowds are tougher than others. It’s hit and miss sometimes.”

Upon finishing bagging up the items, Mikasa briefly changes the subject, reverting back to the task at hand. “I might’ve asked you last time you were here, but any chance you’re interested in signing up for our new rewards program?”

Levi knows it’s a part of her job to ask every customer. Hell, the manager probably keeps tabs on which employee has signed up the most people per shift. He himself once worked in retail, so he can relate to working in an environment where employees are pressured to fulfill such menial assignments.

Either way, he’s still reluctant. “What would that entail?”

Utilizing her charismatic skills to their full potential, Mikasa makes an effort to reassure any concerns. “It’s free to sign up. All we need is an email and phone number.” Aligning her gaze with the mountain of cleaning products, she quickly adds, “And given that you’re here every week to stock up for the apocalypse, I think you’d benefit from it.”

Levi ultimately relents. “Well when you put it that way, it sounds reasonable.” A smirk creeps along the corner of his mouth as he begins filling out a sign-up sheet. “I thought maybe you were just playing it cool, trying to get my phone number.”

His attempt at flirting certainly hasn’t gone unnoticed and Mikasa finds it impossible to suppress the surge of red rising to her cheeks.

“Just… doing my job,” is all she can manage.

Thank god it’s a slow night and there’s no one else in line behind him, or this might have been a thousand times weirder. She accepts both the small slip of paper and his form of payment, finalizing the transaction in one fell swoop.

“Have a good night,” she says, handing him his receipt.

Levi, assuming that’s the end of it, nods and moves to grab the plastic bags full of his purchases, thanking her before turning away. Suddenly, and so unexpectedly, Mikasa’s voice pipes up and momentarily stops him from leaving the checkout stand.

“You should let me know when your next gig is,” she states casually. “I’d love to hear you play some time.”

Levi wasn’t sure what he had done to have been rewarded this many 'good karma’ points, but he accepts his lucky break nonetheless. Keeping his tone as casual as hers, he responds with, “Well now that you have my number, maybe you should call me when you’re free.”

Mikasa contemplates his sly remark, shaking her head. “I have a better idea.” She pulls out a pen and small piece of paper, using the counter as a flat surface while she scribbles something down. Once she’s finished, she extends it towards Levi, encouraging him to take it.

Levi gladly accepts, and discovers the contents of the pocket-size note feature her phone number.

“How about you call me when you get the chance?” Mikasa’s clever witticisms are yet another reason Levi is convinced his taste in women is anything but questionable.

He keeps a firm grasp on the slip of paper, as though it’s a prize-winning lotto ticket. “I will.”

And he certainly does.

Levi doesn’t get nervous.

He and his band-mates have performed enough times to get a feel for what the crowd likes and wants to hear. The venues are usually small, local, and full of college-age spectators. The stages rarely ever differ, offering the bare minimum amount of lighting above a sturdy wooden platform.

It’s not the first time he’s performed at this bar in particular. By now, he’s familiar with the amiable staff and finally on a first-name basis with management. Levi and co are a crowd favorite at the popular Colossal Bar, having won the hearts of the locale’s regulars which in turn generates an influx of business for the establishment. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

There must have been roughly a hundred people in the joint but just as Levi was set to perform his second song, a loose rendition of ‘When You Were Young’ by The Killers, his gaze falls upon a sight that seems unfathomably surreal.

Mikasa is standing in the center of the crowd, a faint smile adorning her face. With one hand occupied, holding her drink of choice, she raises the other and waves.

Levi still doesn’t get nervous. It only fuels his desire to perform his best.

Amid the vast sea of unfamiliar faces, some more sober than others, some more enthused than others, some even singing along, Levi only wants to look at her.

Halfway through the song, the energy of the crowd seems to magnify, with someone in the back whistling loud enough to be heard over the intensity streaming from finely tuned guitars and drums.

Cheers follow shortly after the well-received rendition comes to an end, transitioning to a brief interlude as the band prepares to end the performance with their last song for the evening. This time it’s an original, not a cover.

Levi’s foot taps against the floorboards to the opening of the song; the song he wrote after seeing Mikasa for the first time. Granted, she doesn’t know that…

See it on the people’s faces everywhere

Black ‘n blue but they won’t throw the towel in

And let go of a dream

Man, woman, child, prepare to bleed

The band had initially been weary of the how the audience would react to their original piece, but the reassurance comes flooding in as soon as hoots and hollers from the crowd adorn their ears in tandem with the palpable beat and lyrics.

Levi keeps a level head through and through, eyes still locked on Mikasa, seemingly holding an intense staring contest with the raven-haired beauty that blocks everything else out.

Do you believe that we can conquer this?

Can’t delete all the mess that I have seen

Fall in the fire but these burns will heal you

The array of lights overhead flicker as Levi backs away from the mic. At long last, they complete yet another successful gig. A round of applause echoes from every corner of the establishment, indicating the patrons are more than just satisfied with the evening’s performance. He and his band accept the riotous praise hailing from newfound fans of their music, waving to the plethora of enthusiasts.

Bidding his mates farewell, Levi hops off stage and scrambles among a few tipsy spectators in search of one particularly lovely guest.

Several girls are ogling him from every angle, to which Levi is hopelessly oblivious. Completely uninterested in their advances, Levi finally spots Mikasa at the bar and pulls up a seat in the stool right next to hers.

She’s the first one to speak, greeting the arrival of the band’s front man.

“Seems to me you underestimate yourself, Levi,” she mutters, taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

“How so?” he asks, curiosity brewing.

She blinks lazily, resting her elbows on the counter. “When you told me you were in a band, you failed to mention you guys were actually really good.”

Levi’s glad he doesn’t give her the impression he’s a cocky asshole. He hates cocky assholes who talk up a big game, finding it beyond amusing when their pride and inflated egos are their ultimate downfall.

He accepts the compliment without getting ahead of himself. “’Good’ is a subjective term, but I appreciate it.” He orders a drink and while waiting for the bartender to devise the concoction, he carries on with the conversation. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”

“That makes two of us,” Mikasa replies, studying him with intoxicating bluish greys.

The bartender sets Levi’s whiskey and coke on a coaster, to which he’s quick to take a hearty swig. The alcohol helps take the edge off, though he’s not much of a drinker and is enjoying the social interaction regardless. He’s about to say something when Mikasa nudges him gently on the shoulder.

“Don’t look now,” she mumbles, “but I think you have a fan.“

Levi only scoffs at that. “Oh yeah?”

“A few tables behind you. Toward the back.” Mikasa chuckles. “She’s been checking you out this whole time.”

Levi doesn’t heed her initial advice and looks over his shoulder to pinpoint this interested fan of his.

Bingo.

Copper colored hair. Large hazel-brown doe eyes. Possible candidate for a one-night stand.

‘Doe eyes’ winks at him, the look on her face begging him to join her and her circle of friends for some chit-chat.

Levi instantly looks away, leaving Mikasa equal parts confused and intrigued.

“She’s cute,” she hums.

“She’s not my type,” Levi affirms. “Besides, I’m right where I want to be.”

Levi and Mikasa eventually make their way to the back of the room, loosening up on a couple of beige lounge chairs as the alcohol only mildly kicks in. There’s about an hour left until closing, most of the noise dying down as the evening fades into the deathly early hours of the morning. A few winks from interested college girls still dart his direction, but right now he’s only focused on the way Mikasa perks her lips every time she’s about to say something. He can’t be half-assed to care what happened to 'doe eyes’ or his band-mates, not while he has Mikasa in front of him.

He learns that she’s not from the area. That she was adopted at the age of three and grew up in a small town a few hours away. Aside from working at the grocery store, she’s a full-time college student, majoring in criminal justice.

Levi on the other hand, admits he’s never really been anywhere else. Small town guy hailing from humble beginnings, content with how his life is turning out.

“Maybe that’ll change,” Mikasa insinuates. “One day when you make it big, you’ll be able to go to all sorts of places.”

Levi huffs at that. “’Make it big?’” He sounds disdainful, as if musicians who only strive for fame and fortune aren’t true musicians at all. He vowed never to be a sell-out long before setting foot on-stage. “Not sure that’s the direction I want to take my career.”

Mikasa half-smiles. “Like I told you. You underestimate yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Levi shrugs. “I think I would grow to hate that kind of lifestyle fairly quickly.” Always on the road, lots of airports and hotels, lots of loud obnoxious people. The exact kind of shit he can’t stand.

Mikasa has always been a realist, so she understands where he’s coming from, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her own perspective. “That’s one way to look at it,” she begins, “but what about the message you’re trying to send? What about the people who look up to you? Your music is more than just an artistic way of expressing yourself. It could inspire the hearts of thousands, bring them all together, and make this messed up world just a tiny bit better.”

You could use your voice for so much more…

Levi blinks a few times, almost at a loss for words until he finally manages to think of how to respond to that. “Forget criminal justice, you should look into becoming a motivational speaker or something.”

“You have to accentuate the positive in life sometimes.”

“That’s funny.” Levi rubs his chin in thought. “I’ve definitely heard that somewhere.”

“You probably have.”

Levi smirks, contemplating his next move when his eyes wander to a mark on her wrist. It’s dark, a couple inches long, and vaguely resembles some sort of symbol. Without hesitation, he bluntly asks about it, the thought of whether or not it’s an inappropriate question never crossing his mind.

“Is there a story behind that scar on your wrist?”

Mikasa merely shakes her head, unmoved by the sudden query. “Only a relatively boring one.”

She leans closer to where he’s sitting, extending her arm and allowing for him to trace along the small indentation. “It’s a… family thing,” she says, breaking the intermittent silence.

His fingers continue lightly tracing along its short length, smooth to the touch. Funny how he’s never noticed it before.

Strange, he thinks to himself. Now he ponders the possibility of penning a song about it.

“So,” Mikasa whispers, drawing him out of his momentary daze, “when you do make it big, are you going to write a song about me?”

Okay, now she’s flirting. Teasing him rather with such irresistible charm ringing in her voice.

Levi realizes he hasn’t let go of her hand yet, and regardless if it’s the buzz or just his attraction to her, he’s not sure he wants to.

He suppresses another smirk. That’s right. She doesn’t know; that he’s written a few songs about her already.

But he doesn’t tell her that. He chooses to keep that to himself, replying in a low quiet voice.

“Maybe,” he finally mumbles, looking up at her, his gaze landing on the scar below her eye. He’s noticed this one in particular on a few occasions. It grazes just above the cheek, resting beneath dark lashes and wisps of jet-black hair. He’s unsure if he should ask about its origins, but something about the way she’s looking at him with seemingly innocent curiosity urges him to fulfill his desire to get to know more about her.

Levi ignores the tension growing tighter and tighter throughout his body, realizing no one has ever made him feel this way. He struggles trying to put it into words, frustrated that he can’t properly articulate the sensation raging beneath his calm demeanor.

“What about… this one?” he asks, reaching out to stroke the scar nestled below her eye.

Mikasa slightly shudders, but surprisingly doesn’t pull away. She lets his hand hover over the scar, his fingers tracing gently along as he had with the mark on her wrist.

She could cop it out to them being alone, secluded in a corner with dangerously low lighting. She could blame it on the alcohol, mere tipsy antics.

But she’s not naïve.

“Story for another day,” comes her response in a smooth, sultry voice.

Levi nods, understanding.

He wants to kiss her. He’s never been more hell-bent on kissing someone in his entire life, but he likes to think he has some semblance of self-control and patience; unlike his rowdy band-mates.

Then, to his ultimate demise, she does something that drives him absolutely crazy.

She bites her lip, as if in suspense, and he pretty much loses it.

He closes the already tight gap between them and presses his mouth against hers, indulging in the incredible warmth. She responds almost immediately by parting her lips, inviting his tongue to slide inside. She tastes like lime, and something unidentifiably sweet. It spurs him to pull her in closer, sliding his hand up to her jaw, cupping her face in his palm.

Somehow he feels dizzier, and her wandering hands and the way she bites his bottom lip playfully further intensify this heated lip lock.

They’re still kissing like long lost lovers when the clock strikes two in the morning. Patrons start to file out through the exit one by one. The bartender begins wiping down the counters. The remaining staff members commence the usual closing routine.

Mikasa pulls away, playfully chastising the both of them for staying out well past their bedtimes. “Can’t believe I’ve been here all night,” she sighs. It’s almost a gasp, though she doesn’t appear too shocked.

“Got a curfew?” Levi deadpans, eyelids heavy. He finds it amusing that she’s more concerned over something as trivial as the hour rather than drunkenly kissing someone she barely knows.

Although during their heavy makeout session, it honest to god really felt like he had known her forever.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “No, I’m just never usually out this late, is all.”

“Ahhh.” Levi exhales, expecting her to bid him goodnight and promptly ditch his ass without further ado.

He’s taken aback when she grabs him by the hand and begins hauling away for the exit.

What was she thinking about? What was she planning? Levi has a guess, but decides not to assume anything just yet. They awkwardly stumble out onto the street and Mikasa makes an attempt to hail a cab right there off the main drag.

“What’s on your mind?” He feigns uncertainty.

“I was kind of thinking I wanted to take you to-go,” she replies softly but oh-so-sure of herself. “Unless you had other plans…”

Levi merely nods his head, the words straining to dispel from his mouth, only to be suppressed by the tender look in her eye. The lights of cars zooming by hone in on the enticingly dark and mysterious features sheathed within.

Ultimately, he wordlessly agrees to follow, figuring nothing else needs to be said.

Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.

Years later…

When Levi does make it big, he seems to be the only one out of his small circle of friends that’s surprised. Many were certain it was his calling; that catching a lucky break and garnering all the fame and recognition had been predestined.

From his own perspective, however, he’s simply doing what he loves, and insists on keeping himself grounded.

Maintaining a low profile is nearly impossible for the musician especially with the recent release of a new album, spawning a surge in popularity among fans from coast to coast. People stop and fawn all over him when he’s just trying to take his dog out for a walk, or when he’s making a coffee run in the early mornings before recording at the studio.

He hates it. He really does.

But like someone once told him, he uses his voice for more than just the purpose of entertainment. He advocates for causes he has strong beliefs in and vocalizes support for various organizations that strive for the betterment of society as a whole. It’s one of the few things that keep him sane, convincing him the fame isn’t a total nightmare. Sure, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, but he’s grateful the opportunity to help make a difference is there.

A blinding flash jolts his senses back to the present. Today marks the first day of his nation-wide tour, commencing the long trek from home over a span of three months.

As he’s done far more times than he can count, Levi steps up to the microphone, other band members setting up behind him. Unlike the small suffocating venues from before, he’s standing on a giant outdoor stage, unmoved by the masses of screaming people shouting their praises in anticipation for the upcoming concert.

The crowd’s ready, but he’s still getting in the moment, the wild ruckus blurring into low distant hums.

Before he gives the nod to his fellow mates, Levi takes a moment to let out a deep breath, eyes roaming about the entire stadium.

It’s another giant sea of faces; people with names he’ll never know, with lives he’ll never learn about.

He’s taken back to that fateful night at the Colossal Bar. The night Mikasa came to watch him for the first time.

He’s disappointed that her face isn’t among those in the crowd like it was then. None of this would have been possible without her; it’s all meaningless to him otherwise. He glances down at the silver wedding band fitted on his left ring finger, thinking a part of her is still with him even when he’s away on tour.

A half-smile fades as quickly as it appears. He’s ready for the long night ahead of him.

Mikasa, his beautiful muse, his best friend, his wife, might not be there to watch him and his band perform all the heartfelt and deep songs he’s written about her all these years, but he’s immensely satisfied to know that she’ll be there when he finally comes home, waiting for him like she always does.

It’s the only thing that matters.

#rivamikajam #rivamikajam5 #rivamika fanfiction #rivamika #shigenki no kyojin #i had fun with this #10/10 would do again #all for my otp #mywriting

111 notes · View notes