#and the. when alter ego saves him….. WHEN THEY FLIP THE FORMULA!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ifuckinglovestvincent · 3 years

Text

THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

#‘I HAVE NO MEMORY OF IT’#LOOOOOL #WHY ARE U LIKE THIS #st vincent #full of shit #annie clark #Annie Clark on beds #yellow is the color for dull ache of bad penetration?

68 notes · View notes

dayntee · 5 years

Text

[PoE] Worst Kept Secrets

Ever have one of those mental prompts where you had a specific scene play out and then you just had to write everything else around it? That’s what this ended up being.

Also, I totally finished this before midnight, so I’m still tagging it with Watcher Wednesday because why the hell not. Also available on AO3 here.

Summary: Aloth reflects on his rapidly growing appreciation for his captain, wondering when, if ever, is the right time to act rather than contemplate. Urged in part by his alter ego and inspired by the decisiveness of the Watcher, he decides a certain conversation is long overdue.

Notes: As with most of my play-through companion pieces, I took some slight liberties with this one in terms of how the timeline wound up playing out. While the events referenced did happen pretty close together, they’ve been reordered slightly to fit a better, more accurate narrative of the dynamics I imagine in my Watcher’s party as well as to line up with Aloth’s proclivity for privacy rather than what would have been a spontaneous make-out session that would have otherwise happened in the middle of The Gullet.

No plans for a direct sequel… I think you all can figure out how the rest of this plays out and fill in the blanks. ;)

Spoilers for the Aloth romance conversation (duh).

Since the group had returned to The Defiant, Aloth kept replaying the scene repeatedly in his mind. Edér’s panicked face as he realized he may be too late to save Bearn, the resolve and concern on Idralia’s as she reassured they’d chase after the lad, and the relief and genuine gratitude that warmed even the wizard’s oft self-concerned heart. They were traveling the route now, following the bearings a sailor had overheard the Partisans of the Lighted Path mention in port, and the captain was hopeful they might make it in time.

‘It’s just like her,’ he mused, and realized that he was no longer absorbing the information of his latest grimoire acquisition. He had been flipping the pages for several minutes, yet couldn’t recall a single formula his eyes had skimmed. He frowned; these wanderings of his mind, the ever-present distraction of the captain, the painfully obvious torch she carried for him, and the distinct inclination he should do something about them were growing by the day.

‘Tha’s because ya aught act in’nead a fiddle fad ‘roun, an ya know it,’ he heard the echo deep within the recesses of his mind and frowned further. He hated when Iselmyr was right. What was more troubling was that, as a result of having suppressed her outbursts, the few that surfaced now were more accurate and… thoughtful than ever.

“I know,” he resigned to himself, slowly closing the grimoire with a sigh and running his fingers over the edges, a half-hearted attempt to distract himself. ‘But I can’t possibly give her what she would want,’

“An whas tha? A haus an’ hearth? A stiff drink? Or migh’ be somethin’ ya only handle alone when the lass could be helpin’ ya wit it?”

“That’s quite enough of that,” he muttered, closing his eyes and pushing the cackling alter ego down, back into the mental partition he’d slowly perfected over years of patience and practice. And yet, she had had a point once more; he hadn’t even bothered asking what Idralia might want. She was hardly a traditional woman and, at the very least, she deserved honesty in this particular matter. It was what she unerringly gave to all and what he was long overdue on returning.

With a deep, steadying breath, he tucked his grimoire into the pack he’d hung from a stray nail next to his hammock before standing, his eyes glancing up the pathway to the captain’s cabin. It was on his mind and it would be until he did something about it. One way or another, this was a dance they couldn’t keep up forever, and he wanted to act on the resolve while it remained.

He couldn’t help the smile curling across his lips as he leaned in the doorway to her quarters, hands folded in front of him. When she finally looked up to acknowledge his presence, she wondered what secret it was this time he was finally willing to share. As was customary when she gave her full attention, she removed her hat and eyepatch, setting them on her desk, and beckoned him forward. Aloth took the invitation, nudging the heavy door shut behind him.

“For the first time in a long while,” he began, “I feel truly confident in where I’m going. What I’m doing.” The conviction in his voice was refreshing to Idralia’s ears, and she smiled as she turned in her chair to face his approaching form. “With you, I mean,” he added and her heart skipped a beat. It was, perhaps, the worst kept secret that Idralia harbored feelings for the mage. She wasn’t, however, certain as to where they stood and her intensely keen awareness to Aloth’s needs for privacy and space had kept her at a distance since he’d left Caed Nua.

Tentatively, as though she were testing the coldest of waters, she replied, “Me too,” and watched with anxious relief as his lips twitched with a smile.

“You and I have so much in common. We’re both careful with our words. With good reason, of course,” he was moving closer and she suddenly felt paralyzed by his approach. Doing her best to keep calm, she simply kept his gaze, her eyes studying his and trying to glean any hidden meanings he brought to the conversation. It wasn’t without notice; his pace faltered for a moment, and his words reflected it. “And yet you’re decisive where I’m uncertain. Somehow, you know what must be done, and you don’t hesitate.”

Where she would have expected him to break eye contact, he held it, and her heartbeat climb into her throat. “I admire that,” he concluded, and she felt blush hit her cheeks like a fresh can of paint on a clean wall.

“Well, everything comes down to being truthful,” she shrugged helplessly, as if it were the only answer she could ever offer. Idralia was, if nothing else, honest to a fault, and Aloth’s smile widened further.

“That’s precisely what I mean,” he clasped his hands together. “I don’t know that I could trust myself with the decisions you’re making. My own brief time hunting the Leaden Key has taught me there is nothing enviable about the position you’re in.”

There was his doubt creeping in again. It was as if he couldn’t help it. While she herself was a fan of self-deprecating humor, Aloth practiced self-doubt as devoutly as others did religion. She shook her head. “You give yourself too little credit.”

He gave her a pitying smile. “Whatever my faults, a lack of self-awareness is not among them,” she rolled her eyes at him pointedly, and he stepped closer, little more than an arm’s length away. “Perhaps what I mean is, if we must be caught between the Gods and the Wheel, I’m glad you’re on our side.”

That softened her, and she stood, smiling at him genuinely. “And I’m glad you’re at mine,” it was uttered before she could stop herself, knowing there were so many other ways she could have thanked him for the compliment without added implications. Just as regret began to sink in, it withered at the sight of the corner of his lips twitching in poorly-concealed pleasure.

“That means a lot. Thank you,”

The lack of rejection, of the usual familiar trepidation or distance in his response, broke a flood gate of emotion and she closed the space between them without another thought. Her lips hit his and she knew now she had no other choice but to commit to the moment, even if this was to be the line she should never have crossed.

At first, he froze, surprised by both the sudden movement and physical contact. A fleeting moment of doubt melted in Idralia’s heart, however, as Aloth began to return the kiss. The seconds felt an eternity, his movements slow, but deliberate and soon insistent. Though his shoulders remained rigid and his back tensed, he leaned into her, one hand tentatively resting in the hollow of her shoulder blades while the other brushed lightly through the back of her short-cropped hair. She had never been held so carefully before, and she could tell that, despite the turn of his head and full contact he made, he was still, as always, in doubt.

They parted all too soon (or at least so she believed), and she found her hands had come to rest on his chest, trying her best to hold herself steady. Her lips parted slightly, breathing at a light but controlled pant. His clear blue eyes were full of questions, brows knitted as his pupils skittered back and forth, studying the now fully-flushed Watcher for answers.

“Well, that was… unexpected,” he began, “But not unwelcome,” he quickly added, that slight smile grabbing the edges of his lips again. She wanted to join him in mirth, but she was feeling unraveled, vulnerable. Emotions she was both long unacquainted with and seemed only drawn out by him.

“I… really care about you, Aloth,” she said carefully, though now it seemed silly to tip toe around the subject. Still, if she was going to lay things bare, then there was little point in mincing words.

“And I’ve come to care for you,” she felt his embrace on her tighten only just so, enough to reassure her. “I’ve always been solitary by nature,” he continued, and a thoughtful frown began to overwrite his features. “It’s been a… relief to let my guard down around you, though,”

The dissonance between his features and his words concerned her; she wasn’t sure she could bear this to be a fleeting encounter between them. Not after so long. Not after everything they had been through and would undoubtedly continue to go through. I have to reassure him.

“That… makes me very happy,” again she was careful and methodical with her words, though no less forthwith along the way. She looked down from him slightly, noticing her fingers had begun to grip gently into his robes, and she flexed them as though testing the reality of the situation. His arms sank from around her shoulders, slowly resting his forearms on her hips, hands clasped loosely behind her, and pressed his forehead to hers, urging her to make eye contact with him once more.

“Then I hope you’ll understand where I’m coming from,” he murmured, and she brought her eyes back up to his, giving him her rapt attention. He released the embrace on her waist and took a step back, and suddenly she felt so very cold, as though he’d traveled miles away. “I’ve spent most of my life hiding parts of myself – my name, my identity, my Awakening – from everyone else. I’m not sure I know another way, Idralia,” the use of her name, the rarest of occasions, rang in her ears. No Captain. No Watcher. This time, they were Aloth and Idralia and none of the other events of the world were in question.

“You… You don’t have to,” he turned his head slightly in question, and she elaborated. She crossed her arms, left hanging from his vacancy, and held herself. “I just… want to be with you as you are, whatever that means,” Five years. It rang in her mind again. After five years, she was simply happy she could express her feelings to him in the clearest way possible. “I… always have,” she added quietly, unable to keep the thought to herself.

“After living with Iselmyr for so long, I’ve come to value privacy. The space to think and reflect in solitude,” his eyes roamed her face again, gauging her reaction, and she smiled helplessly at him again. What made him think anything else was going to change?

“It’s not as if I don’t do the same, from time to time. I don’t want to take that away from you,”

“I don’t know where exactly our journeys will take us. Or what will happen when we find Eothas,” his gaze drifted downward to hands that were clasped once more, perhaps hoping to see an answer neither of them had. “And I will have to return to my work with the Leaden Key if we survive this ordeal,” the last statement was firm, stern. She understood immediately how important it was to him. Perhaps another day, she would reaffirm with him that was a task she would be more than willing to assist with. He shook his head, as though clearing his thoughts.

“I don’t want to make a commitment to you that I can’t honor. And I certainly don’t want to deceive you about my intentions.” It was a much clearer statement, and she was grateful for it.

“Then we won’t make demands of one another,” she stepped forward again, though she hesitated as she reached up to gently touch his face, running her thumb across his cheekbone. He didn’t pull back and, in fact, seemed to lean slightly into her touch. At that, she smiled. “Let’s just enjoy our time together – however much we might have.”

He smiled, fully, and her heart soared. “Yes, I like the sound of that,” He barely had the time to finish his thought before her lips were on his again, and he didn’t miss the eagerness in her affections. He let his eyes drift shut and his hands once again wrap around her waist, this time with more conviction as he pulled her close, and the contented sound she released crumbled another barrier within him. The hand on his face dropped to his shoulder, grasping a handful of his clothing, while the other slipped beneath his arm to rest a hand on his lower back.

This embrace proved less reserved, and she took little time before parting her lips and urging him silently to deepen it. He obliged, tilting his head to better align their mouths and allow their tongues to intermingle, relishing the electrical current of their newly explored passion. Her grip tightened on him, her fingers bunching the cloth of his robes, and without either realizing, they drifted together through the room.

Their movement was either leadless or cooperative, though it wasn’t clear which, and only when Idralia’s back met the resistance of the side of the cabin wall did their lips part and the pair gasp for air. Aloth studied her features more closely than ever before, from her lidded green eyes to the kiss-bruised lips that seemed fuller, more alluring.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, and he found her forthrightness, though expected, continually endearing. The smile he returned to her, slight and sly, gave her all the answer she needed, but he kept her hungry lips at bay by pressing his forehead to hers once more.

“Tell me. What is it, exactly, you’d like for me to do?” his question was less an inquiry and more an instruction, and the subtext was agonizingly enticing. Even now, he was teasing her, and his confidence in the situation was reminiscent of his assurance in battle or any other situation in which he knew he had full control. It was him at his best, and it was for her.

“Aloth, I’ve wanted this for more than five years. I don’t need anything complicated,”

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer,” he asserted before he claimed another of what would be far from their last kiss of the evening.

#pillars of eternity #watcher wednesday #watcher idralia #aloth/watcher #aloth #aloth x watcher #aloth romance

23 notes · View notes

philly-osopher · 5 years

Text

let’s fix Do No Harm

a.k.a. Do No Harm if it were actually a show I would watch, requested by @thisstableground in the meme thingy I was doing

This was something swan and I came up with because I, as a biology-person in Philadelphia, where DNH is “set,” was outraged and perplexed by whatever the fuck the working environment/ general structure of the hospital/ the fact that the writers gave zero shits about medical or scientific accuracy/ have never seen a lab/ have in fact probably never talked to a scientist/ have zero idea about actual psychiatric conditions.

So this turned into my crack conspiracy theory that the whole Jason/Ian multiple personality angle of the show is in fact a plot by Big Pharma steal Dr. Ruben Marcado’s research. Excerpt, somewhat de-chatficced (written by both swan and me) and condensed for sanity reasons:

this whole thing is a conspiracy to steal Ruben's research

he's a chemist who doesn't know medicine for shit, so he falls for the whole ridiculous Jason/ Ian thing easily

the man INVENTED TWO NOVEL NEUROACTIVE DRUGS IN FIVE YEARS he is a one-man billion dollar pharmaceutical company

for context most drug companies have stopped doing neuro research at ALL because it is so shitty

okay so. ruben is a goddamn motherfucking einstein-level field-revolutionizing SAVANT

who for some reason doesn't seem to recognize this.

but he's a lonely guy. clearly, because he lets jason get away with treating him like shit all the time. and for some reason Pharma can't go their normal route of hiring him to be on their staff.

unclear why, because he's trying to sell one of his drugs to a pharmaceutical company in the show and they're only offering him a million dollars, which is insultingly low. but anyway. ruben's not selling his drugs.

maybe he tried marketing one early on and people had adverse reactions and it was Very Bad

so now he sticks to the basic science side. he just uses his drugs as tools in the lab. yeah they have medical applications but he's so scared of hurting someone, hence "do no harm" eh?

so along comes this drug company. they're read his papers. they desperately want their hands on his formulas but he's not selling. they try hacking his computer but all his most important notes are pen and paper, physically locked in the lab, and security in this building is mega-tight because it's a children's hospital

so they have to come up with another way. they've got to give ruben a reason to go forward with these potent antipsychotics he's testing. they have to motivate him to try them in human patients. they've got to make this PERSONAL

so they find a burned out med student. a guy who's failed his boards, who is hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, who's desperate for money, and who, incidentally, has a background in theater. remember, ruben's not a trained doctor. he knows organic synthesis and neuropharmacology

[at this point swan asked to recast Jason/Ian as someone whose face she could stand to think about, and we decided Riz Ahmed. But then after the conversation we decided to gender flip the whole thing, and long story short we decided that Jason/ Ian is now played by Amal Clooney even though she doesn’t act and Ruben is played by Gina Rodriguez. But for right now it’s Riz and Lin.]

the guy comes to him with this sob story about how he NEEDS this drug. he would be such a good surgeon, he would save SO MANY LIVES, if he could just have it!

okay so this guy's job is to get samples of the drug at all costs

and if he doesn't the debt collectors are gonna come break his legs

so it's not really *his* fault so much

but first he befriends ruben

they bond over people always mixing them up

and ruben is so lonely. like, he works all the time and he stays away from all the docs because they Know His Failure and he still lives with his mom

so having somebody come in with a lot of common interests and no prior knowledge of how bad he fucked up (in his mind) is huge for him

the common interests are a nice coincidence, of course, but not so much of a coincidence when you remember they hacked his computer

and gradually the friend opens up about the problems he's been having

heck, maybe he just fakes a “transformation” into his “evil alter ego” right in front of Ruben, really freaks him out

either way, it becomes clear that his situation is desperate, and only ruben can help

and from then on the guy is just trying to extract more and more sample of the drug from ruben without raising his suspicions that he's from Big Pharma

and i think that it actually would make sense plot-wise if Jason seduces Ruben in this

he's got to keep raising the stakes

because that makes it so much harder for Ruben to say no if it's his BOYFRIEND who needs help!

he's gotta keep Ruben Invested!

basically in the show it's already an abusive relationship so this is just taking it to an abusive partnership

but what Jason DIDN'T count on......was developing feelings of his own

it's bad

he's making increasingly desperate excuses to his bosses

because he can't bear to keep tormenting Ruben like this

playing on his feelings

physically threatening him while pretending to be a split version of his personality!

Ruben always tearful and apologizing because he's not working fast enough and he's so sorry

maybe the debt collectors come by to threaten him and Ruben is there or finds out

and he has to make up some story about his split personality spending all his money

Ruben offers him help

hmm... at what point does Jason snap and tell Ruben everything so they can take on the pharma company together?

hopefully soon, for the sake of poor Ruben's peace of mind, and my own

again, i know NOTHING about the show except the basic premise and Ruben

i mean, naturally, after the truth comes out, they'd have to have an episode or two devoted to the break between 'em

get that angst, you know

but Ruben comes back to Jason, because he has to get back at these people who were USING him, and Jason is his only in

Ruben working even longer ridiculous marathon days because when he's hallucinating about being in lab from lack of sleep (while he's still in lab), at least he's not thinking of Jason and how he played him like a fiddle

maybe Big Pharma tries to break in again?

maybe they try another way to push him, and Jason has to save him?

their relationship is strictly business going forward, says Ruben. i can't trust you like that. we're clearing this up and then we're done for good

Right, yeah, obviously, i hurt you, says Jason

like, after Jason delivers his report that he can't do it, and is about to go on the run from the debt collectors, he realizes they're going to come after Ruben the hard way next

This is a working vengeance-based relationship (false)

so when he goes in to save him it's pure emotion, but he *says* all the vengeance stuff to get Ruben on board

he's still a really good liar, after all this

but he swears to himself that's the last time he's going to lie to him

after this he'll leave him alone, but he just has to know he's safe

it's his fault the pharma company is so hungry for Ruben's formulas

they didn't even KNOW about the second drug til Jason told them

presumably somewhere in here, there's a reference to "lying's the only thing i've ever REALLY been good at." [rueful smile]

and Jason has to be the ONLY one who can find him he just needs [x giant pile of resources]

basically, a new passport, a pile of cash, plane tickets to Jamaica

a way to a new life

and after it's done he gives them to Ruben

people always did mix them up!

although lbr Ruben might not be down for an extended tropical vacation

but maybe he NEEDS one, yanno?

and if his lab got trashed in some incident i'm sure he's absolutely furious about, he's got no reasons to stay in Philly while it’s being prepared

i love this. like there's your running gag throughout the first and into the second act of people mixing Ruben and Jason up

but then it becomes PLOT-RELEVANT!!! ...and that’s all I got the end!

#Do No Harm #Ruben Marcado #fix-it AU

21 notes · View notes

agentlieutenantshield · 7 years

Text

Saving Steve (CH.2)

Tap. Tap, tap, tap. Urgh. Tap, tap, tap. Flipping through the new records she was supposed to be studying, Elizabeth was getting rather bored. She was looking through past mission reports and leader files, mostly to teach her how a real leader acts probably. Pulling out the next file, she nearly dies of shock. It was the file for the famous Captain America: The Legend. She carefully rests a hand on top of the folder, as if she was caressing the pages, whispering, “Is this for real…?” Moving to open the cover, the first thing she sees is a picture of Steve Rogers in his army uniform. “Oh, my gosh…this can’t be happening. Coulson obviously has no idea that I have this file. He would never let this out of his sight…”

Profile: Name: Steven Joseph Rogers Rank: Captain Age: 25 years old Birth Date: July 18, 1920 Alias: July 4, 1920 Death Date: January 22, 1945 Defrost Date: March 30, 2012

Wait…that couldn’t be right… She thought, Defrost date? Pausing, thinking… The Serum saved Steve by preserving his body! “Oh, my god! I need to find the coward who decided to hide the Captain. Now!” Standing, she picked up the file and ran to the one man who could give her answers that she needed: Director Nick Fury, the bastard. ~ ~ “You can’t be serious!” Elizabeth yelled frustrated, flipping her hands away from herself. Usually she wouldn’t be this upset over something, preferring to keep calm in the face of a problem. But this was no small problem. This was dealing with another human who probably needed help. Fury looked very unimpressed by her attitude, but was proud of her concern. He could use this to his advantage, “Yes, yes I am, Rogers. He is in one of our safest safe houses, with all the materials he needs to succeed in this new generation.” Sighing, and crossing her arms across her chest, “Tell me how he found out, Fury. How did he wake up? Were you straightforward, or did you try to ‘ease’ him into it?” “We had him in a sanctioned room, set to be designed as what a hospital in the forties would be styled.” Was his answer, giving her a stupid smirk. Elisabeth let that information sit for a second. “You mean to tell me…” She narrowed her eyes, “That you tried to lie to a man who is capable of seeing through deceit? Who could smash his way through that façade and run off?” “Oh, he did get out. Found himself in the middle of the street in the center of New York City.” “You really did the stupid thing here…” Elizabeth replied, angrily, leaning against the wall. “That was not the right way to do this, sir, and you knew that. You just didn’t care. Where is he? I want to go check on him myself. I don’t want to see him isolating himself. I want to be there to help him. He deserves to have a friend here in this crazy world. Or did you think that he doesn’t need social interaction. He is probably out there right now, trying to get his frustration out or sitting in silence; and that is not acceptable, sir.” ~ ~ One, two, one, two, one, two… He quickly punches into the one of many punching bags that he had lined up in succession. There’s not enough time! I gotta put her in the water! Rage began to fill his head, it was getting harder and harder to stop the quick punches. You won’t be alone… He wishes these flashbacks would just stop, leave him alone enough to sleep. Flashes of Red Skull raising the Tesseract in his hand. Bucky falling because of him. Oh my god! This guy is still alive! Punch, punch, swing, punch. Over and over again, feeling the pain in his hands. Hoping it grounded him, like he had to do every night. Steve felt as if he was going to go crazy. It won’t ever stop, he can never breathe right. “Shouldn’t you be out, celebrating, seeing the world?” Steve stopped and turned around. Seeing Fury standing in the doorway, he just scowled and moved to turn back to his punching bag. “Don’t see much of the point of celebrating, if there is no one to celebrate with.” Steve replied, preparing himself for the first hit of the bag. “That’s why I came and brought you a friend. She’s just like you, Cap.” Fury replied with a smirk, “Attitude, spirit, temperament…Super-serumed.” Steve froze, not believing what he just heard; turning to face the older man, “No, they couldn’t have found Erskine’s formula…” “Oh, no, they didn’t. But we found someone who had something close to it. She is just like you, Rogers. And she nearly busted one of my balls when she found out about you.” That caused a little smirk to appear on Steve’s face, “Really? So, if she really exists, where is she now if she’s really here?” “Lieutenant.” Fury called out, and from behind him came a young woman who couldn’t be any older than him. Standing at five foot five, tall and proud; she had long dark brown hair, and large hazel eyes, but pale. She looked very strong indeed, noticing the very athletic build she carried. “Hello, Captain Rogers, it’s a genuine pleasure to meet you.” She said, her lips lifting into a smile. Leg twitching as if she wanted to move closer, but wasn’t sure if she was allowed too. “I’m Lieutenant Rogers.” That shocked him to the core. Did the scientists from his original project keep any of his DNA for this? Was this from HYDRA? “Your last name…is Rogers, mam?” “Oh no! No, sir, it’s not what you think!” Elizabeth rushed to assure him, raising her hands to shoulder height, “I had it changed legally before I joined the army. I totally forgot that you might think I’m related, I promise no one has any DNA from you, Captain.” Steve instantly felt relieved at that, “Oh, okay. That’s good. Not that that would have been a bad thing, mam. But, I wouldn’t exactly like the idea of people using it in that way.” “I understand, sir.” Elizabeth smiled, then noticed the bags under his eyes; she asked him, concerned, “I’m sorry if you don’t like me asking, but, haven’t you been getting any sleep? You look dead tired.” Steve found himself shocked that anyone would notice that, and neither of them had noticed that after seeing how well they were getting along, Fury had left the building to go back to Shield. “I’m fine, I’ve slept for seventy years. I think I’ve had all the sleep I’m allowed to get, mam.” He replied, sheepishly. Deciding that he wasn’t going to get any more time in the gym tonight. “Well, I’m a super soldier, as well, sir,” She rested her fists on her hips, giving him a look that said that she wouldn’t let this slide, “and I find that even though I can do days without sleep. I find I still need it, if I want to stay sane, that is.” “Well, you find a good way and I’ll sleep more. Until then, I just have to deal with random adrenaline rushes.” Steve replied, a little frustrated. “Have you tried watching Disney?” She suggested with a shrug of her shoulders, coyly leaning against the doorframe. “Or do you just automatically come here after you have nightmares?” “What nightmares? And Disney? They’re still around?” Steve asked, casually trying to change the subject, while generally interested about Disney. “Yes, nightmares. sir, it’s easy to see, at least for me. You don’t have to hide it. We all get nightmares, some worse than others.” Smiling, she waved for him to come closer, “And there are so many Disney movies today. You want to go watch some? We can go to my apartment and watch a couple.” Steve smiled what he felt was his first real smile in this century, “That would be great, mam. But, I have one request.” “Anything, sir.” She smiled, moving away from the doorframe, preparing herself to leave the room. “You have to call me Steve. None of this: sir, Captain, or Rogers business.” He replied, moving to remove the wraps from his hands and pack his bag up. “Of course! I thought that you’d prefer me to call you that until said otherwise. But I have a condition of my own, Steve.” Elizabeth said with a smirk appearing on her face. Happy that she seemed to be headed in the right direction. She really hoped she could help him, it’s the least she could do for him. It was here that she really saw the young man he was, and not the mask of the hero in front. “What would that be?” He smirked, lifted the bag onto his shoulder and walked over to her. “You must never call me mam. You must either call me Elizabeth or Rogers. Nothing more, nothing less.” Moving to walk out the door, Steve following behind. “So…where do you live, Elizabeth?” Steve inquired, finding that learning about her was peaking his interest. She seemed like she had a lot on her shoulders as well. Maybe, they could both benefit from this arrangement. “I live in Jersey.” Was all she said, as if waiting for a reaction. Steve quickly halted his steps. “Are you being serious? Elizabeth, please tell me you don’t actually live in Jersey…” Steve pleaded, his eyes turning the prettiest of blues. “No, I’m sorry. I had to do it. I actually live here in Brooklyn.” She could barely conceal her humor, her eyes alight with laughter. “Oh! That is such a relief!” He exclaimed, raising a hand to his heart, “You can’t joke around like that with an old man, Elizabeth.” “Ha! You, an old man?” Elizabeth exclaimed, her laughter causing color to rise up in her cheeks. “I like you, I think I’m gonna keep you, Steve.” “You think you can just steal an old relic, Elizabeth?” He answered, happy that someone actually wanted to hang out with him for him, and not because of his alter ego. He liked this feeling. “Of course! I can kick all their butts to steal you away from them all! No one can get in our way, Steve.” Elizabeth exclaimed into the night air as she led Steve outside. “Oh crap, farts and pickle juice!” Steve was silent before he asked, “Anything wrong, Elizabeth?” Moving to lay a hand gently on her shoulder. “I forgot that I didn’t drive here. So, we’re gonna have to take a bus, and I really don’t like the buses around here…” Elizabeth replied, deflating a little at her unpreparedness. “Hey, it’s okay, I actually drove my bike here.” He replied as he started walking across the street, heading towards where an older Harley cycle stood. “Steve, we aren’t going to fit on your bike. It’s okay, I can walk with you. We aren’t too far from where I live, actually…” Elizabeth prattled on as Steve just hops onto his bike and turns it on; revving up the engine. Making her stop and stare at him in shock, before excitement crept in and a grin split across her face. “Oh, we are going to be such great friends, Steve! I just know it!” ~ ~ Chim chiminy, chim chiminy chim chim cheroo. I does what I likes and I likes… what I do. Hello, art lovers… This song was one of her favorites from Mary Poppins, Bert was one of her favorite characters in this film. The song was about to start when she felt Steve’s head slide to rest on her shoulder, completely asleep. Elizabeth smiled at him, before using her strength to gently move him to where his head was on her lap and moving his legs onto the couch. Then, reaching for the afghan from on the back of her couch, she draped it over him and just continued to watch the movie. Running her fingers gently through his blonde locks and just marveling at the peaceful atmosphere that she was surrounded in. If that meant she was up all night, movie after movie (still Disney), making sure he slept alright. Then she would do just that.

#marveloc #marvel oc #avengers #mcuavengers #female superhero #marvel rp #superhero #chapter 2 #beginning #marvelocseries

0 notes