#Context for why I find this so amusing: I’m Canadian

[ava-of-shenanigans]

I was re-reading The Colour out of Space again recently, and Lovecraft’s racism/classism/xenophobia shows up very little in that story, which is nice, but there is this one line that made me laugh a lot, actually:

Then the stronger-minded folk all left the region, and only the foreigners tried to live in the crumbling old homesteads. They could not stay, though; and one sometimes wonders what insight beyond ours their wild, weird stores of whispered magic have given them.

Because he’s talking about French-Canadians here.

WHAT DARK SECRETS COULD BE KNOWN TO THE QUEBECOIS??!

Also the thing he’s exoticizing them for is… having folklore and folktales. And, like, every culture does that. English people have folklore and folktales. New England people must have folklore and folktales, right? Or did Howard the Lovescraft somehow manage to grow up in a place with the cultural background of a raw potato?

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 9

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,300

Warnings: Blood drinking, Light Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah wandered the familiar path, her hands stuffed deep into her coat. It was cold enough that she’d lost feeling in her nose about a mile back, and her breath puffed visibly in front of her with every exhale. Snow crunched under her boots, the air crisp and fresh. The sun glinted off the hills that surrounded her, the frozen lake to her left a mirror of ice.

Outside of the occasional woodland creature and one terrifying encounter with a moose, Lilah had been alone for the last three months. She hadn’t left the solace of the cabin except to go on her daily walk around the lake. A five mile trip, it gave her time to think about the only thing she really had to think about—the bond.

As soon as she had gotten unpacked and the internet up and running, Lilah was translating the book. It was slow going, but she had made it through her first read through of the thick tome. She’d had to purchase a second notebook with her weekly groceries, her thin scrawl filling page after page. Going over her notes was her bedtime story, translating new pages was her full time job.

It was in the second reading that Lilah could tell she was going to have some very particular problems. Clearly written by a male and very thoroughly filled with the male perspective, Lilah found herself rolling her eyes several times a day as she gathered more and more context from the words. There were whole pages dedicated to the subservience of the one bonded, the full authority of their word. As she got deeper into the text, Lilah could see why Brasa had been so frustrated with her. She was supposed to be completely tied to him, in his ‘keep and care’. It irked her that she was supposed to give up her entire life for him—that he had been taught that she would, that he fully expected her to.

No, ‘irk’ wasn’t the word. Enraged was how she felt. Lilah had an entire career, was well known and well versed in her craft.  She had a reputation that spanned across the globe. Why should she have to give that up? Although, Lilah was beginning to wonder how she was going to continue to work long term—really long term. After another fifty years, would people even believe she was still Lilah McNamara?

Immortality was not something she ever thought she’d have to consider beyond a theoretical thought experiment. Now, with the possibility right in front of her, Lilah found herself unable to make a decision one way or another. She was under no illusion that she could go back to the way she lived her life before. Soon enough, everyone around her was going to start asking questions.

Brasa checked in with her periodically, usually a text asking how she was. The first time it had happened, Lilah stared at her phone for about three hours before replying ‘I’m fine’ and setting it aside. He hadn’t taken the conversation further that time, and hadn’t done so during any of the following check ins. Lilah never initiated it, but she always replied. That was, until she’d shattered her phone screen about six days ago. A replacement was on its way, but shipping was notoriously slow in the Canadian winter.

As she rounded the final bend towards the cabin, Lilah stopped short and eyed the black SUV sitting next to her own four wheel drive truck (rented). After the moose encounter, she’d started carrying her preferred firearm, holstered on her thigh. Her hand reached for it now. There were several possibilities as to who had tracked her down, but they would have had to be pretty savvy. Lilah had used a card and id that she had made to put in her burn bag, a fresh name and backstory at the ready. No one really knew where she was, not even her partners.

Ducking down, she stepped carefully, wishing the sun didn’t glint so powerfully off the snow. The truck was running, air from the exhaust wandering upwards. The windows were so dark that she doubted she could see through them, even if she got close. The tracks from the wheels led back towards the far end of the property.  Through the trees there was an opening that led towards the main road, about three or four miles away.

Both hands cradling the gun, she flicked off the safety and let her finger rest gently on the trigger. More slow, stalking steps, the snow and ice crunching underneath her boots.  Stopping behind a group of low hedges that demarcated the boundary between the cabin’s yard and the surrounding woods, Lilah waited. Her breaths puffed out in front of her, eyes narrow and focused.

There was no movement in the windows of the cabin, the door was closed and looked like it was still locked.  Not here to rob her. Vaguely, she wondered if Seth had decided to make a visit.  He’d been working on finding a book Brasa had contracted for them to acquire.  From Seth’s near constant complaints, the effort was slow going.  Lilah firmly refused to perform any research on the project, claimed over and over that this was a vacation. Besides, she had another book to take her time and attention.

She grew quickly tired of waiting for something to happen, the feeling in her fingers slowly growing non-existent.  With careful steps, she left the copse of trees and shrubs, making her way into the open.  If push came to shove, she knew the trail and surrounding woods well enough to turn tail and run.

Moving ever closer, Lilah kept her pace slow, kept her gun pointed at the ground, but ready to fire. One step in front of the other, planting her foot before shifting her weight to take the next step. Seth’s voice rumbled in her ear…

Biggest mistake most people make is they get clumsy—fall, and you’re easier to kill.

The SUV shut off. She froze, lifted the barrel an inch or so. The door opened and Brasa stepped out. He was wearing a heavy wool coat, buttoned all the way up to his chin. She spotted his usual leather gloves and tailored slacks. Heavy boots. Gold-rimmed sunglasses. Lilah held her position, unsure.

He closed the door, his shoulders rolling as if to loosen stiff muscles. Lilah remained where she was despite the way her arms were beginning to protest. She watched him take a few steps forward, coming to a stop out of arm’s reach. His shoulders were hunched against the wind the blew lightly around them, hands pushing deep into his pockets.

The cold seeped further into her body, leeching heat from her as she stood, immobile.  Lilah swallowed around a dry throat, her hands cramping a little around the grip of the pistol. She wished like hell she’d worn gloves. The cold metal bit into her skin, a burning sensation that made her think she wouldn’t be able to fire, if necessary.

Brasa looked calm, his mouth pressed into a thin, displeased line. His posture was hunched, arms close to his body. Her eyes narrowed around the line of his ears and the small bit of skin between his jawline and the high collar of his coat. Steam was rising, a phantasmal smoke drifting upwards. Her arms dropped a fraction as she noted the way his flesh was prickled with goosebumps.

Very carefully setting her jaw, Lilah said, “What are you doing here?”

Head tilting to the side, Brasa regarded her for a moment before saying, “You weren’t answering my texts. I worried.”

There it was, as simple as could be—a logical explanation. Lilah felt her shoulders tighten with frustration. Of course it was logical. The logic of it only made her more frustrated, because she couldn’t think of a single explanation as to why he shouldn’t be standing right where he was—not when she thought about it logically.

He let her think in silence for a long time. The steam rising from his skin felt like the only thing moving between them. Lilah struggled to come up with words that would accurately reflect the ire she felt at his arrival.  She was supposed to be taking time to figure things out. She was supposed to be reflecting on what she wanted and how she was going to move forward. She was supposed to be afforded some space.

And yet, beyond that feeling was the understanding that, while Brasa could probably feel that she was physically well, he might hesitate to breach the bond to check in on her after she failed to respond to their typical communication. He had given her as much space as she’d requested, asking for only confirmation of her well being every few days.

That didn’t make Lilah any less pissed off. With a curled lip, she holstered her gun and allowed her stance to relax enough to take the strain off her thighs and arms. Curling her hands into little fists, she shoved them into her pockets to get them out of the cold.

“I’m fine,” she responded, eventually.

“I can see that,” he drawled, his expression shifting into half amusement.

That pissed her off more. She didn’t want him to be amused. Lilah didn’t know how she wanted him to feel, but amusement was not on the list.

“Well,” she quipped, “I guess you don’t have to be worried, so you can head out.”

Brasa’s mouth quirked up on one side, “Have you been reading the book I gave you?”

Lilah sighed, realizing that she wasn’t going to get out of this situation quickly or easily. He was here, and he was going to assure himself of not only her safety, but also her feelings on their bond. Efficient.

“I have,” she edged, “There’s a lot in there that I don’t agree with.”

Lips pulled between his teeth, releasing a second later, Brasa took a minute step forward, “Is that why you stopped answering me?”

The shake of her head was automatic, “I broke my phone, I’ve got another on order.” Eyes glancing behind him, she caught sight of the box on her porch, “Looks like it arrived while I was out.”

Weight moving from side to side, just once, Brasa’s attention left her and went to the trees that surrounded the plot of land the cabin sat on.

“Where do you go?”

She shrugged, “There’s a path that goes around the lake. I walk it in the afternoons.”

This particular afternoon was fading into evening, the sun sinking ever lower towards the horizon. Shadows of the trees around them stretched towards her, bringing colder air in the light that wasn’t yet dying.

Brasa nodded a little distractedly, “Tell me about this disagreement you have with the text.”

Lilah drew in a breath and held it, unsure where to start. She could talk about the way the bond tied them together eternally. She could talk about how she would be asked to be subservient, as the party bonded to him. She could talk about how she couldn’t figure out how to continue her career when the people who might recommend her for work would die long before she would. Instead, another thought took precedence, a niggling little thing that she’d found in a footnote.

“Will I really go crazy if we’re apart too long?”

His mouth opened and closed, pulling up a bit at the sides as if he wanted to laugh, but had caught himself at the last possible second. Lilah thought that she might use the gun holstered at her thigh, if he actually did laugh.

“It is possible,” he began, taking another step forward, “But unlikely.”

The book had been pretty clear. Prolonged separation would lead to symptoms that had read, to her, like psychosis.  Hallucinations, aural and visual, inability to sleep, extreme lack of emotional control, outbursts, convulsions, self-harm, physical aggression without provocation.

“Why is it unlikely?”

Brasa jerked his chin forward, “We’ve been apart for three months. Are you going crazy?”

Sometimes it feels like it, she thought. But no, she was still a rational, thinking being. Again, with the fucking logic.

“No,” she said, eventually.

He shrugged, as if that was all the answer she needed.

“Maybe it hasn’t been long enough,” Lilah commented, more to herself.

“Its been long enough,” he replied, a little heat in his voice.

Eyes falling to the snow on the ground, Lilah lifted her toes in her boots, flexing the muscle as she thought.

“So, what else in the book is wrong?”

Brasa cautiously took another step forward. They were now within a few feet of one another. Lilah could see his boots just outside the focus of her gaze.

“Not wrong,” he corrected gently, “Just unlikely.”

Lifting her eyes to his face, she glared at him, “What else is unlikely?”

He looked as if he was choosing his words carefully, “I don’t know.”

She scoffed, “Well that’s very helpful, Brasa. Thank you.”

For the first time since he’d stepped out of the car, Brasa’s face twisted in anger, a snarl sounding from his chest, “Sarcasm is not needed. We are in the same situation, Lilah. I have the same questions you do.”

Lilah’s frustration bubbled over, her hands flying out in front of her to emphasize her words, “Isn’t this a part of your culture? Didn’t they teach you about it at...at whatever correlates to school for you?”

“Yes, of course,” he shot back, looking surprised that she’d even asked the question.

“Then,” she reasoned slowly, “How do you not know what’s going to happen?”

“Because you are human!” He said loudly, just short of a yell.

“So?” She replied, her voice rising along with his, “Kate’s human. She and Richie—.”

He cut her off, “Richie is Culebra. I am Xibalban. There is a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Lilah asked, shrilly.

At this, he paused and rolled one shoulder. His voice, when it came, was lower and slower. Controlled. “I am older, stronger. I have walked in the daylight since birth. I am a sun god, Lilah. Now that I have been released from my fealty to Amaru, there is little I cannot do.”

A kind of helpless confusion washed over her, “I don’t know what that means.”

Brasa closed the distance between them, reaching out to grasp her arms above the elbow, “It means that   we must work through this together. I have given you time, but running away will only prolong the inevitable.”

Brows drawing together, she whispered, “What is inevitable?”

“That I am yours and you are mine,” he murmured, “Everything else will follow.”

Rhythm and ritual filled his voice, sending a frisson through her body. Lilah felt physically deflate at the finality of it. This was too much for one person to deal with. It weighed on her, a physical thing that dragged at her feet no matter where she walked.

Face scrunching with the effort to hold back the strange well of emotion she was feeling, Lilah croaked, “How do you know that?”

His expression softened, mouth pursing in empathy. Lilah tried not to feel like a child being comforted. An attempt that failed miserably.

“Because,” he said as he stroked a finger down her cheek, “We are bonded”

She hissed a breath, “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Brasa gave a small shrug, “For me, this is all the assurance there is.”

Shaking her head, Lilah croaked, “I need more than that.”

He nodded, hands squeezing her elbows, “That will come. In time.”

Jaw clenching, Lilah eyed him, seeing her own reflection in the lenses of his glasses, “And I have plenty of time, don’t I?”

Brasa drew in a deep breath through his nose, his chin tilting down in defeat, “I apologize for not telling you. I thought you might need time to accept it. Accept me.”

That was… a fairly accurate description of what she needed. Lilah’s entire world had shifted on its axis and all she wanted to do was slow everything down so that she could fucking think for two seconds about how she wanted to react to it. Instead, she received hit after hit of new information that so fundamentally altered her worldview that she just couldn’t take anything more.

Warily, she asked, “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

He shook his head in the negative, “I don’t think so.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You don’t think so, or you don’t know?”

Brasa paused for a long moment. Lilah watched him think, her attention diverted periodically by the little wisps of steam that were curling around his ears.

“I believe you have all the relevant information I could confidently give you right now.”

How very diplomatic, Lilah thought wryly.

“The book talked about...submission—that I would have to submit to you,” she edged around the subject she most wanted to clear up.

Brasa’s head tilted to the side, “Ah, there is that.”

Lilah blinked, her jaw clenching as she waited for him to continue. She resented the little smile that threatened to bloom on his pretty face, resented that he didn’t appear to be taking it seriously.

“It is mostly cultural. As the elder in the bond, I would typically be tasked with leading our household. I have taken measures to ensure that you have as much choice as possible, But, when we are among my people, they will look to me to make the decisions for us.”

Her mouth thinned, “I don’t think I like that.”

Brasa shrugged, “I cannot change what has been true for centuries.”

She shifted on her feet, uneasy with the information, then, “Am I really going to live forever?”

He breathed in, the rays of the dying sun catching against his skin and illuminating his face in amber and gold, “You will live for a very long time.”

Tears formed, she blinked them away, sniffing, “I don’t think I like that.”

Gloved fingers touching her cheek, he whispered, “In this, I can’t give you a choice. I am sorry.”

The words hung between them. Lilah’s chest clenched in helplessness, unable to make this one decision—the most important decision—in her life. Everything was changing, had changed, and no amount of thinking could take her back to the place she was in a little over a year ago. Still, she struggled with how to move forward in this strange, new world.

“Let’s go inside,” he prompted suddenly, turning her gently to guide her towards the house, “Its cold.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Its Canada in January.”

“Still,” he responded, his voice tinged with an odd strain, “The cold is not my preference.”

Lilah supposed that it wouldn’t be. A sun god would naturally prefer fire and heat. She made a mental note to ask him, when they warmed up, how that worked. Was it a moniker? Did he have special sun god powers? Would he show her, if he did?

Walking with her up the stairs, Brasa stumbled a bit, but righted himself almost immediately. She glanced at him sideways, following his gesture towards the lock on the door.  Lilah reached into her pocket and pulled out the key ring for the cabin. A single key hung from a little kitschy wooden maple leaf that swung daintily as she unlocked the door.  

Inside, she pulled off her jacket and scarf and threw them over the back of the couch. The fire she kept going every day was, thankfully, gas. It took little to no effort to get it roaring again, the heat wafting out to fill the room. She stared at it for a few moments, then pushed her hands into her thighs to stand.

Brasa remained near the doorway, unmoving.  His skin looked strangely pale, his jaw set in such an odd way that Lilah felt her brows come together in confusion.

“You okay?” She asked, even as she took a step towards him, her hand outstretched.

He didn’t say anything. Just...stood for another moment, and dropped to the floor in a heavy, unbroken fall. Lilah felt her throat constrict around a shout as she rushed over. She pushed at his body, maneuvering his bulk so that he rested on his back. Tearing off his glasses, Lilah patted his face, trying to rouse him. His skin was ice cold, frigid even as the room began to warm around them. She’d never felt him cold before, not once.

Leaning down, she rested her ear against his chest. Nothing. No breath moved in or out of his body. Shaking, Lilah rose up and gave him a once over. He looked...dead. By all appearances and by all measures of normal functioning, Brasa was laying on the floor of the cabin, dead.

She didn’t know what to do. Lilah had no fucking idea what to do. Shoving her body upwards, she tripped over to the dining room table and grabbed her notebooks, thumbing through the pages. The book contained an entire (mind-numbingly boring) section on formal bonding contracts for major families—there had to be something here about treatment for heat loss. That was her best guess as to what this was.

Desperate for answers, she tore several pages as she went through them, until she found where she’d written out the words ‘magical first aid?’ in the margins. Eyes scanning the pages, Lilah read over the section a few times.  In cases of injury, blood could be used to treat wounds, bonded blood being the most effective. Lilah looked at him over the edge of the page.  He still wasn’t moving.

“Magical first aid, it is, then,” she breathed, setting the notebook on the table and returning to his side.

On her knees, Lilah ran a shaking hand down his chest, unnerved by the cool body beneath the fabric of his shirt. He needed to get warm. She calculated the distance between where he lay and the fire burning merrily in the hearth. This was going to be a real bitch.

It took several minutes of grunting and cursing at how fucking heavy he was, but Lilah managed to get him within a few feet of the fire. She told herself that this was definitely not a stalling tactic. He’d wake up easier if he was warm. Maybe. Possibly.

Hovering once more over his lifeless body, Lilah tried to figure out how she was going to do this.  He’d always initiated the blood exchange—the knife...She patted her hands over his pockets, finding the little pocket knife he kept on him. Delicately, she flipped the blade open.

Heart in her throat, Lilah rolled up the sleeve of her arm and pressed it to her skin. Lips peeling back, she tried to force her hand to press harder, to break the skin deep enough that he’d be able to get more than a few drops. Lilah, it turned out, was a bit of a coward.

Feeling her eyes burn angrily, she dropped her arms and looked at him. He was pretty much dead and she couldn’t even give herself a little cut to potentially save his life. The disappointment and self loathing that she was pretty good at keeping at bay rolled over her in an ugly, sad wave. She continued to stare at him, her chest tight. He’d done everything she’d asked him to do—she asked him for secrecy, he gave it. She asked him for time, he gave it. He hadn’t even really asked for her to help him in this moment, and she couldn’t bring herself to give it. Selfish little coward.

Taking a deep breath, Lilah moved a little closer, her eyes catching a very slight movement behind his lids.

“Hey,” she called out, tapping the sides of his face lightly, “Hey. Please wake up.”

He didn’t respond, but his head tilted into her palm as she touched his cheek. His skin felt warmer, that was good. Maybe she wouldn’t have to pull a Buffy after all.

“Brasa,” she urged, “Wake up.”

He turned his head further and inhaled against her palm, his eyes opening to slits of nothing but black. His fangs peeked out from his parted lips, more warmth seeping from his skin. Lilah’s heart beat quickly in her chest, the faint relief at seeing him awake overshadowed by how he wasn’t saying anything. He looked unfocused, half conscious, as he blinked lazily at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, ducking down a little to catch his eye, “The book says I’m supposed to give you blood if you’re hurt.”

No answer. He looked at her, much as he had done that first night, all soft, tender awe that in any other situation might have been off putting to her. Lilah swallowed and started to pull her hands away from his cheeks. He caught one and yanked hard. Off balance, Lilah fell into his chest with an audible exhale. Before she could make any attempt to right herself, Brasa rolled her beneath him.

In the few times they’d been this close, he had made an effort to keep from putting too much of his weight on her, always allowing her space and leverage to get free if she wanted. This was not the case as he pressed her into the unforgiving floorboards. A quick glance to the knife in her hands, and then it was clattering away. Lilah did her best to keep calm, but his unfamiliar behavior made her cautious. His expression was relaxed, and he didn’t look like he was going to hurt her, but he hadn’t said anything. It was his silence, more than anything, that made her reach out and touch him.

She traced along his jaw with two fingers, searching his eyes for some clue that he knew who she was. Still no words, but he nipped at the pads of her fingers with sharp teeth, smiling a little when she squeaked and pulled them back into the safety of her chest. Dropping to his elbows, he nosed at her neck, inhaling. His chest squished her hands between them, air pushing down into his belly.

“Brasa,” she tried again, “You have to tell me what happened. Are you alright?”

Elbows on either side of her, he kept nuzzling at her neck and beneath her jaw, drawing in deep, hungry breaths. Lilah set her palms to his collarbones and pushed as forcefully as she dared. He rose up marginally, nose tracing over her cheek and over towards her mouth. He breathed her name, kissing her once gently before diving in for a harder, deeper kiss.

Lilah gripped his shoulders, the heavy coat crumpling in her hands. The slingshot of emotions she’d just been through had nothing on the deep seated pleasure she felt as he slid his hands down to her thighs and pulled them up and over his hips so that he could lay more comfortably atop her. His mouth was soft, contrasting with the scrape of stubble on his chin and cheeks.  Lilah moaned quietly as he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue in a slow tease.

Lilah had forgotten how much she liked kissing him in the last three months. She had also forgotten how the sweet taste of venom would color their kisses, how it zinged over her tongue and the inner lining of her lips, leaving them warm and tingling. She had just enough brain power to be relieved that he’d said her name, knew who she was, before all she could focus on was how good he felt against her.

Brasa nipped at her, catching her lower lip on a fang. The skin split open so cleanly that it took the sting of his tongue laving over it for the implications to even register. He sucked on the small wound, eyes closed, a happy little growl rumbling in his chest. Lilah felt herself smile even as he resumed the kiss. He was adorable even while delirious.

They’d practiced some with getting around the sharp points of his fangs, but Lilah had not yet mastered  it.  She felt one prick her tongue as she slid it along his, could taste the blood almost immediately. Above her, Brasa groaned and pulled away for half a breath before he was returning to the kiss and sweeping his own tongue into her mouth eagerly.

He was diligent in gathering every drop of blood, alternating between giving soft little pecks and enticing her into deep searching kisses that left her more than a little lightheaded. And, when she turned  her head to draw in a much needed breath, he mouthed along her jaw and down the column of her throat, sucking hard on the skin at her pulse point.

Lilah carded one hand through the short hair at the back of his head, pulling on it lightly when he placed his teeth against her skin, pausing in question. She tilted her head back to give him more access, arching into the heavy weight of his body.

Under his bulk, Lilah had little to no leverage to move, her body sinking further into the floor. She surprised herself by how much she liked the feeling. His arms wrapped around her securely, pulling her up and into his chest even as he held her down.

He’d grown hard as they kissed, his erection heavy behind the fly of his slacks. Lilah rolled her hips up into it, enjoying the surprised sound of his moan against her neck. He might be the elder in this relationship, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any power. To prove the point to herself, Lilah swiveled her hips against him in another slow grind, her breath catching when he followed the motion.

Without much more preamble, Brasa sank his teeth into her. She sucked in air, her eyes squeezing closed in response to the pain. The hand in his hair closed to a fist, and he growled. The vibration of it rolled over her, down to her bones. And then the venom was hitting her system. The muscles of her face, her arms, her chest, and legs all began to relax as her heart pumped it through her extremities. Arms flopping onto the floor next to her body, Lilah let out a relieved breath.

He drank greedily from her, his mouth flexing with each swallow. One hand kept her head still for him while the other roamed her body, grabbing handfuls of her hips and ass. Lilah felt her eyes roll back, a kind of wailing moan ripped from her throat as her body bowed up beneath his weight. Brasa shoved his hand underneath her, pulling her up with inhuman strength as he sat back on his heels.

A surge of adrenaline moved through her, giving Lilah enough energy to grip his biceps in an attempt to remain upright. She needn’t have bothered. Brasa let go of his bite, shifted his grip, and pushed to his feet. She dangled helplessly in his arms as he took two steps, dropping heavily onto the couch.

There was a clarity in his gaze when he looked at her, now. She tried to form words, but she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin. Every brush of her clothes, the heat of the fire at her back, the heat of the male pressed all along her front, even the throbbing ache at her neck—all of it swirled together into one unending loop of feeling that kept her just below the threshold of functioning.

She tried to catch her breath, barely sitting upright, most of her weight leaning on the broad expanse of his chest. Brasa wrapped an arm around her hips, his free hand patting his pockets. Lilah laid her heavy head on his shoulder her hands wandering underneath his coat. Fuck, but she loved the feel of him. All of that strength wrapped up in sinewy muscle and otherwordly heat. She needed more of it.

Rocking a little from side to side, Lilah spread her knees wider to get a little more friction. She could feel how wet she was, her body swollen with the need that was making itself ever more apparent. Fingers curled into his shirt, Lilah ground down on him, eliciting a choked groan.

“The knife,” he bit out, “Where is it?”

Lilah’s head lolled to the side as she flung an arm out, “Somewhere over there.”

She congratulated herself on how coherent that sentence was, especially given how focused she was on getting the angle between them right so that she could have the orgasm her body was desperately asking for. Her hips circled, using the seam of her jeans to drag over her clit. It was so, so good. But, it wasn’t enough to get her there.

Beneath her, Brasa visibly struggled to keep on task. He pulled off his gloves, throwing them to the floor. Then, he was shrugging one arm out of the sleeve of his jacket. Lilah leaned back a little, bracing her hands on his stomach as she gave another experimental shimmy. She whimpered, her chin dropping. Much, much better. At this angle, she could glide over the whole length of him, from the base to where he was straining up towards his waistband.

He hissed, eyes shut, brows together, his hands gripping her hips hard enough that she felt the first bloom of pain. Lilah took advantage of his gasp, kissing him roughly. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, biting down a little more harshly than she intended. He didn’t seem to mind, if the way his hips jerked up to grind against her was anything to go by.

Pulling away, Brasa held her chin and forced her to look at him, “Took too much. Need to give you some.”

Through her muddled thoughts, Lilah rebelled, “Uh uh, need you first.”

She tried to kiss him again, whining when he leaned away with a shake of his head.

“Blood first, then you can have whatever you want.”

She pouted, trying to dislodge his hands so that she could get at his mouth. When he held her still, when his arm turned to steel as he held her hips immobile, she found herself begging, “Wanna come. Then, blood.”

He chuckled, his voice affectionate and not a little chiding, “If I let you come now, you’re going to pass out.”

At this, Lilah rolled her eyes, “Big talk.”

She, perhaps, knew better than to taunt him. Possibly, it was the venom running rampant through her. Possibly, it was the shock of having him so close after such a long absence. Possibly, Lilah was just the kind of person to goad powerful, immortal beings to get what she wanted. At any rate, she felt her heart miss a beat as he stilled beneath her, his eyes narrow.

With brusque movements, Brasa uncuffed his sleeve and rolled it back, biting into his wrist messily. He guided her to the side, her head turned almost uncomfortably so that she could seal her mouth over the wound.

Like the last time she’d done this, Lilah almost wished she hadn’t. He was so goddamned sweet. Every swallow was tainted with sugar, the aftertaste hinting at copper. Brasa held her there until he was sure she’d stay. And then he leaned over where he’d bitten her and gently laid his teeth over the mark. He didn’t bite, didn’t reopen it. Just laid his teeth there, fangs giving a gentle push.

It took several long seconds for Lilah to realize that he was giving her another dose of venom. When the rise of the second wave began, the first wave having never fully receded, she felt her entire body twitch, nearly unseating her. Eyes closed, everything in her both relaxed and contracted at the same time.

Head tilting back, Lilah let him go, her body fully supported by his arms as he eased her over and to the side. She swallowed, drawing the last bit of him down, a gasp already building in her lungs. She felt nearly lifeless, and too alive at the same time, her limbs out of her control. Pleasure coasting along every neural pathway only to be answered by ecstatic nerves.

Brasa shushed her gently, leaning over her on all fours, “Do you need something, querida?”

Lilah had just enough sense to sneer up at him. He laughed, dropping to one elbow and touching her cheek softly. She tried to lift up to get a kiss, but he turned his hand to hold her down with gentle pressure on her throat. Then, he slid that same hand down the center of her body to rest on her belly.

Mouth next to her ear, he whispered, “Tell me what it is that you want. I will give it to you.”

Lilah struggled to form words, her mind consumed by the feelings crashing over her. She took great, heaving breaths—coffee and caramel. Fuck, but she loved that smell.

He pushed his fingertips beneath the fabric of her shirt, tracing the sensitive skin beneath her belly button. Lilah shuddered, her hands clenching the pillow beneath her head.

A kiss to her cheek, soft and chaste, “Tell me what you want, Lilah. Tell me, so that I can give it to you.”

She writhed. Wordless sounds melted from her lips, tainting the air between them with need. He watched her with a hot gaze, his body still except for the occasional tremor.

“I need,” she rasped, swallowing around a dry throat, “To come. I need it.”

As if a cord within him had snapped beneath the pressure of his patient waiting, Brasa dropped his stance a little and rotated his hand, pushing beneath the waistband of her jeans. Lilah might someday feel shame for how little it took—just the brush of his fingers, really—before she was coming. Arching upwards, her head flung back, her mouth open in a silent scream. It wracked her. It shattered her.

And, before it was even close to over...Lilah lost consciousness.

[quercussp]

Borderline

Rating: E

Word count: 3.7k

Summary:

Dan and Phil Rize Show (August 14th 2018):

D: It’s just because he’s used to having dozens of people having massive gangbangs and doing drugs, while we’re like, let’s play Mario Kart…

P: Speaking of, not gangbangs, but drugs, we went through the border into Canada on a bus…

D: Right, that’s going to be used out of context.

[…]

D: There was a guy from Canada, who was called Chan and he was our border agent.

P: Yeah, Dan loved Chan.

Authors note:

Happy Holidays @judearaya! I hope you like it <3

Written for the prompt: "I'd love something related to Dan's adorable reaction to Chan the customs and border protection officer that Dan and Phil talked about on Rize during II. Any heat level is fine by me, just pls no threesomes or cheating etc."

A gigantic thank you to my betas @templeofshame and @alittledizzy for encouragement and help. You both are absolutely wonderful.

Warnings: graphic sex, mentions of jealousy, teasing mentions of sex outside of the relationship (no actual sex with anyone else)

[read on ao3]

Being shaken awake at 2 am by a grumpy and sleepy Marianne was not a great way to start the morning. Or end the day? Does 2 am even count as morning? Being forced to exit the bus in their pajamas for the border patrol to inspect it in the middle of the night was even less appealing.

From his bunk, Phil could hear Marianne trying to persuade Dan to wake up and the characteristic moaning of “i don’t want to get upppp” that he has heard many times over the years. This tour had really taken a toll on both of them, and being awakened in the middle of the night, cutting the already short sleep time they had was no less than torture.

Phil searched around for his glasses in the dim light of the bus and found them somewhere under his pillow. He slid out of his bunk, put his feet halfway into his trainers, and pulled on a hoodie that was hanging in the kitchen. He stumbled out of the bus to join Martyn and the rest of the crew, all looking as sleepy and tired as he felt.

Dan was the last out of the bus and if Phil weren’t so exhausted, he would probably laugh at Dan’s appearance. His hair was sticking in every direction, he was wearing a pair of boxers, a wrinkled black t-shirt and some fluffy slippers, clutching to his pillow. He waddled off the bus and over to Phil, tripping in the process and grumbling something under his breath about “fucking shit fuck”.

Marianne was talking with one of the border officers, a middle aged lady with a surprisingly geometric haircut and an unsurprisingly tired face. She was flipping through their passports, comparing the photos with the group of people standing huddled outside of the bus and asking Marianne about the details of their trip. Even if he wanted to, Phil could not find the energy to keep track of their conversation. Marianne would deal with it. It’s her job, after all.

Just as the lady was preparing to take their passports inside her booth to get them stamped, another officer walked out and headed towards the group. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a Hollywood face. He was politely smiling at them as he walked towards the bus.

Phil heard an audible gasp next to him and felt a twinge of amusement mixed with annoyance. The man was definitely what he called “Dan’s type”.

“Hello, my name is Chan and I will be conducting a search of your vehicle today.” Of course Chan had a perfectly lovely Canadian accent, a lovely deep voice that came out of his absolutely perfect lips and an annoyingly gorgeous face.

“Chan! Like Dan but with no D… I mean, Dan name… my name, hah..” Dan replied trailing off and letting out a nervous giggle, all while trying to run his fingers through his hair as though to tame them, but accidentally dropping the pillow he was holding in the process.

Phil was not a jealous man. After being together for so long he never actually felt threatened by anyone. Dan was his and he was Dan’s, and that was something that was out of question. And he was not prone to irrational bouts of jealousy like Dan.

So usually when Dan tried to impress someone incredibly attractive, Phil just chuckled . Like the couple times Dan hung out with “the cool YouTubers,” he would make “edgy” jokes and toss his hair and blush adorably when someone said “Cool t-shirt, bro,” but he’d pretend to be totally cool about it. Honestly, Dan was adorable in his awkwardness and his stuttering and nervous laugh in the face of an attractive man would remind Phil of their first couple conversations, back before Dan felt safe enough to be himself with Phil, before Phil had the privilege of seeing Dan unafraid of being judged.

But sometimes, Dan’s fawning over people made Phil sincerely irritated. And it’s not what you’re thinking, it didn’t make him dream of having abs or being a “cool” person. It was just that this version of Dan, this fawny, joking, too cool for school type of Dan felt… like a stranger. And that stranger apparently didn’t think Phil was important enough to pay attention to him.

So Phil felt justified in rolling his eyes at Dan’s reaction to Chan, as Dan was currently trying to pick up the fallen pillow off of the ground while simultaneously pulling the hem of his shirt down to hide his boxers. He also accidentally let out a louder snort than he intended, making the entire group momentarily glance at him, and earning him a very dirty look from Dan.

Shut up said Dan’s eyes, and Phil could see the blush crawling onto Dan’s cheeks.

Chan politely chuckled at Dan’s stuttering, which made Dan get even redder.

“Now,” Chan continued, his expression turning serious. “Before I start the search, please let me know if you have anything illegal in your bus. If you have any drugs on board, please tell me right now.”

For some reason, when Chan was saying the last bit, everyone’s head turned to Phil, as though he was suddenly going to start unpacking bags of heroin from his pajama pockets.

“Why are you looking at me?” Phil said nervously, which turned out to be an incredibly stupid idea, as that seemed to only confirm to Chan that Phil was a drug mule or something.

“I promise I won’t be mad, just tell me if you have any drugs with you.” Chan was now talking directly to Phil.

Before Phil could reply (and probably say something even more stupid), Dan came to his rescue.

“We don’t do drugs, officer. I mean, sir. I mean, Chan.” Dan had managed to pass his pillow to a confused looking Martyn and looked way more awake than 5 minutes ago, his voice now clear (and flirty). “But you’re welcome to search us if you would like.”

Oh my God, Dan. Phil shot him a disgusted look. He kind of wished someone was recording this interaction, as he could probably use it to blackmail Dan into taking out the trash for years.

However, Chan apparently didn’t think that Dan’s line was as horrific as Phil thought, as he glanced at Dan with a smile, eyes traveling up and down his body and his (very much naked) legs, and replied teasingly, “Oh, I definitely will.”

Phil felt another spike of annoyance. Maybe it was the secondhand embarrassment. Or maybe the reason Phil was annoyed was because Dan looked like he just rolled out of bed (which he did), he was sleepy and rumpled looking, and that version of Dan was only for Phil to see. They all could get the polished, designer-clothing-wearing Dan, but Phil was the one who was supposed to see the little crusties in Dan’s eyes and traces of drool on his lips. That was for his eyes only.

Chan shifted his attention back to Phil, for some reason, and continued: “Do you have any firearms? And explosives? Toxic substances? Alcohol or marihuanna?”

At this point, Phil could hear Martyn chuckling from behind him. If Phil was less sleepy and tired, he would probably laugh and make an awkward joke about having Truth Bombs on board, but this version of Phil just wanted this to be over, to go back to his bunk and hopefully persuade Dan to climb in with him so he could put his hands under that stupid t-shirt and feel the smooth skin of Dan’s side. Stupid Chan.

“No, we don’t have anything,” Phil replied, sounding more annoyed than he meant to, but Chan seemed to get the message as he nodded and walked towards the entrance to the bus .

“Can one of you come with me to take a look at the vehicle? Maybe the leader of your band?” Chan asked, looking directly at Dan.

Both Martyn and Marianne let out an audible laugh, but Dan was quick to step forward saying “Sure!”, losing one of his slippers in the process and then blushing even more deeply while strutting over to Chan.

They both stepped on to the bus at the same time, awkwardly bumping into each other and grinning.

“After you,” Dan said with an exaggerated hand motion and bow.

“Thank you!” replied Chan and climbed onto the bus first, with Dan following shortly after.

As soon as they were both gone, Martyn and Marianne exploded with laughter.

“Leader of our band, my ass.” Martyn said, stumbling over his words through his laughter, wiping tears out of his eyes with Dan’s pillow he was still holding.

“Phil, sorry, you’re the backup singer now,” Marianne added, also laughing. “Chan is awfully good looking, isn’t he?” She continued a bit quieter, raising her eyebrows at Phil.

“Maybe he’ll become our groupie,” Phil replied. He meant to say it in a joking way, but for some reason it came out darker than he wanted.

Martyn put a hand on Phil’s shoulder and gave it a firm grip.

“Here bro, you carry your man’s pillow, I’m not his maid.”

And I am? Phil wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut and just grabbed the pillow out of Martyn’s hands.

He wandered off a bit to sit at a nearby bench and put the pillow in his lap, and his head in his hands. He could feel a migraine coming and he desperately needed sleep. Or maybe it was his annoyance that was making him so cross. Either way, at this particular moment Phil felt like he was just over it. The whole thing. The tour, the bus, the travel, the fans. He desperately craved his own bed, his own sheets, the smell of their laundry detergent. And his Dan. Soft and squishy. With a kind smile and big warm hands that he would comb Phil’s hair with when his head hurt.

He almost dozed off at some point, until he heard the unmistakable sound of Dan’s slightly nervous laughter. He looked up to see Dan and Chan coming off the bus, both smiling and excitedly talking about something.

Dan had apparently found the time to put on some trousers (thank God for small miracles) and was nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

Phil pulled together all the energy he had left and stood up to walk towards the group.

“Well, I have to say,” Phil heard Chan tell them, “this is the cleanest band bus I’ve ever inspected.” As Phil walked up, Chan turned to him and smiled (with his annoyingly perfect smile). “No drugs and firearms indeed”.

“I told you we’re boring nerds,” Dan replied, before Phil could even open his mouth.

“Nerds, maybe. But definitely not boring,” Chan said with what Phil could swear was a quick wink and a slight toss of his hair.

“Well, you’re all set, ladies and gentlemen. You can proceed as soon as my colleague returns with your passports. It was nice to meet you all; best of luck on your tour!”

Fuck that man and his stupid hair, Phil thought to himself. But he said, “Thank you, have a good day” instead, and started walking towards the entrance to the bus.

“It was nice meeting you, Chan!” he could hear Dan say behind him.

Phil’s head was really hurting at this point. He climbed onto the bus and made his way to the bunks, rubbing his temples. Throwing Dan’s pillow in the general direction of Dan’s bunk, he climbed into his own bed with a groan and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he actually passed out for a moment, because the next thing he felt was the bus jolting into movement and the rest of the crew walking around the bus and settling back into bed. After a few minutes the curtain to his bunk was pulled aside and Dan sat down at the edge of Phil’s bed.

“Phil, you ok?” he asked. His cheeks were still a bit red, and he was slightly sweaty.

“‘M fine, just tired,” Phil replied, rolling onto his side to make more room for Dan to sit.

They sat quietly for a moment, until Dan whispered: “He was so hot.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile, despite how annoyed he was. “He was? I didn’t notice, Dan. Not with you being totally chill about it and everything”. The dim light of the bus lights was enough to see Dan’s face flush with heat.

“Shut up, Phil, I wasn’t that bad… was I?” he asked after a pause, his voice slightly wavering.

“You did offer to let him search you, Dan, so…”

Dan groaned in response and hid his face in his hands. Even though a part of Phil wanted to continue to tease Dan, he could see that he was genuinely embarrassed. And teasing Dan was no fun if Dan wasn’t also having fun.

“You weren’t that bad, babe. And even if you were, he seemed to like you.” Phil rubbed a soothing hand over Dan’s back. With another groan Dan shifted to lie next to Phil on the bunk, squeezing him all the way against the wall.

“I said ‘nice arms’ when he was picking up the suitcases up,” Dan moaned as he pressed his face into Phil’s neck. “I shouldn’t be allowed to speak, Phil, he probably thought I was a total idiot.”

“He would be right, wouldn’t he?” Phil’s arm ended up around Dan’s waist, and he slid his hand under the t-shirt to feel the warmth of his side .

“Are you mad?” Dan asked uncertainly, raising his face so he could look Phil in the eyes.

“My head hurts,” Phil replied. He knew it wasn’t an answer, but he also didn’t want to admit that he was a bit annoyed. He knew most of it was just tiredness, and he would get over it soon, but Dan felt bad enough as it is.

“You should get some sleep,” Dan whispered, threading his hands through Phil’s hair. Phil couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, we both should.” Dan slowly unfolded himself from the bunk and closed the curtain behind him. Phil could hear him climbing into his own bed and shifting around just above him.

Phil fell asleep almost immediately.

***

They arrived at their hotel in the early hours of the morning. They grabbed their keycards from the reception and started dragging their suitcases to their room.

“Rehearsal in 5 hours guys, don’t forget!” Marianne called after them. 5 hours is fine. Phil could work with 5 hours.

Dan went to shower first, while Phil started unpacking. He was finished gathering the outfit he would wear today for the meet and greet just as Dan got out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his skin pink and his hair wet. He threw the towel on an armchair in the room and fell onto the bed with a satisfied moan.

“Do you think we have time for a nap?” He asked Phil, who was in the process of shedding his clothing to go shower too.

“Probably. I definitely need one, didn’t sleep much.”

“Me too,” replied Dan with a yawn. “Pass me some pants, will you?”

Phil pushed Dan’s suitcase open with his foot and pulled out a random pair of underwear. He threw it at Dan and went to shower himself.

Phil felt almost human again after a nice long soak in the shower. He came out into the room to see Dan lying comfortably on his stomach on the bed, only in his pants, scrolling through his phone. Dan’s back was arched from holding his torso up on his elbows, and Phil could see the slight movement of Dan’s muscles when he was shifting in his position. His hair had dried into thousands of small curls and the black of his Calvin Kleins brightly contrasted with his pale skin. Phil stood there watching Dan for a bit before climbing onto the bed and squeezing Dan’s butt with both hands, causing Dan to yelp and turn around.

“Keep your hands to yourself, mister,” Dan joked, pulling Phil in close and arranging their bodies so they were lying facing each other.

“Will do no such thing,” Phil replied, continuing to grope his boyfriend’s behind and nuzzling into his neck. Dan’s skin was smooth and warm, and he smelled like his shower gel and also like their apartment a little bit. Or maybe it was the apartment that smelled like Dan. Either way, running his hands over Dan’s body and breathing in his smell, Phil felt as though he was almost home. He ran his hands over Dan’s groin and felt that he was half hard. With a familiar movement, Phil grabbed him through his briefs and started slowly jerking him off.

“You’re hot,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear, giving his earlobe a little nip.

“And you’re tired,” Dan replied with a chuckle, placing little kisses over Phil’s face.

“I’m not too tired for this,” Phil whispered and firmly pressed his lips against Dan’s. Dan just laughed.

After a bit, Dan pushed himself away to pull off his underwear and rolled on top of Phil. He pressed their naked groins together and started moving his hips slightly, creating some friction. With a slight moan, Phil wrapped one of his arms around Dan’s back, and brushed the other through his hair, pulling him even closer for a kiss. They grinded lazily against each other for a couple minutes, until Dan pushed his hand between them and grabbed their lengths in a practiced motion. He started methodically moving his hand around both of them, with the exact tempo that he knew worked best for both of them. In almost no time, Phil felt himself coming with a gasp, throwing his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. He felt Dan sit up, positioning himself on Phil’s hips, and Phil heard the sound of Dan wanking himself off.

“Here, let me,” Phil said, reaching towards Dan and pushing his hand out of the way. He grabbed Dan’s dick and moved his hand with the rotating motion he knew would bring Dan off the fastest. Sure enough, just a minute or two later, Dan shuddered and came over Phil’s stomach, already wet from his own cum.

Dan slid off of him and fell back onto the bed with a loud sigh. They both lay next to each other, catching their breath for a bit.

“That was fun.” Dan finally broke the silence, pressing a small kiss to Phil’s shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah,” Phil breathed out. He felt like he was soaking up the warmth of Dan’s body lying next to him. Dan was sweaty and disheveled, with his dick lying limply to his side and his entire body flushed. He looked open and vulnerable and worn out. He was also stunningly beautiful. And his. Phil was feeling warm and content, and could feel the last bits of annoyance from last night seeping out of his body, leaving him heavy and sleepy. “It’s not like we’re busy every single moment of every day.”

Dan chuckled and kissed Phil’s shoulder again. “We’re almost done. Maybe after the tour we can go crazy and like actually fuck.”

“Now don’t get any wild ideas,” Phil teased, brushing his hand through Dan’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss before lying back down and letting out a contented sigh.

Dan reached for the towel he threw off before and passed it to Phil so he could clean up. They settled under the covers, with Phil’s head lying against Dan shoulders, limbs thrown over each other, just letting their bodies stretch out and rest.

After a bit, Dan spoke out of nowhere. '”Chan said he liked our poster.”

Phil lifted up on his elbows and looked at Dan, and then barked out a laugh.

“Is that what you were thinking about while we were fucking? Chan?”

“What? No! I was just thinking of what I’m gonna wear today and he said he liked… Stop laughing!”

“Did you imagine his perfect muscles while I was jerking you off, Dan? Were you thinking of him the entire time?” Phil couldn’t stop laughing.

Dan poked Phil in the side. “Fuck you, Phil! I wasn’t…”

“Oh, you want Chan to fuck me, Dan? I didn’t know you were into that. Were you dreaming of a gangbang with Chan? Tell me Danny, is that what your most secret desire is?”

“Shut up you idiot, I’m gonna divorce you!”

Phil just continued laughing, pulling Dan close. “It’s ok, Danny, I’m not going to kinkshame you. If you want to play out a fantasy where a patrol agent strip searches you, we can do that. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“Phil, actually fuck off.” Dan’s voice was pissed, but Phil could see that he was trying to stop himself from smiling a bit, and his cheeks got very red.

“It’s ok, Dan, I’m not judging.” Phil pressed a kiss to the rosy patch on Dan’s cheek.

“I hate you,” said Dan, rolling away and turning his back to Phil.

Phil just slid behind Dan and draped his arm and leg over his partner, spooning him close. He was still chuckling a bit, and Dan automatically pulled Phil’s arm tighter around him and intertwined their fingers.

“We should set an alarm,” Phil said quietly, feeling like he’s about to drift off.

“Marianne will wake us,” Dan replied. He took a long pause and then said quietly, “You know I don’t want anyone else, right?”

Phil just laughed again. “Dan, don’t be an idiot.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Dan’s neck. “Just a gangbang with Chan the border patrol man.”

“At least I didn’t puke in my mouth,” Dan said teasingly, to which Phil gave him a rough poke in the side.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

“Just saying,” Dan’s voice was drifting off. In a matter of minutes they were both asleep.

[marlahey]

we stumbled in the dark; i knew we’d be alright (part three)

a shawn mendes rpf fic rating/warnings: standard teen language; references children and illness (sorry this keeps going to sad places) misc notes: thank you so much for all the love – I have never gained so many followers in such a short amount of time! please reblog/drop in my inbox/tag any reactions with wsitd. any feedback is really loved and appreciated. I have a paper due this week, so have a super long update to tide you over.  and because I want to know if anyone actually reads these notes; a question with no context: ‘queen’ or ‘champagne birthday’? also how much does everyone love the new album? I can’t stop listening to it. (previously; start at part one here)

lisbon; now Shawn’s a little superstitious when it comes to new venues.

He’d deny it up and down out loud, but you’ve now spent enough time in his company to know the truth. You have to carefully avoid laughing while he places a worn pick in the exact centre of B stage, or getting distracted when he always hums Life Of The Party with his acoustic before any other song, his feet dangling off the edge while he waits for the crew to finish setup. “Is that even on the setlist?” you ask, though you know the answer: of course it is. 

Shawn’s smile is a little rueful as he scrubs a hand through his hair. “I just want to remind myself to remember, you know? Where I started.” You throw your arms out in the cavernous arena. “You mean you didn’t spend your childhood in concrete stadiums made to seat twenty thousand people?” There is a particular kind of joy you get in making Shawn laugh that hasn’t really faded over time, though it’s less of a surprised pinch in your stomach than a warm glow, now. He shakes his head a little, his you’re ridiculous face. “Nah, can’t say I did. Pickering was missing out.” You let your grin spin out as you do a little circle there in front of him at the floor edge of the stage, on the other side of the metal grate. It’s just high enough that you’d have to stretch your arm to touch him, if you wanted. “I can see why you love it.” “Is it big enough for you?” Shawn asks, and you stop, confused. You find him on his feet, leaning down towards you with his hand outstretched. You know he’s strong enough to pull you onto the stage; you’re a little more doubtful of your own ability to balance on the only foothold available: the barrier. “C’mon El, I won’t let you fall.” The trust me is implicit; you can see the question in Shawn’s eyes, behind his grin. All you can do is dig your foot between the pipes and take his hand, and pretend that it’s Shawn hauling you across two feet of empty space that caused your stomach to summersault a little. It’s further than probably either of you realized; you land unsteady on your feet and then Shawn’s hands are there, on your waist, keeping you upright. His necklace clangs against your forehead while your nose presses into his sternum. Your heart is hammering a little unsteady in your ears. At least, you think that’s yours. “You’re lucky,” you mutter, uncurling your fingers from his shirt. “Ava would have killed us both.” Shawn exhales against your hair, a faint laugh. You remember the flight and pull back as normally as possible. “What were you saying before? Big enough?” He blinks, and then his smile is wide and familiar and you’re sure you imagined something off in his face. Shawn steers you by the shoulers to face out from the stage, right at centre. There’s already a white x of tape at your feet to mark where the mike stand is meant to go. “This,” he says, and you follow the line of his gesturing hand out to the sea of empty seats. “Everything the light touches is our kingdom?” you ask, just to make him laugh again. “Not unless you think Queen is about you,” Shawn says. “And I wouldn’t let you sully Mufasa’s reputation with such a lie.” You wince and you’re suddenly glad he’s still looking out and not at your face. There’s a memory there you’ve tried to forget. “No, just hang on. Stay here.” His hands leave your shoulders as Shawn hops off the stage with infuriating ease and vaults over the barrier. “Show off!” you call after him, and from here you can see his shoulders shake a little. Shawn turns around in the centre of the standing floor. Even in the middle of nothing, or even in the middle of everything, you’d always be able to find him. It’s a fact you’ve resolved never to examine too closely.  “What do you think?” Shawn asks, looking amused that you still have no idea what he’s talking about. But you indulge him anyway, pulling your eyes away from him to properly look around. Alone, the arena feels even more massive than before. You think back to that first concert in Ottawa, crammed up against Ava and hundreds of other bodies. Though you’ve traveled across two countries with Shawn doing exactly this, you’ll never know what it’s like to throw your voice out and have twenty thousand people send theirs back. “It’s huge,” you tell him, as if it weren’t obvious. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you do this every night.” Shawn’s smile is that pleased, humble one. Fondness for him wraps around your ribs. Shawn lopes forward, draping his arms over the grate and leaning forward to speak as though you’re the pop star. It’s a strange thought. “In Montreal,” he says, “You told me that you like to visit places places that make you feel small. Like the ocean.” His lips lift in a teasing smirk. “Well, smaller.” You’re so busy wracking your brain that you don’t even respond to the dig at your height. “Montreal? But we won’t go there till…” You trail off. “You mean, Montreal almost two years ago?” “You don’t remember?” Shawn’s tilted his head, looking up at you in vague disbelief. “On the bus, before the show.” “I do,” you assure him. You have to grapple with the truth of what you’re about to say. “I just...I had no idea you did.” God, is that horrible? But Shawn doesn’t look upset. “Wasn’t that like, the day after we met?” You have to make a joke before a carefully controlled part of you freaks out. “I can barely remember what we ate yesterday.” It’s that you’re ridiculous face again. “Tims. I think your exact words were, timbits are a Canadian institution and if you don’t eat this, you’re no longer allowed to tell people that’s Toronto’s skyline on your arm.” It’s been a while since Shawn’s made you flush in embarrassment and endearment at the same time. You cross your arms, feeling petulant and silly. “I stand by that statement. We were about to leave the country for four months! I even gave you the last chocolate one. I can’t believe you almost gave it up.” “Yeah, and there was only jelly-filled left.” “You hate jelly-filled,” you remind him. Two can play the memory game. “So do you, Lenny.” Ava’s nickname, even teasing, is so strange coming from his mouth. This stalemate is a lot more loaded than a conversation about timbits ought to be, in your opinion. But Shawn is clearly trying not to laugh and you’re losing the fight against a smile. “Let’s go you two!” Mike barks from offstage. “If you think I’m setting up all this equipment by myself you’ve got another thing coming.” “Duty calls,” you say. The moment is broken and you can’t decide if you’re disappointed or relieved. “Shouldn’t you be rehearsing, superstar?” Shawn makes a face. “You know I hate it when you call me that.” You just smirk at him. “Fair’s fair.”

toronto; then Hannah: So I have a surprise for you.  You: Ooh tell me. The tour left Montreal at sometime past midnight, arriving at a Toronto hotel at dawn. You and tech crew fall into bed to sleep for a few more hours while Shawn and Ava rise for an early morning interview. They pick you up in the tour bus and all you can think about is how this might be the last time you ever get to see it. Hannah wants to FaceTime. Slide to answer.  You scramble up from your bunk so fast you nearly hit your head. There’s only another few seconds to figure out if there’s anything revealing in the frame; thankfully it’s your phone instead of your laptop and only a blank section of wall is visible.  You can see Shawn on the couch on the far side of the bus, earbuds in, engrossed in his journal. You scramble to plug your own headphones in. You should be fine. Hannah’s smile is suspiciously normal, though her eyes give her away. 

“You know, I still can’t believe you got to bail on the last few days of school.” “I wouldn’t call getting an ear infection bailing, but fine.” You feel badly lying to your best friend, but it was Ava’s first condition: no one can know.  “Where are you?” Hannah asks, peering into her screen. You try not shift uncomfortably.  “Doctor’s office. Just getting the all clear.”  “Good timing.” She’s just bursting at the seams to tell you something, but you can’t help a coil of dread that twists in your stomach. “So you know who’s playing the Air Canada Centre tonight?” He’s like three feet from me. “No,” you say, feigning ignorance. “Who?” “Shawn Mendes, idiot! Remember, that guy you’re always trying to get me to listen to?”  “You–” You can barely choke out the words. “You have tickets to Shawn Mendes?” You don’t mean for your voice to crack – or project – like it does. Ava’s head jerks up from her desk right across the bunks. Paul, Shawn’s personal security, winces. Shawn’s pulled his headphones off with that classic, I just heard my name? look on his face. You clamp your hand over your mouth, which thankfully Hannah just takes as shock. Which it is. “Surprise! I’ve been dying of boredom since you’ve been gone so I finally just sat down and Youtubed him. He’s amazing! My mom got last minute tickets at her work in a raffle. The seats are shit but...”  Ava’s eyebrows are shouting at you, get off the phone and Shawn’s getting up. This whole thing is too hilarious; you can barely suppress panicked laughter. “Han, I’m sorry they’re calling me in. I have to go!”  “Okay, good luck! I’ll call you later with the details and we can meet there!”  You drop your phone.  “What,” you hiss, “the fuck?”  “Language,” your sister says, more automatically than with actual disciplinary intention. Shawn snorts a laugh. The absurdity gives way to horror. You bury your head in your hands and groan. “This can’t be happening.” Andrew is surely going to kick you off the tour for this.  “Don’t panic.” Ava clearly doesn’t share your concerns as she taps away at her phone. “Worse case scenario, you go to the concert with Hannah and then you go straight to her house from there. Saves me from having to drop you off.” No one says it, and you can’t either: the Winnipeg stop.  “At least the seats are awful.” You finally look at Shawn, and then wince. “No offence. I mean, it’ll be amazing from wherever.”  He laughs. “You’re trying to save this and it’s not working.” You exhale. “I’m just glad she doesn’t have a meet and greet package. Pretending I haven’t seen you live before is one thing. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fake having never met.” Shawn recoils dramatically. “Are you doubting my acting abilities?” It’s your turn to snort. Even though it’s only been a few days, the thought of missing him is an ache, so deep and wide you have to push yourself away from its edge. Please don’t let this be the last time I see you.   The bus pulls into the Air Canada Centre. You can’t move. As if on cue, Ava’s phone rings. “Oh Mrs. Marshall, so nice to hear from you! Mhmm, yes she’s feeling a lot better now.” Your sister sticks her head out the doors, and then nods at Paul.  “Ready you two?” he asks, and it occurs to you – like it had the first night you met Paul – that he could probably very easily haul you anywhere, whether you were ready or not. But as it stands, you sling your purse over your shoulder and nod. Keeping up with the strides of your bee-lining sister and two men who clear six feet isn’t easy, but there are no frenzied screams. You’re safe. “Of course, Elle would love to have dinner with Hannah before the show. I can just drop her off– oh yes, that’s perfect.” Ava ignores your attempts to disaster wave as everyone troops behind her through the arena. “She’ll see you at six. Great. Bye!” At your affronted expression, your sister rolls her eyes. “You’ll survive. But you’ll definitely need to change – you’re going to a concert, not the farmer’s market.” “My avocado shirt resents that!”  Shawn is smiling like he’s trying not to. “It’s a great shirt.” “See?” You gesture at Shawn and force down a blush. “The pop star approves.” “The pop star,” Ava says, pointing you both into the dressing room in the next hall, “wore khakis and Vans until Serena sorted out his wardrobe.” You and Shawn look at each other. You can’t decide whether or not you’re allowed to laugh, until Paul intones, “You’re gonna need some ice for that burn, kid.” Twenty-five minutes later, you’re in the room adjacent to Shawn’s, wearing the only dress in your poorly packed emergency travel bag, your sister’s leather jacket, a hasty smokey eye and lip gloss, and are trying (and failing) to fasten a third bracelet with your left hand.  “Need help?”  You whirl around to find Shawn, clearly ready. His hair is shinier, the curl slick, dark skinny jeans paired with a grey button down, rolled up to reveal his guitar tattoo and his watch. You have to blink to reconcile him with the Shawn from an hour ago, slouched in a hoodie into which he burrowed like a turtle. He blinks, like he’s doing the same.  Embarrassment feels like a default reaction at this point. “Um, yes. Please.” You meet in the centre of the room and you hand Shawn the small string of black marbles, holding out your wrist. “Thanks.” “Don’t thank me yet,” Shawn says. His fingers are warm on your skin in the room that is just a touch cold. Do not be weird. All you can smell is his cologne. The clasp doesn’t click at first; he swears under his breath and your stomach jumps. “Language,” you half-whisper, desperate to be rid of the butterflies. Shawn’s silent laugh shakes his shoulders. The marbles clink together.  “God El,” he mutters. “Stop that. This is precision work we’re trying to accomplish here.”  No one’s condensed the name you buried with your parents into one syllable before. Shawn finally manages the bracelet; for a moment he doesn't move and you take it to admire his swallow again. You wonder if it always looks like it’s in flight, if that’s why he put it on his hand, so it’s always in motion.  You want to ask him how you find home without a place, when most of the people who make up your home are gone.  “I’m amazing.” Shawn’s victorious grin as he steps back is so ridiculous you can’t help but smile back. “I should just call it a night right now.” “Please don’t,” you say. “Hannah would never forgive me for introducing her to your music if you bailed.” You pick up your bag and point at him. “And yes, I introduced her to you. Don’t let it go to your head.” You have no idea where all this sudden confidence is coming from. Maybe it’s just all the energy you’ve amassed from being stuck on a bus and in dressing rooms for hours at a time. Maybe it’s delayed reaction from the fact that you’ve just spent the last four days with one of the most famous teens in the world and you haven’t made a complete idiot of yourself. Or maybe, he’s as real of a person as you never let yourself believe before.  There’s so much you wish you could say to him, because this might be your last chance, but you can hear Ava’s shoes from down the hall.  “Thank you Shawn.” You can only smile and hope that’s enough.  “Wait, El–” He stops. “That’s okay, right?” You shake your wrist. The bracelet holds. You hold it up, but Shawn shakes his head. “I mean– El. It’s okay I call you that?” Your heart’s doing something strange inside your chest. “Of course it is.” You’re suddenly torn between laughing and crying. His smile is so wide it’s hard to take in all at once. “I’ll see you soon,” Shawn says, like he’s certain. You flash back to Ottawa. The gaping space without him is open beneath your feet. “Have fun.” Ava is making a we gotta go wave at you. So you let her pull you out of the doorway, and even though your last glance at Shawn is of him smiling, you pretend that that the look in his eyes is because he’s sad to see you go. * You meet Hannah on the steps of the arena. By some miracle you make it through dinner without falling apart and confessing to this whole wild charade. Security is tighter than you’ve ever seen at an event here; parents stick close to their merch-covered kids and teens and your heart aches a little. Hannah clutches at your arm, chattering in your ear. “I think my favourite is Ruin–” “Excuse me, girls?” You both turn to find a middle aged woman hand in hand with a little girl, who has two tiny clear tubes extended from her My Little Pony backpack to wrap around her face and nose. You jerk your eyes back up to the mother, afraid you’re staring.  “Clara and I had special passes to meet Shawn before the show but I’m afraid we can’t stay. Would you like them? We’re not–“ The woman’s smile wavers a little. “We’re not feeling too well. You can have our seats as well, if you’d like to be closer to the front?” You recognize the look on Clara’s face. She’s distraught, but clearly holding it together for her mother. You remember being close to her age. You remember seeing that face in the mirror. Your throat feels so tight that at first, you can’t speak. “Oh no,” you start, “We couldn’t–“ “Thank you so much!” If Hannah can read your horrified glare, she ignores it in favour of grinning brightly at the woman and accepting the pass from around her neck. Clara silently holds out hers to you; her nails are sparkling. You’ve never wanted anything less in your life. You’d never be able to look Shawn in the eye again. “What’s your name sweetheart?” Clara’s mother takes her daughter’s pass, pulling the card from its plastic case. She's looking at you expectantly, but there’s something soft in her eyes, a kind of motherly understanding, as though she can see how awful you feel.  “Ellie,” you manage. The woman just nods, scrawling something in pen on the back of the pass. She takes Hannah’s and does the same.  “There you go,” she says. You take yours automatically. “Just in case they give you any trouble at the doors.” Her expression is resigned, as though this is the best she can make of whatever situation she’s been given, but her sincere smile crinkles the corners of her eyes. You’re so ashamed of yourself that you can barely keep her gaze. “The tickets are in there too. Have fun, okay?”  “Thank you!” You stare at Clara’s backpack until she and her mom are swallowed by the crowd. “Oh my god Ellie can you believe–” “We shouldn’t have done that.” You’re a lot calmer than you thought. There’s a deeper, angrier reaction somewhere further down, but you can’t bring yourself to have a full blown fight with your best friend in the middle of a concert venue. “Han, they–” “They weren’t gonna use them! You heard her, Ellie. You were seriously ready to pass up an actual meet and greet with Shawn Mendes?”  You open your mouth, but Hannah has clearly had enough of this conversation, and turns her attention to the pass. “Oh my god, we only have ten minutes to get there! God, where are we supposed to be?” While Hannah flags down a passing security guard, you force yourself to take a deep breath. And another. Don’t deprive her of this chance just because you can’t bear the thought of seeing Shawn again. But that’s only the reason you’re using to coax your feet to follow your best friend; you can’t help but think that Clara deserves this more. You recognize the guard at the top of the dressing room hall, where a barrier’s gone up and teens and parents line up and peer down towards the room you left Shawn in not two hours ago. Your heart hammers, harder even than it did when you first met. Cameron’s eyebrows furrow as the other guard explains the pass swap; you make as subtle of a wave at Hannah and an I’m sorry as you can.  Cameron looks from you to Hannah, who eagerly thrusts her pass at him while the two girls Shawn’s just seen, flushed and giggling, make their way back up the corridor. You can see Paul now, standing outside the dressing room door. Cameron lets the other girls back through the barrier towards the main concourse hall. “Okay, go ahead you two.” Your steps feel like lead. Hannah is squeezing your arm so tightly it almost hurts. Paul’s surprise is – like most of Paul’s on duty expressions – almost imperceptible, but it’s too late for any sort of communication, because you’re in the doorway and Hannah’s practically pushed you ahead of her into the room.  Shawn looks up; some irrational part of your brain screams at you to run. You have no idea what you look like, but you feel trapped. You’re sure this is it. Hannah is going to find you out and everything will be ruined. Until he smiles, stands, and turns first to her instead of you. “Hi.” Hannah is very rarely speechless. Some distantly vindictive part of you is strangely smug to see her this way. “Oh my god, hi.” She goes to hug him and you look away instinctively, flipping over your platinum pass as Hannah proceeds to find her voice and explain her mother, the raffle and–  Plat pass for Ellie. Don’t let go of that big heart. – Alice  

“I just love your music so much.” “Oh thank you! That’s so sweet.” “I’m Hannah, by the way.”  “Hi Hannah, it’s so nice to meet you.”  Your best friend giggles – the kind of giggling she flirts with. Your stomach turns. “Someone just gave us their passes! Her daughter was sick. I still can’t believe it.” You can tell without having to lift your head that Shawn’s looking at you. Can he see your hand shaking? Can he see your guilt? The truth of what you’ve done slams back into your ribcage; Clara’s determinedly okay expression is burned behind your eyes. It’s hard to tell in the moment that if your secret didn’t entirely depend on your ability to fake enthusiasm, that if Hannah wasn’t standing right there, if you’d have let yourself cry.  You can’t remember the last time you cried.  You really need to stop letting the almosts be with him. “I’m excited for the show,” you blurt, grasping at the memory of Ottawa to keep you grounded. Shawn’s eyes are searching for something in your face. You can’t tell which one of you is currently worse at this ‘we’ve never met’ game. Panic squeezes in your chest.  Just keep pretending. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”  “I’m definitely real,” Shawn says, smiling not quite the way he had four days ago. From outside, Paul tosses a quick, perfunctory wave into the room. Time’s up. Shawn nods, but looks back at you. “I can even prove it.” Here at last is something you don’t have to fake. You’re not sure what to blame on the innocuous fact that you’ve never hugged Shawn. Both Ava’s sisterly concern and Andrew’s constant watchfulness flash through your mind. But you don’t have time to overthink it, stretching into the space Shawn leaves as he bends down to meet you. His cologne’s gone softer against all the perfumes and deodorants of everyone he’s probably already hugged tonight, but you can still catch traces of it. You want to close your eyes and squeeze a goodbye around his ribs, but you don’t. Shawn’s arms reach nearly all the way round your back and your waist; his hands slide down your elbows, dropping from your wrists as he pulls back. The marbles of your bracelet clink and go silent.  “Have a great time, guys.” Shawn’s smile sweeps from you to Hannah and it’s almost a relief. “Thank you for coming.” “Bye!” Hannah waves, her hand clamping around your arm like a vice, and you’re being dragged away from Shawn for a second time. You don’t look up to see his face. Hannah is practically vibrating beside you. She skips forward, hopping through the open metal barrier, but it swings shut before you can follow. “I’m sorry miss,” Cameron says when you gape up at him, his lips twitching on the last word. He has his hand to his earpiece. “I’m told you dropped something in the dressing room?”   Your face flames as people gawk. You hurriedly pat yourself down – bag, phone, rings– “I’m sorry, I don’t–” You don’t know he’s talking about, but Cameron just nods down towards Paul, who is beckoning you back. You’re tempted to bolt back to him just to escape the particular awfulness of public humiliation, but you manage a fast walk instead.  Paul just points into the room. “You have thirty seconds, Shawn.” Your eyes dart around: his jacket, his guitar, a water bottle. When they finally land on Shawn, you can only stare as he holds up your marble bracelet.  “How–” “I saw that look on your face,” he says. Now that you’re alone, you allow yourself to really look at him. It seems like concern in his gaze, almost urgent in its openness, but there no time to process it. “When Hannah said someone gave you those passes. I just–” Shawn’s mouth twists, a shadow of regret, as though he wants to say more. “I saw it.” Well that answers that question. “I didn't want them,” you blurt, feeling helpless against fear of his judgement.   ”Do you know her name?” Shawn asks, and you’re too dumbfounded to pull away when he reaches for your wrist and returns your bracelet. “The girl?” 

“Clara.” Shame presses tears into your eyes. You blink and blink and none fall. “She’s so little,” You say in a rush. “She had oxygen. Shawn, I–” “It’s okay, El.” He hasn’t let go of you yet. You don’t want to look at him, but you’re still powerless against his pull. You see the same soft smile from that very first night, when he was close enough to touch. “It’s okay.” “Time to go,” Paul says. You turn to leave; Shawn’s fingers catch on yours as he drops your hand. Paul looks down at you, his face seemingly as impassive as ever.  “Deep breath now, little one.” You force it. You can see clearly again. Paul nods, and you follow in his shadow back to Hannah, and hold up your wrist. “My bracelet fell off,” you tell her, loud enough that it’s audible to the girls still staring with something like vague suspicion in their eyes. “He just helped me get it back on.” It’s only a half lie. At least, you’re fairly certain.  Your best friend makes a noise that can only be described as a squeal. “God he is so sweet!” You move through most of the night on autopilot. It’s probably a credit to Shawn’s showmanship that you can, at least for a while, forget whose seats you occupy in the 100 section of the arena. After TNHMB, Shawn riffs a little on his guitar while the crowd waits with baited breath.  “So I’ve already met a ton of really amazing people tonight.” Hannah squeezes your hand as she screams. “But my team let me know that there was someone super special whose been in the hospital lately, and who really wanted to be here but couldn’t make it.” Your heart leaps up to your throat.  “And I thought, because Toronto has to be one of the most amazing cities in the world–” Shawn smiles when the crowd drowns him out. “We might all send this little girl some love.” He waits for the screaming to die down. “So Toronto, if you have a cellphone light, please pull it out. Clara, I don’t know if you’ll see this, but this is Never Be Alone, and it’s for you.” The tears make it hard to sing.  You’ve never asked Shawn about this, in the weeks and months since. No video recording captured it with clarity, but some people are sure that in the final measures of the song, as Shawn pulled out his earpiece and listened as he did every night, that there were tears in his eyes, too. * Four days later, you lay on your stomach on Hannah’s bed while her iTunes shuffles in the background. You’ve successfully stopped flinching every time Shawn’s voice floated through the speakers. Ava had dropped your bag off with a hug and an, “I’ll let you know.”  It’s half a fear of being annoying and half a fear of confirming your own disappointment that keeps you from texting her at all.  “Oh my god!” Hannah’s shriek nearly makes you drop your phone. “Look!”  She shoves her own phone under your nose. It takes a minute, but eventually you realize you’re looking at Shawn’s instagram story, where Hannah’s thumb has paused on a still of Shawn’s feet walking through a pristine white hall. surprising someone special!  She clicks forward; your hand flies to your mouth at the sight of Clara, looking even tinier than she had the night of the concert, sitting up in bed. Her shock and her tears as Shawn walks into her room, someone else recording now, takes your breath away. “I’m so jealous of this girl,” Hannah says. “Can you imagine getting to meet Shawn by yourself?” “She’s in the hospital, Han.” “I’d put myself in the hospital if I got to meet him.” Thankfully your phone chimes then, saving you from having to come up with a reply. Ava: Get somewhere private. Calling in two minutes.  Is it possible to have a nerves induced heart attack? “Ava’s calling,” you say, lurching to your feet. “I’ll be right back.” Hannah lifts her hand in a wave, engrossed in her phone again. You dash into the hall, down the stairs, and out the back door to the backyard, forcing yourself to sit on the steps of her deck.  Ava wants to FaceTime. Slide to answer.  You have to close your eyes for a moment before you accept. But it isn’t Ava’s face that focuses into view: it’s Shawn. Your mouth falls open as you look frantically around the yard, as if anyone else were here besides the squirrels squabbling on the back fence. You look back. He’s still there.  “Shawn?” It comes out a little squeakier than you’d have hoped. His grin stretches from ear to ear.  “El, hey! Busy?”  “Um, no?” You don’t have time to untangle your wilting, half-up bedroom hair. You don't even know if you can hold your phone up without shaking.  “Someone wanted to say hello,” Shawn says. You catch the blur of a white room as he passes the phone to someone else. Alice, leaning down to get her daughter in the frame, just smiles as you clamp your hand over your mouth.  “Hi, sweetheart.” Clara waves and you return the gesture with a trembling hand.   “That was a really wonderful thing you did,” Alice says, her eyes bright. “We just wanted to say thank you. It means so much to us. ” “Shawn did all the work,” you croak. “I’m a terrible singer.”  Clara giggles. You think you hear Shawn laughing just beyond the screen.  “Still,” Alice’s smile is fond. “He’s even better for having people like you in his life.” “Thank you,” you whisper, because you don’t know what else to say.  “I’ll pass you back now. Say goodbye to Ellie, Clara.” “Bye!”  You don’t even realize you’re crying until you can’t see them anymore.  “Oh no, El–” You wipe frantically at your eyes to find Shawn’s mouth downturned, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, I never wanted you to–” “No!” You shake your head and let out a disbelieving laugh. “No, Shawn. Please, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. Thank you for this.” You try to push your reassurance through the screen. “You just made my whole week.” Shawn’s relieved smile makes your heart stutter. This boy is seriously going to give you a heart attack. “Good. I have a question, before I go. Av looks like she’s going to rip her phone out of my hand.” You snort. “Classic Ava.” Shawn glances off camera, and then back. He makes a face like he’s trying to be serious, and failing. “Do you have a raincoat?” The question takes a second to compute. “Do I have–? Um, yes?” You don’t know why it comes out like a question. Fucking hell, Ellie. “I have a raincoat.”  His grin fills your tiny screen. “Make sure you bring it to Seattle.” (part four)

[aion-rsa]

Days Gone PC Port Could Highlight Controversial Game’s B-Movie Charms

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In a way, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the PlayStation team recently confirmed they’re bringing Days Gone to PC as the first of several new PlayStation ports Not only was the PC port of Horizon Zero Dawn reportedly a tremendous success, but games ranging from Red Dead Redemption 2 to Bayonetta show that PC gamers are eager to buy properly done ports of titles they’ve previously been denied. The PC market has a way to extend the life of a game that more and more developers are finding hard to ignore.

Even still, you’re forgiven if hearing the name Days Gone caused you to raise an eyebrow. After all, it’s not just one of the most controversial PS4 exclusives; it’s a game that some consider to be the absolute worst PS4 exclusive this side of The Order 1886.

We’ve previously spoken about the Days Gone controversy in our review of the game and a look at how it oddly helped define the legacy of the PS4 itself, but the long and short of it is that Days Gone was, at the very least, an odd entry into the PS4’s legendary library. After years of hype, Days Gone proved to be a technically flawed attempt at a largely familiar open-world title that rode the end of the zombie pop culture wave to a decidedly mixed reaction.

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Yet, despite my many, many, complaints about Days Gone, I’m genuinely excited for the title to hit the PC market and potentially reignite the discourse surrounding the game. Whatever else that game is, it’s also one of the strangest pieces of “so bad, it’s good” storytelling in modern Triple-A gaming history, and it deserves to have the chance to be remembered as such.

Even if you were determined to enjoy Days Gone, the game’s launch problems made it hard to do so. Along with the usual glitches you’d expect from an open-world title (even if Cyberpunk 2077 abused the privilege), you’ve got a series of poor animations and worse detection features that often impact the actual gameplay. It’s the kind of issues you’d expect to see in more ambitious indie titles, but the fact they’re so prevalent in one of 2019’s biggest PS4 games is why legitimate unanswered questions remain regarding developer Bend Studio’s techniques and intentions.

Presumably, the PC version of Days Gone will address most of those technical problems by incorporating most of the fixes that have been added to the game via patches and a next-gen update. If that is the case, then it will make it that much easier for more people to witness Day Gone scenes such as this one where a bride’s wedding speech includes the words “Ride me as much as you ride your bike.”

That scene is considered to be the centerpiece of Days Gone‘s collection of downright weird storytelling and acting that elevate the title’s “How did this get made status?” to another level. It’s fairly amusing even out of context, but to truly appreciate it, you’ve got to play Days Gone to the point when you realize that the line “ride me as much as you ride your bike” is meant to be one of the emotional climaxes of the title’s love story.

It’s also very much worth mentioning that the line itself was seemingly taken from an early Sons of Anarchy episode in which “Opie” tells his bride that he promises to ride her “as much as my Harley.” It’s one of the many ways that the game borrows themes, characters, ideas, and, yes, even lines from the popular FX series.

Much like Sons of Anarchy, Days Gone‘s over-the-top biker characters have been embraced by a community that often insists that “soft” viewers just wouldn’t understand why they’re so cool. If you also feel that an endless parade of curses loosely strung together and growled out by heavily tattooed Canadian tuxedo aficionados (led by a hero The Irish News rightfully refered to as “Joe Kickass”) is the height of cool, you’re going to find a lot to love here.

To be fair, even those who don’t outright love these characters may find themselves strangely drawn to them after they’re willing to accept that they’re all essentially variations of the same basic archetype. Days Gone has been called Sons of Anarchy meets The Walking Dead, and that’s not just a line that looks good in marketing. There are times when it feels like that’s literally what the developers were going for, and it’s absolutely wild to see the commitment that went into biker cliches and zombie cliches battling it out across a 40-hour apocalypse cliche. It’s like an open-world game populated entirely by clones grown from Mickey Rourke’s Rogue Warrior character:

It doesn’t help that the game’s dialog adheres to this bizarre style that sees nearly every character regularly throw some “umms” and “ahhs” into their lines. It feels like the idea was that such speech patterns would make the game’s dialog feel more natural, but when you’re watching a small army of underdeveloped and comically tough bikers stammer through every line of dialog like they’re imitating Jame’s Stewart’s It’s a Wonderful Life performance, you eventually start to wonder whether Bend tried to push this concept just a bit too far.

The whole thing reminds me of Deadly Premonition. Much like that game, you’ve got a developer that is clearly inspired by a TV property (in that case, Twin Peaks) yet can’t seem to harness their fondness for that concept long enough to produce something that feels like a parody made by someone who intended to craft a tribute.

And you know what? I kind of love Days Gone for that. As a fan of some of so-called the worst movies ever made, there’s nothing more amusing to me than when someone misses the mark so wildly in pursuit of a passion project. It’s the difference between a bad major motion picture like the later Pirates of the Caribbean films and something like The Room or Troll 2. The people in the latter movies weren’t just getting through the day for a paycheck: they had an idea and, against all odds, they managed to get it out there in whatever form it was eventually able to survive in.

Days Gone embodies the best of that spirit by being this game that I honestly believe was intended to be genuine in its characterizations, scenarios, and emotional beats. The fact it falls on its face after going over-the-top in pursuit of all of those concepts makes it this strange entry into a time when the biggest budgets are usually awarded to the teams that publishers know are going to avoid these exact kinds of passionate misfires and instead deliver something reliable.

Like a million monkeys sitting at a million typewriters trying to reproduce the works of Shakespeare, Days Gone attempts to recreate ideas that we’ve seen before and often fails at doing so. Yet, it trips so often out of pure enthusiasm for trying to get where it’s going that it’s weirdly easy to recommend checking this game out on PC just to experience it for yourself.

The post Days Gone PC Port Could Highlight Controversial Game’s B-Movie Charms appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[bloodunderthebridge]

The Magic of Postmodernism in How I Met Your Mother

We all know (and if you don’t, you should know) that How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM) is a comical t.v series that went off the air after its ninth and final season in 2014. But, for those of you who have not enjoyed the future storytelling plot that is HIMYM, here is a quick recap of what takes place in the t.v show composed of nine amusing seasons. The first main character is Ted. Ted is the guy who narrates the entire story to his teenage kids of how he met their mother. Ted tells the story of his journey to finding a wife in 2030 and each season takes the audience through another year of Ted trying to find his wife with his best friends/sidekicks adding to the drama prior to 2030. For the second, third, fourth and fifth characters, you’ve got Lily and Marshall who have been together since college, but have their ups and downs that result in marriage and a baby. You have Barney who has a sketchy job that makes an absurd amount of money and spends most of his time dating as many girls as possible while asking them out in extreme, impossible ways and then you have Robin. Robin brings her daddy issues, t.v broadcasting skills and rough Canadian lifestyle to the streets of New York City. Combined, these characters date each other, date an uncountable number of other people, succeed along with tons of failure and in the end, create a t.v show that reaches a large audience with its sarcastic tone and unrealistic, but relatable circumstances.

So now that I’ve throughly discussed the characters and their role in HIMYM (for those of you who have watched HIMYM and for those of you who's my detailed description is good enough), what comes to mind when we think of the show? Perhaps how uneventful and upsetting the end of the series was or how Barney and Robin should have never broken up and like why did Tracy have to die? Whatever the reason, it probably wasn’t the postmodern aspects of the t.v show. In-between Barney’s multiple conquests, Robin’s foreign Canadian phrases, Lily and Marshall’s never ending relationship and Ted’s seemingly forever lasting search for love are techniques typically used in postmodern works of literature and in this case, good t.v. But since there is a handful of ways in which HIMYM can be looked at through a postmodern lens, I’m going to focus on three specific techniques, metafiction, magical realism and intertextuality. Now although metafiction and intertextuality may sound boring in comparison to watching t.v and even though magical realism seems to entail more fun, each technique adds a level of depth to HIMYM.

T.V, I’m pretty sure everyone has watched it at least once, but what happens when we’ve watched all the shows that interest us, do we exit our box and try a new show or do we watch a series over again? I’m voting for the latter. Whenever I watch something for a second or third and sometimes a fourth time, I notice different things about the show or whatever episode I’ve re-watched. “I could have sworn that storm trooper wasn’t there before”, I notice the smaller details when I re-watch shows and that’s why looking at HIMYM while keeping the postmodern techniques in the back of my mind, helps understand the t.v series more accurately. It’s an underlying layer that you don’t notice at first, but contributes to how the show is perceived by the audience. Imagine HIMYM having modern aspects, rather than postmodern, would more or less people watch it? Would the meaning and perception change? My guess is yes, of course it would change because even though it’s only a small number of aspects that I am looking at, those small parts are what make up the whole and changing enough of those small parts will eventually change the whole.

Okay, so now that I’ve convinced you that looking at HIMYM through a postmodern lens is important, what specifically does metafiction, magical realism and intertextuality mean? Meta fiction is the act of writing about writing or making readers aware of the fictional nature of the very fiction they're reading, or in the case of HIMYM, when the characters know they are in a t.v show. This is commonly know as “breaking the fourth wall”. Magical realism is the introduction of impossible or unrealistic events into a narrative that is otherwise realistic which is pretty explanatory and an easy definition. And lastly, intertextuality is the acknowledgment of previous literary works within another literary work or when a t.v show references a movie or book or vice versa. Each of these three techniques are actively used in HIMYM and now that you know what they mean, time to dive into a close viewing of HIMYM.

Metafiction, breaking the fourth wall, if you will, is not something I am typically a fan of. I think some shows use it well, like Jane the Virgin, but than shows like House of Cards, I can’t stand, but then again, the majority of people I know like House of Cards, so maybe thats just me. Anyways, Jane the Virgin and House of Cards use metafiction many times throughout each episode, but that’s not the case in HIMYM. There are only a number of instances in the entire series of HIMYM where metafiction is used, it is a technique that is used in addition to many other techniques, but not alone. Okay so to give an example so everyone can see what I'm blabbing on about, I’ve looked at season eight, episode four titled “Who Wants to be a Godparent?”. In this episode, Lily and Marshal, now married and pregnant, are hosting a game-show-like competition between Ted, Barney and Robin to see who should be the Godparent of their first child. Towards the end of the scene, when the game is almost over, Marshall looks directly at the screen and says “we will be right back after a message from our sponsors” (00:11:40 - 00:11:50). This was a clear cut, easy example of meta fiction. Another example just for good measure, but not as obvious as my first example is in season seven, episode six, “Mystery vs. History”. Barney, Ted and Robin are all sitting on the couch in Ted’s apartment and Ted is rambling on about breaking the fourth wall in Annie Hall (this is also intertextuality, but that’s for later) and then, out of nowhere, Robin turns to the camera and says “can you believe this guy?” and motions her thumb in Ted’s direction. Personally, Robin breaking the fourth wall is my favourite out of the two just because it was less expected in that scene than in the other one, you know. Okay well, I think that’s enough about metafiction for now… on to magic……al realism!

When I first heard of magical realism, I thought, yes finally some magic being taught in university. This is not the case, but also it sort of is the case. Let me explain. Magical realism is when events and stuff happening in a t.v show or movie or whatever are unrealistic, but they are shown in a realistic setting, therefore making it somewhat believable to some people (maybe?). Now, magical realism is so important that even Oprah talked about in her book club. On Oprah’s website an article is posted saying “magical realism sets magical events in realistic contexts, thus requiring us to question what is "real," and how we can tell” (Parkinson Zamora), which is my opinion, nicely summarises why magical realism is like magic. So thank you Oprah for also seeing the importance of magical realism and talking about it, but now to bring the magic to life in HIMYM, we need to look at season seven, episode seven titled “Noretta”. I know I’ve already explained a bit about Barney’s role in the t.v show and if you’ve watched HIMYM, you already know for yourself, but Barney is addicted to asking as many women out as possible. Like I’m pretty sure that’s all he does, it is his life mission to sleep with a record number of people. Not the most attractive quality in a person/character, but it does make for good t.v. “Noretta” is a prime example of far Barney will go and magical realism all in one! Background: Barney is on a date with an attractive British women he has been dating. They have not slept together yet, but in episode seven, Barney was determined to change that. While skating, Barney’s date fell down on the ice and completely lost a tooth, but somehow Barney managed to convince his date to not give up on the night. After his date fell, Barney also looked up to the roof (aka the sky, aka God, aka magic) and said “I can turn this around” (00:05:40 - 00:06:11). Magical realism? Yes, an extreme example of it? No, but the saga continues, finally back at Barney’s apartment, they go on the balcony where Barney and his date witness a man jumping from a roof committing suicide. Barney again says, “I can turn this around” and despite his date crying “I want to go home”, he manages to win her over (00:09:30 - 00:10:12). What makes this magical realism, if it isn’t clear enough, is that Barney still managed to sleep with his date despite her losing a tooth (which must have been insanely painful and ugly to look at) and that she witnessed death. Those two things happening don’t really set the mood for most people. That is one example of an episode of HIMYM where there is magical realism, but you could find magical realism in probably more than half of the episodes of HIMYM because the technique is used too often when it comes to Barney’s character.

Now finally, we get to discuss intertextuality, my personal favourite. You may be thinking, why is intertextuality my favourite? Especially compared to a technique that is magic adjacent, but when I understand a reference to another movie or book, I just feel like I know more, you know. The important thing to note about intertextuality though is that “much of the show’s humour relies on the reader’s recognition of common tropes” (Levine 67). This directly relates to HIMYM because if the viewer doesn’t understand the reference, they may also miss the humour which would be unfortunate and HIMYM uses intertextuality as humour more often than not. To illustrate intertextuality in HIMYM, I am going to use Star Wars as an example. Star Wars is my all time favourite movie series and therefore I like to take every opportunity to force my obsession upon everyone else and lucky for me, it seems that the characters of HIMYM love Star Wars the same as me!! So here we go, example number one, season nine, episode seventeen, “Sunrise”, Ted argues with his fiancé about what CP30 is made of and he also mocks her by saying “You know what’s weird? Not seeing Star Wars until you’re thirty” (00:03:15  - 00:03:47). Example number two, season nine, episode fifteen, “Unpause”, Barney gets so drunk the night before his wedding he mimics Jabba the Hutt. Example number three, season nine, episode two, “Coming Back”, Barney speaks like Yoda to Marshall, “there is no try” (00:16:18 - 00:16:26). Example number four, just kidding, I won’t keep going with the Star Wars intertextuality references because if you don’t get the point by now, you probably won’t ever get it. That was rude, if you didn’t get the point though, its that if you don’t understand or know Star Wars, HIMYM won’t make any sense. Just kidding, but it definitely won’t be as funny.

We all know now that How I Met Your Mother is a comical t.v series that went off the air after its ninth season and that the producers of this t.v show employ the use of the postmodern techniques metafiction, magical realism and intertextuality. So if anyone ever asks you for examples of magical realism in HIMYM, hopefully now you will be able to give them at least one answer. But in all seriousness, looking at pop culture or anything with a certain lens in mind (in my case, postmodernism) helps read between the lines of whats going on. I find that closely viewing movies and t.v shows or even literature gives a different perspective and shows the layers that can be hidden and I encourage everyone to stop watching HIMYM for a good laugh, but to really learn from the show.

[kpfconfessions]

Eric Nam in Concert: St. Paul, Minnesota

Pre-Concert

Both my friend LisNuna and I were thrilled to see Eric Nam touring and it was even better to see that he was coming somewhere remotely close to us. LisNuna and I are from Winnipeg, Manitoba which if you don’t know is right smack dab in the middle of Canada. Which ultimately means we don’t get a lot of action on the Kpop front… if any at all! (LisaNuna: Yeah, like absolutely zero lol) In most cases the closest stops are either Chicago or Toronto which both require some time off as well as plane ticket, and hotel. This time however, we found that Eric Nam was playing at a theatre in St. Paul which was only a 6 hours drive away! (Some might think this is far but if you have the right playlist, good company and some great podcasts the time flies!) When planning this trip my fiancé ended up jumping on board as we love shopping (and eating) in Minneapolis. I managed to encourage him to join since he’s a Korean-Canadian and I thought that he would find it worthwhile to support an Asian North American. To give you some context my fiancé isn’t exactly into Kpop but outside of the genre we share similar music taste so I thought this wasn’t far from what he liked.

We kicked off our trip in Minneapolis the first night with K-BBQ at Hoban (This is pretty much why my fiancé and I love coming back so much). (If you’re in or around Minneapolis be sure to check it out! https://hobankoreanbbq.com/ ) The next day was filled with shopping before we arrived at the Palace Theatre -- we were pleasantly surprised by the large line-up. LisNuna: The general admission tickets were for the floor and standing only. So if you wanted anywhere close to the stage you would have had to be there early. Checking out some of the IG posts after the show, I really admire those fans that stood in line right from early morning to get in a good position. Dedication, thy name is NamNation.

During the Concert

Even though we were on the balcony the seats were great, far more intimate than other Kpop concerts we’ve been to due to the venue. It was fun to watch people in the first half, the crowd was in general young but it was nice to see our section had a mix of ages and genders. LisNuna: Exactly! It was pretty diverse. Todoke speculated before the show that the one combo we probably wouldn’t see would be a group of male fans coming by themselves. But low and behold, in our section alone I saw 2 different groups of guys attending together. More bro-night-out’s should include kpop. The world would be a happier place, for real.

The most amusing part was a Dad who came with his Daughter that sat behind us. He was enthusiastic about the experience and was quick to talk with others about what concerts they’ve been to and which his Daughter is planning to see next. The whole time I’m sure the poor girl was hoping her Dad would just shut up, but it was incredibly endearing! The opening act was Frenship who I had actually listened to before and they didn’t disappoint. They did some stripped down songs and were easy to please the crowd. I think if people weren’t aware of them before their performance they certainly were now! Check out my favourite song by them Capsize:

By the time Eric Nam came out the crowd was ready and going wild. It was a different feeling from the other concerts I’ve been to since it wasn’t so much about the video screens and special effects but there was something more genuine and raw about it. Most of the show Eric was either on stage performing with just his mic or a handful of backup dancers and to keep a crowd thoroughly entertained with just that is a feat in my books!

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I think this concert had a little something for everyone, even the people who were there for others like significant others and parents. (Eric even made a crack at the fact he knew there were people like this in the audience). If anything I would say Eric is a showman from his singing, to his dancing and of course his banter. I know by the time the concert was through my fiancé had turned a fan and was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. (Even the Dad behind us was cheering and exclaiming how good he was throughout the night!)

Eric sang almost every one of my favourite tracks (only a few oldies excluded) and it was amazing to hear him change it up a little bit proving how good he is live. LisNuna: Our throats were just gone by the end of the show lol. We pretty much sang every lyric to every song. There also may or may not have been an attempt at the “Can’t Help Myself” hola hand dance choreo. It warmed my heart when he thanked the crowd for making a difference by attending a concert like his. I truly hope attending shows like this do make a difference because artists like Eric Nam are so deserving of success in their home country as well as others. I think my two favourite songs of the night were Love Die Young (my favourite from his most recent album) and Don’t Call Me which was such a bop live. (Pretty sure it’s also my fiancé’s new favourite song).

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Post Concert

The next day the three of us were off back home and it put a smile on our faces when my Fiancé asked us to listen to Eric Nam on the way home. He couldn’t stop talking about how impressed he was and that it was one of the best concerts he’d seen. That in itself felt like a win to me and hopefully he’ll consider going to another Kpop concert with me in the future! (LisNuna: We’re officially Kpop missionaries!) If Eric Nam ever returns I know I’ll be more than willing to see him again and I hope his fan base grows so he can get even bigger venues (even though I adored the intimacy of this show). I think he’s only solidified bigger fans in Lisa and I! (LisNuna: 100% agreed!) Has anyone else checked out his tour? Tell me about it below!

[bosstoaster]

But Not Too Familiar

Shunk Week Fill (1/4)

Summary: Some things change.  Some things don’t.  Some things get better.  After all, ten years is far too long to have gone without learning to let loose together.  A non-canonical part of Ten Years On. This will be posted on AO3 shortly after.  Thanks to @xagrok for Beta’ing!

Shiro supposed he should have expected this.

It wasn’t like he thought everyone had kept up strict military protocol in the decade he’d been gone.  Hell, he knew for a fact that wasn’t true, from the stories he’d been told.  And it wasn’t like drinking and relaxing wasn’t a big part of military culture, anyway.

It was just that he’d never experienced it with this group, in the not-quite-a-year they’d spent together.  There just hadn’t been time, going from crisis to training to crashing in bed.  They’d all been various kinds of exhausted the whole time that their recreational activities tended to be relaxing.

Which was how Shiro found himself hovering on the edges of a party.

(Read More)

As far as parties went, this was the kind that Shiro preferred.  Just a handful of friends with food and drinks, maybe a movie.  Right now there was just talking, trading stories that Shiro was all too aware he wasn’t part of.  He didn’t resent that, not really, but it made for an awkward experience.  So rather than join in the ribbing on Keith for the time he tried to dive Black into a volcano because he forgot he wasn’t piloting Red, Shiro settled on one of the armchairs and watched from a manufactured distance.

“Are you old enough to be drinking that, young man?” Matt asked, completely ignoring Shiro’s minor attempt at isolation.  He settled against the side of the chair, drinking out of his own cup and smirking at him.  “I’m going to need to see an ID.”

If there was anything Shiro was thankful for, it was that Matt was still so very Matt, even with stubble and a much longer haircut.  

Blinking up at him innocently, Shiro smiled.  “Oh, it’s right here, officer.”  He held up his middle finger and took another long sip.  “By which country’s standards, anyway.”

“The only ones that matter,” Matt replied.  “Canadian.”

“You know I’m not 18!”

Matt peered down at him.  “I don’t know anything.  Look at that lil baby face.”

“Shiro doesn’t have a baby face,” Lance called, holding up his own cup.  His voice was just a notch over what it would be, and there was a red flush to his cheeks.  “He’s not that jawline.  No one looks like a baby when they could cut glass with their chin.”

Snorting, Matt rolled his eyes.  “Ruin my fun, why don’t you?”

Pidge eyed him right back.  “Have you considered being actually funny?”

“Yes, I’m thinking about how hilarious it’d be to put my foot up your ass.”

“Try it.”

Shiro held up the hand not holding his cup, sighing.  “Guys, c’mon.  Don’t fight.”

“I think you just asked them to stop talking to each other,” Keith replied flatly, but he was smiling.  “What would you two talk about if you weren’t snarking at each other?”

Pidge and Matt both gave Keith a look like he’d lost the plot.  “Not... snarking?”  Pidge repeated dubiously.  “I dunno, never heard of it.”

Snorting, Hunk rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored them.  “You definitely don’t have a baby face,” he told Shiro, practically shining with sincerely.  “You really don’t.”

Shiro smiled back, though it was less from the comment and more from how hard Hunk was working to convince him.  He was probably on his second drink, from the sound of it.  “Thank you, Hunk.”

“I kinda forgot how hot you are,” Hunk continued, eyes still bright and cheerful.  “I thought I was remembering wrong.  But nope.”

Shiro froze, eyes wide.  “I- what?”

“Hot,” Lance repeated, smirking at Shiro’s dumbfounded expression.  “C’mon, someone’s told you that you’re hot before, don’t play at that bullshit.”

“Can confirm,” Matt replied, toasting with his cup.  “I have.”

“You were joking,” Shiro replied.  “That doesn’t count.”

Matt gave him a flat look.  “Yes, it does.  Because I wasn’t joking that you’re objectively attractive.  So is everyone on this castle.  It’s damn ridiculous.”

Keith’s brows rose.  “Way to give yourself a backhand compliment.”

“I know, right?”

“So, see?  You’ve definitely been told before.” Lance gestured to Shiro.  “This is some fake modesty right here.”

Shiro fought the urge to squirm under Lance’s sharp eye.  “Well, I used to be told that,” he pointed out, an edge of defensiveness creeping into his voice.  “Not recently.  For obvious reasons.  And it’s strange to hear it from you all.”

“Why?” Pidge asked, brows up.

Looking between them, Shiro opened his mouth, then shut it.  It took a moment to come up with an answer.  “Because I’m- I was your commanding officer.”

“Doesn’t mean we couldn’t find you hot,” Lance replied.  “If anything, that added to it.  Kind of a forbidden spice.”

Shiro went pink.

“He means that he was so busy looking out for us that he didn’t have time to think of us outside of that,” Keith replied, gaze all too sharp.  “Right?”

“That’s not true,” Shiro shot back, heat slipping into his voice.  His grip on the cup tightened, and the plastic crinkled in his hand, threatening to give.  “I always thought of you as people.  You have your interests and personalities and I never forgot that.”

Lance tilted his head.  “No, I see what he’s saying.  You never thought of us outside of that box, right?  Keith isn’t saying you didn’t think we’re people, he’s saying you thought of us in a certain context.  As subordinates.”

It felt arrogant, when they put it that way.  The wording bothered him, though he couldn’t pinpoint where.

Maybe it was the drink.

Besides, they were right anyway.  Shiro hadn’t thought of them as going to parties or in relationships or thinking of him like that.

He hadn’t had time for anything outside of the immediate.

Standing up, Hunk put down his cup and walked over.  He stopped in front of Shiro’s chair.  “I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro replied, more surprised at the question more than the actions.

Hunk leaned down and cupped either side of Shiro’s jaw, tilting him to look at him.  “You’re still way hot,” he told him, utterly serious.  “Changes and all.  I think that’s important to you.  Maybe not attractiveness, exactly, but how you look in general.  They didn’t take that.”

“Did you just say I’m vain?” Shiro asked, but he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders relaxed just a bit, or the grateful undertones to his voice.  Even if he could have, he wouldn’t.

Grinning, Hunk shrugged and let him go.  “A little.  It’s okay, so is Lance, and he’s still my best friend.”

“Damn straight!” Lance replied, giving his own toast.

Matt snorted, and Shiro didn’t need to look at him to know he was thinking that there wasn’t much ‘straight’ about their little group.  Statistically unlikely, but there they were.

“I’m going to touch you again, okay?” Hunk said.

Shiro offered him a smile.  “It’s okay.  As long as you don’t sneak up on me I’m fine.”  He appreciated the care, but it really was going to get old if Hunk tried to ask or apologize for every brush.

Nodding, Hunk smiled.  “I want to be sure.  It’s been a while.”  With that, he leaned forward and picked Shiro up off the bed.

“Woah!”  He grabbed onto Hunk’s shoulders, practically curling into him.  “Okay.  That’s a little more than a touch.”

Hunk shrugged.  “I am touching you,” he pointed out.  “C’mon, let’s get you back into the group.”

“Hunk,” Shiro protested, but it came out with a hint of a whine to his voice.  Then he hid his face in Hunk’s shoulder in mortification, because he was being carried around like a bride and speaking like that.  His poor, bruised pride.

Chuckling, Hunk shifted him so he settled more comfortably. “I know it’s harder to jump in with us.  But we still want you there.  So I’m making it easier.  Do you really want to stay in your chair over there?”

Shiro took a deep breath. “No.  You’re right.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  With that, Hunk sat down.

But he didn’t let go of Shiro, keeping him settled right in his lap.

Apparently, this wasn’t weird at all because no one else even blinked.

“Aren’t I heavy?” Shiro asked, peering down at Hunk.

That only earned him a snort.  “I can take it,” Hunk replied.  “You’re warm.  Solid.  And I’ve survived Pidge’s bony elbows when she’s in my lap, so I can survive you.”

It was strange and amusing, to hear someone else’s elbows be called more uncomfortable than Shiro’s, given than one of his was metal.  But Hunk really did seem comfortable, so Shiro settled back against him and sipped at his drink.

Now that Shiro was right there, they seemed to make more of an effort to include him in the conversation.  They switched to updating him on fun stories about people he’d know, like Ryder or Kolivan, and that made Shiro relax.  It was nice, somehow, to have those little reminders that not everything had totally changed.  Ryder was close to retiring from her leadership position and was in the process of training a replacement, but Kolivan was just was much himself as ever, it seemed.

Eventually, Shiro was feeling much more relaxed and very comfortable, head tucked against Hunk’s shoulder.  “Thank you,” he murmured to him.

“For what?” Hunk replied, taking his eyes away from where Lance was in the process of reenacting an entire battle by himself using only enthusiastic arm gestures and blaster sound effects.

Shiro smiled back.  “For including me.  And for trying to soothe my vanity.”

Nodding, Hunk wound his arms around Shiro’s waist, holding him more securely.  It made heat bloom through Shiro and he shivered from the sensation.

Shiro was slowly starting to realize he might still be slightly touch-starved.  Which was strange, given how much time the other paladins spent hanging off of him, but it was rarely so prolonged.

“It’s important to you,” Hunk replied.  “It’s not like it gets in the way or something, but you kept up your haircut the whole time you were in captivity.  And Matt used to tell that story about the time you got him to help you cut your hair on the Daedelus.”

Oh, jeez.  Shiro groaned and closed his eyes, hiding his face into Hunk’s neck.  “Of course he did.”

“You nearly knocked a tooth loose when you headbutted him, you think he’d keep that to himself?”

Of course not.  It certainly hadn’t been one of Shiro’s shining moments.  “No, I don’t.”

Hunk smiled.  “Exactly.  But, see?  You went through all that effort and nearly gave Matt a very different smile because you care how you present to other people.  So I figured you’d like to know that the Galra didn’t take that from you.”

That hit home.

Shiro swallowed hard, heat blooming behind his cheeks and eyes.  “Oh.  Thank you.”

“No problem.”  Hunk continued to hold him, resting his chin on Shiro’s shoulder.  “Okay, shh, this is the best part.”

They both watched as Lance pantomimed laser fire, with Pidge speaking up to try and correct his noises.  It took Shiro a moment to realize it was from their discussion of appropriate sound effects way back when they first started.  “I’m glad to see that joke lived.”

“Of course,” Hunk replied fondly.  “You’ll all learn one of these days that I’m obviously correct.”

“Hunk, yours sounded like fireworks, not laser fire.”

“And yours were bullets, so I don’t want to hear it from you.”

Shiro grinned.  “You know what?  Fair enough.  Since we’re both wrong, I say we team up to take Lance and Pidge down more effectively.”

Laughing, Hunk squeezed him tighter.  “You’re absolutely right.  We definitely should.”  He gave Shiro a warm, fond look.  “Feeling a little better?  I know it’s a hard adjustment.”

Shiro sighed. “The alcohol helps.  And this.” He gestured to where he was still settled in Hunk’s lap.  “This is common, now?”

“Well, not uncommon.  Mostly during moments like this.  Pidge and Lance, usually.  Keith doesn’t like it.”

That figured.  Shiro glanced over at Keith, who was watching Lance and Pidge’s playful argument with a warm, fond look.  “Nah, he wouldn’t, but I’m sure he appreciated the thought.”

“That’s exactly what he said,” Hunk replied.  “See?  You still know us.”

“Yeah, I do.”  Shiro smiled at Hunk and settled against him, letting the warmth of him and of the alcohol make him loose and comfortable.  “Maybe even better, now.”

“You’ll catch up,” Hunk replied easily.  “We’ll help however we can.  We want you here with us and happy, you know.”

Shiro closed his eyes and smiled.  “Yeah.  I do know.”

It wasn’t what he’d left or what Shiro had wanted.

But this was still a room full of people that Shiro loved and who loved him back.

Tonight that was all he needed.

[comicteaparty]

April 11th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party chat that occurred on April 11th, 2019, from 5PM - 7PM PDT.  The chat focused on Kitty Kitty Bang Bang by Moe.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB START!

Good evening, everyone~! This week’s Thursday Book Club is officially beginning! Today we are discussing Kitty Kitty Bang Bang by Moe~! (https://tapas.io/series/kkbbcomic)

Remember that Thursday discussions are completely freeform! However, every 30 minutes I will drop in OPTIONAL discussion questions in case you’d like a bit of a prompt. If you miss out on one of these prompts, you can find them pinned for the chat’s duration. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is fun and respectfully appreciating the comic. All that said, let’s begin!

QUESTION 1. What is your favorite scene in the comic so far and why?

Superjustinbros

Hello!

RebelVampire

hey super~!

Superjustinbros

Coming in and I'd like to give a big shoutout to that header image on the comic's Tapas(edited)

I dunno, I thought it looked badass

RebelVampire

it is a nice header image. although what sells it for me is the logo design. its a really nice logo.

for favorite scene, hmm. ya know, i cant not pick it. the convention scene. that scene legit almost made me cry at how touching it is both with its message about how anyone can cosplay whatever they want regardless of how they look. not to mention the themes of reaching out to others. all wrapped in a nice package of no dialogue so that its the emotions at the center forefront.

Superjustinbros

Yeah.

Also this guy's hair.

RebelVampire

i like his hair and his smile combination. like both scream cocky little shit design wise and i love it cause he kind of is a cocky little shit. XD

Superjustinbros

Oh yes XD

Cocky little shits are my favorite

RebelVampire

another scene i want to show some appreciation too is the scene where we first meet kit's mom. like, i knew it was coming from the chapter title. but i enjoyed the twist it was her step-mom and theres a deeper issue going on. it turned what was easy to guess to something surprising again just by how the story plays out the reveal

Superjustinbros

https://tapas.io/episode/1370747 This is a pretty good page.

Hm, Doug McClure sounds a awful lot like this chap. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUg6e072vgA

RebelVampire

anything in particular you like about it super?

Superjustinbros

The last two panels.

And the followup

https://tapas.io/episode/1371714

dat backside

RebelVampire

i really love the back shot composition. like what a great way to show overwhelming odds

mathtans

Evening. Made it as far as the start of the Bully arc, so late 2018.

Superjustinbros

Yeah. Also ello

I love also how Doug's got like, a million pouches on his belt

I dunno it's a detial I like

mathtans

Yeah, the convention stuff was good. Some of those real-life scenarios that made you want to shake people are good when done right.

Superjustinbros

Yes

mathtans

I'm not sure if I have a big favourite moment, but I have some little ones. Like when that "pinball wizard" thing played as Kit was taking on that nozzle in the gaming store, and it turned out it was the coworker.

The guy at the school in the knight suit, who had the fascination with corndogs. Weird background detail, added some humour to an otherwise tense scene.

RebelVampire

i love the corndog knight

i want a spin-off comic of just them

cause i want to know about them

why are they a knight

why corndogs

so many questions

mathtans

Heh. Made me think of that other bounty hunter, pointy-ears, who also couldn't speak.

Also, did not expect the female reveal there.

And I liked how the scientist flipped out over his research having the higher bounty than himself. Like, that trumped everything else he was in the process of dealing with and he went on a rampage. Amusing.

RebelVampire

yeah the scientists in general was fairly hilarious in everything he tried to prioritize. although i enjoyed that at the end of the mission the crystal wound of broken anyway. cause i felt it was fitting given everything it had been through

mathtans

I thought it was really clever how the rock was used to blind the scientist. Kitty is this weird mix of hyper competent (like when she used the snack habits of that one guy to track him down) and absent-minded (like when she then didn't make a grab for the compound).

I'm not saying that's unrealistic or anything, I can totally see it.

Very "living in the moment" with a dash of forward thinking.

RebelVampire

nah i agree shes a really interesting character. like at first i wasnt sure id like her but some of her plans have been pretty spot. and to be fair a lot of the absent-minded ness you could write off as it her being a kid. so of course shes expected to be a kid and not always think through with her actions.

a more comedic moment i liked was at the end of Mor where Kit and Mary both have to stand there awkwardly making their false apologies to the whole school. this page especially cracks me up just cause of the sheer height diff between the two. i think that makes it extra hilarious https://tapas.io/episode/1215017

mathtans

It's true. And I'm still wrapping my head around the kid thing.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 2. One of the comic’s focuses and highlights are the action sequences found within. Of the characters Kit has pursued so far in her bounties, which has been your favorite? Why is that? Likewise, which bounty did you think had the best fight choreography? What do you specifically think makes the choreography the best one? Do you think we’ll see any of the criminal characters again? If so, what could that mean for Kit? Considering many of the villains parody stereotypes and similar things, what other sorts of characters do you think or hope we might see? Lastly, do you believe Kit will encounter more of her professional rivals? If so, what do you think will happen?

its okay i had my struggles wrapping my head around but the convention scene really cemented it for me for some reason. but that might just be personal association of conventions being largely for the youth.

mathtans

Incidentally, I wondered initially about the use of "der"... and then when Kitty used the term "Hoser" I thought she was Canadian. That proved incorrect, what with the Norwegian thing.

Ahh... yeah, I went to a certain convention for 20 years straight soooo...

Like, I want to ship, but it feels wrong. Normally if they're young I just think of it as cute, or picture them as older, and neither of those things kinda work here.

I wonder how big Kitty's gonna get when she's 20.

RebelVampire

i didnt start going to conventions till i was an adult but at the same time my experiences is that theyre largely dominated by the youth. not to say there arent older adults there. but the youth are the ones always around drawing attention to themselves being loud. but i digress, just wanted to give context for why it worked for me

mathtans

That's fair.

RebelVampire

tbh i just assumed she was full grown. cause i was actually only an inch or two shorter than my full height at 13 cause i sprouted up early

mathtans

As to the question of the moment, I admit I'm not huge on seeing action and choreography, tending to be bigger on characters anyway. Which is probably why that scientist one sticks out so much, since we got his whole backstory and everything.

I am gonna be in for such a shock when my little one grows up, aren't I.

That short gangster guy who stole the boat might return. It was implied.

RebelVampire

and i legit cant imagine kit taller cause she literally towers over everyone. although is she still shorter than her dad? cause if she is, shell probably be his height.

mathtans

I think she is. I'm equally bad at noticing that sort of thing.

RebelVampire

id have to look again just cause it wasnt something i was looking for and her dad was only in so many scenes XD

im torn on my answer to this question of the moment. i think i agree i like the scientist the best cause he got a lot of backstory. not to mention when kit was doing their dialogue for them from the roof i was like "nah shes gotta be exaggerating" then we meet the scientist and nope, he really is just that arrogant and she was spot on. so overally he was definitely the most entertaining

but for fight choreography, im picking the first bounty with the spin off kool aid man. i really enjoyed the use of the environment and just the sheer level of destruction that was visited upon that grocery store

mathtans

She knows her business. I wonder how long she's been at it.

Oh yeah, almost forgot about that one. I liked when Kitty roped the random customer.

RebelVampire

i liked when after the fight ended, the old lady asked if the employee who was buried under rubble basically could get her a new box

MoeAlmighty

And that was most difficult one to come up with

mathtans

The one with the orcs going after cows was also good, not for the fight (which I think was offscreen) but world building. Until then it was sort of, like, what's reality here anyway.

Oh, hello creator.

MoeAlmighty

Hello there all ^^\

mathtans

Rebel: That was a good scene for setting the tone.

Superjustinbros

Hello Moe!

MoeAlmighty

Thank you. It's always a challenge to come up with a beginning for a series.

Superjustinbros

Thanks for this cool comic of yours.

MoeAlmighty

Howdey

Thanks

Superjustinbros

No probs

And yeah all this talk about conventions is reminding me of all the ones I've been going to lately. Comic focused ones and hugely commercial conventions are easily the most populated-by-youth ones.

mathtans

"Annie" con was a clever name.

MoeAlmighty

It was a little play on words. I always like to make those little puns when I can(edited)

RebelVampire

i did enjoy the orcs with the cows. probably just cause of the extreme accent going on in that dialogue. but i also just love this concept that someone would think clearly humans are only good cause they drink milk. like someone really watched those got milk commercials too much.

mathtans

I very much approve of puns. Also Senshi Kitty.

The head orc was milking his time in the spotlight.

Superjustinbros

Puns are always good

RebelVampire

i do agree with you math that i got the impression well see the gangster who got away from the scientist again at some point. what it means for kit? i could see her being extra determined to catch him since he got away last time. but then maybe thats when well see buff elf chick again who is out for revenge.

MoeAlmighty

Defintely. Orcs have always been my favorite fantasy race to play around with

mathtans

biab

RebelVampire

i do appreciate orcs getting some love in a way cause in my experience theyre really underutilized in a lot of fantasy settings. can find elves everywhere, but nobody wants the orcs.

MoeAlmighty

Well nothing is off the table.^^

Orcs have always been treated as the bad guy or the henchman merely due to their monsterous appearence.

RebelVampire

speaking of not elves, i really like that this guy turned out to be the real villain from bully bully https://tapas.io/episode/1348464. partly cause it was a good twist that it was a bully victim becoming the bully. since that is very true to life. but also, selfishly, i noticed this character immediately in the background one time and i was like "ah man what an interesting looking side chara too bad well never learn about him" and then we learned about him.

QUESTION 3. Even in Kit’s dynamic world, she still has some unique mysteries surrounding her. Why do you think Kit is the only female in her family to receive Freyja’s blessing/curse, especially after it’s been so long it’s almost a myth? What do you think the story is behind Kit’s rage modes that seem to take over when she gets mad? What do you think happened to Kit’s mother, and why is Kit so sensitive about the subject of her mother in general? Additionally, why did Mary calling her mother a whore set her off in particular? Lastly, how do you think Kit got involved with being a Bounty Killer? Why do you think her family lets her pursue the career given how dangerous it all is?

MoeAlmighty

Oh yeah the Goblin. I thought it was a perfect opprotunity to not just introduce the Goblins , but I was also playing around with laying out clues in plain site for the reader to notice.

Superjustinbros

That's smart thinking/writing

MoeAlmighty

There are plans for future stories that are straight up mysteries Kit will have to sovle.

RebelVampire

that sounds exciting and like a good challenge for her character too.

in regards to the current question, i want to dissect the fact that kit's specific phrasing about her mother was that mary hadnt even cared who her mother was as a person. and to a degree, i kind of feel like it was projecting that set her off. that kit herself didnt know a whole lot about her mother. so it might not be so much that her mom was called a whore that did it, but that someone would make a bold claim about her mother when kit herself didnt even know her that well and has since lost the chance to get ot know her. but thats just me theorizing.

mathtans

Back, little one's asleep in the crib again. For now.

MoeAlmighty

Mm hm, It would show that Bounty Killers in the world aren't used for just nabbing a bad guy with a hefty sum on their head. Sometimes folks need someone to investigate with the police's involvement and not ask any questions

mathtans

Was Kitty maybe given up for adoption? (Is that what makes her worthy of the cat ears?)

The police were handy against the scientist too, for a little while.

Superjustinbros

That's a good way of expanding upon bounty hunters.

RebelVampire

i dont think given up for adoption fits cause mor said shes the step mom which implies kit's father is her biological dad. that and there is one pic where the dad is with the mom

mathtans

Oh, right. We did see her biological mom in that holiday special though, didn't we? And Kitty must remember enough to have taken up violin playing (on the roof). So... yeah I dunno.

RebelVampire

thats interesting to know that the bounties arent just for nabbing bad guys. although makes me wonder what kit is going to do when shes told to do something shady and just not ask questions

mathtans

Or was that not the biological mom, was that a younger Dar?

I can't see Kit not asking questions.

RebelVampire

that was her step-mom. her bio mom we only see briefly in a pic

https://tapas.io/episode/1279607

mathtans

I wasn't sure if it was her dad remembering another time in that scene though. Like, the previous stuff was a memory.

(I also don't get enough sleep these days.)

RebelVampire

i could see how youd get that interpretation but pretty sure it was the step-mom and the bio mom was just in the picture

MoeAlmighty

There are a lot of things I don't want to say because of spoilers and I'll be answering those kind of questions down the road. But to answer the question pretaining to Mary, they do indeed have some History as hinted.

mathtans

Mary is actually the younger cousin of the short boat-stealing gangster.

It's why her dad went into law.

MoeAlmighty

heh. that is a pretty interesting theory.

mathtans

(I need to have at least one insane theory and one ship per comic chat. I think it's in my contract.)

RebelVampire

puns are also in your contract math. although you already fulfilled that one.

mary's dad kind of spooks me. like hes a really domineering presence and idk if i want to believe hes good or bad.

MoeAlmighty

Truth is, when I created Mary, she was developed as just the rich girl who presented herself as Ms. Perfect while also having the spoiled brat persona as well

Superjustinbros

lol

mathtans

Oh right. Well, those come naturally. I wonder if her dad is part orc.

Superjustinbros

That's one of many ways to describe that

MoeAlmighty

Best way to describe him is that he's a Lawyer... a very wealthy lawyer.

Oh no, he's part Dutch lol

mathtans

Incidentally, I kind of like that Kit's got both cat ears and human ears, it tends to be how I draw my characters too (even if mine are just headbands). But it does make me wonder how the curse might have rewired her brain to deal with the extra input.

Oooh, a flying dutch man.

RebelVampire

all the dads just drink lots of milk

Superjustinbros

What about Doug.

RebelVampire

to be fair if kit's cat ears are more sensitive than her human ones the extra input probably doesnt matter cause one would hear it better than the other anyway. at worst i imagine things just sound even louder XD

mathtans

It's that special beer.

Maybe it's partly why Kat's so on edge at times.

Superjustinbros

mm, beer

Wait, what kind of beer we talkin

MoeAlmighty

It's kind of a mix bag with it comes to her ears. Internally they do connect to her regular ears and she can hear through them, but only if she concentrates. Mostly they just act like a short range radar or a sixth sense. Something like spidey's spider sense.

Ah yes, I've notice some folks like our esteem adventurer. Others not so much

RebelVampire

QUESTION 4. Besides the action, there is still a lot of slice-of-life material to be had in the comic as well. Do you think Kit will eventually tell Bia about her career? How do you think Bia will react to finding out about it? What challenges do you foresee awaiting Bia and Kit as their relationship continues to develop and secrets reveal themselves? Further, how do you see Kit balancing her school life in general with her job? Will she manage to maintain her grades and everything, or will things prove tougher than she expects? In terms of Kit’s regular life, what things are you hoping to see be explored in how she lives her day-to-day life? Lastly, are there any themes (like bullying) that caught your eye from the slice-of-life segments? What about them did you enjoy?

mathtans

It's cool that youv'e thought about that.

Honestly, the bounty-hunters clashing, while not necessarily slice-of-life, felt realistic and added depth to the idea of the job. Also revealed how their methods are non-lethal. And was the first ship I considered.

MoeAlmighty

Ah yes, I had a lot of folks doing a double take when I revealed her age.

RebelVampire

unrelated to the current question, i really hope we get to see more bounty killers in the story just cause they cant all work out as well as buff elf chick. also id really like to get a feel for the age range cause its concerning the gov was like "nah a 13 year old bounty killer? thats fine"

mathtans

That's a good point. Did she register under an assumed name?

Superjustinbros

Seconding Rebel.

MoeAlmighty

Well due to Kit's size, she may or may not of lied about her age when she took the job

mathtans

Also, I feel like the construction job field gets a lot of work in this universe. We only see Kitty's exploits but there have to be other incidents in the world as well.

Actually, magicians too must be a thing. And mimes.

Did not expect the mimes.

MoeAlmighty

Their are plans to explore other parts of world. One in particular is the Bounty Pick Up units sent to pick up the bounties and make out the reports.

Yes, beware the mimes ^^

I will be exploring a lot more of the Magis and how the magic works as well.

mathtans

Silent but deadly.

MoeAlmighty

very

mathtans

That short magic comic did a good job, I thought.

And I liked the money van guy critiquing the pun.

MoeAlmighty

Hm Hm, well not everything can be a homerun for our little cat girl

RebelVampire

yeah i really liked the short magic comic. cause it was funny and really did some good world-building

i also loved the cowboy bank robber

just cause he was a cowboy

and that was ridiculous

mathtans

Oh yeah, forgot about him.

I wonder how Kitty practices her quick draws.

Where do they lock these guys up, anyway? Regular jails seem like they wouldn't be sufficient.

MoeAlmighty

Yes, you don't see that many cowboys these days. But it was a perfect nod for one of the inspirations of the comic

Superjustinbros

Cowboys are fun.

MoeAlmighty

Um, they go to regular prison and go through the same process as the law provides^^

Superjustinbros

Always love one with an appealing design when one shows up.

MoeAlmighty

Very much so

RebelVampire

what sort of lawyer is mary's dad?

mathtans

How do you lock up an orc so that he doesn't just bend the bars?

MoeAlmighty

He's a defense lawyer

mathtans

He lawyers der fence.

RebelVampire

ah so i can say maybe mary's dad defends all these criminals kit tries to send to jail.

MoeAlmighty

Booooo

It's a possibility and her dad is very much against the Bounty Killer and the Bounty Board in general

Superjustinbros

ooh, is that so(edited)

mathtans

Circling back to Bia, it'd be amusing if someone in her family was also a bounty hunter. Kitty admits it and she's like, "oh, okay, I can see how you'd be good at that too".

RebelVampire

just to talk a bit about the current question, i do feel its inevitable kit has to tell bia about her job. cause i mean...kit isnt the most undestructive. just takes one time of showing up burnt to a crisp to school to give it away. but i think bia is gonna take it better than kit thinks shell take it. cause tbf, if i was bia i would not be surprised.

tbf i kind of agree with mary's dad. they might be catching criminals, but holy shit that property damage

mathtans

I feel like Bia might find out not through Kit though. Like maybe even via Kit's brother. Which could strain the relationship.(edited)

RebelVampire

especially the property damage caused by the scientist

cause even if they have the money to fix it, it still takes time

mathtans

Or magic.

MoeAlmighty

Bia finding out Kit is a Bounty Killer is inevitable, and it might happen happen sooner than you think

RebelVampire

it could strain their relationship too. though for some reason i feel for bia itd be more about the age thing than the danger thing if that makes sense. cause the career suits kit. just maybe not when kit is still 13, in school, and all that

mathtans

'Cept her dad is okay with it.

I feel like I'd totally be that dad by the way. Who makes concessions. Then ends up in trouble with mom too.

MoeAlmighty

It is going to a very unique exploring the relationship Kit and Bia have. In many ways, Bia will act more like the straight man of the relationship

Well Edward looks at it more like she's hunting game. expect the part of gutting it and cleaning it for food^^

RebelVampire

i just want to say i really love kit's dad and i hope we get to see him more. he seems just so utterly likeable. like a gentle giant

mathtans

Just want to give a shout-out to the school nun badass. Possibly like the opposite to dad.

MoeAlmighty

He is indeed^^

Superjustinbros

Since the CTP is wrapping up in a bit, I'd like to wish @MoeAlmighty the best of luck with Kitty Kitty Bang Bang, it's got a great artstyle, story, and some good humor.

mathtans

Oh right, pretty good stuff done with only black and white too.

MoeAlmighty

Yes, Beatrice is indeed a beast^^

Thank you so much^^

Superjustinbros

You're welcome! ^^

RebelVampire

yeah i loved the nun. especially her epic entrance and this page https://tapas.io/episode/1188530

like everything about that page is perfect

"Keeper of the Lunch Period"

MoeAlmighty

God help the guilty

mathtans

Indeed.

Probably a bumper sticker on her car.

MoeAlmighty

I'm sure everyone here remembers that one teacher that kept everyone in check at lunch period

best bumper sticker ever

mathtans

Kitty has some nice exclamations too.

Superjustinbros

lol

Anyways, cya till next time, and thanks for dropping by @MoeAlmighty

^^

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB END!

Sadly, this wraps up this week’s Thursday Book Club chat for now. Thank you so much to everyone for reading and joining us! We want to give a special thank you to Moe, as well, for making Kitty Kitty Bang Bang. If you liked the comic, make sure to support Moe’s efforts however you’re able to~!

Read and Comment: https://tapas.io/series/kkbbcomic

Moe’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/MoeAlmighty

Moe’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/theMoeAlmighty

[nowonderyouhavedemons]

All evens!

WOW I’m getting to this so fucking late I’m sorry I forgot to do this my entire day off so now I’m doing this at like midnight and I’ll post it tomorrow afternoon or something during my break

also thank you Allie once again for letting me ramble about my dumb self~

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

Maybe a 3 or so? I think it depends on if I’m familiar with the environment I’m in or not, and if the darkness is something planned. I don’t mind walking around my home in the dark in the middle of the night, but I’d be less okay with the dark if it was due to a blackout at home.

Probably shoots up to 4 or 5 when I’m in unfamiliar places. This includes haunted houses in amusement parks. I’m a huge baby I just try to hide it

4. What is your favorite word?

God, there’s so many good ones. I really like the word “dawn”. “Smorgasboard” is good too. Also “succinct” and “bracket.” Those words just feel fun to say for me!

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

“god why does my facial hair grow back so fast?”

it doesn’t really, but I like being clean shaven and I swear it grows to the point of being noticeable within 3 - 4 days and it’s really annoying.

8. What do you label yourself as?

A bunch of stuff, really! Male, straight, raver, diabetic, dropout, all that sort of stuff. Depends on the context we’re talking about too because this question feels super broad.

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

I think I was in bed getting comfy to go to sleep. I got called into work that day and I was exhausted when I got home. Basically ate some food and watching a single youtube video and went to sleep.

12. Who told you they loved you last?

Think it was my friend/coworker actually. Pretty sure she was playfully jabbing at me and roasting me. I agreed with her (because I either completely agree unless I have something wittier to reply with) and I think she was all “Ahhh, you know I love you.”

Having a good relationship with your coworkers is nice~

14. What is your current desktop picture?

Right now, it’s the Dishonored 2 main screen! I actually use Wallpaper Engine from Steam which lets you use videos and animated loops as desktop wallpapers, so I have about 50+ on rotation right now that get switched out every hour.

16. The last song you listened to?

CA$H by Barely Alive!

MAKE THE SPEAKERS *VIIIIIBbBRrAaAaAaTtEe*

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

The guy who was with his girlfriend as one of my customers yesterday when I got called in.

Listen asshole, the first thing I told you when you came up other than my “hi” was that we were out of slushies. We couldn’t make slushies. We refilled all the mix. What do you do? Ask me “what about the blue raspberry?”

“No sir, I apologize, but we’re out of slushies.”

“What about the lemonade?”

“Sir, like I just said, we’re out of slushie mix.”

“So you’re completely out of slushies?”

“Yes sir, that’s what I just said.”

and then when I gave you your change, you YANKED the bill out of my hand.

Like listen you fucking ignorant shit, you can’t be mad at me after I tried being polite multiple times and warned you multiple times and then get frustrated with you because you kept asking inane stupid fucking questions holding up my line of 20 OTHER CUSTOMERS

I hope that guy tripped later on that day and ate shit. God that pissed me off.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

Shit. I honestly hate my body in general. I guess my eyes can be pretty nice sometimes, but the light has to be hitting me in the right way. My eys are dark brown so you can’t really see a whole lot. I’ve always wished I had a different eye colour.

That, and I’m pretty tall for a Filipino dude, I think. Taller ones are growing up in Toronto now, but a lot that I see still are like 5′6″ or shorter. Being 5′8″ ain’t too bad.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

Not????? really???? I think? Like really anything that I could be remotely good at is already something I share publicly (which would be making music really but I haven’t even been doing that.)

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Honestly, it’d just be the cold cut combo sandwich setup from Subway I always get except also with ham and a shit ton of bacon added, really. I get it cheese and toasted with Italians Herbs and Cheese, lettuce, tomato, red onions, cucumbers, mayo, and chipotle sauce.

I’m a simple man. The greatest sandwiches I ever have are from Subway because I never have sandwiches otherwise.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

fucking nowhere I have work dude and I get no shifts during tourist off-season I’m working as much as I can while I can

for the sake of funsies, and I know it’d sound boring, but I’d either pick California/Los Angeles or Florida. I’m not in a rush to go overseas because I feel that’d require a lot more planning and possibly learning phrases in a new language. I have family in California and friends in Florida so I wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, the Canadian dollar is weak as shit compared to the USD so I could buy things on the cheap there, and it wouldn’t be as huge of a culture shock while still being new to me (because I barely explored California with my family the one time I went because we did VERY tourist-y things.)

Also portions. I fucking inhale food, dude. Give me those US portions for meals CHEAPER than here in Canada, holy god.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

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No littering. Fuck y’all, if I’m creating my own society, I’m not letting SAVAGES in that don’t know how to clean up after themselves and throw things out properly. We’re keeping it clean here.

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

It’s gotta be my laptop just because it’s the most expensive thing I own that I deeply care about. I could eventually afford another PS4, I don’t need a glamorous TV or anything, and I only upgraded to the iPhone 6 because my mom got a deal on it for $100. I could use that as an excuse to switch to Android.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

To avoid a cop-out and using California as an answer AGAIN, I think I’d really like a place in the Philippines. Not deep inner city though. Like, further away in the quieter cramped backalley houses like the one one of my aunts has there. I don’t want to be completely out in the country either.

I’d want to be able to get into the inner city relatively easily, and I want to really feel in tune with the background country more!

34. What was your last dream about?

Oh god, what was the last dream I even remember? I get so bad at remembering them now. OH NOW I REMEMBER PART OF ONE. I forgot most of it but I know at some point I ended up in the back of a large sorta hippie van? Like the back seats were removed and the back was all lined up tons of nice rugs and blankets and decorations. There were a few of my college classmates lying there with me and I was cuddling with one of them. That was a nice part of the dream I remember.

I don’t have dramatic or weird dreams. A lot of my dreams are just stuff like this. I’m really fucking romantically lonely I want physical intimacy ugggggggggggggggggh

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

Oh yeah, at least three times. I already have to visit a hospital fairly frequently for my diabetes. First time was when I was just diagnosed with T1 Diabetes, and the second and third times were when I was in danger of DKA because I wasn’t taking my insulin. Second time was worse than the third. My nurses weren’t happy both times though.

38. What is the color of your socks?

I’m not wearing socks right now! I don’t wear socks at home unless I find it cold.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

Sunsets, since I’m not a morning person. Both are pretty though!

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

Is this that newfangled Sportsball I always hear about? I’m not hip with the times yo, sorry.

No seriously I really don’t care about sports and the only ones I MIGHT care a tiny bit about are my local ones like the Blue Jays and Raptors, and that’s just out of a sense of Canadian/Torontonian pride more than anything.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

lol whoops I dropped out

dream goal is still to be a music producer and DJ. If that doesn’t end up panning out, I’d still like to go into something involving music or audio engineering. Sound mixing for TV/movies maybe? Doing front-of-house mixing for concerts and raves would be cool too.

46. Are you reliable?

I like to think so, but I know I slip up a lot sometimes.

48. Do you hold grudges?

To be honest, yeah, I still do. I can be pretty fucking bitter about things from my past.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

Not the MOST, but this just happened a couple weeks ago (and it wasn’t really a conversation but whatever)

A woman came up to me while I was on cash wanting to buy something. She was holding a Canadian $20 in her hand. She approaches me, looks at her bill confused, looks up at me again, and asks “Do you guys accept cash?”

Like???????????? nothing has ever taken me that far aback before????? like I don’t????? what??? the fuck like miss??????? miss we are an establishment that provides goods for currency??????????????? damn I HOPE we accept cash at this physical shop because we’d probably come across some issues with our customers

This happened weeks ago and I still bring it up to people. It still bewilders the fuck out of me. What would possess people to think a physical store would not accept cash? What has troubled you in the past that would lead you to think that this cashier and this till you walked up to would ONLY accept debit/credit cards? Holy fuck.

52. How long could you go without talking?

To another person physically? A good while, I think. Probably a week, two weeks tops. I’ve stayed inside my apartment for a week straight before and I swear I barely talked to my mom too.

If talking to myself counts, than maybe a couple hours. Maybe. I talk and make comments to/by myself a lot.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

God no. I’d probably be trash at baking stuff. I’m surprised I can manage some stuff on the stovetop.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Butter/margarine for the most part. I’m a simple person. I could say peanut butter and jelly too, but it’s actually been over a year or so since I’ve had a PB&J.

58. What would be you dream car?

One that worked, was fairly stable, and had a damn good audio system.

I’m not really a car person, I really wouldn’t give too much of a shit what the car was. Maybe not a pick-up truck or a mini-van though, and that’s really it.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

Not in the stereotypical image of “aliens”, but I definitely believe that the universe is too fucking huge and operates on too massive a scale for there to not be any type of intelligent life somewhere else at SOME place.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

Either A or M. A’s probably my favourite vowel, and for some reason “LMNOP” is my favourite part of the classic Alphabet song, and M is the letter I like the best out of that section.

64. What do you think about babies?

Babies can be super cute and adorable sometimes! Other times though? Devil spawn. They can be double-edged swords sometimes.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: “Everything I Do Has the Smell of Digital”: Lorna Mills on Her Art

Lorna Mills, “Mountain Light/Time” (2016), animated GIF, installation at Times Square, New York City (all images courtesy Lorna Mills)

Lorna Mills is a Canadian artist whose videos and screen installations obsessively mine internet culture and reflect contemporary anxiety. Her recent collaborative project Ways of Something presents a remake-as-critique of the late John Berger’s Ways of Seeing, a text and 1972 BBC television series that represented a larger shift toward feminist perspectives of art history based in material, economic, and cultural concerns. For Mills’s project, over 100 artists were invited to supplement one-minute segments of Berger’s original audio and subtitles with their own visuals. The resulting piece was most recently shown in New York as part of the Whitney Museum exhibition of video work, Dreamlands: Immersive Cinema and Art, 1905–2016.

This year, Mills will be part of Transfer Download, a survey of immersive multi-channel video installations by contemporary artists, curated by Kelani Nichole, which is traveling to HeK in Basel and Chronus Art Center in Shanghai. She also just released a new digital work this month via Bcc:, a subscription-based platform curated by Decoy Magazine that commissions artists to create e-mail-based pieces.

Scrolling through Mills’s website (appropriately named “LornaMillsImageDump”) is a bit like experiencing a warped and nauseating version of the internet or a frantic Tumblr feed — because much of Mills’s work uses GIFs and animations, there is motion everywhere on the screen, and one piece tends to bleed into another. The resulting sense of immediacy and chaos is disturbing, compelling, and at times amusing. A bulldog in a baby swing happily prepares to break out of its pixelated confines; a video trip around a mountainside invites the viewer’s stomach to drop. I find myself reacting physically to what is explicitly (and forcefully) internet site-specific. To explore further some of the themes and images that permeate this oeuvre, I spoke with Mills about image circulation, digital ownership, and the connections between digital and physical bodies.

*   *   *

Kevin Heckart, Ways of Something, episode two, minute one

Mira Dayal: You started the Ways of Something series in 2014 as a largely collaborative project in which artists contributed video to accompany John Berger’s original soundtrack and subtitles. How has your work on the series affected your own practice? Which contributions most surprised you in their reinterpretations of the text?

Lorna Mills: There really wasn’t any big effect on my own work, other than considering a longer timeline for an animated GIF collage. That was only because I had a good reason to build up the collage within a space of 60 seconds rather than presenting all the elements simultaneously, as I generally do.

I was surprised by most of the contributions, but the most unexpected minute was in episode three from Evan Roth, who used footage from a Pirate Bay press conference while Berger spoke about a world without scarcity that contradicts the history of private property.

MD: I was struck in reviews of Dreamlands by the emphasis on distraction in a show about immersion, particularly given the premise of Ways of Something — is there a similar tension in your work when you describe it as “obsessive?”

LM: Yes, definitely. I’ve always had a strong sense of focus, but at the price of eliminating most distractions when I’m concentrating. This makes me a very bad listener. Yet, paradoxically, I seem to work best with background noise — in fact I thrive on it. So much of my work involves isolating and dissociating elements from their original contexts, but leaving evidence that they are from elsewhere.

MD: Part of the nature of working with the internet as a medium is this obsession with distraction. Are there any divisions between your “working” time and distracted browsing? Does any part of your process involve working with physical materials?

LM: No, I always consider myself working when I’m online. And yes, I do work with physical materials. I do a lot of projects that involve scanning, altering, and printing.

MD: How, if at all, do you differentiate between the effects or purposes of those physical processes versus their digital counterparts?

LM: I actually don’t differentiate their purposes at all; everything I do has the smell of digital wafting into the air around it.

MD: Your “Mountain Light/Time” installation, which was featured in Time Square’s Midnight Moment art programming, seems to have been another critical installation for you. In that work, you noted that the timing of the GIF was calibrated to correspond with a deep inhalation and exhalation, a connection to the body that I see throughout most of your work. It’s a bit less frenzied here. Was this approach intended to counter or heighten the existing spectacle of lights and crowds at Times Square? It creates a nice mental image of a massive, disconnected crowd breathing together.

LM: I wish I could say that everything in that work was considered for the Times Square program, but it wasn’t. The work was originally created for the Moving Image Fair and was submitted to the Times Square Arts Alliance for their consideration. I’m glad of this, because I would have been tempted to make something more complex that might have been lost in the context of Times Square. The piece worked because it was simple and because of the yellow light that flooded the square when it played. That set it apart from all the visual cacophony of the electronic billboards.

Theodore Darst, Ways of Something, episode one, minute nine

MD: When your work is installed in a public space, there’s a sort of rupture from the intimacy of viewing the work on your own phone or laptop — a rupture that perhaps parallels that of physical work being transplanted from studio to gallery. You seem to have addressed this in your installations by swallowing the viewer in a space created through large-scale projections or dozens of individual screens. How do you begin to map out installations of your work? If you had unlimited space, time, and resources, what would be the ideal mode of installation?

LM: I am an unapologetic planner. I create renderings of the space and plot out the locations and scale as much as possible. I wouldn’t want unlimited space, time, and resources; it’s the limitations and context that make installations interesting. That said, I’d like to have more opportunities with large spaces. I enjoy spectacles now. I lacked the confidence to about think about larger scale in my earlier years as an artist, but now my ego has reached monstrous proportions and I am ready to fail in a big way.

MD: In your work in GIFs, you tend to remove the “backgrounds” of images to isolate a figure or subject, leading to some descriptions of the work as “deconstructive.” I think of these backgrounds as the contexts for the images, but in some ways the context has already been removed from any image found online. The visual effect is of a collage or landscape, but it’s slippery and decaying too. Why is this form of editing important to you?

LM: It’s a type of transparency, clearly pointing to the fact that the original images were made for other reasons, a way of being true to an image source.

MD: Right. You’ve also mentioned that Hito Steyerl’s “In Defense of the Poor Image” has been important to your work, and she questions even the relevance or motives of an “original” image, a single source. Every new version of an image is already poor, and the reference to its circulation is imbedded in its displacement. I was more wondering about that aspect of manipulating the image.

Lorna Mills, “Hand Job” (2014), animated GIF

LM: I actually do think the original image has some relevance (and I do puzzle over the motives of some of them). To re-purpose something for all my fine art needs should acknowledge that there was an original purpose or reason for the image, even if the motives are lost in translation. For example, there’s a huge conversation around cultural appropriation, so displacement is not a neutral term.

MD: As your images proliferate on the internet, they rejoin their internet counterparts and perhaps become part of incidental collaborations. Your website is a sort of archive of the images you have made. How do you think of ownership over your work?

LM: I wonder if any artists working online think so much about ownership. They tend to think more about credit for the things they have done.  Ownership also suggests some sort of control over the work, and we know that isn’t always possible online.

MD: So is the archive for you a form of accreditation?

LM: I suppose, but I don’t worry so much about it day to day. Transfer Gallery published a GIF catalogue of my work recently and I think that serves as a more official form of accreditation.

A lot of my artist friends get very angry, and rightly so, when their work is lifted without permission for commercial reasons that they don’t benefit from. Sadly the advertising industry has shown very little preference for self-felating kangaroos or turtles humping shoes in perpetuity, so I have been unable to sue anyone for big money.

Lorna Mills, At Play in the Fields of the Lord, 2015 solo exhibition at Transfer Gallery, Brooklyn, New York

MD: You’ve also worked on several projects that are explicitly collaborative. Your upcoming e-mail-based project for Bcc: at Decoy Magazine is “commissioned” by Bcc: subscribers, who will have exclusive access to the work. Have you circulated work in this mode before? Maybe you can tell me a little bit about the direction you’re taking for the Bcc: project.

LM: Yes, I have been invited to make work for exclusive e-mail distribution in the past. I don’t work with concepts — it’s just a filthy little GIF that we are sending out with Bcc:.

MD: Do those projects feel any different to you since they won’t be re-circulated in the same ways as your other work? It gives you a specific audience to think about.

LM: Only in the sense that since an e-mail is private I can perv out a bit more than I would on social media. I know that I enjoy all the filthy GIFs that my friends send me through private channels (but don’t send me dirty GIFs if you aren’t my friend).

MD: What else are you looking forward to?

LM: I’m showing a projection triptych at the Resonate Festival in Belgrade, curated by Nora O’Murchu, and delivering the closing keynote. I’ll probably talk about Nazi art because that’s what I always want to talk about, and the rest of the world seems to be catching up.

MD: Perhaps we can end with something you’ve read or seen recently that you’ve been thinking about as an influence for your work?

LM: I don’t read about art; I prefer to read about history. Sally McKay is the artist with the greatest influence on my work.

Lorna Mills’s project with Bcc: at Decoy Magazine continues through the month of March. The Resonate Festival in Belgrade, Serbia takes places April 19–22. 

The post “Everything I Do Has the Smell of Digital”: Lorna Mills on Her Art appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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