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tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years ago

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Rise Up

Chapter Twenty

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader | Word Count: 5021 Warnings: Swearing, fights, a little smexy.

Song: My Hero by The Foo Fighters

You woke with a start to the cadence of slow beeps monitoring your heart, the scent of antiseptic, and the mutter of Bruce as he puttered around. His heart was the only one you could find besides your own, and you turned your head his direction, sending a wave of pain through your face.

“Shit!” You grabbed your cheek only to have your ribs grind together. “Double shit!” you wheezed and caused Bruce to chuckle.

“Welcome back, your majesty.”

“Bite me, Bruce,” you grumbled, sitting up slowly.

His hands were quick to find your elbows and help you to the edge of the bed. “You’re healing at an advanced rate. According to all reports, your broken ribs are down to mere fractures, and your orbital bone and cheek are more like deep bone bruises than the cracks of shattered glass they were when you got on the jet.”

“How long have I been out? What happened? Steven!?” you gasped, trying to lurch from the bed and nearly landing on the floor.

“Hey! Hey! Easy! Everyone’s fine. Everyone’s safe. You don’t remember what happened?”

You shook your head slowly. “I remember Steven doing something foolish, me getting smacked into Tony, and smelling Steve’s blood. Then the ljå was dead, and the roof was coming down on us.”

“So… the part where you screamed filthy things and called upon your fallen sisters, Thor, Odin, and Loki to lend you their strength while your eyes glowed and you kicked that thing’s ass by ripping out its throat before riding its falling corpse to the ground… is a blank?”

“What?” You blinked at him. “How do you know what happened?”

“Tony records everything. Once Wanda let me know about… Elektra, the Hulk insisted we come home, much to Laura’s relief I’m sure. And, just so you know, the big guy? He’s none too happy about sitting this one out.”

You gave his cheek a gentle pat. “I’ll happily play around of dodge-and-roll with him once everything stops throbbing.”

There was a moment of silence before Bruce nodded. “He says he doesn’t know what that is, but he’ll take it.”

“It’s a game I played with my sisters. He’ll like it. Promise.”

He hummed softly before sitting beside you. “So? You gonna own up to what glowing eyes and memory loss mean? You didn’t seem surprised by it.”

“I’m surprised Heimdall didn’t spill the beans. Nosy guardian revealed all my other secrets,” you grumbled.

“He would only grin and mutter about you being a special sort of Valkyrie.”

With a sigh, you heaved yourself off the bed. “How long has it been?”

“The flight from China, plus a good six hours since you got home. Steve was here for most of it, but I kicked him out about twenty minutes ago. He stunk.” Bruce wrinkled up his nose.

“Well, he didn’t get very far. I can hear them all down the hall in a conference room, along with…” you cocked your head to the side, “Ross! What the fuck is he doing back here?”

“He showed up with an order for Daredevil. Of course, Murdock was with you, so we simply denied everything. I had Susan jump into his room, clear it out, and hide his stuff in the barn. Smitty managed to get a text out to Clint and Tony gave him an airlift out the back of the jet. He’s with Hemmi as far as I know.”

“Okay, so why is Ross still here?” you asked.

“Professional courtesy, he said. He insisted on staying until the Queen had recovered enough to assure him herself she would be fine, along with demanding to know what you all were doing in China. Heimdall has been taking every opportunity to sit and sharpen his sword while looming and glaring. Tony finds it hilarious. Natasha has joined in and started cleaning her weapons. Bucky, too. Sam’s just wandering around with a permanent scowl, and Vision is keeping an eye on Wanda. She’s been a little… twitchy since he arrived.”

“Well, I guess I should let him pay his respects so he can get the hell out of here.” You turned to leave only to stop and gasp when your ribs pulled.

“You want a shot of something before you do that?” he asked, amusement in his tone.

“Can you just numb it up? They’re going to be fine in another couple more hours, but breathing kind of hurts right now.”

He chuckled but nodded and moved away to his workstation. “This is something I’ve been working on for Steve and Bucky. It’s an analgesic cream, penetrates deep, and numbs nerve endings. It’s super-powered,” he muttered as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “On anyone else, it would cause them to lose all feeling and mobility of the area, but for you bunch, it should be right up your alley.”

“You speaking from experience there, Brucey-bear?” you teased as you pulled your leather shirt up out of the way for him to swipe the cream over your ribcage.

“Was like being injected with novocaine,” he grumbled.

You snickered, then sighed when the relief was nearly instant. “Oh… that’s good stuff.”

“It should absorb fully,” he continued to mutter as he applied a small dab to your cheek and began to smooth it out, “but I’d appreciate any feedback you may have — odd sensations, tingling, more than the normal level of numbness. You actually make a good test subject as you’ve used the other stuff for regular people and know what it should do. So… thanks for being my guinea pig!”

“I’ve been reduced to lab rat status. Great,” you huffed but smiled, more than willing to assist.

“And a damn fine job you’re doing.”

You gave him a swat in the arm as he pulled his gloves off. “I plan on having a shower. Long and hot. With much excessive soap use to get the grunge off and out of my hair. That going to be a problem?”

“Should all be absorbed in the next ten minutes, but if it does wash off, let me know.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” you said, leaning in to hug him.

He gave a stiff, one armed pat to your back. “Anytime.”

“What?” you asked, pulling away.

“Uh…” Easily felt heat filled his face. “You’re a little… under-underdressed.”

Your hands flew to your chest only to sigh. “What? I swim in less clothing than this!” The leather top was no different than a camisole to your mind.

“Things… um, gape!” he squeaked when you leaned toward him.

It made you laugh. “Alright, alright. You got an extra shirt I can borrow?”

He was quick to scramble over to a drawer in his desk and toss one your way. Dragging it over your head, you felt the slightly thicker coating on the front and grinned at him. “Which one is this?”

“Melting Rubix cube,” he grumbled. Bruce had a penchant for science shirts or nerd wear as Nat affectionately called it. “It’s my favourite, so try not to get it bloody.”

“No promises,” you called over your shoulder. You hadn’t punched Ross last time. This time you weren’t so sure you could contain yourself.

“(Y/N)!” he barked as he followed you down the hall. “C’mon!”

A soft giggle welled in your chest, but you bit it back as you sauntered onward. He jogged a few steps until he could match your pace. The halls were deathly quiet for what essentially amounted to midday. It was odd and made the hair on your neck rise with concern, but there were no shouted alarms, no quickened heartbeats, only silence and the occasional sharp intake of breath.

Steve’s heart remained steadfast, calm, if marginally faster than normal, and it was it you focused on. If he wasn’t reacting with spikes and jumps, then things should be okay.

Rounding the corner you and Bruce both came to a halt when you found the reason no one was working was that nearly every person in the compound had gathered outside the walls of the glassed-in conference room to watch the fight happening on the screen within.

Around the table were your teammates in their preferred positions. Ross stood, arms crossed and mouth gaping, staring at the screen you could hear but not see. A couple of his henchmen were gathered behind him, and two more stood just beyond the open door.

Slowly, you began to weave your way through the sea of people, shushing them when they made to speak, working forward until you could lean against the open doorway, crossing both arms and legs. The battle replayed in your mind with each grunt and scream, each shout of the ljå. Steve’s arrival on the field made you frown, but you continued to listen as it played out.

Bruce stood just behind your shoulder. His breathing and heart jumped around. His hands opened and closed into fists, and his muscles twitched in anticipation of each blow. Something in his scent grew wild and dangerous, and you knew the Hulk was very close to the surface, watching and longing to have been involved in the battle.

You felt bad for leaving the big green guy out, but it was for his protection. His and the worlds. A Hulk made ljå? You couldn’t even imagine it and reached back to grip Bruce’s hand. His tightened once before the fidgeting gradually slowed and eventually stopped.

The sound of your elbow connecting with Tony’s suit as you screamed in denial, drew your attention back to the screen, and though you still couldn’t see it, you could hear what happened next and worked to piece it together.

A drop, powerful and deep, sending earth exploding around you. Wind whistled, and in it, you heard the howl of the wolf and the cries of your ancestors as your power rose. The warcry of your father tore from your throat, violent and ragged, leaving you wondering how you hadn’t shredded your vocal cords with that single sound as you cursed and berated the ljå, swore and threatened it, and spewed vile curses you hadn’t even known you knew — things you would never have said in your right mind and flinched at the vulgarity. Sure you could swear like a sailor and had no qualms about bitching someone out, but that was downright nasty!

Then, that first initial step and the ground shook. Another and it tremored. A leap and the rocks seemed to creak and scream as the wave of your force blasted them.

Like Bruce had said, you called out to your sisters. To Tyra, Asta, Ingrid, Vigdís, and Brynhildr. You cried out, vowed vengeance and claimed retribution for your fallen friends. You swore it by Gungnir, Odin’s spear, that you would not stop until the last of the Sjeletyv were purged from existence. With Odin’s name you beseeched him to lend you his wisdom, to Thor you sought his strength, and from Loki, you begged his cunning. You would need all three.

The rest unfolded in much screaming, the breaking of armour, and the crashing of stone as the others tried to get Steve to retreat, only to have him refuse to leave you behind. They wouldn’t have left you there, that much you did know, only moved to the tunnel so as not to be slammed flat by the rocks falling from the ceiling, but his refusal both made your heart swell and pissed you off a little further.

He’d taken unnecessary risks — ones which could have ended far differently. As it was, you checked every one of the team, making damn sure no one had had their soul sipped before relaxing your vigil in time to hear your parting words and Vision’s translation.

A blush, pale and light, coated your cheeks at hearing yourself claim Steve like he was something you owned. You never wanted him to feel like that. That being sjelevenn was an act of possession. He wasn’t cattle to be branded and paraded around like a thing of value.

Bruce’s hand squeezed yours and let go, drawing you from your musings as you called out weakly for Steve and passed out.

“Well… that was fun. I’ve never gotten to see myself go full berserker before. Though I guess see is a relative turn,” you quipped as the volume on the video lowered.

It was like everyone’s head was on a swivel when they all jerked your direction at the same time. The two men on the door jumped guiltily for having not noticed your arrival, then took a wary step away as you straightened from the doorframe.

“My lady,” Heimdall murmured, first to his feet where he bowed deeply. “Asgard celebrates your victory. Odin has extended his congratulations through me.”

“Loki?” you asked, only to have him shake his head. “Mischief god makes mischief even when he’s not here,” you muttered. His continued incarceration with the Valkyrjur was beginning to annoy you. They were holding the son of Odin. Even though the Valkyrjur might not follow Odin for more than orders, the keeping of his son was uncalled for, rude, and a snub to the All-father’s face. Something else for you to deal with when you returned.

“Highness,” Ross muttered, turning to face you. He stiffened, then relaxed. “Are you… fit to be out of medical?”

“Not my blood… well, most of it’s not mine,” you said with a feral grin. The stiffness of your hair and pants made you wonder how bad you looked. Someone had gotten a lot of the blood off your face and hands, but some of it had crept through holes the ljå had shredded in your armour to coat your legs and stomach.

“Fine. Then how about you explain yourself?” he barked and pointed at the screen. “You claim you’re not inhuman, but that looked pretty damn inhuman to me!”

The feral smile never wavered as you stepped further into the room to stand at Tony’s back. “I’m not inhuman. What I am is a Valkyrie, a special kind of Valkyrie. One of a kind if you will.”

“You know the suspense is killing me,” Tony huffed, swivelling his chair so he could look up at you. “Just spill it! You stink like three kinds of nasty, and I’d like not to smell you anymore.”

“Rude,” you huffed but smirked down at him. “I’m a Berserker.”

“Like… run through battle naked and screaming Viking Berserker?” Clint asked, staring at you in shock.

“Did you see me get naked at any point in that battle, feathers?” you snarled at him and rolled your eyes. “Berserkers were a group of native Asgardians, the people of my father. When Asgard went to war, you wanted the Berserkers on your side. I’m sure after seeing that,” you flicked your hand at the screen, “you can make your own assumptions as to why that was. But the Berserkers throughout our history have always been male. There had never been a female born to the clan with the power… until me.”

“More secrets, (Y/N),” Steve muttered.

You turned cold and harsh eyes his direction. “I never kept this a secret. Don’t dig yourself a deeper hole, Captain. We’re already going to be having words about the stupid ass thing you did today… yesterday. Whenever!”

“You never told me about this!” he barked, rising to his feet to lean toward you over the table.

A growl, deadly and hard ripped from your throat. “Use what little brain cells weren’t frozen to think and remember, Captain! I told you that day on the roof about going full Berserker on the ljå who took out that village. Who killed that child! Call me a liar again, and you’ll regret it!”

“I didn’t call you a liar!”

“It was clearly implied!”

“Hey, how about we all just take a few deep, calming breaths-”

“Shut up, Sam!” The two of you yelled at the same time.

You turned your attention back to Ross. “As you can see, sir, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for your concern and for stopping by, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been informed I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

“We’re not done, Highness!” Ross snapped. “How did you know about that thing? Where did it come from? Who gave you the intel?”

“I’m sorry, but we’re done.” Tony snickered as you turned to leave, only to have Ross’s men step into your path. “I just took off the head of a nine-foot monster with little more than a sword and my bare hands. You are going to want to get the fuck out of my way!”

When they didn’t move but looked to Ross for direction, you lost what little hold you had left on your temper. It was nothing more than a shove, but both went straight through the glass walls encasing the conference room. “Whoops. It appears they fell. Pity how clumsy some people are,” you muttered.

A deep, rolling chuckle spilled from Bruce, and a voice that was not his own rumbled, “Feisty girl. We fight later.”

“You got it, Hulk baby!” You sent him a wink and sauntered out without so much as a by-your-leave. At this point, you figured you’d earned a freebie for insubordination and attitude.

Anger still rippled inside you, hot and sharp, seeming to tear at your heart and soul. It was mixed with the bitter taste of fear, the flavour reawakening with the recount of Steve’s idiocy.

He’d come so close. So close to losing everything. He could have died. He could have lost his soul, and you would never have gotten another life with him.

The harsh reality of what might have been pounded down on you and your hand shook as you reached for the door knobbed. He hadn’t followed, likely staying to deal with the fallout from Ross. You were actually thankful for the reprieve, needing time to collect yourself when the first tear slipped from your eye.

You nearly fell in the door and trudged to the bath, not bothering with the light. The water came on, and you were quick to strip out of Bruce’s shirt. You hadn’t gotten blood on it, surprisingly, and even though you’d shoved two grown men out the what essentially amounted to windows, neither of them had been injured beyond their pride and a few bruises.

Once Bruce’s shirt landed beside the sink, you stepped fully clothed, boots and all, beneath the spray to slide down the wall until you could rest your head on your knees. Anger became all-consuming fear and the thoughts of what if circled relentlessly as you sat there shaking, waiting out the anguish of what could have been.

The mental image, one which was more shapes and shadows, of the ljå going after Steve, would be forever ingrained in your mind as the third time you’d nearly lost him. Lost your sjelevenn on a battlefield because you weren’t quick enough, strong enough, good enough to save him. If you weren’t blessed to be what you were, you would have lost him, right then and there, in a manner most horrid.

A sob racked your body right as the glass door swung open. “Go away, Steven.”

***

After her outburst in the conference room, he’d expected anger, rage, and likely yelling. He’d been ignoring the fluctuating heart in his chest, his own temper running hot and burning through the pain he was feeling, ignoring it as nothing more than the physical pain she had to be in still.

But seeing her curled up, looking tiny on the floor, soaked and shivering even beneath the hot spray and steam had all his indignation falling away. He shut the door and listened to her sob while twisting himself into a pretzel to get out of his suit. Once he’d shucked it down his legs, he peeled himself out of his undershirt and shorts and opened the door a second time. She didn’t even snarl, just turned her face away and leaned her temple on her knee.

“Baby,” he sighed as he knelt beside her and tried to pull her against him.

Her hand slammed into his chest, and she shoved him back. “No! No, you don’t just get to cuddle and pretend everything’s fine, Steven! You said you’d stay out of it, that you trusted me to get it done, but you didn’t! You just had to jump in like always, be the damn hero, and nearly got-” Her voice broke on a harsh sob.

“(Y/N)…” he sighed, her pain, her fear and despair seeming to tear at him, rip a gaping hole in his chest. “I did trust you. I knew you could do it.”

“Then why? Why would you do that? Why would you- when you knew! You knew what could happen! Gods!” She shoved to her feet to stand wet and dripping, leather plastered to her body and rivers of red and purple streaming from her frame to swirl down the drain before him. The colour matched the bloom of bruising around her eye and along her cheek, and he imagined it would match the explosion of the same colour across her ribs.

He surged to his feet to loom over her, better equipped to deal with anger than tears at the moment. “Because we’re better together, goddammit! Do you think I couldn’t see how every time she shrieked or screamed you lost a step? That I wouldn’t know how blind you were in that instant? Of course, I came to help you! I’ll always come to help you!”

“You damn ass! Do you know what it felt like when I caught the scent of your blood?” She slammed both palms to his chest and rocked him back. “How fucking terrified I was? Do you!?”

“Yes!” he bellowed, grabbing her by the wrists and jerking them behind her back, forcing her chest into his with the action. “You forget I can feel what you feel! I know exactly what raced through you at that moment, but you saved me!”

She struggled but his grip was unbreakable, and she snarled in frustration before kneeing him in the thigh.

Grunting, Steve swung her around and into the wall where he caged her, hands now above her head and his body a solid mass of immovable, pissed off muscle. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he growled.

“You watch it, Captain! You did a stupid thing, and I’ve every right to call you on it!”

“But you saved me!”

“I might not have! Dammit, Steven! You just don’t get it!” She bucked, wiggled, and writhed, rubbing wet leather and fucking gorgeous curves against him.

His body responded without his permission and made him even madder for being turned on and pissed off at the same time. “Then why don’t you explain it to me, (Y/N). Maybe you’d best use small words so what few brain cells I have left can understand you!”

“I can’t control it!”

He frowned. “What?”

“The power,” she sighed, seeming to deflate as her struggle ended. “The men could always turn it on or turn it off at will. I can’t. I don’t get a choice. Something happens to trigger it, and it’s like a switch flips in my brain. I disappear to be replaced by… a much more violent form of myself. I lose time, say and do things that I wouldn’t when I’m just… this. It’s me… but not me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, releasing her wrists to cup her face carefully. “It’s okay. You saved me. I’m right here.”

“But I might not have…” she whispered as tears began to trail down her cheeks again. “I could have lost you down there. Again. And this time there would have been no second chance. You would have been gone. Forever!” Her head bowed, and her forehead fell against his chest as she cried out the fear.

Steve closed his eyes and turned his face into her hair. He shifted to hold her tightly, clinging to her as the truth became blindingly bright. Did he regret rushing in to help her? No. Did he regret the pain he’d caused, the fear doing so had put in her heart? With everything he was. But he would do it again in a heartbeat.

“I couldn’t just stand back and watch. I couldn’t, not after you screamed. It was like a piece of me just… tore open. I had to help. I had to! Nothing was going to stop me from coming to you. Not even you.”

Her hands, which had drifted down to lay against his chest, curled into fists and she tapped one against his heart a few times. “You’re a stubborn, pigheaded, cantankerous old fart with a death wish, doing stupid things like jumping from planes with no parachute. I should have known rushing in to try and help kill a creature that could literally suck out your soul would be right up your alley.”

“And yet, you still love me.”

“Yeah. I should have let Heimdall drag your ass out of there,” she muttered.

“You and I both know I’d a kicked his ass if he tried.”

She snorted out a half laugh. “You would have tried.”

“Baby.” He caught her chin and lifted it up to see her gorgeous eyes. “If he were tryin’ to keep me from getting back to you, I’d a succeeded.”

A smirk twitched her lips. “I believe you would, sjelevenn.”

“So, am I forgiven?”

“Am I?” she asked. “I guess I never really explained about being a Berserker, and I was kind of snippy in the conference room.”

Steve chuckled softly at her use of snippy. He’d dragged her out of places where she’d been in a full temper and knew it could have been a lot worse. “I probably shouldn’t admit to the fact I thought your insubordination was hot.”

“Oh, really?” She smirked a wide grin. “Do tell.”

“I’d rather show,” he murmured, nudging his hips into hers.

“Why, Captain! How very unprofessional of you,” she snickered and began to slide her hands over his chest. “Did our little tiff turn you on?”

“Not so much the snarling but having you wriggling around all wet and sexy? Yeah, baby.” Most of the blood had washed down the drain, and Steve nuzzled his nose into her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “How about we get you out of these wet clothes?”

“Can’t have a proper shower with them on.”

“Definitely not,” he chuckled and caught the hem of her shirt to peel it up over her head and let it fall with a wet plop. Her faulds came next, hitting the ground with a clank before he kicked them aside. He tsked softly as he looked down, though his hands were busy brushing and massaging her beautiful breasts. “Boots in the shower? That’s just wrong.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, arching into his touch. “What are you going to do about… Captain?”

He lowered to his knees, smirk ever present, his hands slipping down her wet torso to rub gentle circles on her skin. Careful of her ribs, Steve leaned in and kissed her beside the dimple of her belly button and nipped sharp teeth into her flesh to make her gasp. “Gonna have to reprimand you for it, doll. First, you get all snippy with your superior; then there was the use of excessive force - which, by the way, Tony said is coming out of your pay to replace the glass - and now I find you abusing your uniform? You’re racking up points as a troublemaker.” The ties on her pants were well and truly swollen when he gave them a testing tug.

“Steven,” she moaned and threaded her hands through his hair.

The ties gave when he wrenched them apart with a quick jerk and began to roll the wet leather down her legs. “Yeah, baby?” he murmured, snapping the ones on her boots when her pants hung up on her knees.

Her hand closed in his hair, and she tugged until his chin lifted and breath caught at the sight of her smile. “I think you’ve forgotten who the Queen in this relationship is,” she purred and caressed his cheek.

He could only grin and shake his head. “Oh, darling. I ain’t ever gonna forget that,” Steve said as he lifted her foot and worked the first boot off. Once he had the second free, he stripped her pants down to her ankles and let her kick them aside.

The softness of her skin called to him, and he was helpless but to reach out and wrap his hands around the back of her knees. He pulled her forward, off the wall and against him so he could place tender kisses and light nips to her thighs before turning his nose to the thatch of curls between her legs. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured as he nudged and nuzzled against her, finding her scent intoxicating as always.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you in front of the others,” she sighed and stroked her hands through his hair, her nails skating over his scalp.

“How are you feeling, dollface?” he asked, his body throbbing with need.

“Bruce numbed everything up.” She whimpered and moaned softly when he darted his tongue out to taste her.

He hummed in pleasure but pulled away to get back to his feet and reached for her braid.

“Meanie,” she pouted.

Steve chuckled. “After we get cleaned up. Stark was right. You stink, and I can’t imagine I smell any better. Besides, he’s decreed karaoke tonight, and until then we are all free to chill.”

“Chill, huh? And just what does your definition of chill include, sjelevenn?” she asked, her nimble fingers wrapping firmly around his cock.

He gently worked her braid free and tried not to groan in delight. “Spending a serious amount of time with my girl and no clothing,” he quipped, only to bite his lip when she gave a twist to her stroking. “Baby…”

“Why don’t you wash my back, and I’ll wash yours, Steven.”

“That’s not my back, doll.”

She grinned wickedly. “I know.”

He laughed and reached for the shampoo.

Next Chapter

#rise up #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #avengers #the avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #valkyrie #fanfiction

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nofomoartworld · 8 years ago

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Art F City: This Week’s Must-See Art Events: Constructing Paradise or the Devil Giving Birth to the Patriarchy?

Bea Fremderman

It’s a strange week in post-America, indeed, when the least dystopian art event involves Kim Kardashian ass-workout tapes.

That would be Cindy Hinant’s solo show at MuseumofAmericabooks Monday night. Tuesday, perpetual AFC fav Peter Burr is speaking at the New School, and never has the thought of retreating into one of his installations and imagining life in an underground city been so tempting. But if you’re an artist ready to join the resistance, head to ICP School on Wednesday for a discussion about the role of artists in activism during these dark days. Thursday, every opening feels timely, even Mary Beth Edelson’s 1970s feminist mythologies on view at David Lewis. Down the street, Bea Fremderman waxes apocalyptic at Shoot the Lobster, and the New School has an exhibition about the US/Mexican border that will probably break some hearts.

The weekend brings more timely events, such as David Diao exhibition about his childhood experiences as a refugee (at Postmasters) and a Sunday conference at the New Museum about bodies under duress. Come get advice from lawyers and activists about civil disobedience, the migrant crisis, environmental crises, and more.

Mon

MuseumofAmericabooks

18 Herkimer Pl. Brooklyn, NY 6:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.Website

Cindy Hinant: Exercise Videos

Cindy Hinant mines the bowels of pop culture detritus for her series “Exercise Videos”. Namely, Kim Kardashian’s booty-sculpting workout tapes. Each of these—”Ultimate Butt Body Sculpt”, “Butt Blasting Cardio Step”, and “Amazing Abs Body Sculpt”—features Kim K. excitedly talking about her routines while the screen slowly fills with the dominant color from each tape’s packaging.

This reduces the content to color fields, referencing the graphic design of consumerism and “the construction of gendered identities and the aspirational aspects of celebrity culture.”

But has anyone made video art from the sex tape that started it all?

Tue

Austrian Cultural Forum

11 East 52nd Street New York, NY 6:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m.Website

Constructing Paradise

Curated by Dieter Buchhart and Mathias Kessler, this exhibition traces the invention of “exoticism” to 19th Century colonialism and reactionary thinking to Europe’s rapid industrialization. The show includes art historical names such as Paul Gauguin alongside contemporary artists who deal with the consequences of colonialism, such as Kara Walker and Mickalene Thomas.

The New School

2 West 13th Street New York, NY 7:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.Website

Peter Burr Artist Talk

We can’t gush enough about how much we love Peter Burr’s work. His immersive video installations and world-building semi-abstract, semi-narrative animations are hypnotic and wholly transporting.

In this talk, part of the New York Comics & Picture-story Symposium, expect talk of sci-fi dystopias and utopias, video games, and new approaches to cinema. This is a must-see for any digital art/moving-image fans.

Wed

Michelson Theater, Tisch School of the Arts

721 Broadway New York, NY 6:30 p.m.Website

Film Screening: Amos Vogel and Cinema 16

Presented in conjunction with with the exhibition Inventing Downtown:Artist-Run Galleries in New York City, 1952–1965, on view at NYU’s Grey Art Gallery, this screening night pays tribute to the artist-run Cinema 16 society. Founded by Amos Vogel in 1947, Cinema 16 attracted a variety of artists working in avant-garde film making at the midcentury.

Films:

Arne Sucksdorff, A Divided World (10 min.), Oskar Fischinger, Allegretto (3 min.), Kenneth Anger, Fireworks (15 min.), Weegee and Amos Vogel, Weegee’s New York (33 min). Stan Brakhage, Loving (6 min), Robert Breer, A Man and His Dog Out for Air (3 min). Selected and introduced by Scott MacDonald, visiting professor of Art History, Hamilton College.

ICP School

1114 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 6:30 p.m. - 8:30 p.m.Website

Visual Resistance: An exploration of the role images play in resistance, protest, and social movements with WRRQ Collective

Quito Ziegler and Kristen P. Lovell, founding members of the queer activist WRRQ Collective, will lead a discussion on the role of visual culture in resistance movements. This is a great opportunity for artists who are wondering how to make themselves useful in this fucked up era. Beyond the theoretical, community groups who need visual support will be there, so you can partner with cause there and then.

Thu

David Lewis

88 Eldridge Street New York, NY 2:00 p.m. - 6:00 p.m.Website

Mary Beth Edelson: The Devil Giving Birth to the Patriarchy

Mary Beth Edelson’s 1970s collages depict strange, invented feminist mythologies. In today’s political climate, where the women’s movement feels like it’s been set back about 4 decades, the goddess demons holding severed heads bring to mind the Frantz Fanon quote “Either one must remain terrified or become terrifying…”

But the scariest thing about this show is how timely it feels. Where’s a destruction goddess when you need one?

Shoot the Lobster

138 Eldridge Street New York, NY 6:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m.Website

Bea Fremderman: How To Do Nothing With Nobody All Alone By Yourself

The doomsday clock is hastening. Never has the end of the world as we know it felt so viscerally within reach. Bea Fremderman’s press release discusses “the apocalypse” as a series of potentials, one that could mean the collapse of capitalism, or a more sinister and violent end brought about by corporate/military/quasi-governmental conspiracy.

We’re not sure what the work here will look like, but the sole image of a Blackberry reimagined as a laughably ineffective hatchet is a compelling one. “Obsolete” technology repurposed as a survival tool? Or illustrating the reality of weaponized communication? In an era where Tweets bring us ever closer to the precipice of disaster, either reading feels urgent.

The New School

2 West 13th Street New York, NY 6:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m.Website

State of Exception/Estado de Excepción

This likely-heartbreaking exhibition includes video shot at the US/Mexico border by Richard Barnes alongside found objects accumulated as part of University of Michigan anthropologist Jason De León’s Undocumented Migration project. These include the personal affects (backpacks, clothing, etc…) of migrants during the difficult desert crossing. State of Exception, created by artist/photographer Richard Barnes, artist/curator Amanda Krugliak, and De León, also includes audio interviews with the undocumented people making the journey. Bring the tissues.

Fri

A.I.R. GALLERY

155 Plymouth Street Brooklyn, NY 7:00 p.m.Website

Bailey Scieszka: The Soft Side of Hardcore

In this performance by Bailey Scieszka, we’ll meet “Old Put the Clown.” I don’t know what that entails exactly, but based on Scieszka’s video work I’ve seen, I’d expect it to be creepy and hilarious at the same time.

Ouchi Gallery

170 Tillary Street Brooklyn, NY 7:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.Website

11th 100 EXHIBITION

Ouchi (Japanese for “home”) is a DUMBO gallery in a domestic-feeling space, which for over 10 years has hosted the 100 exhibition series annually. The show brings together 100 artists from Japan, the United States, and beyond for a group show with works about one topic. Unfortunately, this is the last year. To celebrate, the theme for this 100 show is “home.”

Artists: Naoaki Funayama, KAYANO USHIYAMA, TOMOYA ONOUE, Shigeru K, Satsuki Omura, Ayako Okada, Masumi Yoshida, TAKASHI, Kumi Hirose, Lisa Kogawa, kyo→ko, Fumiko Watanab, YOSHIE HIRANO, Tetsuya Furuhara, Yoshi, sato, TOMO, Natsuki Wakita, Saida Shoko, HIRO, Wazen, MEIKO YAGINO, Narayama Furano, Jun Kawashima, Yuki Hemmi, TOYONOBU, Haru, Masashige Furuya, Ayako Bando, Takahiro KOYAMA, Juri Nakano, Hiro Ito, Mayumi Ikejiri, Takuro Hinokio, Yuri Sakai, Shoran, Masako Masukata, Emi Watanabe, Kazuya, Akiko Noda, Ushimaru Saeki, Fumiaki Asai, kaoru, Yoko Iogawa, nana, Keiko Nabila Yamazaki, Misato Takahashi, Tharanga Goonetilleke, Cherry Yiu, Henry MInata, Daisuke Yamada, Tsukamaiko, Takako Hida, MEGUMI OGAWA, Takayuki Nomura, ChIIkako Rosy, Silvia Aviles, chakory dey, Megumi Chiaya, Asami Tatuda, felicia van ham, felli, grace emery foster, gretchen robinette, Keith dragon mackie, laramie flick, lola jiblazee, nana sampongart, tornado byrne, abigail puritz, alex nowak, alexis men-ra, burnet griffin iv, wimpy af

Sat

Postmasters Gallery

54 Franklin Street New York, NY 5:30 p.m. - 8:00 p.m.Website

David Diao: HongKong Boyhood

David Diao’s paintings take their cues from modernist abstraction and data visualization—from personal narratives to the political histories that inform them. Namely, Diao’s turbulent childhood spent fleeing the mainland Chinese revolution, to chaotic Hong Kong before ultimately moving to New York City. These paintings can manifest as diagrams of his family’s home (no other photographs or documentation survive) to geopolitical maps.

La MaMa Galleria

47 Great Jones Street New York, NY 6:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m.

Closing Reception: Lintel, Mantel, Module, Shelf

Curated by Samuel Draxler, this group show features artists making work that somehow subverts mass-produced domestic environments. We hope to make it to the closing, as GaHee Park is one of favorite new painters. However she subverts mass-produced space, we expect it to include weird, weird nudity.

Lauren Bakst & Yuri Masnyj, Elliott Jerome Brown Jr., Mary-Ann Monforton, GaHee Park, Isaac Pool

Meyohas

181 E 90th St. New York, NY 7:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.Website

Jonathan Mildenberg: THE TRANSITION OF POWER

The phrase THE TRANSITION OF POWER might bring to mind the recent, disastrous transfer of the Oval Office, but this exhibition is informed by an older socio-political tragedy (albeit one that undoubtedly shaped our troubled electoral maps). Jonathan Mildenberg’s sculptural works are inspired by “red lining”, the early-to-mid 20th Century policy of denying mortgages to ethnically diverse, high-density city neighborhoods. The practice essentially forced prospective homeowners to move to segregated suburbs, far more than choice on the “free market”. Here, Mildenberg reflects on the bank and the garden as two aesthetic environments related to the spatial politics of American housing injustice. Should be an interesting show.

Sun

New Museum

235 Bowery New York, NY 11:30 a.m. - 6:00 p.m.Website

Body Politic: From Rights to Resistance

A.K. Burns, the artist-in-residence through the Department of Education and Public Engagement’s Spring R&D Season, has organized a mini conference to prepare us for the battles ahead. Lawyers, activists, and organizers will discuss “the body under duress.” This topic includes environmental and immigration injustice as well as modes of civil disobedience and resistance.

Participants include representatives from Center for Constitutional Rights, the Center for Reproductive Rights, the New York Civil Liberties Union, the New York Environmental Law and Justice Project, and the Sylvia Rivera Law Project.

Session One 11:30 AM–2 PM Civil Disobedience, Protest, and Healthcare

Session Two: 3–6:00 PM Policing, Prisons, Immigration, and Environmental Contamination

RSVP to attend. We highly recommend this.

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