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aurumacadicus · 3 years

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The Proposal AU

Y’all this is 14K I die. Watch out for under the cut!

Tony is not an American citizen—Howard had moved to Italy because Maria had refused to leave her family mansion home, so he’s an Italian citizen. Which isn’t a problem! He’s got a work visa to live in America, and he works very hard at his job as a book editor in California, because he’d wanted to escape Italy and his memories there and it was as far away as he could get. His assistant, Steve, works perhaps even harder—while Tony thinks he simply has high standards, Steve thinks he’s really just a difficult, hard-to-work-with, perfectionist asshole. He would have quit, except getting into the industry is hard, and he didn’t want to have to start all over under someone else.

So when Tony is informed that he’s broken the terms of his work visa and he needs to leave, he panics and convinces Steve to marry him. Steve’s not entirely enthused, but Tony reminds him of what he already knows—this business is cutthroat, and he wouldn’t want to have to start all over again with a new editor. Besides, they have a system, and while Steve may hate Tony’s guts, what they have is dependable. So being fake-married so he doesn’t have to restart his career from scratch is fine.

“How… convenient,” Agent Coulson says when they meet him to inform him of this. “That your—” He glances down at the paperwork they’ve handed him. “…Secretary—”

“Assistant,” Steve and Tony cut in at the same time.

“My secretary is Ms. Potts. You’ve met,” Tony adds.

Agent Coulson doesn’t shiver visibly, but Steve and Tony can sense it—Ms. Potts inspires that reaction in a lot of people. “Well. As I’m finding the circumstances very suspect, I’ll be questioning you both to make sure there is no fraud here. You will be asked separately. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if this is proven to be fraud, you, Mr. Stark, will be deported.”

“Remind,” Steve repeats faintly.

“And you, Mr. Rogers, will be convicted with a felony punishable by a two hundred and fifty-thousand dollar fine and five years in prison,” Agent Coulson continues.

“Five years,” Steve repeats, voice growing fainter.

“It’s not fraud,” Tony says, reaching out to take one of Steve’s hands, which he only grips back because suddenly what they’re doing seems very real, both the marriage and the consequences of its failure. “We’re in love.”

“We’re gonna go visit my family in New York,” Steve adds, more on instinct than anything else, because if he’s in trouble he wants to go home. “To let them know. That I’m marrying someone. They have to meet him before we get married, after all.”

Tony turns to give him wide eyes, then looks back at Agent Coulson with a practiced, plastic grin. “Yes. We’re going to visit Steve’s family in New York. I’ve always wanted to visit the east coast.”

“You’re not going to see your family?” Agent Coulson drawls.

Tony’s plastic grin drops, and he looks down, and his voice as he murmurs, “I don’t have any,” makes it clear that it’s probably the only word of truth uttered in the entire meeting. At least Agent Coulson looks uncomfortable enough that he lets them go.

“I can’t go to prison,” Steve says once they leave the office. “Tony. I’m not going to prison for you.”

“You’re not going to prison because he’s not going to find out,” Tony assures him, stepping out of the building and onto the sidewalk. “It’ll be fine.” When he notices that Steve isn’t following, though, he stops, frowning at him. “Steve?”

Steve says nothing for several minutes, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as he frowns at the ground. Finally, though, he lifts his head, saying, “You’re making me an editor.”

“What?!” Tony balks.

“If we do this, you’re making me an editor, and you’re publishing the book I’ve kept trying to get you to read for the last seven months,” Steve repeats. “I’m doing this for your sake. So you’re going to do this for me.”

“Wh—Steve,” Tony begins, laughing nervously. “You can’t just—”

Steve steps up to him and points directly into his face. “Five-year prison sentence, Tony. A quarter of a million dollars in fines. I’m doing you the favor here. So you’re going to do this for me.”

“I—” Tony begins, but the expression on Steve’s face is kind of scary, and it is true that Steve’s doing him this favor, so… he sighs, and crosses his arms, and mutters, “Fine.”

“Fine,” Steve says.

“Fine!” Tony exclaims angrily.

“I’ll see you on the plane,” Steve says, sweeping past him.

Tony spins around to stare after him, horrified. “You mean that wasn’t a—”

“I’m not getting married without my family even if it is a sham wedding,” Steve snaps at him, and then he’s gone, turning the corner and storming away.

The plane ride to New York is tense, mostly because Tony had upgraded them both to business class and it had annoyed Steve. Finally, Tony can’t keep quiet, and he pulls out the sheaf of paper that they’re going to be quizzed on. “We should probably go through all of these questions, so we know the answers.”

“I know everything he wants to know,” Steve answers stiffly, pulling out a sleep-mask.

Tony whips his head around to glare at him, squawking, “No you don’t!” He ducks his head when he gets shushed by a flight attendant and three other passengers. Once he’s certain they’re not paying attention to him anymore, he turns back to Steve, hissing, “No, you don’t!”

Steve sighs, adjusting the straps on the mask. “Try me.”

Tony scowls at him a little longer before looking at the papers. “Okay, you probably know my birthday—”

“I know your social security number, too,” Steve adds, putting the mask on.

Tony opens his mouth to insist he doesn’t, remembers all the paperwork he’d neglected to fill out that Steve had done, and closes it again. He scans the papers with dismay. It looks like a lot of questions that Steve knows and he doesn’t—what his favorite meal is, his typical workout routine, how he likes his bed made. He doesn’t even know how Steve likes his coffee, because apparently, he just gets the same thing Tony gets in case of an accident like the one of the day this whole mess had started.

Finally, he says, “Tattoos. Do I have any tattoos?”

“Two,” Steve says, arms crossed over his chest.

Tony jerks his head up to stare at him in disbelief. “Wh—you don’t know that!”

“You have the Big and Little Dipper over your heart,” Steve says, and Tony’s hand flutters up to cover it. “And a bunch of circles with a heart in the center on the inside of your left ankle.”

Tony stays quiet for several minutes, then mumbles, “It’s an atom. Rutherford’s model.”

“There’s a heart in the nucleus of it then,” Steve says, and Tony sets the papers down on his lap, frowning. He should probably ask Steve some so he can find out his answers, but Steve very obviously doesn’t want to be bothered, if the mask and closed-off body language is any indication.

There’s a brunet and a redhead waiting for them when they step off the plane. Steve rushes over to grab the brunet up in a hug, thumping him on the back, then turns and picks the redhead up to spin her in a circle. Tony hovers behind him, uncomfortable, especially when he notices the brunet giving him a long, skeptical look instead of anything welcoming. He reaches out for Steve’s bag. He doesn’t reach out for Tony’s.

“Bucky, Nat, this is Tony,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “Tony, these are my friends, Bucky and Natasha.”

“Your parents named you Bucky?” Tony can’t help but ask, and then immediately regrets it when Bucky scowls at him.

“The name grows on you,” Natasha cuts in, before anything bad can happen, like Bucky punching him in the nose. “There were three other Jameses in his class, apparently, and with a middle name like ‘Buchanan,’ he had to work with what he had.”

“Your parents named you James Buchanan?” Tony blurts out, and then yelps when Steve starts walking. “Steve!”

“Keep walking, keep walking,” Steve says with a warning tone, and Tony obeys, because he’s here to fool Steve’s family and friends into thinking they’re in love, not to get murdered. He gets shoved into the back of a rather nice town car, but doesn’t get much time to appreciate it, because then Bucky is getting in the driver’s seat, and his grip on the wheel is tight enough that his knuckles turn white. He decides to keep his mouth shut around Bucky, forever if it came down to it.

As they drive toward Steve’s family home, though, he notices that a lot of the buildings have the name ‘Rogers’ attached to them in some way. He may not know much about Steve, but he does know his last name is Rogers. “Are these all—yours? Your… businesses?” he asks softly, waving his hand at a small grocery store as they pass.

“Ah, well, hmm,” Steve says, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Finally, he says, “Well, my great-grandparents came over from Ireland with her own grandmother’s silver, and she sold it for cash, and became sort of a lender, so she made a lot of money, and then she just… bought up all the real estate around her? We don’t own all of the shops,” he adds hastily when he notices Tony staring at him. “But we’ve definitely… footed the loan for most of them at some point or another.”

“You didn’t tell Tony you were rich?” Natasha asks, tipping her head back so she can look at them upside-down. “Wow, Steve.”

“You know how I feel about the money,” Steve says immediately, and she shrugs.

Tony doesn’t know how Steve feels about the money. He doesn’t know how Steve feels about most things. He keeps his head down as Bucky finally loosens up to chat about the party that Steve’s mother planned to welcome him home, and how it’s supposed to be a secret, except he knows that Steve reacts to surprises with punches and he doesn’t want anyone to go to the hospital today.

Sarah Rogers is beautiful, and her smile is kind as she takes the bottle of wine Tony offers her. “Oh, how lovely! Thank you, Tony. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Mama would have dragged herself from her grave to beat me if I didn’t bring you a hostess gift,” Tony tells her. “You know Italians. It’s not right to snub the matriarch, and in return, you get fed your weight in pasta.”

Sarah’s gaze softens even more as she lifts a hand to touch his cheek. “Thank you,” she repeats, more sincerely this time, and then gently places her hand on the small of his back to give him a tour of the grand old house, which she apparently shares with Winifred Barnes now that they’re both widowed, and their children are out on their own.

“What the hell, Steve?!” Bucky asks after he’s finally gotten him pulled aside. “All you ever do is bitch about Stark, and suddenly we get a call saying that you’re dating and you’re bringing him to meet the family?!”

“Tony’s not that bad,” Steve says, even if it isn’t true and Tony is that bad. He still remembers Tony’s soft ‘I don’t have any’ in response to a question about his family, and it isn’t an excuse for why he is the way he is, but it certainly explains a lot about him.

“Steve, the first month you worked for him, you called me in tears every night because you hated him so much,” Bucky points out, glaring at him. “And you still bitch about him to me whenever you call! And you didn’t think to maybe mention you were dating?!”

“Maybe I realized that you wouldn’t believe me after all my bitching,” Steve begins.

“Are you sleeping with him so you can get a promotion?” Bucky cuts in.

Steve stares at him, struck stupid. Then he’s immediately furious. Bucky knows his character. That he could even think that Steve would try to get ahead by using his body like that is so offensive that it’s a miracle he doesn’t pitch Bucky out the window then and there. “Fuck you,” he tells Bucky, voice quiet because the other option is to just scream obscenities at him, and even that seems enough to make Bucky realize he’s made a grave mistake. Then he turns, and he opens the doors to the room they’d been in, and he says, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to make an announcement. Tony and I aren’t visiting just so he can meet my ma. Tony and I are visiting so my ma can meet her future son-in-law. I asked Tony to marry me right before we came on the trip.”

Tony looks like he’s been shot, and Steve will apologize for throwing him into the deep end later, especially as Sarah, Winifred, Natasha, and Bucky’s sisters all descend on him with questions.

“So how did Steve propose?” Sarah finally asks above the din, and everyone quiets, eager for the answer.

“I—well, he,” Tony begins uncertainly, looking from face to face, before he finally murmurs, “You’ll be disappointed.”

Steve has one moment to think that Tony’s going to spill. It’s terrifying, not just because it would break his ma’s heart, but also because Bucky would never let him forget it.

“I’m sure I could never be disappointed in a story about Stevie,” Sarah assures him.

Tony frowns up at her, then scratches his cheek nervously, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Well, I—I was in my office. At home. Office at home. And he brought over some take-out from the Chinese place I like. I let him pick the TV program while I was getting some last-minute work done on a draft, and he chose—he chose—” He pauses, struggling to figure out what sort of TV show Steve would like, especially considering his TV hadn’t been on for the past seven years.

“It was heist film,” Steve cuts in quickly. “And we got to talking about art. I mentioned that I used to paint in my free time. He asked me why I didn’t anymore.”

“He told me I overwork him,” Tony continues, and he manages to make it sound more like a joke than a reminder of an argument they’d once had. “But he’d been working on something off and on over the past few months. I asked him if I could see it, and he said it was a wedding present. And I said, whose wedding? And he said ours, once I finally agree to it.” He smiles down at his feet, small and sweet and utterly charming. “He’s asked me before, but I always said no. I was always afraid, because I’ve been on my own so long, I was afraid to be vulnerable with him like that. But something about this time… I had to say yes.” He laughs, breaking the spellbound bubble everyone had been in, hanging onto every word he said. “I decided I was more afraid that he’d stop asking me!”

Steve remembers that night. It didn’t go like that. He’d brought over take-out because Tony had ordered him to, and then he’d been so frustrated by Tony’s immediate brush-off that he’d sat down and turned on the TV just to annoy him, and some slow-moving heist was on and he’d left it there to make Tony’s eye twitch. Tony had been the one to start talking about art, an offhand comment about how Pepper—Ms. Potts—was regularly spending his money on art to decorate his spartan apartment because she didn’t like how impersonal it was. ‘I guess I like the portraits from the romanticism era,’ he’d said, which at that point had been the most he’d ever said about himself out loud. He wonders if that’s how Tony remembers it. Wonders if Tony wishes he’d really gotten a proposal like that.

But before he can dwell on it too much, he finds himself being drawn into conversations about his faux-posal, and he allows it, taking his mind off of how vulnerable Tony had looked for a moment.

At the end of the night, there’s a moment where they struggle with bedding arrangements. All of Bucky’s sisters are home, and a couple of them could double up, but Steve and Tony have a hard time saying that they sleep separately, especially with both Sarah and Winifred raising their eyebrows at them in disbelief. Eventually they accept a room together. Tony grabs a blanket and a pillow and starts to set them on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, surprised.

“…Bedding down?” Tony replies hesitantly. “We locked the door, so they have to knock first. I’ll just wake up and climb into bed with you if we need to.”

“Tony,” Steve sighs. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. It’s a big bed.”

Tony looks unconvinced. “I still think it would be better if I…”

“Tony,” Steve says sharply.

“Fine,” Tony answers, sour-faced, and throws his pillow back onto the bed with a little more force than necessary.

“Fine!” Steve sighs, exasperated, and crawls in on the opposite side.

When Steve wakes up, Tony is curled up against his chest, and Steve has his face tucked into Tony’s hair. He smells nice, like coconut. He tries to move back, but Tony makes this soft, wounded noise and moves after him. He wonders if this was why Tony had tried to insist to sleep on the floor—wonders if he puts off the impression of someone who would be disgusted by it, if Tony was prepared to sleep on the floor to avoid it.

Then there’s a knock on the door, and Tony wakes up with a start, clawing at anything he can reach.

“Ow fuck!” Steve exclaims, trying to bat him away.

Tony’s struggles slow to a stop, and he utters an anxious, “Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, trying not to be too angry. It’s a new house. He doesn’t know anyone. It’s probably just a fight-or-flight response to the knock on the door.

Tony, realizing what happened, looks miserable. “This is why I wanted to sleep on the floor.”

“This is how you always wake up?!” Steve sputters.

The knock comes again, and then Sarah’s voice calling out, “Rise and shine! We have a lot to do today!”

“Do?” Tony asks. He looks scared.

“I brought pancakes and coffee!” Sarah adds.

Steve hops out of bed and goes to the door to unlock it. “Morning, Ma.”

“You know, Bucky’s sisters are adults now. They’re not going to come barging into your room like they did as children,” Sarah says, amused, then frowns, reaching up to touch his neck, where there are three reddening lines from Tony’s clawing. “Honey, what—”

“I’m sorry,” Tony exclaims immediately. “I got—I wasn’t—”

“We’re not used to being around a lot of people, so he was startled awake,” Steve cuts in. Before his mother can get guilty, he adds, “I usually just waft coffee in his general direction until he wakes up.”

Luckily, she buys it, offering him a rueful smile as she says, “I hate to think how many alarm clocks he goes through.” She taps at a rolling cart she’d brought with her. “I saved some from Natasha. I’m almost certain she has a black hole for a stomach. Eat up before she sniffs them out, and then Natasha and I are taking Tony out.”

“Out where?” Steve asks suspiciously.

“Just out,” Sarah replies.

They stare each other down long enough that Tony comes over and fixes himself a plate of pancakes with jam and start eating it. Finally, Steve sags. “Okay. Don’t scare him.”

“I would never,” Sarah gasps, offended, and turns to look at Tony. “Tony, you believe I wouldn’t—Is that all you’re eating? Two pancakes? Honey.”

Tony’s eyes dart between them in confusion, because even Steve looks dismayed. “…I don’t eat much in the mornings? It makes me feel queasy. I eat big dinners.”

“You should have told me, Steve! I could have made something lighter!” Sarah exclaims.

“You don’t have to put yourself out for me,” Tony assures hurriedly. “I usually just have a yogurt or fruit. If we’re going out, I can pick some up—”

“Nonsense. I’m your hostess,” Sarah scoffs. “I’ll send one of the girls out for it. Natasha and I have big plans for today. Steve can go hang out with Bucky. I know he’s missed you while you were gone,” she adds to Steve.

Steve remembers Bucky’s accusation and has to keep from scowling. “Of course,” he says instead, because he doesn’t want to tell her that he still very much wants to punch Bucky in the face.

They take Tony to a strip club for a ‘bachelor party,’ since last night he’d mentioned that he probably wouldn’t have one.

“I’m not dressed for this,” Tony squeaks, and doesn’t know why that’s his first complaint. He’s mortified. Sarah and Natasha just tease him and say he’s not supposed to be the sexy one there, and he doesn’t really feel like he can say no, so he lets himself be dragged inside. He figures after fifteen minutes, he can fake a headache from the music and they can leave.

It’s a male strip club. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. He would like the exotic dancer giving him a lap dance to stop giving him bedroom eyes. Luckily, he can escape when the dancer gets called over to someone else, and he rushes outside for some fresh air while Natasha goes to get them more drinks.

“You doing okay?” Sarah asks gently, coming up beside him.

“It’s… a lot,” Tony has to admit. “I don’t—I’m a homebody. I like to read. It’s why I like my job,” he adds quietly. “I can stay at home and read, and everyone thinks I’m just extremely dedicated. I was alone a lot growing up, so I don’t really… socialize well.”

Sarah hums thoughtfully, reaching out to pat his hand. “That must be why you and Steve get along. He’s so outgoing and friendly, I think it’s good for him to have someone to be tethered to. I think you ground him.”

“Or stifle him,” Tony can’t help but mutter, thinking about how he’d blackmailed Steve into this in the face of her kindness.

“No, you’re good for him,” she says firmly. “He’s never been the type to settle down. I think he only had one serious girlfriend besides you, and their relationship… it fizzled out when she turned down his proposal.”

Tony feels his heart sink down to his toes. “Oh.”

“Steve always wanted to break out into the editing business and make his own life, but New York was so competitive, and the one job that he was offered, they told him it was because of his father’s name,” Sarah continues. “So he decided to move to California to do it, and Sharon… she loves New York. She didn’t want to go. So she turned him down.”

“Sharon,” Tony repeats. “The, um—the blonde lady. She said she worked for a government agency, I think? She didn’t really—want to talk about herself. Wanted to talk about me and Steve.”

“Yes. And I think she’s happier, that she turned Steve down,” Sarah replies. “She had her own dreams of working for the federal government. She wasn’t going to be able to do what she wanted in California.” She turns to give him a gentle smile. “And Steve found you. And you’re good for him.”

“I guess,” Tony says, feeling vaguely sick to his stomach.

“Uh oh,” Sarah and Natasha murmur when they get home and find Steve chopping wood.

Tony frowns at them in confusion. “Uh oh?”

“Steve’s chopping wood. He and Bucky must have gotten into a fight,” Sarah sighs.

Natasha groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay. I’ll go talk to Bucky.”

“Should I go talk to Steve?” Tony asks Sarah in concern.

She immediately shakes her head. “No. He needs to work his anger out before he can talk. We’d just upset him more. I’m going to go get started on supper.”

“Oh,” Tony says. “I think… I’m going to go wash the glitter off of my body.”

Sarah lifts her hand to cover her smile. “Of course.”

The shower is nicer than even the one he has, and Tony spends a half an hour just standing under the spray, trying to ease his stiff muscles. Finally, though, he has to get out, and he realizes with dismay that he’d forgotten to grab a towel. “Fuck,” he whispers, with feeling. Maybe there’s some in a cupboard in the room, or he can dry off with a blanket and then admit to Steve why they needed a new one. Maybe he’d find it comical enough to forget whatever had made him mad.

So of course he comes rushing out of the bathroom just in time to smack face-first into Steve’s naked chest and go toppling to the ground.

It takes a minute for them to realize what happened, and Tony is the first to snap to attention, getting to his feet and shouting a frantic, “Why are you naked?!?!”

“Why are you wet?!” Steve shouts back, grabbing a throw pillow off of the chair to cover himself as Tony quickly covers himself with a blanket from the bed.

“I was—showering off all the glitter!” Tony exclaims defensively.

“Glitter,” Steve repeats, clearly not understanding how that could be a sensible answer. Then he throws his hands up. “Whatever! I’m getting in the shower.”

Tony shouts again and ducks behind the bed to keep from staring at the full view of Steve’s exasperated expression (and his very, very muscular body, who knew he hid that under his suits). “Where are the towels?!”

Steve walks over to the cupboard to grab one, and also chucks one over the bed to where Tony is. He knows he’s hit his mark because there’s an offended squawk and a thud. “There you go,” he deadpans, then turns and heads into the bathroom. “Do you need help with your clothes, too?”

“Go shower! You stink!” Tony snaps at him.

“Fine!” Steve snarls back.

“Fine!” Tony shouts, then sits back, scowling. He rubs the spot on his head that thunked into the wall, then reaches out to pick up the towel, quietly adding a mulish, “Asshole.”

Dinner that night is a much quieter affair… kind of. The Barnes girls chatter with Tony about wedding plans (he has none and they have many ideas) but Bucky and Steve are very carefully silent, even with Sarah, Winifred, and Natasha trying to urge them into talking to each other. Tony wonders what he should do. Sarah had said that the Rogers and Barnes had been very close growing up, so much so that all of the children will react to an angry first-middle-last from both mothers, and Steve and Bucky had been thick as thieves. Now they can’t even look each other in the eye.

Tony insists on sleeping on the floor that night, and Steve, exhausted and still faintly angry at Bucky, just lets him, even though they hadn’t locked the door. He forces another blanket on him when Tony only takes one, then flops back on his pillow with a long, slow sigh.

Tony is quiet for a moment, then cautiously asks, “Long day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Tony,” Steve says sharply.

“Okay,” Tony answers, going quiet again. He fidgets, staring up at the ceiling, then says, “It’s not the Big and Little Dipper, by the way.”

Steve tips his head, then lets his eyes dart down to the foot of the bed, which is hiding Tony from view. “Oh?”

“I mean, I guess it is, technically,” Tony says, shrugging. “But the Big Dipper is just a piece of the whole constellation. My tattoos are of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.”

“A mama bear and her cub,” Steve murmurs.

Tony nods, swallowing thickly. “Got it and the atom after the accident.”

“Accident,” Steve mouths to himself.

“I figured, what better way to remember her? She was so protective of me. She wasn’t always the best mother, but she was when it counted, and that’s what mattered to me.” His smile gets a little more wistful. “Your mom is really great. She’s so kind to me. I think I’m gonna miss her, after this is all done.”

Steve swallows thickly, then says, “Maybe. Maybe the divorce will be amicable. And you can still hang out with her.”

Tony takes a moment to feel endlessly grateful for Steve, then says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steve.”

“We’re going to be married for at least a few years. That’s enough time for that to look normal,” Steve insists.

It reminds Tony all over again that this is a sham, and they’re tricking all of Steve’s family and friends. “Steve—”

“It could,” Steve says firmly.

Tony feels suddenly, endlessly tired. “Fine,” he sighs, knowing it won’t.

“…Fine,” Steve agrees when he doesn’t say anything more.

Sarah doesn’t knock the next morning, but she does tap her fingertips softly on the door until Tony snuffles awake, rubbing his eyes and looking around blearily.

“Tony, get in the bed,” Steve hisses at him.

“Hmm?” Tony says, then realizes where he is and grabs his blankets and pillows and launches onto the bed.

He elbows Steve in the stomach with almost all of his weight, but Steve still somehow prefers this to the morning before, when Tony had tried to scratch his face off. “Oof!”

“Sorry,” Tony mumbles, punching one of the pillows and then flopping down on it.

“’s okay,” Steve grunts, then calls out, “Come in!”

Sarah opens the door a crack and peeks into the room and, seeing both of them awake, smiles and opens it the rest of the way. “Good morning, sleepy heads!”

“G’morning,” Steve begins, and then squawks when he realizes Winifred and Natasha are following her in, throwing an extra blanket over Tony protectively as he yelps, “Ma!”

“I’m wearing clothes,” Tony says in confusion.

“Steve’s always been a bit possessive,” Natasha says, smirking, and raises her eyebrows in challenge when Steve scowls at her.

“Children,” Sarah sighs chidingly, and both Steve and Natasha duck their heads.

Tony just blinks at everyone, bewildered. “Um. What’s the party for?”

Sarah perks up, and she beams as she tells him, “Winifred and I were talking, about how it’s been so long since we’ve seen Stevie and what a nice boy you are. And we thought, wouldn’t it be wonderful if you got married here?”

“Ma,” Steve says again weakly.

“Here?” Tony repeats breathlessly.

Winifred puts her hand on Sarah’s arm before she rockets herself up into orbit from glee. “We thought it might be nice, while you’re here,” she says. “Everyone is in town, and you’ll be here until the end of next week, right? That’s plenty of time for you to invite your own friends and family. We’ll pay for anyone who can’t afford to come on their own, of course—we understand it’s short notice—”

“That’s so—sudden,” Steve chokes out. “Ma, Winnie, it’s sweet, but—”

“I only have three friends,” Tony cuts in. “And one can’t come. He’s deployed.”

The room quiets, and even Natasha looks struck speechless. Finally, Sarah asks, “Sweetheart, you have no family at all?”

“No,” Tony says firmly, in a way that makes it clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. “I’ll text Pepper and Happy. I think they’ll be able to make it, even if it is short notice.”

“We’ll cover their flights,” Sarah offers again breathlessly.

“Thank you. I think they’d appreciate that,” Tony says.

“Um. Just let us know the details,” Winnie adds weakly.

“We brought you yogurt,” Natasha blurts out.

Tony pops to his feet like he hadn’t just admitted his social circle is Steve and three other people, making grabby hands.

Steve waits until everyone has left, and Tony has stuffed his face with two spoonsful of yogurt before he states, “Pepper’s your secretary.”

“She’s my friend sometimes, too,” Tony mumbles, scowling. “Steve. I’m eating.”

“Happy is your driver,” Steve adds.

“And?”

“They’re your employees, Tony,” Steve sputters in disbelief.

Tony stares at him for a moment, silent, then sets his bowl of yogurt and fruit in his lap. “Steve,” he says seriously. “Just because they’re my employees doesn’t mean they’re not also my friends. Besides, I wasn’t going to tell your mother that I’m too abrasive for friends. You’re already stuck with a workaholic asshole. I don’t want them to think I’m a sociopath, too.”

“They don’t think you’re a workaholic asshole,” Steve begins weakly.

“I was working during our fake proposal, Steve,” Tony points out, and then returns his attention to his food, effectively ending anymore conversation about it. “Anyway, we should get together so I can learn the answers I need to know about you. I’ve been trying to guess at your favorite food, but mostly it just looks like you inhale everything.”

“Tony,” Steve tries.

“I don’t need to hear how pathetic you think I am, Steve,” Tony snaps, finally looking back up at him to give him a glare. “I don’t have any family, and I don’t have any friends because all I do is work, and I had to blackmail you into marrying me so I don’t get kicked out of the fucking country. I’m well aware that of the two of us, you’re getting the short end of the stick, so can you just leave it?”

“I’m not—” Steve begins, offended, but Tony is already up and walking into the bathroom. He doesn’t slam the door, but he thinks that’s only because Tony doesn’t want to draw attention from the rest of the house.

“Where are the Mas?” Steve asks, having looked all over the house for them and Tony. “I wanted to talk to them about Tony.”

Natasha shrugs, carefully pressing herself down into a yoga pose that looks, quite frankly, painful. “They said something about getting him fitted.”

Steve has the thought ‘Tony in a wedding dress’ and then immediately has to forget it. “Oh. Well, if you see them before I do when they get back, will you let them know I’m looking for them?”

“Sure,” she replies, shrugging. “Did you wanna talk about why you and Bucky aren’t talking? Or are we ignoring that, too.”

Steve scowls. “I don’t want to talk about Bucky.”

“He’s your best friend,” Natasha begins.

“Best friends don’t accuse you of sleeping with your boss for a promotion,” Steve snaps, cutting her off. “Sure, I complained about Tony to him a lot, but that was seriously his first thought?”

Natasha finally looks up at him, raising her eyebrows. “…You complained about Tony,” she finally says slowly. “To your overprotective best friend. And then expected him to like Tony. After hearing every bad thought you had about him.”

Steve takes a deep breath, then lets it back out slowly before he says, very coldly, “I’m not mad about him not liking Tony. I’m mad that he accused me of sleeping with him for a promotion. And if you think I’d do that, then fuck you too.”

“I don’t think that,” Natasha answers. “But Steve, did it ever occur to you that Bucky was trying to hurt you? You left for six years and never came back, and when you finally did, you brought someone that you’ve spent the last six years complaining about. Did it ever occur to you that, after feeling abandoned for six years, Bucky might be angry that the only reason you came back was not to actually visit your family, but to introduce them to your beau?”

Steve considers this, then quietly replies, “It doesn’t make it right. I’ve worked hard. I always planned on transferring back to New York once I got a position as an editor and had the leverage to do so. I’m so glad that all of you had the time to stew in your hurt and not consider that maybe staying here was hurting me.”

“Steve,” Natasha begins.

“Steve Rogers, I knew your father,” Steve barrels on angrily. “Steve Rogers, not Sarah’s son by any chance? Steve Rogers, whose family basically owns its own town? I was never just Steve. I was always an extension of someone else.”

“You know we never saw you like that,” Natasha says, voice soft.

“But not everything is about you guys,” Steve snaps. “And that’s why I left. Because none of you took the time to understand why I was so frustrated, why I wanted to do things on my own. You acted like this was just a job, that I could always get another one doing something else if this didn’t work out, but I was clear at the beginning that I wanted editing to be my career. None of you took my dreams seriously, and that’s on you guys. Not on me.”

Natasha stares at him, quiet, then reaches out and very carefully takes his hands. “I’m sorry, Steve,” she finally says. “It’s just that, your mother has been so lonely—”

Steve lifts his hand to cut her off. “And you guys honestly think that I would have left my mother without her blessing? You think I didn’t sit down for hours with Ma and talk about the pros and cons before I left? You think that just because I’m not here physically, I don’t have any contact with her? She told me to go. I call her every Friday night, and on Sundays we video chat. I don’t just FaceTime you guys for the holidays. I talk to my ma a lot.” He scowls. “I don’t talk to you guys as much because you always ask me ‘when are you coming home.’ You say it with a joking tone, but we all know it’s not really a joke.”

She stares up at him, quiet, considering. Finally, though, she simply says, “I miss you, Steve. Do you miss me?”

“I miss all of you, every day that I’m away,” Steve answers immediately. “I love you. You’re my family. But if you ever decided that you wanted to leave town to try and strike out on your own, I’d support you. It hurt, that you guys wouldn’t do the same for me.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Natasha says again. “I’ll try to do better.” She lifts her hand to cup his cheek. “But maybe… maybe you and Tony can visit more than once every six years.”

Steve manages a smile. “I think that can be arranged.”

“A suit will do,” Winifred and Sarah finally decide after having a twenty-minute argument about it.

Tony doesn’t know why they were arguing about it. They were agreeing with each other. Maybe that’s just something he doesn’t understand though. They’re a very close family. He doesn’t really know what that’s like. Howard had only had his parents, and they’d died when Tony was still a child. A majority of his mother’s family had been fractured by the war, and the only survivors had been a handful of cousins who she didn’t seek out, but if they met on the street, they’d talk for hours.

They’d offered condolences at the funeral. Hadn’t looked shocked when he said he was leaving Italy. Probably knew he was doing it to escape the memories.

Steve’s family is close—he’s heard Steve talk about Sarah before, at the office, when he’d been talking to Pepper about what to send her for Christmas. The Barnes and Natasha are close, too—apparently Natasha had been orphaned young, and Sarah had taken her in so she wouldn’t be sent away to family she didn’t know, and she and Bucky had fallen in love in high school, and now they were playing proposal chicken.

Tony thinks that Natasha likes him, probably. She’d been really nice at the strip club, and then at the coffee shop they went to afterward. Maybe… maybe she can put in a good word with Bucky. At least so they can be civil. Tony can continue to keep his head down and his mouth shut, and Bucky can just… ignore he exists. He’s used to that, unfortunately. It’ll only be for a few years—after all the time Steve’s missed out on with his family, he can suck it up long enough for him to get citizenship.

“Now, I know it’s probably too soon to be asking,” Sarah says, breaking into his thoughts. “But you know, seeing Steve in person after so long, it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed him. And I was thinking, maybe I could come visit for the holidays. If that’s not too much to ask.”

“Oh,” Tony says, surprised. “Oh, that—yes, that would be nice.” He remembers how happy everyone had been to see Steve. “Or—maybe, we could even come and visit you again.”

Sarah blinks at him, mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of surprise, before her eyes go a little misty and she reaches out to give his hand a squeeze. “I’d like that very much, Tony.”

“Ma,” Steve says as soon as she gets home, and then adds, “Winnie. Ma, I wanted to—where’s Tony? Isn’t he with you?”

“I think he got a bit overwhelmed with all the wedding plans,” Sarah admits, frowning. “We got his suit, we picked out flowers for centerpieces, and we snuck in to try cake flavors at the bakery even though we know you’ll just want chocolate, and—”

“Ma, that’s a lot,” Steve cuts in. “Where is he?”

She waves her hand back out the door awkwardly. “Well, he said you looked like you enjoyed chopping wood, so. Please go get him.”

“He’s chopping—he’s chopping wo-? He’s gonna cut his fucking leg off,” Steve mutters, rushing out the door.

Luckily, Tony hasn’t chopped his leg off, but he has gotten the head of the ax stuck in a log and looks like he is clearly considering chucking the entire lot of it.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says hastily, grabbing the ax handle before Tony can lift it back up and pushing it away from him. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—Steve, your family loves you so much,” Tony chokes out, hands shaking. “And Sarah’s so kind, and Natasha likes me, I think—”

“She does,” Steve assures him.

“—And the Barnes are so nice, and everything is so loud, and—”

Steve reaches out to grab his shoulder, but Tony ducks his hand, shivering, as he begins to pace. “Tony, come on.”

“I’m wasting everyone’s time,” Tony bursts out. “I’m wasting your time. You shouldn’t have to be stuck with me when you could be trying to woo the person who you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. I should have just stayed alone.”

Steve approaches him cautiously, because every time Tony notices, he skitters away from him again, like he’s going to burst out of his own skin. “Tony, what are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot, okay?!” Tony shouts, and Steve jerks back in surprise. “I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen years old and I forgot what a loving family is supposed to feel like! And then we came here, and everyone loves you, and I’ve kept you from that! I’ve kept you from that for six years! But they don’t even care! They just want me to be included, and I forgot what that was like!”

“Tony,” Steve says firmly, advancing on him. “Look at me.”

“No!” Tony exclaims, and jerks his gaze to his feet as he backs up. “You’re gonna do that thing where you make me feel like I’m wrong but I’m not this time! I’m not! I don’t deserve their kindness! I’m using you and I’m using them and I don’t deserve any of—”

“Tony,” Steve snaps, grabbing his face and forcing him to look up at him. He only feels slightly guilty when he sees tears gathered on Tony’s lashes. “Tony,” he repeats, softer, loosening his grip. “You deserve kindness.”

“I don’t,” Tony croaks.

“You do,” Steve assures him, using his thumbs to carefully brush the tears away before they have the chance to fall. “You deserve kindness.”

“Not from you,” Tony whispers, lifting his hands to grab Steve’s wrists. “Not after all I’ve done to you.”

“Tony,” Steve says seriously. “You haven’t done anything to me. I chose to stay. If I was really put out by the long hours and being ordered around and called in at all hours of day and night, I easily could have found a different job, because I know, down to my bones, that if they called you for a reference, you wouldn’t sabotage it, and someone with a recommendation from Tony Stark? They would have snapped me up.”

“Then why did you stay?” Tony croaks, brows furrowing together in confusion.

“Because you gave me a chance to work for you even though I didn’t have any experience, and I see things through,” Steve answers, voice firm. “And I’m going to see this through too, Tony.”

“Steve,” Tony whispers, and finally ducks his head with a sniffle.

Steve brushes his hair out of his wet eyes, then curls his arm around Tony’s shoulders to gently lead inside. “Come on.”

Tony sniffles and motions at the wood. “But I told Sarah I’d chop some of this.”

Steve laughs a little. “Tony. She never actually expected you to do it. If I hadn’t been looking for you, she would have come told me to collect you before you hurt yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have-!” Tony begins, scandalized.

“You got the ax stuck in the wood,” Steve points out, and then laughs again when Tony crosses his arms and pouts.

Pepper and Happy arrive the next day, and they look politely bewildered. “I didn’t have time to get you guys a gift, so I’ll have to get one when we go back to Malibu,” Pepper says as they put their bags in the trunk.

“My presence is your present,” Happy deadpans, and both Pepper and Steve are offended until he also pulls a box of chocolate out of his suitcase. “This is for Tony. He can share it with you I guess,” he adds to Steve.

“If I don’t eat all of them first,” Tony agrees, already reading the back to see what kind are in it.

Pepper glances between Tony and Happy, then reaches out to grab Tony’s wrist and very sweetly asks, “Tony, I think I might need some feminine products. Would you mind if I ran in an—”

“I’ll grab them for you,” Tony cuts in, handing the box of chocolates to her and striding back into the airport.

They watch him leave, waiting until he gets through the doors, before Pepper turns and deadpans, “Say what you need to say, gentlemen.”

Steve pauses, awkward, then says, “Not that I expected a gift, but…”

“I don’t care for you, Steve,” Happy tells him flatly.

Steve gapes back at him. “What the hell?”

“Do you think I don’t know what’s going on?” Happy snaps. “Tony told me and Pepper as soon as it happened. We know what this is. And I’ve heard the things you’ve said to people while we were waiting on Tony to go. Don’t think I’m going to forget them just because you’re doing Tony a favor.”

Steve frowns at him, then ducks his head. “Yeah. I wouldn’t expect you to. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. I’ve learned a lot about Tony, and… and I’ve come to realize that I was really unfair.”

“That’s big of you, Steve,” Happy answers. “I still don’t care.” Then he opens the back door to the town car. “Get in.”

“Ma’s gonna throw a fit if she sees I’m not driving you,” Steve says.

“I will bodily heave you into the back of the car,” Happy replies.

Pepper grabs Steve by the arm and drags him into the back seat with her, hastily saying, “Don’t test him, Steve. One time I tried to get in the front seat during working hours and he actually got out of the car, pulled me out, and put me in the back seat.”

“This is supposed to be a vacation for you,” Steve says.

“I still don’t care,” Happy tells him, and then waits patiently for Tony to come trotting back out of the airport. “Took you long enough.”

“They didn’t have Pepper’s brand,” Tony complains immediately, and then slithers up to him to get him in a hug. “Thanks for coming, Hap.”

“I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world,” Happy says, and somehow, he looks like he means it, even as he gives Steve some lethal side-eye.

Tony crawls into the car after Happy gives him one last thump on the back, placing his hands on his knees as he looks between Steve and Pepper. “So, what was that all about?”

“Just a pissing contest,” Pepper replies before either Steve or Happy can respond.

Tony doesn’t look surprised. “Oh. Who won?”

“Me,” Pepper says pleasantly.

Steve and Happy both give her some side-eye, but neither of them try to deny it, because they both know she would have left them bleeding by the side of the road if it came down to it.

“Anything we should know before we get there?” Pepper continues.

“Everyone likes me except Bucky,” Tony answers immediately. “So be nice to everyone.”

Pepper turns to look at Steve, and Happy glances at him in the rearview mirror. Steve sighs, then shrugs helplessly. “He’s got issues that are bigger than Tony and I being together.” Suddenly, he brightens. “Do you think we could get Bucky and Happy in a room alone together and—”

“Happy, if you punch anyone at this wedding, I’m breaking up with you,” Pepper says quickly, before Happy can look too excited.

Happy sags, disappointed, but mutters a petulant, “Fine.”

Steve sags as well, crossing his arms with a pout.

“Ugh,” Pepper says, disgusted. “I hate men so much.”

“Have a pecan cluster,” Tony says, offering her the box of chocolates, and she plucks it out with more force than really necessary.

Natasha and Pepper immediately get along as thick as thieves. Tony looks mildly concerned by this. Steve is half-tempted to tell Pepper that Bucky is Natasha’s boyfriend, but decides that the fireworks when Pepper finds out that Natasha’s boyfriend is the-Bucky-who-dislikes-Tony will be spectacular and well-deserved.

“Steve,” Bucky says quietly when everyone’s distracted. “Can I talk to you?”

Steve turns to look at him. “Are you going to apologize for what you said?”

Bucky sucks in a slow breath, then says, “I guess I can do that, too.”

“So it’s an afterthought?” Steve asks. “Then no. No, I’m not going to talk to you.”

“Steve, it’s important,” Bucky insists.

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh! It’s important. So important you can’t be bothered to apologize to me for that absolutely vile thing you accused me of. Hmm.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighs, frustrated.

“Get fucked,” Steve hisses, and then turns his back on him before he can try to convince him. “Ma. I’m sure Pepper and Happy are famished.”

“Oh, we ate on the plane,” Pepper begins.

“Yeah, and it was shit,” Happy finishes. “I will literally just take a box of cereal.”

Sarah scoffs at him with all the derision of a hostess who loves hosting can. “Absolutely not. I’ve made mutton stew! And have several vegetarian sides in case you don’t like meat.”

Bucky manages to corner them the next day when they come back from cake tasting again (Sarah was right, Steve had wanted chocolate cake, but Tony had convinced him to try a lemon chiffon so moist that it melted in his mouth, and with a white chocolate frosting, it was heavenly). “Steve. I want to talk to you,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument. His eyes land on Tony hovering at Steve’s side, and his voice is flat as he adds, “You, too.”

Tony grabs Steve’s arm and clenches down tight. Steve puts his hand over his, then sighs, because apparently they’re not getting out of this. “Fine,” he says. “But make it fast.”

Bucky leads them into one of the outhouses, and Tony nearly leaps onto Steve when they find someone else in there. “Oh holy shit.”

“Mr. Stark,” Agent Coulson greets. “Mr. Rogers.”

“What the actual fuck,” Steve breathes, then jerks the arm Tony is still clutching so he’s behind him. “What are you doing here?!”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes expressed concern that your marriage seemed out of place, considering some of the things you were saying to him even a week before you flew home.” Agent Coulson raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And now I hear that you’re getting married in… two days? This is all moving very fast, considering that Mr. Stark found out he would be deported a week ago if his marriage status didn’t change.”

Tony frowns, brows furrowing together, and looks up at Steve. “What were you saying about me?”

“Tony,” Steve says stiffly. “Go stand by Agent Coulson.”

Tony’s eyes go big and hurt. “Steve…”

“Go.”

Tony sort of shrinks as he takes a step toward Agent Coulson. “Okay.”

Once Tony has gotten clear, though, Steve lets out roar and lunges at Bucky, who goes down with a yelp.

“STEVE OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK!” Tony shouts, rushing to stop him.

“Get off me, Tony!” Steve snaps, trying to pull his arm free of Tony’s grip.

“Steve, stop, stop,” Tony says frantically. “Stop!”

“GET OFF ME,” Steve finally shouts at him, and Tony skitters back in terror.

Agent Coulson grabs Steve then, face thunderous, and says, “Knock it off, Rogers.”

“This isn’t about you,” Steve snaps.

“Knock. It. Off,” Agent Coulson repeats, and he tightens his grip on Steve’s arm.

Steve glares back at him for a moment, then directs his glare to Bucky. “You were supposed to be my best man,” he hisses, and then his face crumples, and his voice cracks as he repeats, “You were supposed to be my best man.”

“Steve,” Bucky breathes, shocked, as Agent Coulson heaves Steve to his feet.

Steve sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, lifting a hand to wipe his eyes, then looks at Agent Coulson and says, “Get off my property.”

“You’re not going to murder him as soon as I leave, are you?” Agent Coulson asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically. His eyes dart over to Tony, then back to Steve, expression going stern. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight it, just nods, exhausted.

Agent Coulson eyes him a moment longer before turning and going over to Tony, who is curled in on himself and shivering. “Mr. Stark,” he asks softly. “Are you alright?”

“I—” Tony begins helplessly, eyes darting between Steve and Bucky nervously. “I—”

“I’ll take you up to the main house,” Agent Coulson decides, placing a hand on the small of Tony’s back and gently easing him toward the door. “We’ll give Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes a moment.”

Steve watches them go, stunned, then lifts his shaking hands to run them through his hair. He feels a hand on his arm and can’t help but flinch away, spinning around.

“Steve,” Bucky says, holding his hands up placatingly. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Steve snaps, turning his back on him again.

“Steve,” Bucky sighs. “I didn’t do this to hurt you. You have to believe that.”

Steve whips back toward him. “You’ve been hurting me since the day we got here, Bucky.”

“Because I was worried!” Bucky bursts out. “Because you spent six years complaining to me about how much of an asshole your boss is, suddenly you’re dating him, and then you’re marrying him?! Steve. Tell me how that looks. Tell me how it would look if I showed up to Malibu with Rumlow on my arm, saying I was going to marry him.”

Steve swallows thickly, then croaks, “That’s different. He literally tried to kill you.”

“It’s really not,” Bucky counters. “Because to me, it sounded like Tony was sucking the life out of you, too. And then you called to say you were coming, and you didn’t mention anything to me. You didn’t tell me anything.” He sags, just as exhausted as Steve. “Did you think I wouldn’t have supported you if you just told me the truth? That I wouldn’t help sell the lie? If you’d just told me the truth from the beginning, I would have helped you, Steve.”

“It happened so fast, and I was so focused on what needed done,” Steve says, voice soft. “And he’s… He’s not so bad, Bucky. I’ve learned so much about him since this started. And he told me—” He sucks in a wet breath. “Bucky, he’s been alone for so long. He doesn’t even remember what being in a family is.”

Bucky scrubs his hands over his face, then sighs, letting his hands drop to his sides. “You always were such a hopeless romantic, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve admits, hunching his shoulders.

“Let’s go back up to the house,” Bucky mutters. “And I’ll—I’ll apologize to Tony. He looked real shaken up.”

“He saw me like that,” Steve whispers. “And I yelled at him.”

“I’ll tell him that I drove you to it,” Bucky offers, rubbing the back of his head. He sighs quietly when Steve just covers his face, reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Come on, Steve. It’s getting cold.”

Agent Coulson isn’t there when they get to the house, but Sarah, Natasha, and Pepper are wide-eyed as they watch Steve and Bucky come in.

“…Where’s Tony?” Steve asks tiredly.

Sarah wordlessly points toward the room they’re staying in. “Steve,” she says as they begin to walk past her. “I know things between you and Bucky have been strained, but getting into a physical fight? Unacceptable.” The ‘we will be talking about this’ goes unspoken, but it is very, very clear.

Both Steve and Bucky wince, and utter ashamed ‘yes ma’am’s, and then make their ways to Steve and Tony’s room. Steve considers just going in, then thinks better of it and knocks. There’s no answer, so he peeks inside, wincing a little when he sees Tony frantically throwing blankets and a pillow back onto the bed. “Tony, it’s us,” he says gently.

“Oh. Do I need to call Sarah?” Tony asks, twitching toward the door before very deliberately going still.

“No,” Steve answers hastily. “No. Please don’t call Ma.”

Tony’s eyes dart between them, and he takes a careful step back. “Okay,” he says, unconvinced.

“We wanted to apologize,” Steve begins, and then sighs, shoulders sagging. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Tony’s eyes dart between them again before he hesitantly asks, “Um, okay. For what?”

“For what,” Bucky repeats in disbelief, as if Tony had personally just reached out and punched him in the gut.

Steve can’t say he doesn’t know the feeling. “For yelling at you when you were trying to keep me from pounding Bucky’s face in. It looked like I really scared you.”

“Oh. I—well. It’s fine. It’s fine,” Tony says, trying not to fidget too much. “Nothing happened. It’s fine.”

“…I,” Bucky begins, then crosses his arms uncomfortably when Tony’s eyes land on him, somehow resigned and terrified at the same time. “I’m sorry. For making things difficult on you. You an’ Stevie.” He works his jaw when Tony says nothing, then adds, “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”

“I am,” Tony answers quietly.

Bucky’s face goes through a series of feelings at the admission. Steve can’t help feeling a tad smug, even if it does break his heart a little.

“Are you… um,” Tony begins, playing with his fingers. He looks down at his feet. “Should I pack?”

“We’re still getting married,” Steve cuts in, taking a step toward him, but thinks better of it and eases back, because Tony still looks a little anxious.

Tony looks back up at them, frowning. “That’s okay?”

“…Why wouldn’t it,” Steve begins.

“It’s okay,” Bucky cuts in quietly. “If Steve is sure, you’re both adults. I trust Steve to know what’s good for him, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”

Steve takes a deep breath, then lets it back out slowly, feeling as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, even though he also still feels guilt sitting heavy and solid in his gut. “Can I talk to Tony alone, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers immediately, lifting a hand to rub the back of his head. “Yeah.” He gives Tony one last look before he turns and leaves the room.

Tony watches him go, then hesitantly looks back up at Steve. “What is it?”

“Agent Coulson, he—you looked really shaken up,” Steve sighs, fighting the urge not to flush in shame. “He brought you back to the house. Did he… say anything?”

“He said your mother has a lovely home,” Tony answers immediately.

Steve frowns at him, disbelieving. “That’s it?”

“I—he asked if I felt safe here,” Tony admits, looking back down at his feet. “He seemed worried. I told him this was the first time I’d seen you like this. He still looked concerned, but he did end up leaving after that.”

Steve had never thought he’d feel so low. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “That I shouted at you. That you had to see me like that. Please know, Tony, that that actually had nothing to do with you. Not really. It’s been bubbling up ever since I left six years ago. I’m sorry, Tony.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says again.

“It’s really not,” Steve begins.

“It’s fine,” Tony repeats, steel in his voice this time.

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, then decides he’s in no position to push, at least not right now, when everything is so raw. “Fine.”

The next day is spent with last minute fittings and rehearsals, to the point that they don’t get a chance to talk about what happened. Even if they did get a moment alone together, it didn’t last long, with other people bustling in to ask a question or make sure they knew something about the ceremony, or just to remind them to take a break. Luckily, everyone in town is very excited about Steve being home and getting married, so they’re happy to make sure that things go as smoothly for the wedding as they can.

Steve notices Agent Coulson lingering at the edges of the crowd whenever they’re in town, and he scowls at him every time. Somehow, Agent Coulson doesn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I can’t believe you called that guy,” he mutters to Bucky as they go to pick up their suits.

Bucky blinks at him, bewildered. “I didn’t call him. He called me.”

“What?!” Steve exclaims, but then he’s pulled into a discussion about corsages, and he doesn’t get a chance to question him further.

Sarah and Winifred (and literally every other woman in their family, at least Bucky had rolled his eyes) insist that Steve and Tony sleep apart the night before their wedding, because neither of them may be a bride, but it would still be bad luck if they saw each other. Luckily, they do allow them to say goodnight to each other, and Steve finds himself smiling as Sarah and Winifred giggle over the timer they’ve set for him.

“—my apartment? Yeah, I won’t—” Tony is saying into his cellphone when Steve walks into the bedroom, and then his eyes go big and surprised. “Uh. I have to go.”

“I can come back,” Steve offers, because Tony actually looks sorry about having to get off the phone.

“No, I can pick this up later,” Toy hurries to assure him, then scowls, offended, and says, “Platypus! I’m going to call you right back!”

“Platypus,” Steve repeats, mostly out of surprise, then frowns. “Ah. Your friend. Colonel Rhodey, you said?” He’d heard about him—he was the only person Tony ever smiled on the phone for, and if he hadn’t known that the Colonel had a long-term girlfriend (because Tony talked about both of them), he’d have assumed that that was who Tony was in love with.

“It’s Rhodes. I just call him Rhodey,” Tony admits, then tips his head. “Yeah, I’ll call you back soon. Steve needs to talk to me. Bye.”

“I guess we are gonna have to figure out where we’re going to live when we go back to California,” Steve muses. “How’s the amenities in your complex?”

Tony blinks at him, surprised, then admits, “I’ve never used them. People try to talk to me.”

“Ah,” Steve says, trying not to sound like an asshole, because… yeah, Tony avoided socializing even at work with his colleagues. “Well. We can figure that out after the wedding, I guess. Anyway. Ma and Winnie are timing me, so they know when to come in and roust me out if I take too long. I just wanted to say goodnight, and I guess… see you tomorrow?”

Tony frowns, considering, then manages a small smile. “I want to see your mother pull you out. She’s so tiny and you’re so big.”

“No she grabs my ear,” Steve whines immediately, then scowls when Tony laughs at him. “You laugh, but once you feel those nails digging into your ear, you’ll learn my pain.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think it can really compare to a wooden spoon,” Tony muses, and looks pleased when Steve actually starts to fret about which is worse. “See you tomorrow, Steve.”

Steve opens his mouth to say goodnight again, then pauses, squinting at Tony skeptically. Something doesn’t sound right in the way he says it, but he can’t really put his finger on it. Finally, at a loss for anything else, he repeats, “See you tomorrow.”

Tony reaches out to pat his chest before lifting his phone again. “I’m trying to work out a video call so Rhodey can watch me get married. I’ll go to bed soon,” he assures, misinterpreting Steve’s response.

“…Okay,” Steve says somewhat reluctantly. “Maybe let Natasha know tomorrow, so that you don’t have to worry about it when we’re actually doing the vows and everything.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Steve,” Tony adds, patting his chest again, before returning his attention to his phone.

Steve stares at him for a long moment, then takes a step forward, opening his mouth again.

“Time’s up!” Sarah exclaims cheerfully, popping into the room like a jack-in-the-box and latching onto his ear.

“Ma no please,” Steve chokes out, but she’s got a vice grip, and Tony is laughing at him, so he lets himself be dragged willingly. He doesn’t think too much about the fact that Tony has a nice laugh.

Steve is just unzipping his garment bag when his mother bursts into the room. He blinks at her ashen face in surprise, but it quickly fades into concern. “Ma?”

“Steven,” Sarah whispers, and he knows from the use of his full first came that things are bad.

“…What’s going on, Ma?” he asks.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Sarah says, lashes growing wet.

Steve stares at her, confused, then rushes past her to get to Tony’s room. It’s telling, that everyone he passes stops talking when they see him and rush to clear a path for him. Even Happy looks a little sorry for him as he yanks Pepper out of the way. He doesn’t bother to knock, just shoves the door to the room open, Tony’s name dying in his throat when he sees the room is empty. The pillows are perfectly fluffed at the head of the bed, extra blankets folded at the bottom. Tony’s toiletry bag is gone from the bathroom, and the laptop he’d had on the night table is gone, alarm clock and book back in place.

It’s like Tony had never been there at all, except for what looks like a manuscript on the desk. Steve swallows thickly and walks over to it.

Thank you, Steve. And thank your family for being so kind and welcoming. But I can’t do this to you, or to them. You all deserve so much better than that. I’ve talked to Agent Coulson, and told him that it was all my doing, that I was blackmailing you. You won’t get in trouble, a note on top of it says. I read the book you wanted to publish, and I’ve pushed it forward. I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously sooner. When you get back to work after your vacation, you’ll be a full-fledged editor. I hope that makes up for the way I’ve treated you for the last six years. You’ll be able have coffee you actually like in the mornings, now. Goodbye, Steve. Good luck.

“…What the fuck,” Steve chokes out, reading and rereading the note, as if it might have some sort of secret message hidden in it. “What is—Tony, what—”

“Apparently he hadn’t talked to Jim about this at all. He knew Jim would tell him it was a bad idea,” Pepper explains quietly from the door.

Steve turns toward her, confused. “Why?”

“From what I can gather, Tony got into America from Italy with a student visa. He met Jim at MIT,” Pepper says. “And the Rhodes family took him in. Then Tony got his job in the publishing industry, and it became his life, and he forgot that work wasn’t everything.”

“It was what kept him in the country,” Steve argues. “His work visa. He needed—”

“Steve, if Tony hadn’t been panicking, he would have gone to HR for a lawyer from the beginning,” Pepper sighs, lifting her hands to rub her temples in an attempt to stave off a headache. “He was one of the people who started our west coast branch. He was invaluable to the company. They would have made sure his visa got back in order. Marrying someone was the first thing that came to mind, so he kept up with it. Jim was the one who pointed out that he didn’t need to do that, and that was he was doing was awful to you. Even if he did have feelings for you, it was clear that you wouldn’t return them. So he had to do what was right.”

Steve stares at her, then asks, “How did he know I wouldn’t return them? How do you?”

Pepper blinks at him in confusion. “Steve, what are you saying?”

“He’s a fucking dumbass and fell in love with him,” Bucky says, and they both jerk to find Sarah, Winifred, Bucky, Natasha, and Happy hanging in the door.

“What,” Pepper says, horror coloring her voice.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are so fucking stupid,” Sarah hisses, coming into the room to cup his cheeks.

Steve drops his gaze to the floor with a wince. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t disappointed me yet. You can still go get your boy,” she tells him.

Steve meets her eyes hesitantly. “That’s okay?”

“Steve, when I asked to come visit for the holidays, he offered for you two to come back instead,” Sarah whispers. “He wants you to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees helplessly. “Yeah, he does.” He swallows thickly, then clears his throat, standing up straight again. “Happy, how’s your New York driving?”

“I can get you on the next plane to California,” Happy says, determined, so Steve sprints back to his room and grabs his wallet, and he runs out of the house just as Happy is pulling up the car.

Steve misses him. He fucking misses him.

He should have known it wouldn’t take Tony long to pack up. He’d mentioned how the apartment had come fully furnished, and he didn’t cook much, and Pepper was the one decorating his place. Even his office at work was pretty spartan, except for a bowl chair in the corner and a lamp for when he was working late and wanted to be comfortable. Even those are gone, carefully packed into neat boxes and left in the corner of the main floor, waiting for a shipping company to come pick them up.

Agent Coulson is there, too, and it takes everything in Steve not to walk over and punch him in the mouth. “You.”

“Mr. Rogers,” Agent Coulson replies mildly, jotting something down on his clipboard. “Mr. Stark has done his level best to make sure no blowback falls upon you. I’d still suggest you’d do well to keep your head down—”

“Joke’s on you, asshole,” Steve snaps, pointing directly in his face. “I’m going to marry Tony if it’s the last thing I fucking do, and you’re not gonna stop me.”

Agent Coulson stares at him for a moment, then lets out a long sigh. “Are you telling me that you actually fell in love with him over a week and a half?”

“I’m an idiot,” Steve tells him. “But that’s okay, because Tony’s an idiot too.”

Agent Coulson takes in a deep breath, then lets it out with a hissed, “God damn it Fury I know you did this to punish me specifically.”

Steve is big enough to admit that he’s a pretty excellent punishment for people even as he tries to finagle Tony’s forwarding address from him.

The Carbonell estate is a beautiful thing, Steve thinks, sucking in a startled breath as he lets his gaze travel past the villa. There are a few acres of grape vines behind it, and giant olive trees in the front yard. Apparently, the Carbonells were known for growing grapes and letting the locals come and take some to make their own wine. They’d used to own a larger expanse of vineyard, but they had downsized after The Accident.

That’s how all the locals refer to it, anyway. Maria Carbonell had been a well-loved local figure, and her husband was charismatic enough for his rough edges to be overlooked as he tried to assimilate to their culture, and then one day a tourist had been driving recklessly while Howard and Maria had been driving home from a local festival, and both cars had gone tumbling down a hill. “Antonio had been sixteen then,” they whisper, and Steve feels his heart leap into his throat, that he’d been left alone on this big estate.

He’d been told he could just go up to the door and knock, but he still feels weird about it.

The door opens just as he’s considering knocking again, and Steve opens his mouth to tell whoever answers who he is, but his voice freezes in his throat when he actually registers who he’s looking at.

He looks like Tony, but older—same sharp features, same facial hair, same hair curling at his ears and nape like Tony’s does before a cut, even if it is more gray than black. Steve had no idea what to say. Tony had said he had no family, but if this man isn’t related to Tony in some way, he’ll eat his fucking ballcap.

“Papa,” a familiar voice says, more gently than Steve’s ever heard it. “Papa, please. You were eating. You’ll waste your lunch.”

The man continues to stare at Steve, and it’s only then that he realizes the man’s gaze is vacant, like he’s not really seeing Steve at all. He motions at the door.

“Yes, you’ve gotten the door, Papa,” Tony agrees. “Thank you. Please go finish your lunch. Then we’ll go out on the balcony and have some wine.”

The man stares at Steve, then scowls and mutters ‘blond’ under his breath like an insult before he turns and leaves back into the house. Steve watches him go, stunned, even as his hand flies self-consciously to his hair.

“…Sorry,” Tony says, sniffing awkwardly as he comes to stand in the doorway. “He has nothing against blonds, really. We think he’s looking for Mama’s hair and is always upset that it’s not her.”

“Oh,” Steve replies, lump forming in his throat. “That’s sad.”

“Yes, well,” Tony says with a shrug. “Traumatic brain injuries are sad.” He blinks up at Steve for a moment, then asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you,” Steve says. “So we can get married.”

“We have civil unions in Italy,” Tony answers immediately, before the words catch up with him and he stares up at Steve in confusion. “What?”

“I love you,” Steve says. “And I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true. I love you, and I want to be with you, and I came to the office to stop you but you were gone. So I came all the way over here.” Steve pauses, then looks over Tony’s shoulder, adding, “I, um. I didn’t know about your dad. Should I get a hotel?”

Tony blinks at him. “Um. No, we have the room. Dad mostly keeps to himself, and he typically has a carer nearby. I just… wanted to spend some time with him when I got home, so I told Carmella to take the afternoon off.”

“I can come back,” Steve offers. “If you want to be alone with him.”

“Come in, Steve,” Tony orders, and opens the door further for him.

Steve understands why Tony went into the job he did as soon as he follows him out onto the balcony with Howard. Howard sits, and he stares out at the vines, holding a glass filled with ‘wine’ that’s really just grape juice. Tony sits down across the table from him and opens a book, and he starts to read.

It’s Dune. Tony reads it like an old friend, eyes casually sliding from the pages to his father every few minutes without a single stutter. Steve remembers, suddenly, that a copy of it had been laid out on the coffee table whenever he had to go to Tony’s apartment. Was this what Tony did, read Dune to his father? How often? When?

“Mr. Stark,” someone says softly, and Steve turns to see an older woman coming out onto the balcony. “It’s almost time for your father’s nap.”

Tony tips his head, acknowledging her, and finishes up the page he’d been reading before he turns to his father and says, “Papa, how did you like it?”

Howard says nothing for a long moment, then manages, “Fine.”

“I’m glad, Papa,” Tony says, smiling sadly. “Carmella says it’s time for your nap.”

“You’ve had a lot of excitement since Antonio came home,” the woman, Carmella, adds gently. “You’ll want to be refreshed for supper.”

Howard somehow conveys that he doesn’t believe her even as he allows her to ease him out of his seat and take his glass. He pauses in the doorway to turn and give Tony a minute wave. Then he narrows his eyes at Steve, mutters to himself, and turns his back on them both, allowing himself to be led away.

“…Is this why you said you didn’t have family?” Steve asks softly.

Tony sighs, shrugging one shoulder. “For the most part, he died in that accident with my mom. You wouldn’t know it from speaking to him, but he was a world-renowned scientist before the accident.”

“That atom with the heart,” Steve realizes.

“Yeah. Both of my parents effectively died in the accident,” Tony says with a shrug. “They left a sizeable inheritance, and I was able to save a lot from my job, so I’ve been paying for someone to care for him.”

“And you’ve been alone since the accident,” Steve adds. “Except for the entire Rhodes family, Pepper, and Happy.”

“The Rhodes have their own lives. Rhodey’s always deployed or his girlfriend is, and I don’t want them to waste their leave coming to visit me,” Tony explains, shrugging again. “And his parents took custody of their granddaughter. They don’t need to worry about me and my problems.”

“And me,” Steve says.

Tony opens his mouth, then closes it again, turning to frown at him. “What?”

“And you have me,” Steve repeats.

Tony stares at him a moment longer, then smiles a little, confused. “Steve. I’m back in Italy. There’s no reason to pretend anymore.”

Steve reaches out to take his hand. “You’re right. There isn’t.”

“…You’re holding my hand,” Tony points out after a moment, at a loss for anything else. “Steve, what on earth are you—”

“I fell in love with you,” Steve says. “And I want to prove it to you. And what better way than now, when there really isn’t a reason to pretend anymore?”

“…I… I don’t understand,” Tony finally answers. “What could you possibly even like about me, after all I’ve done? You don’t even really know me.”

“I know you like yogurt in the mornings, but you’ll eat third helpings at dinner,” Steve replies, lifting his other hand to cover Tony’s. “I know that you don’t really get art, but you know it makes Pepper happy, so you let her purchase what she wants to put in your spaces. I know that you prefer red wine over white and any wine over beer, but you’ll accept any of it because you don’t like to make a fuss. I know you loved your job because you loved seeing people get wrapped up in a new story and I know that you wanted writers to succeed. And I know—” He hesitates, but Tony looks more overwhelmed than upset, so he forges on, “And I know that you must care about me, too, since you left instead of carrying through with the marriage. So. So please give us a chance. A real one, this time.”

Tony stares at him, clearly stunned. Finally, though, he whispers, “How can I face your family again, Steve?”

“Tony, they loved you,” Steve assures him. “They just want to make sure you’re okay. They really want to see you again. Ma mentioned us coming for the holidays.” He pauses, then adds, “Well. If we can get back to the States that soon.”

“We?” Tony asks, voice shaking.

Steve frowns. “Tony, I’m in love with you. I’m not going to just leave you here. Not unless you send me away.”

“Steve,” Tony whispers, leaning in to hide his face in Steve’s chest.

Steve pulls him closer, burying his face in Tony’s hair. “I want to really give this a try, Tony. Please say you’ll try, too.” Tony is quiet for a very long time, but Steve doesn’t mind. He’s been alone for so long, he’d give Tony all the time in the world. Instead, he strokes his hand up and down Tony’s back, basking in the fact that he’s allowed to hold him now, and there’s no reason other than that he wants to.

“Maybe…” Tony begins quietly. “Maybe your family would want to come visit us here. We’ve got room. Only if they wanted to, of course,” he adds hurriedly.

Steve snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure a picturesque villa in Italy will be a hard sell, Tony.”

Tony tucks his face into Steve’s chest again. “Steve?”

Steve looks down at him. “Yeah?”

“…I’m glad you’re here,” Tony admits, then hides his face in Steve’s neck, embarrassed.

Steve nearly glows with happiness at the admission. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“Stay?” Tony asks shyly.

“That’s fine with me,” Steve answers, smiling.

“Fine,” Tony agrees, and Steve swears he feels a kiss being placed to his throat.

#ideas #stony #long post

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fnf-amateur-writing · 3 years

Note

Hey! It’s Fox again! How are you doing? I just started school back up today, so I’ve been busy Xp.

Think you would be cool with writing some Pico with an s/o who is a writer, and tends to ask him about things like “hey, how long does it take someone to bleed out” or other things like that?

I understand if you don’t feel like it, and I hope you’re having fun 😊

🦊

Hello again Fox, I'm doing quite well rn. I'm cool with your prompt, especially since I need more writing material anyways.

Took me a while, because I didn't want to do a hc, but rather come up with a oneshot with a little twist to the style. Well, hope it works well.

Good luck with school, mate!

TW: Mentions of violence, swearing, slight sexual reference, and crime.

Pico with a writer S/O who asks him strange questions

Prologue:

On a chilly autumn morning, you were sitting out on your patio with a laptop and a mug of your favourite beverage next to you. Whenever you looked up, you could see the warm coloured leaves fall as the breeze accompanied you. The whole scene was an aesthetic.

When your boyfriend, Pico, came outside to see this, he knew that the nice environment you surrounded yourself with meant one thing. "You're back in your writing space already. Heh, with that bestseller you published, I thought you were comfy taking a break." You simply smiled and said, "can't waste the inspiration rush I got right now."

Pico had a good point though, with your rising popularity as an author, you were near set to retire before turning fourty. But you wish you weren't given all of the credit, since your boyfriend's stories of his dodgy job has occasionally sparked some ideas for your stories. However the books you wrote in the past were usually meant for the young adult and had few mature themes. This time, you thought maybe it's time to garner extra inspiration from those stories.

You were met with some disappointment when you realised that your mug was empty, only a drop entering your mouth. "Here, babe, I'll ya some more," Pico said, taking your mug and walking inside. "Quick question," you stopped him. "Yeah?"

"What would be the best place for a murder cemetery?"

"... What?"

Chapter 1:

"So you're doing some story about the police hunting down a mass murderer?"

"Pretty much."

"And to think you were gonna write Pixar's next script. Aight' I respect that." Pico takes a seat next to you with a refill of your drink placed next to your favourite writing laptop. "Thanks, Pico. But yeah, I want to branch out to something edgier, and I think you can help too."

"Let me show you what I've got so far." You showed him some of your notes in a little notepad document, detailing the story thus far and your current plans for this chapter. "Oh, that's it? Just looks like boring police preparation mainly," Pico commented. "Yeah, it's not much right now. But it'll get juicy later." "And bloody?" "And bloody."

"Welp, I'm gonna head back in," Pico got up, "let me know if you need anything." He head back inside, closing the door, but then opened it almost immediately afterwards. Pico stuck his head out, "by the way, the guy should use some strong alcohol or something to throw off those sniffer dogs."

Chapter 2:

"And then, because they used a silencer, the police don't immediately notice the--"

"Nope! I'm calling bullshit (Y/N)!" Pico had suddenly interrupted your explanation of the scene you were currently working on. "Silencers can help prevent some hearing loss, sure, but they're not magic."

"Alright," you reply, "no silencer, but the killer still has to kill in a way to not get blood on them, so I thought shooting and killing them from a distance would work." "Well, they're alone. Instead, have the guy get shanked in the neck or something, and have the killer use a plastic bag as a glove. It saved my ass one time."

"Woah!" you exclaimed with a giggle, "you used a knife once? What happened to my trigger happy boyfriend, huh? That's pretty sus."

"I forgot to reload the Uzis, alright?"

"What an impostor would say."

Chapter 3:

"What would be the best way to muffle the scream of someone you kidnapped?"

You two were sitting on the couch together watching a show. You didn't have your laptop on you, so Pico didn't expect you to still be thinking about that book. "I can't say from experience, really," he said as he paused the show. "However, shove a rag in their mouth and duct tape it in, and you should be good."

"Thanks Pico, also one more thing." "Yeah?" "What if our killer also wanted to..." God, this one was gonna be awkward, but you had to say it or else no help. "You know, cut off this victim's willy. How would you do that?"

"Wai-wha-uh-ga," Pico started fumbling his words like never before. He stopped, then took a deep breath. "YO, WHAT THE FUCK?!" "It'll make sense in the story later, I promise!" You watch Pico begin to lose it, breaking into laughter. "Ladies, gentlemen, and others," Pico dramatically stood up, pulling a little Showcaster impression and directing his arms towards you, "my famous 'young' adult novelist partner!"

Chapter 4:

It was in the dead of night, but you awoke to Pico on his phone. His vpn was on and Tor was up. As per usual, he was checking up on his little hitman service, where others could request for a certain someone's guts to fly if they paid him a hefty sum first. Though tired, you ound this to be the best time to ask him some more questions.

"Pico, how do those sites work?"

"Oh, you're awake," Pico blankly stated, sleepy too. But he still answered you. "Basically, some anonymous rich guys in the area give me money and a target, then I just do the thing and send a mission accomplished email." "Do they pay you in person?" "Nah, we use always use Bitcoin. It's a lot harder to trace than real money."

"Thanks Pico. Goodnight," you wish him, yawning and going back to sleep. "You too... So this guy is a hit man too?" "Hush. Tomorrow." "Okay." Pico puts his phone away, leaving it on a nightstand. You then spoon the night away, peacefully thinking of murder as you drifted off.

Chapter 5:

On a morning similar to before, you two sat on the patio with your drinks and laptop at the ready. Pico watched rather awkwardly as you typed away, wondering why you haven't entertained him with another question yet.

"You gonna ask anything else?" "What? Oh, nah," you plainly state. Inevitable, sure, but he was kind of saddened. He liked being able to share his messed up wisdom. "So, you're done?" "Almost." You turn to look at him, "want the spoilers?" Pico smiled, "sure thing."

In the novella you and Pico crafted together, the main character is a cop who hunts down a killer. They eventually notice that there would be two murders at a time for unknown reasons. Well, it was unknown until one victim had left up a dark web hit man for hire site. They that the hit man not only kills the target, but the client as a hidden price for the service.

And any request will be fulfilled, according to the hit man's site.

"Do they catch 'em?" Pico asked. "Well, ANY request is granted. So, if our hero were to... hire him to kill himself..."

"No way!"

"He did. They find both of their bodies in his bedroom."

Pico was a bit impressed with the ending you came up with, but then he remembered something. "Why did that guy get his thing cut off?" "Lol, I forgot," you giggled. "He sent a message to the hit man, saying he wishes the target would choke on his dick."

"That's my favourite part."

Epilogue:

After everything was finished up, you sent the book off to your editor. After the initial joy of knowing how the story ended, you saw that Pico was still in thought. "What's up with you?" "Oh nothing, well it's just... I'm probably just biased, being that I'm a bit of a hitman myself, but it's kind of sad to see the guy go."

"Then I should spoil the epilogue I came up with." Rather than being excited, Pico nervously asked, "what's an epilogue?" He didn't get an answer, only you staring at him. "Sorry, school held too many bad memories for me to pay attention."

"Anyways," you continue, "the rest of the police gang did some background checks, and find that our killer was a normal guy with no criminal history."

"Penilian?"

"No. But I did decide to take a more supernatural approach here. Somewhere across the country, another string of double homicides occur and that site is active once more. And the story kind of repeats itself."

"Penilian."

"You joker," you give him a playful little kiss on the cheek, one that definitely caught him off guard. "So is it canon?" Pico smirked. "Nah, just thanking you for being my cute little co-author." "Oh," Pico started, "so we're flirtin' now, huh. Come here babe!" He tackled you onto the ground, giving you several kisses in exchange.

"Actually, I think we call that 'making out'," you chuckle out, flustered. "But that doesn't mean I said stop'!" You pull him in for more, accidentally bonking your heads together rather painfully. "Nice double kill there, (Y/N)."

#fnf x reader #fnf imagines #pico x reader #fnf pico

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yaboylevi · 3 years

Text

Shingeki no Kyojin's Ending Interview (May 2021)

Translation commissioned by @goldsword07, DO NOT REPOST in full, always include credits and a link to this post if you use or share any parts of it.

Question: Congratulations on completing Shingeki no Kyojin’s serialization! How do you feel now that you have finished writing the final chapter?

Isayama: There’s still some work left to do when it comes to putting together the final manga volume*, so I don’t actually know how a “life without deadlines" feels like yet (laughs), but by publishing the final chapter, I feel like I can finally breathe again. However, there are still several things that need to be done.

(*Translator’s note: usually, putting together a volume includes: fixing drawing mistakes, sometimes even redrawing certain scenes if the author wasn’t satisfied with how they looked/their composition, fixing text (both wording or simply changing the Japanese characters used), drawing omake/extra pages, like the High School Caste fake previews, which usually take up 2 pages, and so on. So, of the 8 extra pages he mentions below, probably only 6 at max will be used to add new original story content.)

Q: What?! What else is there to be done?

Isayama: At first, the draft for the last page of the chapter was neatly divided into 5 panels, but I was feeling quite indecisive about it. At the time, that last page was a scene of 3 people running towards a tree on a hill. After having a meeting about that with Bakku-san and my other editors, I decided on a last-minute change, and I turned it into the one that is now published in Bessatsu Shonen Magazine. The limit for each printed chapter in Bessatsu Magazine was 51 pages, but since up to 8 extra pages can be added in manga volumes, I want to finish up everything that I couldn’t draw in the printed magazine and add it in the final manga volume.

Q: As for the serialization, which spanned 11 years and a half, have there been any changes about the way you think about mangas?

Isayama: Up until recently, I had drawn as if sexism wasn’t a thing, but when drawing the Marleyan military, which was comparatively more modern, if I had added, with no explanation whatsoever, female soldiers like I did for Paradis Island, it could’ve given the impression that Marley was quite a developed nation. It would’ve felt out of place. That’s why, as long as I was drawing a story set in an era of the past, I couldn’t draw female characters as part of the top brass of the military, because it would’ve meant acting as if there was no actual history of gender discrimination at the time.

It might be a story set in a fictitious world, but if you don’t connect it in some ways to the real world, it could end up becoming a story people cannot relate to.

Q: The unraveling of events that led to the final chapter has been quite shocking. Especially when it comes to Eren…

Isayama: I have been frenetically checking any and all reactions to that. There are as many honest opinions as there are people, and they’re all correct. With how I portrayed that part, it’s not so strange that it was interpreted as if Armin accepted the massacre. My portrayal was lacking. Armin didn’t approve of the despicable measures taken by Eren, but he ended up benefiting from the mass slaughter, regardless of his intentions. Armin, who couldn’t possibly understand Eren, faced their last farewell with a firm “Thank you for becoming a mass murderer for us”, essentially conveying how he himself was also an accomplice. He wanted to feel closer to Eren, even if just a little. I realized the final stage in particular had too difficult themes, and my portrayal was inadequate. I deeply regret that I wasn’t able to fully express them in the manga proper.

I’ve been drawing this manga for 11 years and a half, and when I completed the manuscript I truly believed that “everyone will be happy with this”. I was conceited. I apologize to those who have supported me until the end but have felt let down by the ending.

Q: During these 11 years and a half of serialization, have there been any memorable events?

Isayama: I’m happy that I could deepen the relationship with my assistants, as “manga friends”. When the serialization started, everyone was in their twenties, but now some of them are married and have even become parents, and we have become close family friends.

Q: Was the manga becoming an anime a memorable moment, too?

Isayama: The anime adaptation can certainly be considered another part of Shingeki no Kyojin. Lots of people got to know this story through watching the anime. Personally, it was refreshing for me too, as I could experience the story anew. In addition to that, the characters were taken out of my hands - in a good way - by the directors and voice actors, they began moving as independent “existences”. It was a first and interesting experience.

Q: Do you have a favorite scene?

Isayama: As far as drawings go, the scene I like the most is the one in chapter 104, “Victors”, when the Jaw Titan claws at the Attack Titan. Besides the fact that I feel like I can’t draw anything better than that, there also haven’t been that many action scenes with titans after chapter 104.

Q: Well then, what about your best chapter?

Isayama: One of them is chapter 71, “Bystander”. I feel like that chapter exceeded my abilities at the time. I like the way it doesn’t feel like “Shingeki no Kyojin”, as the spotlight was on the life of a single character who isn’t involved with the original story.

Q: Chapter 69, “Friends”, also depicts some characters’ personal life.

Isayama: I like that chapter, too! At the time of drawing its draft, I flattered myself with words such as “Uh? Aren’t I so mature?!”. Normally, I would draw the main story’s continuation, but in chapters 69 and 71’s case, it felt like I was drawing stories that were complete on their own.

Q: With the start of the Marley arc in chapter 91, “The other side of the ocean”, both titans and modern times’ weapons made an appearance in battle.

Isayama: That battle scene was the time I had the most fun while drawing mangas, I was in a state of total concentration and full energy.

Q: How has Shingeki no Kyojin been for you?

Isayama: It’s as if youth has come a bit late, a third of my life has been packed into this work. …Of course, there have been hard times, too, but it’s been a chapter of my life that normally you wouldn’t be able to experience and even now I struggle to think it was real. Although I’ve been spoiled by my readers, I had planned to draw all the while accepting even harsh opinions.

Q: Finally, a message to the readers, please!

Isayama: Through Shingeki no Kyojin, I could connect with an unfathomable number of people. I’ve been happy to share this time of my life with my readers, which is something that, if I had had a normal life, I would have never experienced.

Also, now that the serialization is over, I have been freed, so I want to stroll around a small city with a can of One Cup sake in one hand. That’s what I would call freedom.

#shingeki no kyojin #isayama hajime #armin arlert #eren yeager #snk official #snk translations #vivitranslates #snk spoilers

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snicketstrange · 3 years

Text

Rereading The Chapter 14 (The End)

I believed that in ASOUE's universe, chapter 14 was apparently written some time after the rest of the book. But I abandoned that idea. Lemony wrote to the editor that chapter 14 could be found at the end of the same manuscript.

We then have the epigraph of Le Voyage. It's an excerpt that portrays the moment of death, and perhaps the acceptance of death. But I don't think this means that Lemony is completely certain of the Baudelaires' death. I think it means he's pretty sure he won't write about the Baudelaires anymore. I think the right question is "why did Lemony decide to stop writing at this point in the story?" "Why did he plan to write more and then stop writing?" I think Lemony didn't promise to write the entire story of the Baudelaires. He promised to write the story of the conflict between the Baudelaires and Olaf. So when he was sure of Olaf's death, and that was only with the additional information he had probably had access to through Beatrice Jr, Lemony realized that the research might be over. The certainty of Olaf's death was the event he determined when the narrative came to an end. So, it makes us wonder what kind of promise Lemony made. Apparently he promised that he would clarify the facts surrounding the charges the Baudelaires went through, as well as the contexts in which these events took place. That's why it was so important to get this information out to the general public. Because it involved the honor of the Baudelaire family. Furthermore, this explains why he could not rely solely on the account given by the Baudelaires themselves: after all, they were being accused of being lying criminals. Lemony needed to clear their name, proving, so to speak, that the facts reported by the Baudelaires were real, and it was not enough just to record what he read in the island book.

I think this is the most sensible explanation, and as a theorist I will defend it. But as a fan willing to come up with slightly bizarre ideas, I feel like imagining Lemony realizing that his own death was close to happening. It would be interesting to imagine that Lemony's research took so long that he was an elderly man when he was publishing The End. And the reason Lemony finished his work at this point would be his physical limitations. That would explain shocking secret #13: "he's finished." And more than that: it would even explain the title of the book: "The End of Lemony Snicket". And furthermore, this would explain Lemony's dedication to Beatrice in chapter 14. After quoting the words of Charles B., in which the poet compares the hour of death with the setting off of a ship, Lemony claims that both he and Beatrice are like boats sailing at night, but especially her. Both were on a dark and lonely journey, but she was already dead. "

Beatrice's last words recorded in the book were really emotional to me when I first read them, and they still are today. Especially after I watched the Netflix series, it's now possible to imagine a very specific face when I picture Beatrice. And it's possible to think of a specific soundtrack when I read this.

About the baby's name, on my Headcanon Violet is the name of Mrs. W, who was presumed dead around the same time as Lemony. And in my Headcanon, just as Lemony didn't really die, she didn't either. I still like to think that she was the mystery woman on TGG, and that's the real reason Quigley used the name Violet in the message he sent to submarine Q.

I think this is the first time I stop to think that the Baudelaires ate crab. This is unclean food for those who practice Judaism as a religion, isn't it? I even thought the roast lamb was a reference to the Passover celebration, but they wouldn't do that by eating crab. Or is it that in a book in which Daniel Handler implicitly criticizes religion, he did so on purpose? I think it's unlikely, but still possible. But, albeit unintentionally, the Baudelaires rejected the religious customs of their ancestors in a book in which religious customs are questioned and this is significant.

"The baby had heard about danger, too, mostly from the register of crimes, follies, and misfortunes of mankind from which the Baudelaires read out loud each evening, although they had not told the infant the whole story. She did not know all of the Baudelaires' secrets, and indeed there were some she would never know."

The above excerpt is important as it reveals that Lemony has information about Beatrice Jr's future as he was writing this chapter. This explains how Lemony knows what happened in this chapter: Beatrice Jr told him. Lemony did meet her, and he realized that the Baudelaires hadn't told her the whole story.

A detail that has always pleased me in this book is to notice that after 1 year, Sunny stopped babbling words and has a more conventional and extensive vocabulary. I find this compatible with the fact that 1 year has passed and it's also compatible with her character development arc. One of asoue's themes is "how some children are forced to mature too quickly because of tragedy". Sunny, for example, needed to learn how to cook and convince herself that she loved doing it and that she was good at it in a few days. And all this before she learned to speak English properly. She needed to help with a birth long before she fully understood issues related to human procreation. But in chapter 14, she finally had the opportunity to develop without tragedies forcing her to skip important steps in life.

"Do we take this?" Violet asked, holding up the book from which she had read out loud.

"I don't think so," Klaus said. "Perhaps another castaway will arrive, and continue the history."

"In any case," Sunny said, "they'll have something to read."

Please realize how important this dialogue is. Daniel Handler placed this dialogue here to make sure the reader understood the source of information Lemony had access to: the island book. The children wrote about their own story in that book, including their thoughts, feelings, and private conversations. The children shared some details about ancient events, about when Sunny wasn't even born. In the book, Lemony found details about some events that took place on the island before the arrival of the three Baudelaires.

"I want to make sure these life jackets I've designed will fit properly."

Well... It's good to know that, even though the boat sank, the Baudelaires had lifeboats. Their chances of survival really increased a lot. And knowing that Beatrice Jr managed to survive a shipwreck, it's quite possible that they did too.

The Baudelaires watched her approach, wondering what the next chapter in this infant's life would be, and indeed that is difficult to say. There are some who say that the Baudelaires rejoined V.F.D. and are engaged in brave errands to this day, perhaps under different names to avoid being captured. There are others who say that they perished at sea, although rumors of one's death crop up are often revealed to be untrue. But in any case, as my investigation is over, we have indeed reached the last chapter of the Baudelaires' story, even if the Baudelaires had not.

Lemony just reports here what he heard. Although Daniel Handler intentionally wishes the ending to be left open, and I will respect his decision, I will speak my opinion. They didn't die at sea, though. Note that Lemony directly relates the baby's future to the future of the three Baudelaires. The way Lemony wrote here suggests that the baby's future is as uncertain as the future of her adoptive parents. But we TBL readers know the truth about Beatrice Jr.'s future. Beatrice is alive! So the most likely situation is that her parents are also alive. ( And who knows other characters that we thought had died there on TBB... could it be that at least one of them could also have survived?)

But the question is: if Lemony knows the baby survived, why did he hide this information from the reader? Certainly to protect his niece. Lemony didn't lie, just omitted some details.

The baby paused, and looked at the back of the boat, where the nameplate had been affixed. She had no way of knowing this, of course, but the nameplate had been nailed to the back of the boat by a person standing on the very spot she was standing—at least as far as my research has shown.

Lemony once again dismantled specific knowledge through research, which could only have been done through information provided by others. Beatrice Jr needed to tell Lemony exactly where she was at that moment and Lemony needed to compare that with the information Beatrice Sr and Bertrand wrote in the island book. And then, on visiting the site, Lemony was able to ascertain the most likely position for those descriptions. While Lemony is a bit mistaken, the research process must have been like that.

Finally, she uttered a word. The Baudelaire orphans gasped when they heard it, but they could not say for sure whether she was reading the word out loud or merely stating her own name, and indeed they never learned this. Perhaps this last word was the baby's first secret, joining the secrets the Baudelaires were keeping from the baby, and all the other secrets immersed in the world. Perhaps it is better not to know what was meant by this word, as some things are better left in the great unknown. There are some words, of course, that are better left unsaid—but not, I believe, the word uttered by my niece, a word which here means that the story is over. Beatrice.

Oh... How I love this ending. That's when I felt my head explode for the first time in my life, and I'm still picking up the pieces.

#asoue #asoue theory #lemony snicket #a series of unfortunate events #asoue theories #beatrice baudelaire #snicketverse #beatrice snicket #beatrice jr #violet baudelaire #sunny baudelaire

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pear-pies · 3 years

Photo

Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

Words by Jerome Soligny, photos by Carole Epinette

Wonky translation under the cut:

These three did it all. Shot with the QOTSAs and posed with Indo. They survived "Velvet Goldmine" and the Top Bab. They come back after the ordeal of the fourth album. Danger interview: “Jerome, what if you came out?” They ask our charming reporter.

"We do not regret anything"

Everything begins again with "Bulletproof Cupid", a punky instrument that pulls everything off. Then "English Summer Rein", mechanico-depressive spinning punctuated by twisted keyboards, and "Sleeping With Ghosts", the lament which advances while blistering during cooking, confirm the tone. Against all expectations, because you never know how will age the groups that the previous album installed at the Top, Placebo took over. And stuffed it in an iron glove. Further on, "The Bitter End" tumbles through yapping guitars which would stick to the hatches the thickest of the sailors. Be careful, Placebo is on the way out of being one. At the end of the record, Brian Molko, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Hewitt do not even run out of steam. The cows. They drop a "Centerfolds" which frolic like a cynical top under a shower of saving doubts. What augur still other perspectives.

The fourth album: a horror for all who have faced it. Often a stupid trap. Returning from the Gothic directly inherited from the glam of pageantry and from these hasty and harmful certainties which congest the face and the veins, Placebo publishes its first real great disc. Oh, not the marvel of wonders, not the album from the third millennium, but something very strong, compact, tenacious in listening, which proves that the future is indeed there, in front, where the light is most blinding. Calfeucée in their Parisian hotel (the Costes, of course), our three lads do not make the blow of the revelation, of the luminous questioning. Simply, they now think with their heads, a good plan most often Likewise, reality no longer frightens them, and it is probably she who is hiding behind this "Sleeping With Ghosts" which relates the sorrows only for the better. melt into hopes At the moment when rock brings us back to life and when we just want to ask them everything, the Placebo have decided to say everything. Not even in a hurry, they settle down on the couch, ready to talk like never before. Despite new batteries embedded in the carcass, the Panasonic barely a Brian Molko: Hey Jerome, you came to talk to us this time when you had not come to the previous album ...

Rock & Folk: Uh yes but I was there for the first two, that says a lot, right?

Brian Molko: Certainly, I also believe that over time, we finally appreciate the true nature of the problem: we were mainly criticized for the sound of the previous album, which I can understand but, paradoxically, it is the one that brought us to the Top.

R&F: Legitimately, we have the right to expect a lot from the people we love: while "Black Market Music" sounded a bit like a sequel, this new record is all about a renaissance.

Brian Molko: Actually, we were finally able to live a little. After having existed in a small bubble for a very long time, we forced ourselves to take an eight-month break. The album-tour rhythm put us on the sidelines: we no longer had normal contact with anything. We were losing ourselves. We have fully lived the old cliché which claims that we spend the first years of our life writing a first record and six months on the second. It turned out to be very true. We had to get back to the situation of the first album, see friends, go shopping, look at the buildings in our city.

R&F: So the freshness would come from there ...

Brian Molko: Yes, and it was essential spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Steve Hewitt: We had to be in tune with reality again.

Brian Molko: In fact, we find ourselves in a bit of the same state of mind as when we released "Without You I'm Nothing", although "Sleeping With Ghosts" is a lot less gloomy. The heroin has since stopped leaking. In fact, I feel like I've pulled myself out of what I consider my second teenage years, between twenty and thirty. I conquered the self-destruction, exorcised some demons, understood what had happened to me. I held on to what I had learned. As a human being, I am now able to continue living, to try to answer the big questions posed by existence.

R&F: Maybe that's why the melodies are needed this time. It took me four records to get a favorite Placebo track.

The whole group in chorus: Which one?

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want", of course ...

Brian Molko: The most paradoxical is that this song dates from the end of the "Black Market Music" sessions. I was not married at the time, but I was trying to get out of a particularly vicious divorce.just started. Then we wait for the lyrics, which don't arrive, it's rather intriguing. We especially wanted to avoid the big Rican producer side, we needed someone who shakes us up a bit. Jim could do that because he comes from dance and his pedigree is impressive. We have all his records at home, Bjôrk, Massive Attack, Sneaker Pimps and especially DJ Shadow. It is believed that guitar rock can only evolve by incorporating new genres, this is the only way to remain a modern rock band. At home, we practically only listen to hip hop.

R&F: Still, he didn't betray you.

Brian Molko: No because he actually brought out our rock side, which I'm particularly proud of. In fact, because we always wanted to control everything, it was not easy to be forced, to do certain things backwards, to walk on the head. But in truth, that's what we wanted: yes, there was some tension in the studio but we all took advantage of it. The challenge is necessary and it is also valid for the public. We opened up and rediscovered ourselves.

Stefan Olsdal (emerging from his chair): We found ourselves in front of the mirror, at the foot of the wall: someone had to kick our ass.

Brian Molko: Jim was like, "Why are you doing this?" We would answer him: "Because we always do it like that!" He would say: "All the more reason not to do it."

Stefan Olsdal: On the first day, he messed up all the demos, changed the tones, the tempos ...

R&F: Like Brian Eno ...

Steve Hewitt: Yeah, but with a lot more compassion. Eno is a bit (silence) ... We don't really like being told our actions, but at the same time, we are still young, still absorbing. Jim knew how to preserve us while making a modern sound.

R&F: Modern and rock'n'roll at the same time, a characteristic which does not necessarily apply to all the young groups in The which recycle the past gently but are convinced to have found the virus of the AIDS.

Steve Hewitt: Placebo doesn't belong to any current, has nothing to do with fashion.

R&F: You always pose as outsiders.

Brian Molko: It's the only way to survive.

Steve Hewitt: These bands, like The Strokes, play the nostalgia card.

Stefan Olsdal: And what happens next? I would not like to be in their place.

Brian Molko: If you want good New York pop, you better listen to Blondie.

R&F: In 2003, 11 seems that you have abandoned all the androgynous paraphernalia, sexual ambiguity, glam references ...

Brian Molko: I think today everyone knows what there is to know. Our sexual inclinations haven't changed, and we still wear makeup. It is just more expensive and better applied. We are ourselves, in our music and in private. I went through my travelo period (in French in the interview - Editor's note), and I understood that being androgynous was not wearing skirts. It is a way of being on the spiritual plane. It is not an image but a state of mind.

Steve Hewitt: It's like being punk, it's an attitude.

Brian Molko: At the same time, I don't regret any of my eccentricities. I grew up in the spotlight and it all kind of makes me smile.

Stefan Olsdal: People still talk to us about certain outfits or positions, as if it still shocks them.

R&F: Yes, and particularly in France, a particularly homophobic country which bumps heartily on gay artists.

Brian Molko: And you, coincidentally, you still hang out with.

Stefan Olsdal: Jérôme, it's coming out time (laughs) ...

Brian Molko: All that has to change, that all of France becomes gay (laughs)!

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want" precisely, here is a title heavy with meaning. What was the idea behind this song?

Brian Molko: For me, it's a study of the pathological need people have to copulate, the search for meaning in copulation. As if bachelors or monogamists were aliens. As if we were only one when we were two. The song is about the fact that one relationship has destroyed me but I can't help but look for another ... why do I keep coming back to this?

R&F: Wow, we're bathing in philosophy here!

Brian Molko: Yes and it's the same elsewhere in the record: in "Plasticine", I insist on the fact that you have to be yourself above all while asking myself all these questions. Why do we have to do a lot of forbidden things, bad or harmful?

R&F: It's therapy in public.

Brian Molko: At least I find some balance in it. These are not songs about compassion or self-pity. They came out like this because it was vital for me. I am in this privileged situation where I can express myself and the world hears me. Otherwise, I would be really frustrated and I would have suffered a lot more in the last fifteen years.

R&F: Music saved your life.

Brian Molko: Sure.

Steve Hewitt: Everyone: I think we can say that. Without Placebo, we would not be not even alive.

Brian Molko: Spitting it all out is not necessarily the right solution. There are things with which to live. In fact, I've always been afraid to go see a psychiatrist ...

R&F: Yet, listening to you speak earlier, you could have the feeling that Jim Abiss acted a bit like a shrink with you.

Brian Molko: That's right. You could say that.

R&F: At a time when Bush and Blair want to play World War III, what attitude do you adopt? What do you think of these Englishmen who left for Iraq to constitute a human shield?

Brian Molko: Let's say we stand together. We participated in the March for Peace on February 14th with Damon Albarn and 3D from Massive Attack. We were also surprised that so few groups mobilized, which increased our desire to participate tenfold.

R&F: Do you consider that it is the role of the artist to give voice in such circumstances?

Steve Hewitt: Yes, in the sense that we can help with general motivation.

Brian Molko: I'm very interested in seeing if Blair is going to let Bush bomb Iraq with the British present on the soil of the country. If he ever allows that, the consequences will be dire.

R&F: It will only be one more religious war, in the name of oil and money ...

Brian Molko: It seems absurd that we can still fight for that. And curiously, nobody speaks more, or almost, of Bin Laden. Wouldn't it all come from him, by chance, as a huge consequence of September 11? On the other hand, we have such a feeling that Bush wants to finish the job that daddy started. Its image is so bad that it needs at least one war to restore its image.

Steve Hewitt: And reinvigorate its dying economy.

R&F: The method is lamentable, deceitful. Like those employed by the recording industry which claims to be doing well by selling pop in damaged boxes to ignoramuses.

Brian Molko: The ability of this job to ingest people, bribe them and then spit them out is impressive. This is what happened here at Canal +.R&F: Business is the beast.

Brian Molko: All these pre-made artists are young and naff ...

Steve Hewitt: They'll all end up in a labor camp for ex-pop stars.

R&F: Warhol was talking about fifteen minute glory, we're brutally passed to fifteen seconds.

Brian Molko: We should have called them Karaoke idols from the start.

Steve Hewitt: And it only works because of the TV ...

R&F: Who washes the poor, helpless brains.

Steve Hewitt: You can tell how much people want to think less

R&F: And spend less. For many, music should be free: one in five thirteen-year-olds doesn't know that a disc doesn't have to be a computer-burnt puck. Some are flabbergasted when they see a cover for the first time.

Stefan Olsdal: And those who don't buy records put pressure on those who have them to pass them on at all costs, just long enough to copy them.

R&F: Exactly.

Brian Molko: That's why we blame Robbie Williams so much. Scooping 80 million pounds off EMI and then declaring that pirating music is a fantastic thing just makes him want to stick a chunk in his face.

R&F .: And then piracy is not a matter of environment. It's not a suburban thing. There are rich kids who find it normal to burn 80 CDs during their weekend and sometimes sell them to their friends ...

Brian Molko: What do these people believe? That we are there, the face in the stream with a syringe stuck in the arm singing "La Vie En Rose"? And who will pay for our children's school? Not them, anyway. Our mentality is quite different: we always want to buy records from people we love, from our friends. Personally, we are partly out of the woods, but it will be particularly difficult for new groups to make a living from music in five or ten years.

R&F: Come on, we're not going to leave each other on this, a little humor won't hurt anyone. If you were to be banned from any of these three things, which would you choose: making music, making money or making love?

Steve Hewitt (almost tit for tat): I would stop making money, without hesitation. It's because I love music and sex too much. And then, well, you have to choose.

Brian Molko (completely overwhelmed): Oh damn, that's not true. What a dilemma!

R&F: No Brian, that doesn't count, make an effort (laughs).

Brian Molko: Ah, I don't know. And then if. I would stop making money and get on well with someone super rich.

R&F: Or you would be pimp ...

Brian Molko: Yes, that's it. Good plan.

Stefan Olsdal: Stop making love does not mean to stop loving ...

Brian Molko (preparing his shot): And we can always masturbate (general laughter).

Stefan Olsdal: OK then, I would stop making love.

R&F: Okay, it will be written in black and white for all eternity.

Brian Molko: Will we live long enough to regret it? This is the real question.

*COLLECTED BY JEROME SOLIGNY

[Inset, Trash Palace]

Already present on the first album by Trash Palace which he had adorned with his presence one unhealthy recovery of "I Love You, Me No More "in duet with Asia Argento, Brian Molko is coming to re-stack. This time he cosigns directly "The Metric System " with Dimitri Trash Palace Tikovoi, an electro saw boosted to bleeps fundamentals available in two remix and its clip on an enhanced single recently published at Discograph. The result is particularly (d) amazing and sounds good logical, like of Placebo cyber.Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

#the cows.#placebo #brian molko #stefan olsdal #steve hewitt #the metric system is so chaotic i love it

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sturchling · 4 years

Note

Congratulations on getting your Bachelor’s and I hope you don’t mind but it gave me the idea for another salt prompt where the class graduates and they try to get Lila to pony up on her promises to get them to there dream jobs and colleges but they can’t because she lied and they see Marinette (and anyone else you wish to spare) got in to there colleges (and/or jobs) because they knew Lila was lying and they put in the work to get to there College(and/or jobs) (thank you for your time

Thank you so much for the congratulations! and of course I don’t mind, this was fun to write. I hope you like it!

It was finally time. Mrs. Bustier’s class was graduating from lycée. Over the years since collège, the class had become very divided. The source of the division? Lila. It had been years since she had threatened Marinette with taking away all her friends. Lila had enthralled many people in the class, only a few people were able to see through her lies. Nino, Alix, Nathaniel, Chloe, and Kim had all realized that Lila had been lying over the years. They had stuck with Marinette through everything. Even when Lila had started lying and saying Marinette was bullying her. The rest of the class couldn’t understand why those five won’t leave Marinette behind. She was bullying the sweetest girl in the whole class.

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Adrien was essentially a neutral party in all of this. He knew that Marinette wasn’t bullying Lila. He wanted to say something, to defend her like the other four. But his father had forbidden it. He was told that he needed to ‘maintain good relations’ with Lila for the good of the brand. He was also told that if he failed to do this, he would be pulled out of school. Marinette knew about this and completely understood. Adrien still helped where he could, by telling Marinette if Lila was telling any particularly heinous lies about her when she wasn’t there.

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Chloe and Marinette weren’t exactly friends per say, but they had a truce between them. Chloe had apologized to Marinette right when they started lycée for treating her poorly. Marinette had forgiven her for the most part, but they still weren’t best friends. Instead, they had agreed not to go after one another and Chloe was more focused on messing with Lila. Afterall, Chloe didn’t like sharing the spotlight with ‘an utterly ridiculous girl’ like Lila.

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It became clear after a time that part of what made the class take Lila’s side was the promises she made them. Lila had promised the people in the class to help them with their chosen careers. Lila would always boast, “Well, since I know so many people in so many industries, it should be easy to help you guys reach your goals.” Alya of course wanted to be a journalist and Lila had told her, “Well, I know the executive editor for the New York Times. I’m sure Dean would love to have you join his team. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

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Lila had come to a rehearsal for Kitty Section at one point and had told Juleka, Rose, and Ivan, “I know a bunch of people in the music industry. There is one music producer in particular from LA that would love to help you record a real album.” Luka got suspicious at this, knowing what Marinette had told him about this girl, and asked, “Well, then why don’t you put us in contact with them now?” Lila had an angry look flash across her face, that no one but Luka seemed to notice. Then she plastered a smile on her face and said in an overly sweet tone, “Oh Luka, I would love to. But they won’t work with kids. They only want to work with people who have at least graduated from school.” Juleka, Rose, and Ivan took what she said as the truth at face value. Luka however knew that the excuse she just gave was complete nonsense. There were plenty of teenage musicians and bands. But Juleka, Rose, and Ivan were now anxiously awaiting the day they graduated and could start working with this music producer. Since they thought they already had a music producer willing to work with them, the group eventually stopped practicing and performing. Luka ended up leaving the group, and ended up playing with Jagged Stone on tour once Luka graduated. The rest of the members of Kitty Section worried that this would affect their chances with the music producer Lila talked about, but she reassured them by saying the producer would be able to find a new guitarist for them when they signed with him. With that reassurance, the group stopped worrying and continued looking forward to their bright future in LA.

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

Sabrina really wanted to go to École des Ponts ParisTech and study management. She knew that it was a very selective school. They only let 2000 people in each term. But she wanted to go to this school more than anything. It is one of the premier schools in the country and is also considered one of the best schools in the world. Chloe was planning to go to École des Ponts ParisTech to study management as well. At least that was the plan. They were both going to go together and Sabrina had been banking on Chloe to help her get in. But when the class had split over Marinette and Lila, Sabrina and Chloe stopped being friends. Now, Sabrina was very concerned that she wouldn’t get into the school of her dreams. That was until Lila mentioned, “Oh yeah, I know the guy in charge of admissions since I returned his lost dog to him. I’ll put in a good word for you, and then you will definitely get in. He really values my opinion.” Sabrina was over the moon when she heard this. Now she didn’t have to stress about getting into her dream school, and could just enjoy her time with her new best friend.

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Mylene had wanted to go into politics for a while. She wanted to help improve conditions for everyone she knew. She had always been an activist, but she knew it would be hard to cause any real change as an activist. The only way she could effect some real change would be if she were to get into some kind of political office. Mylene really wanted to go to European School of Political and Social Sciences to get a degree in political science. That would really help Mylene in her pursuit of a political office. She was pretty sure that she would be able to get in, but she was naturally still worried. She knew they looked at extracurricular activities as well. They would want to have a student body that was active in their communities. Mylene had been planning to participate in many more community service programs before they all graduated to help pad her application. But Lila had told her, “You are fine Mylene. I talked with the admissions director for you. She couldn’t say anything official. But she did imply that you are already guaranteed admittance into the school. She essentially told me to let her know when we all graduated and she would push the application through.” Mylene was ecstatic to hear that. Especially because it meant she didn’t need to participate in any additional community service projects. She could spend more time with her friends in class and her boyfriend.

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

It was obvious to everyone that Max wanted to work in video game programing. It was something that he really enjoyed doing, especially after creating the video game that was based on akumas. He was worried about finding a place that would be willing to bring him into their team. Sure, he had experience in programming a video game, but the game had never actually been published or sold. It was just played by his friends. He ultimately wanted to work at a big-name gaming company like Quantic Dream. But he was sure he would have to work his way up to that by starting at a smaller, lesser known, company. But then when he was discussing his plans with Lila, she told him, “Oh, don’t worry about it Max. I am very close with the head video game director for Ubisoft. They even had me come in and do some of my original choreography for the newest Just Dance game. I’m sure if I talked with him, he would hire you to be one of his programmers.” Max was thrilled to hear that he wouldn’t have to start at the bottom. He never thought he would start his career with such a big company like Ubisoft. So, Max stopped sending in the applications to the smaller companies and ignored any that asked for an interview. He didn’t need a job with them anymore.

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

As time went on, the class saw how the five students who had stayed with Marinette worked towards their goals. They thought is was funny that they had to work so hard for their dreams. If they had just left the bully and become friends with Lila, they wouldn’t have to work so hard. Nino had to work several smaller gigs as a DJ, but he did eventually build a fan base. Because of this, he got invited to DJ at bigger events and parties. He was eventually even contacted by a music producer that wanted to help Nino put out his first album. Nino was thrilled and couldn’t stop talking about it. The class was excited for him, but couldn’t help but think that things would have been easier for him if he had just sided with Lila. The members of Kitty Section in the class were confused, since Lila had told them that the music producers she knew didn’t work with anyone who hadn’t graduated yet. But Lila quickly covered her tracks by saying, “The music producers I know are all quality. They are all big-name producers. The guy talking with Nino is probably just a small-time producer.” The rest of the class was still happy for Nino, but they did feel bad for their friend working with such a small producer. The class also was happy for Nathaniel when his comic was officially published. He was also accepted into an excellent art school. Chloe did end up getting accepted into the management program at École des Ponts ParisTech by early decision. It made Sabrina nervous that she hadn’t heard anything, but Lila was quick to reassure her that she would be accepted as well. Alix was also becoming recognized as a pro skater. She had won several competitions and was being considered for admittance into the X-games in Asia. Kim had also began training even harder for swimming. He was working hard to qualify for the Olympics. He was going to be competing at a qualifying competition a few weeks after the graduation ceremony. The class was happy to see these five students close to achieving their dreams. Marinette was even working hard toward her dream. She had launched a website to receive commissions and it was quite successful. Marinette had gained several celebrities as clients and was making a good profit. The class was less thrilled that the class bully was so successful. But in a few days, Lila would help them all achieve their dreams.

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

The day of the graduation ceremony arrived and the class was all very happy to graduate. Marinette and her friends were excited to begin this new chapter in their lives. They all had their plans to achieve their goals and were well on their way to achieving their dreams. They felt a little sorry for their classmates. They knew that the class had listened to Lila and her lies and hadn’t put in any work lately for their goals. The only one that would be ok from that group would probably be Lila. She still had her job with Gabriel and if she decided to, she could probably get other modeling jobs now too. But the Marinette and her friends didn’t feel bad for long. They had tried to warn the class, but the class hadn’t listened to them. As Marinette and her friends left to go celebrate, the rest of the class stayed behind to talk with Lila. They wanted to know about the promises Lila had made them. Sabrina and Mylene had yet to hear from the schools they had applied to and none of the others had heard back about the jobs they wanted. Lila had been dodging them for a while, but they just assumed that she was preparing everything for them. But now, they had graduated and they needed to know what was going on. They all bombarded Lila with questions and Lila began looking more and more irritated. Lila just wanted to leave. She didn’t need these idiots anymore. They were helpful in school when they were doing the work for her, but now she could focus on modeling for Gabriel. So, the class no longer served any use. She eventually just exclaimed, “Would you guys just SHUT UP?! Look, I lied. I only said that stuff so you would do anything I asked. And it worked. You all fawned over me for years, and even did all my work. So, thanks but now that school is done and I already have a modeling job, I don’t need you anymore. So, there are no jobs waiting for you guys, and I didn’t talk to any admissions people for you two. See you never losers.” With that, Lila walked away and left the class in shock. The class was horrified as they realized they had fallen for the lies that Lila had fed them. They hadn’t done any work for their dreams. They realized that they were going to have some extreme difficulty reaching their goals now. Sabrina and Mylene would have to wait until next term to apply to their respective schools. Max was now regretting turning down all those interviews with the smaller gaming companies. The members of Kitty Section were distraught. Not only was there no music producer waiting for them, but they had also lost Luka as their guitarist. Alya was horrified. Not only did she not have an inside track with a person at the New York Times, but she had posted about Lila’s stories all over her blog. If Lila had lied about all of these schools and jobs, she probably lied about everything else. That blog was her only journalistic experience and if she used that on any applications to a news publication, they would laugh her out of the office. She really should have checked the sources, then none of this would have happened. Then the whole class realized what had happened with Marinette. Marinette had been telling the truth. And they were all cruel to her because of it. She tried to warn all of them, but they didn’t listen.

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

Lila had thought she had gotten away with everything. She had gotten through school without having to do any of the work. Now she had a modeling job with one of the biggest names in the fashion industry and could easily get another if she needed. And Adrien was all hers now, his father was keeping him in line. What she didn’t realize is now the threat that was keeping him from exposing her was gone. Adrien’s father couldn’t pull him out of school, since he had already graduated. What Lila also hadn’t realized was that Adrien had been at the edge of the school and had filmed the whole interaction with the class. He had her on film saying that she was a liar. He was happy to finally be able to take direct action against the liar. She may be akumatized for it, and he would feel bad. But he and Ladybug would handle it. With that thought in mind, he posted the video.

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

The public reaction was swift. All of Adrien’s followers saw the video and quickly shared it, horrified that their idol had been working with such a horrible girl. The video was seen millions of times in just a few hours. By the next morning, it had made headline news. Everyone in France and several people around the world new of Lila Rossi, the liar of Paris. Gabriel was inundated with hundreds of complaints about the girl, asking how he could employ a liar like her. Gabriel knew that Lila made a good ally for his less legal activities, but she had quickly become a liability for his fashion brand. He had Lila called to the mansion for a meeting. Lila was unaware of the now viral video, and hadn’t realized that most of Paris knew about her. She arrived at the mansion and was immediately escorted into the study. Gabriel didn’t say anything, just played the video for Lila. Lila paled with every passing second. How had she not noticed someone filming her. At the end of the video Gabriel coldly told her, “You have become a liability for my brand. I can’t have you in my employ anymore. Mrs. Rossi, you are fired. Leave my house immediately and do not attempt to contact me any further.” With that, the girl was escorted from the premise.

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

After everything, the members of the class that had sided with Lila had been having a hard time achieving their goals. Mylene had managed to be accepted into her school, but the others weren’t as lucky. Sabrina went to a different school than the one she had planned. Kitty Section had found a new guitarist and was having small success at local venues. But they haven’t been signed by anyone yet. Alya had been unable to get a job at a newspaper at the moment and was instead writing her own online magazine. Max did end up getting a job at a smaller video game company, but hadn’t had any success in getting a job with a bigger company yet. Lila was not able to get any other modeling jobs. She ended up working at a small café, still trying to get her big break. Marinette and her friends on the other hand were doing quite well. Chloe was doing well in school. Nino had become a very successful DJ with a few albums already released. Alix was competing in several competitions and had done very well in the X-games in Asia. Kim had ended up qualifying for the Olympics and was set to compete in the next summer Olympics. Nathaniel had become a very successful comic book artist and was looking at a job with Marvel. Marinette herself was doing very well with her fashion. She had designed for several celebrities and continued to design for Jagged for several of his tours. She had become a big name in fashion. Her and her friends were all doing well and met up several times since graduation. One day they went to a small café near their old school. When they went inside, the person at the register taking their order was none other than Lila. Marinette and her friends were happy that Lila had gotten what she deserved. And Lila was furious that her rival was so successful. She tried to kiss up to Marinette in the hopes the girl would give her a modeling job. Marinette just laughed and said, “Why would I give you a job? As I recall, you said we were at war.” Lila tried to give a fake apology, but Marinette didn’t buy it. The group of friends took their food and left the liar behind, glad to be rid of her.

#ml fic #ml class salt #ml salt fic #ml salt #ml fanfic #alya salt #lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila exposed fic #Lila exposed #lila rossi #alya cesaire #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous salt fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous salt #miraculousfic

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nicklloydnow · 2 years

Text

“Among the many terrible possibilities of what could come next is the use of “tactical nuclear weapons.”

“TACS” is the common shorthand for smaller and “smarter” tactical nuclear weapons. Some are even equipped with a “Dial-A-Yield” function, that can regulate the size of the bomb’s destruction. For some military analysts, this makes the unthinkable prospect of nuclear war almost thinkable.

(…)

Once you see the mushroom cloud, “no one will know whether it was a 20-kilaton weapon or a 1 megaton (1000 times stronger),” said Joshua Pollack, editor of the Nonproliferation Review, published by the James Martin Center for Nonproliferation Studies.

“They’re more similar than you might expect in terms of their destructiveness,” Pollack told The Daily Beast. “Even this small nuke is extremely destructive depending on where you drop it. It would be a very large explosion that would generate an electro-magnetic pulse, and it would probably start fires.”

Maybe it’s just rhetoric, nuclear blackmail, but if Putin does the unthinkable, asked Pollack, “How do we respond in a way that avoids Armageddon?”

Lawrence Korb, a senior fellow at the Center for American Progress and former assistant secretary of defense in the Reagan administration, said, “The reason these weapons are called tactical, they’re more likely to be used on the battlefield.”

“The Russians started it,” Korb continued, referring to Russia’s “escalate to de-escalate” doctrine, “and the argument was if we had them, they would counter-balance the Russians.” Nuclear weapons are meant to keep the enemy guessing, said Korb, and “if [Putin] goes nuclear, he doesn’t know how we will respond.” Would Biden—or the world—accept tit for tat nuclear strikes on civilian population centers?

The answer is almost certainly: No. Whatever it’s called in the moment, history will remember it as “World War III.”

“The TACs are new, they weren’t there during the Cold War,” Korb added. “We just had the big ones. In theory, the U.S. would not respond with a big one, but you don’t know that. If Putin launches one with a smaller yield, he doesn’t know if we will respond using a strategic weapon. That’s deterrence. He doesn’t know that, and we want to keep him not knowing that.”

Lawrence Wilkerson, a retired U.S. Army colonel and chief of staff to the late Colin Powell, said the U.S. military—prodded by a lucrative niche nuclear industry—“almost simultaneously” moved toward modernizing TACs just as the Russians did.

“Each side blamed the other,” he said. The Russians in 2013-2014 conducted military exercises to practice using small yield nukes to blunt an attack from NATO, escalating the likelihood that these weapons would eventually be used.

Wilkerson ridiculed the notion that there’s any real difference with a smaller yield TAC. “You see the plume, you don’t know whether it’s tactical or strategic,” he said, and a commander is going to hit back hard rather than wait for an after-attack assessment.

“We’re back in a time I thought we’d left behind, that we’d learned our lessons,” Wilkerson continued. “I’ve watched [Putin] for a long time. He’s a pragmatic, practical man. I don’t care what kind of a beast you think he is…he hasn’t gone from master chess player to being mad, which is what you’d have to be to do this [use nuclear weapons]. But I can’t rule it out, especially as a false flag. It shouldn’t come to this.”

Wilkerson maintains that nuclear war must be avoided at all costs, crediting President Biden with resisting the political pressure to impose a no-fly-zone over the skies of Ukraine. “If 45 million Ukrainians have to be sacrificed on the altar of no nuclear war, I’m for it. It’s not worth saving any state if it means blowing up 7 billion people” he said.”

#russia #ukraine #nuclear war #nuclear weapons #wwiii #putin #vladimir putin #biden #joe biden #wilkerson #daily beast

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bangtae-sohotddaeng · 3 years

Text

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 2

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 3.3 k

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gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

“We’re all clear on the schedule, but I’ll repeat it for your sake,” you announced.

Your team was huddled around you, right outside the airport, with their luggage in their hands. You’d landed in Seoul less than an hour ago.

“So, right now, we’re going to take a cab to the hotel our company has booked us. We’ll rest, let our bodies recharge and adjust—because we left on Friday morning and reached Saturday morning in thirteen hours.” You grimaced. “Dunno about you, but my mind needs to adjust.”

You received collective groans of agreement in response.

“Great, you feel me. So we all do that first. And then we’ll collect in the lobby after lunch, at around 4 pm? I’ll have a word with BTS’ manager, and he’ll arrange for our commute. I’ll update you of the exact time, then. For now, let’s just go grab naps.”

You all hailed three taxis to the hotel, with Sana grabbing you by the elbow to make you sit with her. You did so, with a frown. She looked nervous.

“Y/N!” she almost wailed as soon as you’d shut the door.

The driver looked at her in alarm. You winced in embarrassment, and apologized in Korean. He started the car without a word.

“Sana, compose yourself. What is the matter with you?” you scolded the girl.

“Y/N, how am I gonna face him? I might freeze up at sight! And—and what if my brain starts to think up scenarios from… oh God, you won’t believe the kind of fanfiction-stuff I’ve read about him!”

Your ears started to warm up. You had some idea. It had been a while, sure, but you could still vividly remember the kind of fanfictions you yourself had indulged in—

Wait a second. This girl was gonna make you nervous, too!

“Okay, Sana, enough. It doesn’t matter how cute you find Yoongi, he’s our client. We’re gonna have to be formal with him. At all costs. We mess it up, we lose our jobs. You get that? So, think about your husband, try to be the professional woman he married, and for God's sake, stop making me overthink shit!”

Sana shut up, then, but her eyes still looked worried. "How do you do it, Y/N?"

You frowned. "How do I do what? I don't have a fucking crush on Yoongi!"

She gave a small laugh, looking slightly more at ease. "Exactly! How?"

You blinked, confused.

"I mean," she elaborated, "not just him. In general. How do you manage to not get dragged down by feelings and stuff?"

"I kinda had to." You snorted. "People are like leeches, Sana. You only stand a chance for a good, peaceful life if you avoid getting too close to them. Get caught up in feelings, get your soul sucked out of you. Get crushed under expectations, live the rest of your life trying to fulfil them. Die on the inside before your body perishes.” You shrugged. “A pretty horrid way to die, if you ask me.”

Sana gave a huff of laughter. “Who hurt you, Y/N?”

You froze. Sana probably said that rhetorically, but it still hit you hard enough.

It wasn’t the question of who hurt you, but actually, who you had hurt.

You shut your eyes for a few extended seconds, willing yourself to not think of the past. You succeeded for the most parts, too. But then Sana nudged your shoulder.

“Hey, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to upset…you…” She trailed off with a worried look on her face when you shot her a glare. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset,” you grumbled, turning to look out of the window. “I’m just done with my quota of personal-unnecessary-unneeded-interactions with people, for the day.”

You heard Sana sigh. Mentally, you sighed, too.

You all found the two vans a bit excessive. There were eight seats in one—there were seven of you. But Manager Woo insisted that the boys actually used three of these to commute, so even this was a bit miserly of the management.

Rich people problems.

You shook your head with a small smile. “It’s all okay,” you said to the Manager in Korean, following his lead into the BigHit offices where you were to meet your clients for the first time, ever.

You chanced a discreet glance at Sana. Maybe your frustrated, shitty pep-talk in the taxi had actually worked, because she looked a lot more held together than she had ever since you dragged her onboards with this project.

“This way,” Manager Woo instructed you, gesturing towards a lift. “The security personnel will lead you to the second floor, and into the meeting room. I will join you in a while.”

You bowed and your team followed, and then you all stepped into the elevator that looked big enough to hold the meeting within itself. Two security guards, all suited up with a tie and fitted with earpieces in a stereotypical bodyguard look, followed you in.

You exhaled, rubbing your hands together. “Guys,” you addressed your team in English. “You all have the detailed itinerary on your tabs, right?” At their nods, you pulled your own iPad out. “Good. Keep it on you when I talk about it with them.”

“Y/N,” Simon called out to you.

You looked at the fidgety guy with raised eyebrows.

“Are we gonna stick with the choices…” He trailed off when your eyes narrowed.

“We’ve spent more than seventy-two hours researching, Simon. Please stop with this.”

Simon gulped, but shut up.

The elevators opened up, just then. One of the guards stepped out, and gestured towards the glass doors on the right. “That is the meeting room,” he said in Korean.

You all stepped out, elegantly, and you turned to bow to the two guards. “Thank you,” you said in Korean

They bowed in return, looking slightly flustered, and stepped back into the lift. You turned to face the meeting room, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled.

“Come on, guys. Showtime.”

You led your team as they walked behind you in pairs. Once you got to the doors, a guard stepped up from inside the room, and opened the doors for you.

A long meeting table sat in the centre of the room, with seven occupants on one of its sides. BigHit’s Founder and CEO sat at the head of the table, and the foot lay vacant—reserved for, you assumed, the Manager. Seven chairs also lay vacant for your team, opposite the BTS members.

As the door gave way, the CEO met your eyes. You gulped your nerves, and plastered a smile on your face. As you all crossed the threshold, the eight people seated on the table stood.

Dragging in a deep breath, you placed your tablet on the table before you faced them all. “Hello everyone,” you enunciated in Korean, and then bowed.

Your team followed your lead, and the people in the room bowed back. You kept your professional smile in place, discreetly wiping your sweating hand on the thigh of your cotton pants. Then you nodded at the CEO and he asked everyone to settle down.

“Welcome to Korea,” the CEO started. “Did you get here okay?”

“Besides the jet-lag, we’re actually very good,” you told the CEO to receive chuckles in response.

“Manager Woo will join us in a few seconds,” he then continued, looking between your team and the boys—that you were yet to properly look at—and gestured towards them. “Meanwhile, let’s introduce ourselves. I’m Bang Si-Hyuk, BigHit’s founder and CEO. Nice to meet you.”

You bowed, telling him your own name, and then shook hands with CEO Bang. Standing from your place, you finally willed your gaze to focus on the faces of the members instead of nervously looking into space.

Oh, wow. Cameras didn’t do these guys any justice, apparently. Not even the 8K ones, because they were really freaking beautiful human beings.

Dressed in lounge wear consisting mainly of extremely baggy hoodies as far as you could gauge, they still managed to look jaw-droppingly gorgeous. And their skin was glowing so bright, it looked unreal. But it was very much real because you were sitting across a three foot wide table from them, you could tell. It looked so soft.

You’d tightly held your lips up in a smile to save your mouth from dropping open.

While you were trying to get a grip on yourself, your eyes landed on a pair of brown ones framed by gorgeous lashes, right opposite to you. They were looking down. But then, they were looking up, as if sensing your gaze on them. Your professional grin involuntarily melted into a genuine one as Taehyung gave you a bashful nod of acknowledgement. You nodded back.

“Hello,” you mumbled, watching as his eyes grew wider. You blinked, releasing how private that sounded. You cleared your throat and ducked your head before looking at all of the seven guys in turn and nodding at each one of them. “Hello to you all,” you addressed them in Korean this time and told them your name. “And this is my team.” You gestured with both hands to your sides. “We’ll be your interviewers and companions for the next six months.”

A flurry of bows, nods and hellos passed over the table, followed by your teammates announcing their names. You doubted any of these would be retained, including your own. Which is why you handed over the seven identical copies of all your resumes to the CEO. “Here, Mister CEO. My boss had mailed them over to you, but these are to help the boys get acquainted with us better,” you told the man, and he gave you an appreciative seeming smile.

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Namjoon suddenly said, smiling with dimples up at you from his place on Taehyung’s right. His black hair was ruffled and a circular framed pair of glasses rested on his eyes. “I’m RM,” he said in English, “but please call me Namjoon. It’s a pleasure meeting you and your team.”

You smiled wide, shaking his hand when he forwarded it. His skin felt super soft, just as you’d expected it to be by looking at it.

The rest of the boys followed suit, minus the handshaking. They all insisted you all call them by their real names, which felt almost funny to you, because you were gonna be unwinding their whole life. This felt so unnecessary.

Just then, the door opened and Manager Woo reappeared. He bowed his head in the CEO’s direction before taking a seat to your extreme left, at the foot of the table. “Hello, everyone,” he said, “did I miss anything?”

“Just the introductions,” Namjoon filled him in with a smile.

Manager Woo nodded and then looked at you. “The next thing to talk about is the schedule your team has planned for us, so that we can sort out any doubts or disagreements that might be there.”

Nodding, you pulled up the itinerary on your iPad, and cleared your throat. “I have planned out a strategy of working on interviews, and then sitting back to compile everything in an orderly fashion,” you announced. “We’ll divide each one of the six months we have on our hands into two groups—three weeks of discussions, and one week of compilation. All seven of us would be working with one member each, one on one, continuously for a time span of three weeks. After that my team will sit together, compare notes and move forth with the actual writing part. Then we’ll check if something has been missed by someone and arrange for its cover up, before we move forward into the next set of three weeks.”

You turned to look at your team to see if any of them wished to add anything, but they nodded at you with discrete thumbs ups. You exhaled in relief.

CEO Bang nodded at Manager Woo, who hummed in response. “Sounds workable to me. Boys?” He gestured towards the band members.

You looked up to find seven pairs of round eyes and gawking mouths.

Murmurs ran across the seven angels seated opposite you. While they were distracted, you took your sweet time looking at each one of their faces. They really did look unreal.

Next to CEO Bang, Jin and Yoongi were engrossed in some discussion. With their heads bent, their hair shined blindingly bright—Yoongi’s like liquid silver, and Jin’s like molten lead. Next to Jin, Namjoon was adjusting his glasses over his shut eyes as he listened to Taehyung whisper something in his ear, and kept shaking his head in response every few seconds. Taehyung was almost drowning in his oversized hoodie with the hood up, as he used his hands with those elegant ass fingers of his to cover his mouth while speaking into Namjoon’s ear. Next to him, Jimin was nodding along to Hoseok as the latter spoke in whispers, gesticulating widely.

Your eyes fell onto the far end of the table, then. Jungkook, who was already looking at you, shot his hand up when your gazes met. His eyes were literally sparkling with curiosity.

“Yes?” you asked with a big smile.

Jungkook flashed his teeth at you, looking not a day over five years of age. “Is one week enough time to write?”

You frowned. “In theory, yes. But if things go south and we need more time, we can always extend the contract. Mr. CEO?”

“According to the clauses in the contracts, definitely.” CEO Bang nodded with a small smile. “The book has to be good. We can compromise with everything, except for the quality.”

You nodded in understanding. There was an extendable clause in your contract, but you had every intention to not have to employ it. Not only did your boss have huge expectations from you, but you yourself were determined to give this project your best. Better than your best. You’d wanted to manage a complete project by yourself for so long, this was your chance of a lifetime to shine.

Taehyung’s hand shot up, breaking you out of your thoughts. He looked beyond adorable with his eyes rounded and lips nervously folded in.

“Ye—yes?” you stuttered very unprofessionally and then covered up with a cough.

“Who works with who?” he said in a breath, confusing you for a moment. “Will you take chits out? Or ask us to choose?”

“Oh, no no.” You chuckled when you caught his drift. “We’ve already decided among ourselves and also done some homework. You’ll find your personal interviewers in your contract copies.”

“Did you decide by picking out chits?” Namjoon grinned at you, and you laughed.

It had been chits, but you weren't about to tell them that. “Something like that.” You shrugged, playfully, and giggles rolled over the table.

Manager Woo, then, launched into a set of instructions for the band members. CEO Bang kept adding details in the middle, and the band members just kept nodding along in a bored fashion. Maybe they’d been over this multiple times.

You sat back to relax, observing everyone as you listened to the set of rules and procedures you were already familiar with. You looked from the corner of your eye as Jimin elbowed Taehyung.

“Did you want to work with someone in particular?” Jimin’s whisper into Taehyung’s ear floated over to you.

Taehyung’s eyes briefly met yours, nearly burning a hole through your head by the deep curiosity emanating from them. And then he ducked his head again, shrugging Jimin off of him.

You swallowed, roughly. Oh, God.

Manager Woo wound up his instructions with a repetition of be as honest as you can be, and then called out to you. “Do you wish to add something, Miss?”

You looked at your team. They shrugged. You shrugged, too. “You’ve covered it really well, Mister Manager. I’d actually like to emphasize one of your points—this is not an interview.” You looked across the table, at each of their faces, turn-wise. “There would be no cameras, no recorders, and no one monitoring your actions. Relax and be at ease. You should, in fact, think of the sessions as making new friends. You tell them about yourself, and they tell you about themselves. Only difference being, what you tell them will get compiled in a book so there must be a bit more of that.”

Your eyes met Taehyung’s and he nodded with a small laugh. The others gave you similar reactions, with Hoseok giving a two-fingered salute.

“That’s good. Also, Miss, we would like to request your team to work around the boys’ bodyguards.” Manager Woo looked at you earnestly.

“We’re really very grateful that you’ve agreed to our request for privacy and not enforced the sessions to be with the boys’ managers.” You shrugged a shoulder, and exchanged glances with Sana and Nathan. “And so, we would be okay working in the presence of the bodyguards, no issues.”

Your team hummed and nodded their own agreements. Manager Woo nodded back with a huge smile, looking relieved.

“We have the first interview scheduled for the day after tomorrow,” he then said as he distributed the individual contract copies among the BTS members and then your team. “Have a look at the details, one last time.”

You could, by this point, recite the clauses of the contract in your sleep. Yet, to be respectful, you accepted the file and placed it before yourself. You looked to your right and then left at your team. “Any questions, guys?”

Meryl raised her hand. Your eyebrows rose in intrigue. You gestured for her to speak up. “Yeah, um. About the secrecy clause—can we get a rough estimate as to when the news of the biography will be released?”

You nodded along. That was kind of a good question.

Manager Woo looked at CEO Bang, and all seven boys’ eyes adorably followed. CEO Bang readjusted his glasses. “We are planning a press conference at the end of six months.” Whoa. “I believe you’re going to have to keep this secret for the entirety of the project.”

You exhaled. It was gonna be kinda hard, but you’d manage.

“I got you!”

Your head snapped up at Jungkook’s shout of joy. He held the file in one hand and the other was raised up, mid-cheer. When all eyes fell on him, he froze for a moment before folding onto himself, bashfully. The boys all broke out laughing. You too had to stifle yours, by looking down in your lap, to maintain your professionality.

When you looked up after a moment, your eyes met Taheyung’s again. He seemed to be slightly confused and kept looking between the file in his hand, you and Jungkook.

“Si… Simon?” he whispered with a heavy accent, but it was all you could hear despite the chaotic discussions happening all around you.

You pointed at the guy sitting next to you. “Him,” you responded in English.

Taehyung’s eyes reverted back to you. “You?” he asked in English, very quietly.

You paused. “Jungkook,” you responded, gesturing to the still blushing boy with your eyes. And then, realizing how intimate your exchange was, you flashed him a professional smile. “Simon is great at conversation! You’ll have a good time with him,” you old him loudly, in Korean, earning smiles from the Manager and CEO.

Taehyung had still looked a bit lost when you tore your gaze away from him and picked up your tablet, but you willed yourself to unlock the gadget and not let your eyes stray.

This was just your first meeting, and Taehyung’s person’s intensity was already too much to handle. You thanked God you weren't gonna work with him one on one, or you won’t survive.

But, little did you know.

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gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

Tags: @tangledsparkles @hoefortaeshands @getmemyfries

#taehyung angst #bts angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung imagine #bts imagine #bts v #v angst #v fluff #v imagine #wbcs #*mine

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21secondsofchristoph · 4 years

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Here is a full translation of the interview featured in Max Magazine.

Original text by Andreas Wrede

This was a lot of work so PLEASE don’t post this elsewhere without credit.

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

This story with and about Christoph Waltz is a story coming full circle. A little more than 3 decades ago, a small group of editors and photojournalists, graphic artists and authors started developing the pilot for the first German issue of MAX, made possible by Dirk Manthey, the publisher from Hamburg’s Milchstraße, who knew the magazine from Italy, France and Greece. And who made me the founding-editor in chief. Three decades later, the derivative is released, thanks to publisher Max Iannucci. In 1990, Christoph Waltz was in an episode of “Der Alte”, among other things before he played the torn schlager music star Roy Black in “Du bist nicht allein – Die Roy Black Story” – but we will get to that later.

Now Christoph Waltz is an award-winning, internationally known actor, who won two Oscars for best supporting actor. That is unique for a German-speaking actor. Born in Vienna in 1956, he now lives in Los Angeles – if you want to play a role in Hollywood, literally, you must be present in Los Angeles. And during our conversation in a red, furry saloon of the legendary hotel Sacher in Vienna, he emphasizes, “Hollywood is always the goal”.

The place is very fitting, considering Christoph Waltz grew up in Vienna, in a family that cultivated a great affinity for the work on stage for two generations. He says laconically, “You grow into a thing, you grow up with it, and thus, you acquire a familiarity early on, which you’d otherwise have to conquer with a lot more effort.” He often went to the movies from an early age on, but he spent even more time at the opera. “When I had time and had finished my homework, I enjoyed going to the opera.” Back then, a standing room ticket cost about ten Schilling, just a few cents in today’s currency. Little Christoph loved smuggling into the fascinating, secretive opera house.

Later he attended famous acting schools like the Max Reinhardt Seminar or Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio with significantly less pleasure. “I didn’t like attending acting schools. They didn’t exactly broaden my horizon.” Christoph Waltz hardly found them inspiring. And when he received offers for movies and theater, he accepted them “instead of dealing and struggling with teachers”. He says this with few gestures and in an almost reporting tone, he has always trusted the energies inherent in him. He had his TV debut in “Der Einstand”, where he played a teenage delinquent. That was fitting, considering he continued playing roles which were different, unexpected, and specific, or roles he filled differently, unexpectedly, and specifically.

Christoph Waltz remembers his beginnings as an actor in the 70s a little wistfully. “There were still movies on TV, which were made as movies for television, as one dramatic entity.” Or when there used to be directors like the great Federico Fellini, who was “very, very specifically Italian in everything he did.” Christoph Waltz continues: “And because of this specificity he was able to reach so many people.” A phenomenon like Fellini is marked by obstinacy, nonconformity, and distinct individuality. However, some significant conditions also irritated Christoph Waltz, for instance, when he was hired for the Krzysztof-Zanussi-film “Leben für Leben” in 1991. “I wasn’t adequately informed about the conditions and backgrounds. And so, I found myself – surpsised – in front of a camera in Auschwitz.” How does one react to something like that? “Today, I would know how to react”, he stresses thoughtfully, “but today, that would be due to the self-confidence I acquired over the past years. Back then I felt: Now I’ve been hired for this film.” Alright, he adds, one grows through experience, some conflicts are worth going through. “It helps building character.”

Was the decision to play Roy Black a crystal clear one? Not at all, he responds smiling and closes his eyes for a second. “When my agent called me about it, my spontaneous reaction was: Complete humbug, and I can’t even listen to this music for three seconds.” It only became interesting for him when he learned that Roy Black originally wanted to play Rock ‘n’ Roll. Then he became interested in the tragedy of this character. And the thought that Roy Black’s wish was the desire for freedom and wildness, a wish many Germans shared, “which was inherent in the promising American machinery.” Although this freedom and wildness had always existed in Germany, lived out by people like Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, or Kandinsky.

“The film itself was great, but the marketing-weisenheimers managed to break this film. It would be a great cine film, but they advertised it as a sob story for television. Consequently, the real Roy-Black fans were disappointed, while the people who might have been interested in the movie judged: Leave me alone with this sob story twerp. Well, the weisenheimers are the weisenheimers, what can you do”, deems Christoph Waltz with a beautiful touch of Viennese sarcasm and barely noticeable risen eyebrows. One does not always have to instrumentalize the entire acting equipment with him. A few little cues are enough.

Many more films follow before someone calls from Hollywood and say he is supposed to participate in Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. In our interview he calls this his “Quentin-jump”, where he is at eye level with Diane Kruger, Brad Pitt and Michael Fassbender in front of the camera. “Tarantino, we mentioned this before, stands for specificity and authenticity, he has an eye for both.” Did Christoph Waltz go into this production with a lot of respect? “With great respect.” He remembers an encounter with Sylvester Groth in front of a theatre in Babelsberg. “Every Thursday, Quentin showed movies during preparation. Once, Sylvester and I stood in front of the theatre and we both said: Imagine this, now we’ve been doing this for so long and suddenly we find ourselves here.” Then we paused for a few moments and kept going: Yes, and despite everything, we’re doing what we’ve always done – what we do, because that is what we do.”

Before Tarantino’s office could call again, other international projects followed, like The Green Hornet (with Cameron Diaz, Tom Wilkinson, James Franco) or Carnage (with Jodie Foster, Kate Winslet, John C. Reilly). Then Django Unchained (with Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson). For his role in Django Unchained, Christoph Waltz wins his second Oscar for best supporting actor in 2013 and Quentin wins another one for best original screenplay. But Christoph Waltz remains humble: “The opportunities presented to someone for personal growth always come to you through other people.” Although the actor always makes a binary decision. “Yes or no. Am I going to do it or not.”

Can one also make the wrong decision? “You decide for one or the other and from that other possibilities develop, but neither is better or worse.” That was not any different for Quentin Tarantino or for his first film and its director Reinhard Schwabenitzky, who saw him in acting school. Christoph Waltz leans forward and says confidentially: “The essential chances and opportunities were those which were presented to me by another mind, by a great talent, through a vision, which came from another person.” Nothing more, nothing less.

Yes, humility is a virtue. But we do not want to conceal the fact that Christoph Waltz was the first German-speaking host on Saturday Night Live and that he received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (No. 2536, 6667 Hollywood Boulevard). The quote: “And Hollywood is always the goal.” Is correct, “like others say their goal is to get into heaven.” Hollywood, heaven: “I don’t mean to compare the two goals, but the setting of these goals. Especially Hollywood has been mythologized into more than it deserves credit for.” In this respect, as a myth, it is always the goal. Please don't tell anyone Christoph Waltz is over-the-top - the opposite is the case.

During our exchange in the Sacher, I mention one of my favorite books on film. It is Peter Biskind’s Easy Riders, Raging Bulls – How the Sex-Drugs-And-Rock’n’roll Generation saved Hollywood. It says: „There is no worse career move in Hollywood than dying. Hal Ashby is now largely forgotten, because he had the misfortune to die at the end of the 80’s, but he had the most remarkable run of any ’70 director. After ‚The Landlord‘, in 1970, he made ‚Harold and Maude‘, ‚The Last Detail‘, ‚Shampoo‘, ‚Bound for Glory‘, ‚Coming Home‘ and ‚Being there‘ in 1979, before his career disappeared into the dark tunnel of post-‘70’s, Me Decade Drugs and paranoia.“

It can be assumed that this won’t happen to Christoph Waltz? “That is a good example for the mythologizing I was referring to”, he responds. “I would claim that a legend like James Dean probably wouldn’t have developed at all, had he not driven himself to death in his Porsche at such a young age. Who knows what would have become of Marilyn Monroe, had she not put an early end to her complicated life.” And parallel to Hal Ashby, there probably were thousands of directors, who would have been happy to pay their next rent – by working in their profession. It is therefor about comparativeness.

Onto another career step, the James Bond movie Spectre, in which Christoph Waltz portrays the dark Blofeld, a character, who appeared in previous Bond movies. How do we have to imagine that? One sunny day the agent comes along and says: “You’re on the list for the next Bond movie”? Christoph Waltz knows there are no rules to this, especially when it is something like James Bond. A series that has been at the peak of possibilities for more than 50 years.” The producers have a lot to lose, they have to look very closely. Not only to keep up the standard, they also want to be ahead of their time.

Was it intriguing to play this bad boy a second time? Is it about an additional nuance of expertly irony; is it about the myth that is Bond? “This was another unique opportunity for me”, says Christoph Waltz, “a unique opportunity to include myself into such an incredibly successful series.” Now after Spectre, for the second time in No Time To Die – a title that can offer a bit of comfort in times of the world wide covid pandemic. And Christoph Waltz is in the Bond movie that will be Daniel Craig’s final Bond. “It’s his fourth Bond movie”, he counts, “the actors change but the role remains the same. Of course, the role acquires a different profile and thus, different facets.” But it remains James Bond. “And when a new actor gets the role, he has to fit into the role, not the other way around.” Once again, we will have to wait for this Bond movie. It will probably hit theatres in spring 2021.

It reminds one of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida – we’ve seen it a dozen times but keep going to see it again. Nowadays you go to see the production, in the past you went to see whosit faithless. Speaking of productions: Are the demands towards a Bond director more extensive compared to other film projects? “Surely there are more things to keep an eye on compared to a low budget movie or an independent film. In productions like that, you often have to use the tools you have. In Denmark they had demands referring to this “, Christoph Waltz comments in a slightly mocking undertone. He means the group around Lars von Trier? “Precisely, they called it Dogma for fun, and the world took them seriously.” But that is part of it, right, part of the business.

Anyway, every little detail is carefully manufactured for a Bond movie. And that takes, apart from a lot of money, a great level of expertise and many employees, which combine into a story on film. “Legions of people work on every pixel, not to mention the light and the meaning of the music.” With all this in mind, it’s understandable how appealing it is to be in a movie like No Time To Die. Christoph Waltz has a lot of praise for the director, Cary Fukanaga: “He always knew exactly what he was doing and we knew exactly, why he did this or that”. Audiences were able to see this in previous projects, like the brilliant first season of True Detective, where he directed all eight episodes.

Christoph Waltz wouldn’t be Christoph Waltz if he didn’t show his extraordinary talents in unconventional projects as well, like the show Most Dangerous Game (with Liam Hemsworth, produced for Quibi). “What interested me there? The new dramatic form, it’s a story in 16 sections, each section only eight minutes long. We’re dealing with a new form of storytelling.” Does it remind him of the continuous comics that used to be in US-newspapers a few decades ago?

“Yes, it’s connected to that – but it also reminds me of Charles Dickens, who published many of his novels as newspaper installments. In Most Dangerous Game the great story arch is not lost, the suspense is carried from one episode into the next. “That is a sleight of hand.” And for that he received an Emmy nomination, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he was to win the prestigious award one day. But he pulled off other sleight of hands in the past. Or how the New York Times says in a headline: “Christoph Waltz directing Opera, moves from Tarantino to Verdi.” Adding his old comment to this: “The full-blooded, juicy movie experience has a lot of operatic qualities. I’m not talking about the film music, but about the rhythm and color and phrasing.” After “Der Rosenkavalier” (Music: Richard Strauss, Libretto: Hugo von Hofmannsthal), which he staged at the Antwerp Opera, came Giuseppe Verdi’s “Falstaff”, his second opera there.

“I’m not a fan of the never-seen-before concept”, says Christoph Waltz. He agrees with Susan Sontag’s essay Against Interpretation – in opera, there is a fix story, and the music is the central transmitter of this story. Over-interpretations can quickly become “dangerous sliding tackles.” Waltz wants to avoid those. “I want to show what the composers and authors meant.” He stayed true to Sontag’s principle in all three of his opera productions, the third on being Beethoven’s only opera “Fidelio”.

He is self-critical enough, “to personally take the risk of failing.” What would be the alternative?

“I’m just an actor, now what do the music critics, who take themselves so seriously say? Some foam at the mouth and brawl ‘the movie-bod is interfering in the opera’.” He prefers the critics that are capable of formulating things between the lines. “When I read elsewhere, that the very thing I was trying to convey can be seen in detail, then I’m quietly happy about it.” Sadly, the live performances of Fidelio fell victim to the covid-crisis, but there was a TV-screening on ORF, which can certainly be called presentable with 11% of the market-share. “During ‘Fidelio’ I first realized physically that music is a spatial experience.” Here fits another Waltz-quote: “Strip away anything that us unnecessary.” Ergo: Reduce the action to the interaction between the characters. That is an art he mastered to perfection in acting.”

For once, I could surprise the cleaned up, chatty, well-tempered Christoph Waltz with a little research.

In his birthyear, 1956, his fellow countryman Walter Felsenstein, founder and artistic director of the “Komische Oper” in Berlin filmed a version of “Fidelio”. To this day, it remains the only film adaptation of the opera. Probably because – so the actor quotes Felsenstein – “this opera technically is impossible to stage”, he says with aplomb, an attitude that suits him. In ballet an aplomb describes the ability to absorb a movement, the balance.

Christoph Waltz not only shoots a lot of movies, but he also enjoys reading one particular movie critic: Anthony Lane of the New Yorker. Surely one of the most sharpened critics, who outtalks someone or rubs the reader’s nose into his alleged ignorance. We start talking about Lane via a new movie by the fabulous Agnieszka Holland, “Mr. Jones” – referring to Gareth Jones, advisor to the former British Prime Minister Lloyd George. Jones uncovers that the devastating hunger crisis in the Ukraine in 1932/33 was exclusively due to Stalin’s exploiting politics. Anthony Lane writes in inimitable fashion: „Is it conceivable that Holland’s bleak, murky, and instructive film could prompt a change of heart in the current Russian establishment, or even a confession of crimes past? Not a chance.“ Greetings from Belarus.

And of course, we also talk about COVID, what does an actor do who can’t act during these times? Is he reading Robert Musil’s novel The Man Without Qualities, which has more than 1000 pages? “Oh, I’ve already attempted to read this three times. The first time, I got to page 200, the second time I got to page 400, the third time I put it away after 100 pages.” But he doesn’t fully abandon the idea of finishing it one day. “But that would really be a true accomplishment of discipline”, he underlines, allusively smiling. Less amusing is the current stagnancy in Hollywood, where Christoph Waltz lives with his wife and daughter for the most part. “It will be illuminating once things pick up again”, he ponders “will a reforming spirit take over, or will everything fall back into the old, ignorant patterns, or even cause worse?” The temporary dysfunctionality of Hollywood is comparable to a dysfunctional family, which mechanisms become especially clear during crisis. Now he visited his mother here in Vienna. I allow myself the question, “Is Vienna your home?” “Vienna is my home, home is something you can’t choose, like your parents. Everything else can become your center of living, all that is willingly moveable – but home, home cannot be changed at will.”

#christoph waltz #max magazine

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Welllp These Are Books: the March 2021 Edition

There aren’t even any pictures! Except in that one book where there were pictures! It was weird! This was a weird book month! Back at it again with thoughts and opinions about a whole mess of books that no one explicitly asked for, but I’ve got lots of thoughts and opinions and they only count if I share them on the internet. Seriously, someone let me go to a baseball game soon. Obligatory warning for spoilers and vaguely unhinged rants under the cut. As always, feel free to come tell me what else I should be reading at literally any time ever.

Best Book of the Month Honors Goes to This Book, Even Though They Called It Halftime at a Hockey Game. A Hockey Game!

The Dating Plan by Sara Desai

Daisy Patel is a software engineer who understands lists and logic better than bosses and boyfriends. With her life all planned out, and no interest in love, the one thing she can't give her family is the marriage they expect. Left with few options, she asks her childhood crush to be her decoy fiancé. Liam Murphy is a venture capitalist with something to prove. When he learns that his inheritance is contingent on being married, he realizes his best friend's little sister has the perfect solution to his problem. A marriage of convenience will get Daisy's matchmaking relatives off her back and fulfill the terms of his late grandfather's will. If only he hadn’t broken her tender teenage heart nine years ago… Sparks fly when Daisy and Liam go on a series of dates to legitimize their fake relationship. Too late, they realize that very little is convenient about their arrangement. History and chemistry aren't about to follow the rules of this engagement.

— Ok, it’s important to know that I really did love this book. It hit all my trope-wants. Childhood friends, incredibly stupid misunderstandings, pining, seriously God the pining, fake engagement, BANTER. It was all going great. I was occasionally swooning. They kept making out! And then! THEN. They went to a hockey game. On a date. A fake date. Cool, cool, cool. All tropes, all the time right? Not so fast, internet! Because these self-proclaimed Sharks SUPER FANS referred to intermission as “halftime was coming up.” Halftime! At a hockey game! That’s—that’s not how hockey works! If this hadn’t been “traditionally” published, I probably could have let it slide. But that was not the case. This was a “real” book with, I can only assume, real editors. All of whom saw the words halftime and hockey near each other and we’re like YEAH, PRINT THAT SHIT. I read that at nearly one in the morning and seriously considered waking Justin up to be like CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS IS IN A REAL BOOK? Anyway, it was still real cute. Everyone lived happily ever after. It made want to eat samosas.

This Book Had Pictures, It Was Weird

Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast. But Dina is...different: Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, "normal" is a bit of a stretch for Dina.

And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night...Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

— So, Ilona Andrews is a name that keeps coming up because when I borrow a book from the library I have to go through Kindle and Amazon is like...here are some other absurd fantasy romances you’d enjoy. Also, one of her other series had been recc’ed to me. Only problem? The first book in that series is the only book in that series not available at my library. So, I was like, ok, I’ll start this one instead. It was...weird. Honestly, it felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of the story and the narrator was like, well why don’t you already know what’s going on? In theory the world building was cool. (I was not expecting alien werewolves, lemme tell you that!) But also it all felt very rushed and the end just sorta happened.

In Which I Continue to Love “Same Verse” Books & No One Else Had Sex in the Port Jeff High School Dugout. For Which I Was Grateful

Love Her or Lose Her by Tessa Bailey

Rosie and Dominic Vega are the perfect couple: high school sweethearts, best friends, madly in love. Well, they used to be anyway. Now Rosie’s lucky to get a caveman grunt from the ex-soldier every time she walks in the door. Dom is faithful and a great provider, but the man she fell in love with ten years ago is nowhere to be found. When her girlfriends encourage Rosie to demand more out of life and pursue her dream of opening a restaurant, she decides to demand more out of love, too. Three words: marriage boot camp.

Never in a million years did Rosie believe her stoic, too-manly-to-emote husband would actually agree to relationship rehab with a weed-smoking hippie. Dom talking about feelings? Sitting on pillows? Communing with nature? Learning love languages? Nope. But to her surprise, he’s all in, and it forces her to admit her own role in their cracked foundation. As they complete one ridiculous—yet surprisingly helpful—assignment after another, their remodeled relationship gets stronger than ever. Except just as they’re getting back on track, Rosie discovers Dom has a secret... and it could demolish everything.

— Listen, one of my absolutely favorite tropes that I do not think gets enough love in the world is COMMITTED LONG-LASTING RELATIONSHIPS. And, like, ok, sure the premise of this was that they were separating in that long-lasting relationship. But no one really believed that, did they? Rosie and Dominic were real cute and their banter was good and I wasn’t totally skeeved out when they literally fucked on the kitchen floor. So, I think that’s saying something. Also, also! I seriously appreciated the realism of this book because no one on Long Island would ever call Manhattan Manhattan. It’s the city. Every other borough gets a name, but Manhattan is just the city and I nearly cheered when they said that. But also, no one’s taking a cab from Port Jeff to the Meatpacking District. You know what that would cost? God.

Tools of Engagement by Tessa Bailey

Hair, makeup, clothing, decor... everything in Bethany Castle's world is organized, planned, and styled to perfection. Which is why the homes she designs for her family's real estate business are the most coveted in town. The only thing not perfect? Her track record with men. She's on a dating hiatus and after helping her friends achieve their dreams, Bethany finally has time to focus on her own: flip a house, from framework to furnishings, all by herself. Except her older brother runs the company and refuses to take her seriously.

When a television producer gets wind of the Castle sibling rivalry, they’re invited on Flip Off, a competition to see who can do the best renovation. Bethany wants bragging rights, but she needs a crew and the only member of her brother's construction team willing to jump ship is Wes Daniels, the new guy in town. His Texas drawl and handsome face got under Bethany's skin on day one, and the last thing she needs is some cocky young cowboy in her way.

As the race to renovate heats up, Wes and Bethany are forced into close quarters, trading barbs and biting banter as they remodel the ugliest house on the block. It's a labor of love, hate, and everything in between, and soon sparks are flying. But Bethany's perfectly structured life is one kiss away from going up in smoke and she knows falling for a guy like Wes would be a flipping disaster.

— It should first be noted that in the three books of this series, I could not and cannot understand why Bethany’s brother was such a monumental dick. He was just...he was a dick. His marriage was awful. How long was his wife pregnant without him knowing???? I digress. This continued to be cute, Bethany was a legit heroine as far as those rom-com things go, Wes was very Texas and that got a little over the top, but they had sex in a bed like normal people so that helped. Oh, except that one time on the construction site. Whatever, this book was cute. This whole series was cute, really, and I was a big fan of the happy little wrap-everything-up with a bow ending.

Romance That Happens In Point Two Seconds Is...Unbelievable

Too Hot to Handle by Tessa Bailey

The road trip was definitely a bad idea. Having already flambéed her culinary career beyond recognition, Rita Clarkson is now stranded in God-Knows-Where, New Mexico, with a busted-ass car and her three temperamental siblings, who she hasn't seen in years. When rescue shows up---six-feet-plus of hot, charming sex on a motorcycle---Rita's pretty certain she's gone from the frying pan right into the fire . . . Jasper Ellis has a bad boy reputation in this town, and he loathes it. The moment he sees Rita, though, Jasper knows he's about to be sorely tempted. There's something real between them. Something raw. And Jasper has only a few days to show Rita that he isn't just for tonight---he's forever.

— For as much as I loved the Port Jeff series by my new pal Tessa, this one was...oof. Too much, guys. Too much. Fucking in trucks. Fucking in back offices. The whole book lasted, like, three days. And keep in mind this is coming from someone who has written like two million words about Killian Jones, self-loathing champ 250 years running, but Jasper’s self-loathing was a little over the top. Like, let’s not objectify dudes, but also...I don’t know guys. Maybe the other books in the series are better? I was mostly just annoyed by Rita.

What the Hell Happened at the End of This Book?? Seriously, I Have No Idea

The Queen’s Assassin by Melissa de la Cruz

Caledon Holt is the kingdom's deadliest weapon. No one alive can best him in speed, strength, or brains, which is why he's the Hearthstone Guild's most dangerous member. Cal is also the Queen's Assassin, bound to her by magic and unable to leave her service until the task she's set for him is fulfilled. Shadow of the Honey Glade has been training all her life to join the Guild, hoping that one day she'll become an assassin as feared and revered as Cal. But Shadow's mother and aunts expect her to serve the crown as a lady of the Renovian Court. When a surprise attack brings Shadow and Cal together, they're forced to team up as assassin and apprentice. Even though Shadow's life belongs to the court and Cal's belongs to the queen, they cannot deny their attraction to each other. But now, with war on the horizon and true love at risk, Shadow and Cal will uncover a shocking web of lies that will change their paths forever.

—WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED AT THE END OF THIS BOOK??? I figured out the so-called twist like...two chapters in. Fine, ok, whatever. It’s YA, this is not rocket science and I was interested enough in Cale and Shadow to see how it all played out. Only it didn’t really play out! Because the whole end was just this like four chapter retcon of basically EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED and I genuinely could not believe it was happening. It didn’t make sense?!? Like with the plot? Also, spoiler, good thing Shadow and the other king haven’t consummated their marriage yet since she and Cale totally fucked after her wedding? What is YA? Why is Amazon telling me this is a Teacher’s Pick? Why hasn’t my hold come through on the sequel yet so I know what happens next?

Low-Stakes Romance Was Real Boring and All The People Were Boring In It

The Ten Rules for Faking It by Sophie Sullivan

As birthdays go, this year’s for radio producer Everly Dean hit rock-bottom. Worse than the “tonsillectomy birthday.” Worse than the birthday her parents decided to split (the first time). But catching your boyfriend cheating on you with his assistant? Even clichés sting. But this is Everly’s year! She won’t let her anxiety hold her back. She’ll pitch her podcast idea to her boss. There’s just one problem. Her boss, Chris, is very cute. (Of course). Also, he's extremely distant (which means he hates her, right? Or is that the anxiety talking)? And, Stacey the DJ didn’t mute the mic during Everly’s rant about Simon the Snake (syn: Cheating Ex). That’s three problems. Suddenly, people are lining up to date her, Bachelorette-style, fans are voting (Reminder: never leave house again), and her interest in Chris might be a two-way street. It’s a lot for a woman who could gold medal in people-avoidance. She’s going to have to fake it ‘till she makes it to get through all of this. Perhaps she’ll make a list: The Ten Rules for Faking It.

— I am a broken record. Shouting. From the highest hilltop. Just because you think someone is cute when you’re technically not supposed to be dating them does not mean you get to be anything less than nice around them! It’s not cute! And part two, which often goes with part one: rom com dudes have GOT to stop lying or hiding or otherwise avoiding telling people who they really are. It’s a convoluted, passably lazy way of writing and dropping a third-act bomb on the story. Don’t do it. Stop doing it. We’ve moved past the need for hidden identities. Unless he’s, like, a spy or something. Um...this was a weird book. I know Everly had anxiety and that became a PLOT POINT, patent pending, but she was also not super relatable? Which is crazy considering my very real, rather undiagnosed anxiety. Chris was boring. The whole plot, as this title suggests, was very low stakes and no one actually seemed to remember that their jobs were ever on the line? Did Everly and Chris have a conversation before they decided they liked each other? Who can say, really.

Shipped by Angie Hockman

Between taking night classes for her MBA and her demanding day job at a cruise line, marketing manager Henley Evans barely has time for herself, let alone family, friends, or dating. But when she’s shortlisted for the promotion of her dreams, all her sacrifices finally seem worth it. The only problem? Graeme Crawford-Collins, the remote social media manager and the bane of her existence, is also up for the position. Although they’ve never met in person, their epic email battles are the stuff of office legend. Their boss tasks each of them with drafting a proposal on how to boost bookings in the Galápagos—best proposal wins the promotion. There’s just one catch: they have to go on a company cruise to the Galápagos Islands...together. But when the two meet on the ship, Henley is shocked to discover that the real Graeme is nothing like she imagined. As they explore the Islands together, she soon finds the line between loathing and liking thinner than a postcard. With her career dreams in her sights and a growing attraction to the competition, Henley begins questioning her life choices. Because what’s the point of working all the time if you never actually live?

— YOU NEED TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE TO DECIDE YOU LIKE THEM. AUTHORS REALLY REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. IF THEY ONLY LIKE EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY KISS WELL IT’S NOT A GOOD RELATIONSHIP. AND THIS IS COMING FROM ME. Back at it again with the annoying so-called heroine who was just...occasionally real mean to Graem for no reason at all? Also her name was Henley. Which is not a great reason to dislike her, but here we are.

Apparently I Read These Books Out Of Order. Who Knew?

Pride, Prejudice and Other Flavors by Sonali Dev

It is a truth universally acknowledged that only in an overachieving Indian American family can a genius daughter be considered a black sheep.

Dr. Trisha Raje is San Francisco’s most acclaimed neurosurgeon. But that’s not enough for the Rajes, her influential immigrant family who’s achieved power by making its own non-negotiable rules:

· Never trust an outsider

· Never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s political aspirations

· And never, ever, defy your family

Trisha is guilty of breaking all three rules. But now she has a chance to redeem herself. So long as she doesn’t repeat old mistakes.

Up-and-coming chef DJ Caine has known people like Trisha before, people who judge him by his rough beginnings and place pedigree above character. He needs the lucrative job the Rajes offer, but he values his pride too much to indulge Trisha’s arrogance. And then he discovers that she’s the only surgeon who can save his sister’s life.

As the two clash, their assumptions crumble like the spun sugar on one of DJ’s stunning desserts. But before a future can be savored there’s a past to be reckoned with...

A family trying to build home in a new land.

A man who has never felt at home anywhere.

And a choice to be made between the two.

— Surprise, apparently this was the first book in the series. I did not know. It didn’t affect my enjoyment of the Persuasion version in this same ‘verse, which is also strange because I liked the Persuasion one way better. There was a lot of medical in this. And not super uplifting medical, either. This was like...oh the Jane character (I guess???) has cancer and either she’s going to go blind after having a surgery (also she was an artist, so you see how this was a problem) or she’s just going to decide to die. Wait, what? That came out of left field, really. Also DJ and Trisha were not nice to each other. Like, I know this is Pride and Prejudice so there has to be some of that at the start, but it wasn’t like Trisha ever really went through the Darcy-required time at Pemberly. She just decided she liked DJ and told him and it was as awkward as Jane Austen intended it, but then we got more medical and everything was cool. It felt very rushed and shoehorned into a modern setting and the Persuasion one was better. You can’t have Darcy’s growth without the Pemberly stuff. You just can’t.

In Which I Didn’t Like a Nickname??? Is the World Ending??

Crazy Stupid Bromance by Lyssa Kay Adams

Alexis Carlisle and her cat café, ToeBeans, have shot to fame after she came forward as a victim of a celebrity chef’s sexual harassment. When a new customer approaches to confide in her, the last thing Alexis expects is for the woman to claim they’re sisters. Unsure what to do, Alexis turns to the only man she trusts—her best friend, Noah Logan. Computer genius Noah left his rebellious teenage hacker past behind to become a computer security expert. Now he only uses his old skills for the right cause. But Noah’s got a secret: He’s madly in love with Alexis. When she asks for his help, he wonders if the timing will ever be right to confess his crush. Noah’s pals in The Bromance Book Club are more than willing to share their beloved “manuals” to help him go from bud to boyfriend. But he must decide if telling the truth is worth risking the best friendship he’s ever had.

— If Noah was going to call her Lexa, then her name should have been Alexa and not Alexis. That’s it and that’s all. Also, the story was n u t s. Estranged dads and kidney failure and they got together so fast in this book. Which usually is cool by me, but I really could not get over the nickname and the estranged family was mean to Alexis. Lexa. HER NAME SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALEXA, IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Also Noah was a former hacker? The estranged family accused him corporate espionage or something? A lot happened in this book, guys. Her name should have been Alexa.

Dumb Brother Was Dumb™ Everyone Else Was Real Cute

The Off Limits Rule by Sarah Adams

I have found rock bottom. It's here, moving in with my older brother because I'm too broke to afford to live on my own. It's okay though, because we've always been close and I think I'm going to have fun living with him again.   That is until I meet Cooper...   Turns out, my brother has very strong opinions on the idea of me dating his best friend and is dead set against it. According to him, Cooper is everything I should stay away from: flirtatious, adventurous, non-committal, and freaking hot. (I added that last part because I feel like you need the whole picture.) My brother is right--I should stay away from Cooper James and his pretty blue eyes. He's the opposite of what I need right now.   Nah--who am I kidding? I'm going for it.

— This was cute, mostly mindless fluff. Hit some trope high points, including, obviously, best friends sister. Only the brother in question was a Neanderthal and I really thought people were going to make out more while said brother was on his business trip. I got it for free off Amazon. Which I think should explain a lot. Like, story-wise. Sorry, free Amazon books. Don’t be insulted.

Prose, Prose, Prose, Please Someone Have a Conversation

Trick by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Spring, Poet is renowned. He's young and pretty, a lover of men and women. He performs for the court, kisses like a scoundrel, and mocks with a silver tongue. Yet allow him this: It's only the most cunning and manipulative soul who can play the fool. For beyond the castle walls, Poet guards a secret. One the Crown would shackle him for. One that he'll risk everything to protect. Alas, it will take more than clever words to deceive Princess Briar. Convinced that he's juggling lies as well as verse, this righteous nuisance of a girl is determined to expose him. But not all falsehoods are fiendish. Poet's secret is delicate, binding the jester and princess in an unlikely alliance—and kindling a breathless attraction, as alluring as it is forbidden.

— The purplest of prose. Mauve prose. Royal purple prose. Lavender prose. There was so much writing here. So much. Too much, some might say. I say. Actually. If we want to get specific. And that was a shame, really, because when Briar and Poet actually had a conversation, they were interesting to read about. Also, the world building here? Yeeeesh. The so-called, wait for it, FOOL TRADE played a prominent role and that was...super cringe. Super Cringe. That being said, I asked Justin what I should read next and he thought it was funny that a book was just called...

Dare by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Summer, they say she's wild. Locked in a cage by the sea, Flare dreams of escape. She dreams of a lost world, known only in legends. The island is calling to her. And she won't let anyone keep her from it. Especially not him. They say he's cruel. Jeryn has crossed the ocean for the Trade, to bargain for those fierce, imprisoned creatures that make his skin crawl. By law, they're subjects meant for experimentation. And easy to despise. One girl in particular. But on the cusp of transport, the tide rages. That hidden island awaits. Stranded, the prince and prisoner must fight to survive. In a mysterious rainforest, they must band together...if they don't slay one another first. Or become something more to each other. Something just as dangerous.

— This was Justin’s fault. He could not believe this book was just called Dare. It should have been called “We’re going to weirdly force what is basically slavery into this story and then a prince is going to fall in love with an escaped slave and we’re also going to call that ROMANCE.” y i k e s. Remember that one story that took place over three days? This was the complete opposite. Years! They were shipwrecked for years! They got saved, spoilers, the DAY they started having sex. What are the odds, right?? And then MORE YEARS passed. Multiple years! Five years! They couldn’t actually be together because of that aforementioned slave trade. What the shit, man? Natalia, ya gotta be kidding me with this. The internet claimed Trick was good and a solid follow to reading ACOTAR and that there was this whole verse and it was also good. The internet was wrong.

Nothing Happened, Everything Happened, I...Hated It

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Kristin Cashore’s bestselling, award-winning fantasy Graceling tells the story of the vulnerable-yet-strong Katsa, a smart, beautiful teenager who lives in a world where selected people are given a Grace, a special talent that can be anything from dancing to swimming. Katsa’s is killing. As the king’s niece, she is forced to use her extreme skills as his thug. Along the way, Katsa must learn to decipher the true nature of her Grace… and how to put it to good use. A thrilling, action-packed fantasy adventure (and steamy romance!) that will resonate deeply with adolescents trying to find their way in the world.

— I can’t believe this was a book. Katsa was so annoying! Like, listen, I know her life was sad. And she was a pawn being used against her will. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. The tone of the whole book was so strangely formal and Poe was strangely in love with Katsa? Who obviously didn’t want to get married because she was WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR. Or kill people, as the case may be. Only she wanted to make out with Poe? Only ONLY they didn’t even really get together at the end? I could not believe the end of this book. I nearly threw my Kindle across the room. Once again, no apologies for spoilers because do not read this book, but HE WAS BLIND? Katsa had to leave him behind to save his cousin and he just ENDED UP BEING BLIND? AND THEY NEVER GOT TOGETHER REALLY?? What the fuck? Seriously. Steamy romance, my ass. Nothing happened. The villain got defeated in point two seconds. There are other books in this universe? No, thanks.

#book recommendations #book rec #fantasy recommendations #book recs #laura reads books #this was longer than i realized it was going to be #documentation of a very weird book month #but we're almost back on track now because i am LOVING a darker shade of magic #welllp these are books

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goddesswritings · 4 years

Text

peacefall - the beginning | Sam Taylor

Title: : peacefall – the beginning

Pairing: AU Ghost!SamTaylor x OC

Summary: Y/n is a writer, and her books are pretty popular. She moves into a house in the country to get away from the craziness of the city. She wants to put all her focus on her next book. Weird things begin happening in the house. She discovers she has a ghost, and he has quite a past. They begin to bond, but he begins to see that she is hiding something big from him. Something that will impact her life.

Word Count: 3k

Notes: Beware, this story contains major character death.

Also listen to the song peacefall by Purity Ring and you may be able to get some og the headspace I had when writing this.

This is an old fic that I changed to Sam. Mind you, I have not seen Amazing Stories, so this doesn’t follow the actual episode, it more like uses the likeness of Sam Taylor and makes him into an ancient Victorian character for the purpose of this ancient story of mine.

Masterlist

********

“I have no true memory of meeting my parents for the first time. Of course not, I was just a babe, but I do know that they nurtured and loved me very much. Growing up, I never once questioned their love for me nor for each other, I just knew it was there.”

Recently, you moved into a beautiful old house. It was on the smaller side, with a narrow staircase that led up to the second floor, but it was perfect. The house had to have been built over a hundred years ago. It was filled with the most beautiful wood floors and moulding. Every room had some type of dark wood lining the walls and windows. Some of the wallpaper was peeling in a few of the rooms, but that was an easy fix. There were a few other things that needed fixing in the house as well. You knew the house had seen better days but were happy to be living in it.

There were two bedrooms, the main bedroom was located next to the bathroom. It had a nice row of windows on the far wall that showed the beautiful old neighborhood the house was in, as well as a beautiful little closet. The bathroom was pretty spacious for the small home, with a white clawfoot tub in the center of the room. You were in love with that tub the minute you laid eyes on it. Growing up, you’d always wanted a clawfoot tub.

The second bedroom was located at the end of the hall. There were only two windows in that room and there were two large trees that covered the sunlight from reaching the room. This caused the room to be a bit darker than normal, but you loved it all the same. You made that room into your personal office. You’re a writer. The room was the perfect place for you to work when inspiration struck. Especially because it allowed no distractions from the outside world.

Things were finally coming together for you. Your newest book had just been published and you’d finally saved enough to live on your own. You finally felt happy. You didn't have many friends or a boyfriend, but you were happy with yourself. Living alone would be good for you. It would allow you to focus and get a lot of writing done.

The first couple of weeks were quiet and nothing ever happened in the house. It seemed perfect, too perfect. You knew a house that old had to have some sort of past and you were willing to find out what it was. You were a naturally curious person.

Maybe a month into living in the house, things began to happen. Unimportant things would go missing and turn up in a completely different room. At first, you thought you’d just been moving the stuff and forgetting where you put it, but when a book you were reading disappeared when you explicitly remembered putting it on the bedside table, you knew something was going on.

At night there would be odd creaks that you hadn’t heard when you first moved in. One night you were sure there were footsteps in the hallway, but they were gone before you’d had a chance to investigate them. You knew what you heard was not in your mind. Even with this stuff happening, you were not afraid. You grew up in a haunted house, so it wasn’t new. Things just continued to happen for the next three months and you did your best to ignore them and just live life.

You were halfway done your next book when the notes for the book went missing. That didn’t make you happy, because it meant that whatever was doing it, was an intelligent spirit. You spent the entire day ravaging the house and trying to find the missing notes.

“This is not funny!” You yelled out while sitting in the middle of the living room, the house was a mess around you. After that, you swear you heard a laugh. This spirit just wanted to piss you off. This made you want to get some background on the house.

****

You had all intentions to learn the past of the house, but life got busy. You had to make an impromptu trip a few hours away to New York to meet up with your editor and agent. Both wanted to talk about your upcoming book and what they should expect in it. You have to say a good thing about being a writer is being able to keep your identity secret. You were able to live your life normally without having to worry about being recognized, it was great. Anyway, the trip to New York lasted about a week and you couldn’t wait to return home.

The house was quiet when you returned, eerily quiet. You didn’t know what to expect from the spirit in the house, but at that moment you were too tired to care. You were dying for a soak in that beautiful tub of yours. After placing your bags in the bedroom, you headed to the bathroom to start the tub. You filled it with some lavender bubble bath.

After the bath was started, you retreated to the bedroom to get ready. You tied up your hair up and changed into a blue silk robe. As you were headed back to the bathroom, you remembered to grab a glass of wine to help you relax. So you turned off the tub before heading back down the stairs to grab it.

Halfway down the stairs when you spotted a tall man standing in the living room. He was only there for a split second, but you knew what you saw was real. You shook your head and made your way into the kitchen. Pouring a glass of wine before heading back upstairs. Walking past the living room, you got chills, but cast it off as nothing. You made it back to the bathroom quickly and put the wine on the counter.

Just as you’d untied your robe, you heard your bedroom door close, you retied the robe and went out into the hallway. “Hello?” You expected a reply but got nothing.

You walked to the bedroom to find the door shut. When you tried to push it open, it wouldn’t budge. “What the hell. This is not funny at all.” You spoke and continued to push on the door. So you stopped and listened for any movement on the other side of the door but heard nothing.

Once again, you moved the door handle and it swung wide open, slamming into the wall. There was no one in the bedroom. Now you were beginning to get freaked out.

Shaking your head, you went back to the bathroom and started to remove the robe again. Letting it drop to the floor, you picked up the wine and stepped into the hot bath. You set the wine on window ledge beside the tub before finally relaxing against the warm porcelain of the tub. It had been a long time since you’d had the chance to relax like this. You closed your eyes and let the water relax you, you just let your mind wander.

You sipped the wine occasionally. It must have been fifteen minutes or so before you started to feel like you were being watched. Shooting up, you looked around the room, trying to find the source of the feeling, but as usual there was no one. This spirit seemed to be playing a lot of tricks.

After that you decided it was probably best that you retire to bed, because you felt like you were going crazy. Exiting the bath, you brushed your teeth, and changed into a pair of black shorts and a t-shirt. Then snuggled into your bed. You still felt like you were being watched but you pushed that aside and went to sleep.

You were sure you’d gone to sleep, but now you found yourself sitting in the living room. You were dressed up in a beautiful blue dress and it seemed you were waiting for someone. Two minutes later you heard footsteps and a gorgeous man entered the room. He was tall. If you had to guess, he was about six feet tall. He had the darkest brown hair that was perfectly set on his head. His face had a cute scruffy beard that fit him so well. Everything about him was cute and screamed innocence.

“I love that color on you, darling.” He spoke sitting beside you on the couch. His voice was attractive.

“Thank you. I knew you would love this color.” You spoke in the dream. You weren’t speaking on your own will. The words came out without permission.

“You know me all too well, my love.” The man leaned in to kiss your cheek, a light blush formed on your cheeks. “You know I love you so much, Annabelle.”

That’s not your name.

“Oh yes I do, and you know I love you.” That was when you realized that it wasn’t your voice you were hearing and the woman sitting on the couch was not you. You were now standing on the other side of the room. She resembled you a little bit, but she was not you. Her hair was a couple shades lighter than yours. Her skin a couple shades darker than yours.

“That is why I want to marry you, Annabelle. Have you given my proposition any thought?”

She smiled but there was something fake about that smile and it made you sick, “I have Sam. I have given it so much thought, but I am afraid of what my father will say. The other townsfolk. I am betrothed to Peter after all.”

A frown appeared on the man’s face, “I understand that your father’s approval means a lot to you, I really do. But don’t you want to marry out of true love, not an arranged marriage? You and I are in love and I think that is all you need to get married. Marry me Annabelle. Please?”

Annabelle didn’t smile, she looked annoyed at the man. “Sam, I cannot marry you. My father means everything to me, and I believe he knows what he is talking about when he tells me that Peter is the best for me. I am sorry, I really am.” There was no sincerity in her voice.

“Okay, I understand.” He sighed sadly, “Then I must inform you that I will be leaving town in a few days. I have a job opportunity somewhere else.”

Annabelle nodded, “I think that would be best, but I do not think you are going to get far.”

Sam looked taken back by her words, “Why do you say that?”

Something in her changed and she looked positively evil in that moment. She pulled something from behind her and quickly shoved it into his chest. It was a knife. She had just shoved a knife into the chest of a man who loved her. What?

This was seriously freaking you out.

Sam looked down to where the knife was embedded into his chest and then looked up at Annabelle. “Why would you do this? I loved you, I still love you.” His voice was soft.

She just laughed and pushed him to the ground, “I regret to inform you, my dear Sam, I never loved you. I am in love with Peter and have been since before I met you. You are just a pawn in my game. With you gone, I will be able to take everything you have.” This woman was making you sick. She dropped down to the floor beside Sam and gripped the knife. “I am not sorry for anything I did.” There was no emotion in her voice as she spoke. Before Sam could reply, she pulled the knife from his chest. “Goodbye Sam.” Those were the last words she spoke before shoving the knife into his heart.

You sat up with a start. You were absolutely terrified from the dream. That was no dream, it was a nightmare. When you buried your head into your hands, you realized you were crying. The dream scared you. You needed a glass of water. Pulling yourself out of bed, you noticed it was only four in the morning. Rubbing your eyes before getting up and making your way downstairs for water.

So, at 4:15 am, you stood in the dark kitchen leaning against the counter with a glass of water in your hand. Your mind was trying to make sense of the dream, but it could not. Why would you dream something like that? More importantly, why do you feel like that dream was more of a memory than a dream? You finished the water and headed back to bed. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get back to sleep, you just kept tossing and turning for the next two hours. Finally, at 6:30am, you decided to get up and work on the book.

Once again, you headed down the stairs to make a cup of coffee. Entering the kitchen, you stopped short when you saw something on the ground. It was the missing notes for your book. You shook your head and picked them up and started to go through the notes, a loose paper fell out to the floor. It was a newspaper article.

Town’s lady Annabelle Porter marries her long-time love Peter Lockwood.

You only read the headline, but it caught your interest. Especially since the woman in your dream was named Annabelle. Was this a coincidence? You were going to put the article aside for later. Right now, you needed coffee to wake up and you would figure this out later. Preparing a big cup of coffee and some toast, you grabbed the notes taking them up to the office. Some work needed to be done today.

You hadn’t even bothered putting clothes on, you lived alone. So, here you were, sitting in your cozy little office in some underwear and a t-shirt. Inspiration stuck shortly after taking a seat in front of the computer. There was no stopping you. Well that was until a creak of the wooden floor was heard behind you. Almost like someone was standing in the room. Quickly whipping around, you found no one.

“It seems that you like playing tricks on me spirit. Thanks for giving me my notes back.” You said aloud. You weren’t really expecting a reply, so it was surprising when a voice said ‘Welcome’ out of thin air. The most striking thing was that the voice sounded so much like the man from your dream last night.

“Uhhh okay.” This wasn’t the first time in your life that you were dealing with a ghost. You’d seen and experienced them all throughout life. This was just the first time that you had an intelligent exchange with one and it did freak you out a little bit. After that, the spirit didn’t say anything else. It got really quiet, so you got back to work.

****

You worked the entire day, only taking a few breaks for the bathroom and for food or drinks. The book was starting to come along. The house really seemed to give a lot of inspiration. Secretly you hoped to have another exchange with the spirit, but he was quiet after the morning antics. If you hadn’t known better, you would think that he left the house.

It was almost midnight when you decided to drag yourself to bed. You’d had a long day of writing and were starting to feel it all. Especially since you woke up around 4am. After brushing your teeth and using the bathroom, you climbed into bed. You were hoping you would have another dream. Maybe then, you can find out why Annabelle killed Sam?

At first, you had a bit of trouble getting to sleep, there was a lot on your mind, and you kept tossing and turning. You could not stop thinking about the dream from the previous night and the man from the dream that you kept seeing around the house. Was he the one haunting the home?

Two hours later you finally drifted to sleep, only to wake maybe an hour later to your covers being pulled down. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, too tired for this nonsense tonight. Before you could say anything, something or someone touched your leg. The feeling was cold yet inviting. You weren’t scared even when you knew you should be. Whatever was there stopped touching you right as you became aware of its presence.

“I know there is something here and I would really like it if you showed yourself.” You spoke into the dark room. Waiting for an answer, you received none. Sleep was closing in, so you just let it take over. You decided to deal with the spirit later. For now, you needed sleep.

PART TWO >>

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