#and with Rick’s books you can tell by the fashion that it’s a man writing

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

My favorite thing about Annabeth is her wardrobe.

Cause like, Rick simplifies her clothes in a way a man would, and you can tell.

Cause in EVERY book, from The Lightning Thief to Chalice, she’s in the goddamn CHB shirt. With like some shorts or cargo pants. Nothing more, nothing less.

He’s made improvements over the years, giving her some other clothes. But he’ll always come back to old faithful.

Like, he most definitely did it on accident, but he made her so Adam Sandler and I love it

[erstwhilesparrow]

sparrow's short story and poetry recs (incomplete)

@desultorydenouement requested some recommendations for [generally stuff i've read that inspires / influences my writing]. i don't know if these all fit that requirement exactly, but. i sure do think about these ones a lot. here you go, hope you enjoy!

poetry:

Per Fumum by Jamaal May - My father was an astronomer / for forty minutes in a row / the first time a bus took us so far / from streetlights he could point out constellations / that may or may not have been Draco, / Orion, Aquila, or Crux. Sometimes I still catch myself using the phrasing of "[someone] was [a role / profession] for [some number of units of time] in a row" in my own writing. I like... the idea of curiosity / wonder / experimentation as something that puts you in a tradition of all the scientists and thinkers that have come before you.

Evolution by Linda Bierds - You know that feeling when it occurs to you for maybe the first time ever that hey, you're an adult now and you can decide what to do about your [fashion / food / leisure time] and you pick something you like that you wouldn't have tried to pick before and now that thing is special to you specifically? This poem is that, for poetry, for me. Alan Turing, and life, and all the dark mares on their dark shadows.

A Toast To The Alchemists by Laura Gilpin - Look, I like when people do poetry about science, and I love love love talking / thinking about the history of science, I don't know what to tell you. Last stanza makes me vaguely achy.

The Fish by Marianne Moore - If I had to pick a favourite poem ever, it'd be this one. First learned about it How to Read Poetry Like a Professor by Thomas Foster and it fills me with delight. I like how it looks on the page, I like its rhyme scheme, I like its language and imagery, I like the whole act of digging around in it. Did one of my favourite high school presentations on this poem.

NUMBERS by Mary Cornish - A joy to read out loud. I said this to a friend of mine and she immediately called me and demanded I read it to her and it was delightful! Highly recommended experience. It's... fun! Playful. Appreciative of something I think we are not appreciative of enough.

Rick Deckard Comes Home by Kanami Ayau - Even if this poem was just the phrase 'syncopated two-step dog-tag paramour' I would still love it. Have you ever heard anything condensed so perfectly well? Can you hear the drumbeat of it? I will never stop thinking about this.

Second Street Drifting by Austin Walker - You may have noticed this link takes you to a wiki page. I'm cheating with this one because the poem is from a podcast (Friends at the Table) and the podcast, really, is the thing that's a huge inspiration / influence for me, but this poem on its own, too: perfect. It is delicious to read out loud and delicious to hear read out loud -- Austin savours every syllable in his reading, and it is completely justified.

Catastrophe is Next to Godliness by Franny Choi - Lord, I confess I want the clarity of catastrophe but not the catastrophe. Just. Yeah. Big fan of Franny Choi in full generality. More of their work here!

Beautiful Short Loser by Ocean Vuong - Joy? Gender? Brilliance and confidence and that one interview he gave where he was like, and this is paraphrasing badly, "I insist on being a man and on using he/him specifically to complicate what those things can / should mean" ?

The Melancholy of Mechagirl by Catherynne M. Valente - Part of a collection of poems and short stories by the same name. I love this poem; it is fun and bright and touches things I care about (mechs, bodies, sci-fi concerned with the individual and the personal). The short stories I don't tend to feel as strongly about but some of them are stick-in-your-brain-for-days-after great. Recommend taking a look at the whole book!

I can't pick a Mary Oliver one. I simply cannot do it. But read her poems. They're excellent.

short stories:

The Library of Babel by Jorge Luis Borges - I love weird architecture. I love buildings and structures that make no fucking sense. I love infinity. I love finding horror or wonder or despair or meaning in those things. This story is about more than that, but mostly it's about an infinite library that our narrator moves through and describes to us. Don't ask me why it's on genius dot com of all places.

I Am In Eskew Episode 1: Correspondence - This is cheating because it's a podcast transcript. It's not cheating because this first episode is entirely stand-alone, really excellent, and caters to (almost) all of the interests I like to talk about on Tumblr: architectural horror, unusual intimacies, meat, locations that are alive and have a lot of feelings about you. A man named David, a relatively recent arrival in the city of Eskew, chases down the source(s) of a series of bizarre exchanges in the correspondences section of the local paper.

The Narrative Implications of Your Untimely Death by Isabel J. Kim - Judging by where I remember seeing your username around, you will also care about this. Get fucked up about characters that know they are characters with me. Get fucked up about people who are constantly putting on a performance, forever aware of where the audience is and what they might inflict on you, intentionally or not. (Second person POV story about someone signing on to a reality TV show and trying to play the part just the right way to get to leave.)

Exhalation by Ted Chiang - A thoughtful, melancholy, wonderful exploration of a different world, where people explode into showers of gold when they die, and the narrator learns about and comes to terms with how utterly temporary and completely doomed their people are. Makes me sad, but in a slow and gentle way, you know?

A Guide for Working Breeds by Vina Jie-Min Prasad - Two robots become friends by bonding over the following: dogs, killing, and the horrors of capitalism. Very sweet, very [sunshine x storm cloud] pair of characters. I feel fondly about it and managed to make me very sad by shuffling some numbers around in a list of unread notifications. (Also, I've found Tor.com has a lot of cool SFF stuff in general?)

A Very Special Pigeon by Cao Wenxuan, translated by Helen Wang - Pigeons. Friendship. Something complicated and difficult to describe but nevertheless recognizably sad. Reading this definitely Did Something to my writing style, but it's hard to tell what. Two boys somewhere in China are joined by the fact of pigeons, and the racing thereof.

Alien Hand Syndrome (Nth Street) by Molly Ofgeography - Utterly charming. When I say I want to write characters that are strange and specific and charming and alive, I mean like this. Cavendish Grotto (what a name, right!!) does not control his left hand; it does what it will. Cavendish Grotto lives his life.

[“Power absorption?” you ask him over your pasta, which you are currently absorbing powerfully.] by inkskinned - Written for a prompt, about how someone with a fairly mediocre superpower gets to be considered one of the top ten most powerful superheros. There's plenty of stuff on Tumblr that's in this wheelhouse or adjacent to it that I also really enjoy, but this is one of the first I read and it still sticks in my brain.

The Magician's Apprentice by Tasmyn Muir - Power and hunger and eating people. Welcome to All Of My Interests. A magician teaches his apprentice the utterly laborious art of performing magic. It's horrifying, it's glorious.

The Hydraulic Emperor by Arkady Martine - That vaguely sick feeling of trying to tally up some numbers and realizing, as you redo the calculations with increasing desperation, that it doesn't add up, that you're going to fall short? You can assume I'm being metaphorical or literal, but this story is like that. It's gorgeous, it's terrific, it's about how much you are willing to give up and for what. (It's about a collector on the hunt for a film that is effectively lost media. To win access to a print of it, they go to an auction where people are made to sacrifice irreplaceable parts of themselves or of history.)

Sestu Hunts the Last Deer in Heaven by M. H. Cheung - This one just feels good to read? Wild and lovely. It doesn't feel like it tries very hard or wants very much to explain itself, just drags you into its world and makes you keep up. I think the title gives you enough of a premise. I couldn't offer anything better, sorry.

A Farce to Suit the New Girl by Rebecca Fraimow - A new girl joins a Yiddish theatre troupe travelling through Russia right after the Tsar has been killed. (I don't know / recall which Tsar.) Everyone's trying to get through in one piece and help each other out, and everyone is so insistently themselves in a way I wish I could do more.

Texts from the Ghost War by Alex Yuschik - There's a war, because there are ghosts. People fight them in mechs. One of those mech pilots accidentally strikes up a friendship with a prince. This story is the development of that relationship, as told through texts. Describing it as sweet feels insufficient, though it is that. I like when things are true in SFF worlds without trying to explain themselves, I think.

L'Esprit de L'Escalier by Catherynne M. Valente - I did just say I am not particularly taken by some of her short stories. HOWEVER. THIS ONE IS VERY GOOD. Orpheus succeeds in getting Eurydice back. This is what happens after, and it sucks massively for everyone involved. Graphic depictions of decomposing bodies, which is both content warning, and reason I am so admiring of it.

[A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river.] by sadoeuphemist - I think about this one frequently. The scorpion and the frog, across many iterations.

[3d-wifey]

Temptation Sings

Pairing: Ryūnosuke Tanaka x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, fluff, senpai kink, p*rn watching, implied bisexual reader, excessive use of the word "babe" & some curse words

A/N: The senpai kink is sort of one-sided, but what kink isn't 💀 and the title is sort of based off a lyric from Super Freak by Rick James. Also, those are actual lines from a Hentai, but I fucking lost it half way through so I had to improvise. Anyway, this is over 3,000 words of straight dog water. Enjoy!

Synopsis: You ride Tanaka while watching hentai

"What kind of porn do you watch?"

"What?" Tanaka let out a quick bark of laughter before staring at you with wide eyes. His hand was frozen over the bowl of popcorn as he turned his full attention to you. The two of you had been dating for over a year now, yet, you've never had sex.

Sure, there had been some over the clothes stuff before. Some tops off heavy petting, some groping while making out, but it had never progressed past that. Not for a lack of trying, of course. Anytime you could find time to hang out alone, something would always interrupt you.

You weren't a virgin, but you didn't have much experience, so, naturally, you were more than a little nervous. And Tanaka, bless his soul, was pretty understanding. As long as you two could still make out and he could grab your ass, he seemed fine. But, he's still a teenage boy, no matter how respectful. He could only handle being blue balled so many times. And you wholeheartedly felt the same way.

This seemed like the best way to go about it. Establishing a common interest in what you both liked to get the ball rolling.

"Porn. I know you watch it, Ryuu. So...what kind?" You sat up on your side of the bed and leaned against the headboard, knowingly making him eye level with your breast. Nothing wrong with a little incentive.

"Okay, wow. You're serious. Um," he stuttered, eyes flickering over your chest and back to your eyes, before a blush settled flooded his cheeks, "You're just gonna laugh." He moved his gaze over to the movie playing on the laptop, avoiding eye contact. Was he embarrassed? He should know by now that you didn't judge.

You wouldn't be dating him if you did.

"I promise I won't laugh, baby. Look, I'll go first," you moved the bowl of popcorn off his lap and grabbed his hands to pull him up, "Pay attention."

"Wha–"

"There's Amateur, Lesbian," you ignored his questioning look and kept going, "Creampie, Fingering, Solo male and female, Public, and Taboo. That's all I can think of off the top of my head. You like any of that?"

He stared at you slack-jawed. Had you been too forward? You thought if you were honest about it, you both could be comfortable with each other. You watched in anticipation as he moved his gaze from you to the ceiling.

"Thank you, God," he whispered, almost on the verge of tears, "I must truly be blessed."

"Are you serious, Ryuu," you scoffed, hitting his arm to hide how relieved you really were, "You made me anxious for nothing!"

"That is so hot, babe," he grinned excitedly, moving to sit on his knees with his legs folded under him, "All that stuff sounds cool, and we're definitely gonna come back to that lesbian thing later, but I usually just watch...Hentai." He cleared his throat, scratching his cropped hair.

You pulled the laptop over to you and paused the movie playing. Pulling up the browser, you typed "Hentai" in the search bar, and hesitated for a second.

Hentai. Of course, it was hentai. You weren't surprised in the least that he got off to cartoon characters fucking. In fact, you expected it. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date him. You briefly wondered what kind he watched before it hit you.

Oh, yeah, you thought, he'd like that.

"What are you doing, babe?" He questioned. You paid his nervous laughter no mind as you queued up the perfect video. You were a genius.

_

"Are you okay with this, Kasuri?"

"I've been telling you that it's okay!"

You watched as the small girl pushed the boy on the ground and climbed on his hips to straddle him backward. To your complete surprise, you were actually kind of invested in the plot. Sure, some of the lines made you cringe and the ethics behind the sister trying to fuck her brother were a bit iffy, but, somehow, it was keeping you entertained.

The less than spectacular writing didn't seem to be affecting Ryuu any. With how much he jerked off to this kind of stuff, you figured he was probably used to it.

"I want you to take it...take me Senpai."

You felt Tanaka stiffen up beside you before quickly relaxing. Well, more like you felt him force himself to relax. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he subtly, or as subtle as Tanaka could be, adjusted himself in his sweats.

He was trying very hard to hide how much the video was affecting him; however, you always found Tanaka easy to read. The furrow of his brows, the twitch of his muscles, the restless tapping of his fingers along his thigh—all of it was effortlessly understood like the words of a well-loved book.

He was holding himself back for some reason that you couldn't find the effort in yourself to figure out, but he wasn't the only one affected.

"You have to tell me what you like. You have to teach me, senpai."

There was that stiffening again.

You placed your hand high on his tense thigh, completely ignoring the eyes burning into the side of your face. Unlike Ryuu, you were a fantastic actor. You decided you would wait for him to fully relax, or be as relaxed as any teenage boy could be while watching porn before you would strike.

You waited for the moment his leg softened under your hand and oddly enough it was at the point in the video where they showed a very detailed shot of the boy coming inside of the girl. He probably thought it was ending soon. Little did he know you were going in for the kill.

You cuddled further under his arm before you looked up at him with imploring eyes.

"Do you wanna do that...with me, senpai?"

It was just like any other kink, you rationalized. It was on par with the guys who were into being called 'Daddy' or 'Sir' or some other title. It didn't do anything for you, but if your magnificent hunk of a boyfriend got turned on by being called senpai, you were more than happy to go along with it.

"Well?" You prompted when he said nothing and gawked at you like a test he didn't study for.

"What did you call—is this—are we actually about to—" His wide eyes switched between you and the computer screen before deciding you were far more entertaining.

Instead of answering his stammering, you rose to your knees to pull the sundress over your head. You unhooked your bra and threw it off the bed with no regard for where it landed. It was a shame it wasn't one of your cuter ones, but you doubted Ryuu cared.

Your hands paused on the waistband of your panties when you realized he was frozen beside you, eyes flickering over your body like he didn't know where he should look.

"Am I gonna be the only one naked?" You would have thought he was on the court with how fast he jumped off the bed.

You watched from his bed as he struggled to get out of his clothes. It was adorable how excited he was, but he wasn't the only one. You've been waiting nearly thirteen months for this and you were practically vibrating out of your skin.

You were content to watch him almost bust his ass as he tried to get his sweats off when you remembered something.

"We don't need a condom. I'm on birth control." You started birth control years ago to handle your irregular periods, but it also came with the added benefit of Ryuu being able to cream you like a Twinkie.

He stared at you for a second with a blank face before closing his eyes with his hands clasped together...almost like he was praying? You heard him whisper something suspiciously along the lines of him being blessed before he practically bounded up to you like a hyper puppy

Probably not the best analogy to be made in your current situation, but it was true! He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his hands out like he always did before a match. You briefly wondered if he ever did this before. He never told you if he got this far with any of his exes and you never asked.

At that moment, you decided it didn't matter what he did before because you would be the best he ever had.

Your hands shot forward to pull his underwear down before pausing.

"Is... Is this okay?" You asked, hands hovering over his boxer briefs. For the first time during the entire affair, you were hesitant. What if you were pushing too fast? You hadn't exactly asked anything. You just gave out demands and he followed. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you ended up pressuring him into this.

"I—," he stopped, staring down at you with wide eyes and for a split second, your heart stopped, "Are you kidding, babe? God, yes, it's okay!"

You honest to God giggled when you pulled him onto the bed with you and clamored onto his lap, like the stereotypical school girl. You calmed yourself down enough to just look at him. The way he gazed at you with a year's worth of pent-up desire made slick dampen the seat of your panties.

"You're just—you're beautiful. God, I love you so so much," the sincerity in his voice was amplified by the goofy grin he gazed up at you with and the blush on the apples of his tan cheeks, "you know that, right?"

One look at Ryuu and even a blind man could see how much he loved you. It was a good thing his feelings were mutual or it'd be pretty embarrassing.

"I love you too, idiot," your hand settled on the back of his close-cropped head to pull him into a kiss. And in typical Tanaka fashion, he kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. He kissed like his only goal was to leave you as breathless as you made him. And he always succeeded.

"Now," you took a deep breath, "are you gonna fuck me, senpai?"

The groan he let out against your lips was more than enough of an answer for you.

You rushed to pull your panties off, thanking whoever was watching over you that it wasn't one with holes or bleach stains on it.

You reached to pull him out of his boxers, but he beat you to it. It gave you pause how he whipped it out like it was nothing to gawk at.

A little over half the length of your forearm, his dick was nothing to scoff at. He was the same width as your wrist with a thick vein running up the underside of his shaft.

Not the first dick you've seen but by far the biggest. Your heart rate picked up as you thought of the logistics of how he'd even fit inside you. You'd probably have trouble with just the tip.

You pulled the foreskin back to see precum already collecting at the angry red head. He jerked when you took the heavy weight of his dick into your hand and you could barely wrap your fingers around him. You didn't think he'd be so sensitive but you called yourself thankful for it. Easier to tease.

You rubbed his tip against the opening of your pussy and pulled away, strings of slick still connecting you. You repeated the action a few times before taking pity on your poor boyfriend. You used his quiet moans as motivation as you pushed his head past your tight hole.

You hissed at the unexpected stretch. The burn veering on the side of uncomfortable, but not painful. You couldn't tell if it was because of how long it had been since the last time you had sex with anyone or if it was because of the sheer size of him.

You decided it was the latter as you tried to take more of him.

"Here," you grabbed one of his thumbs and rubbed it over your clit in quick circles. The callused pad pleasurably rough against the slick covered bud. Luckily, he caught on quickly and kept up the pace as you tried to sink further down. The ache in your walls added to the pleasure on your clit.

You sighed once you finally reached the base. You hadn't expected this much effort would go into just taking him.

He was panting hard, eyes closed and struggling to hold still enough to let you adjust.

"Okay," you breathed, "okay." You slowly rose to your knees and peeked at his dick as it came out coated with your slick, before driving yourself back down with a moan. You settled your hands on his shoulders as you picked up a rhythm.

"You're such a badass, babe," he praised and you would have laughed if him shoving himself into you, thrust for thrust, didn't fuck a series of moans out of you.

You peppered quick kisses against his lips as you drove yourself up and down. You ran the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip before nipping at it. He eagerly took the hint and opened his mouth to you. You swallowed his groans as your hand slid up to the front of his neck and squeezed, tongues pressing together in an openmouthed kiss.

When you pulled away, his eyes flickered between your bouncing breasts, where his dick split you open, and your lidded eyes.

"I've dreamed of this for so long," you moaned as his hand resumed its motion on your sensitive clit. How he was able to piece together coherent sentences was beyond you, "Wanted you so bad, baby. So. Bad."

The headboard slammed into the wall as you sped up your pace. You were lucky you two were the only ones in the house.

"That's right, babe. Bounce on Senpai's dick. Fuck," he cursed, voice cracking when you swiveled your hips, "You like that, don't you? My pretty girl." You didn't want to admit it, but the senpai thing was really doing it for you. Not the actual word, but the sheer affect it had on him.

You can't say you were surprised by how talkative he was, his dirty words dripping over your overheating body like rich syrup. If you knew watching porn would lead to this, you would have done it ages ago.

His big hands used his grip on your ass to rock you back and forth at a faster pace. You relaxed your legs and let him take the lead, pulling his head towards your chest. The animated girl's moans on the computer combined with Tanaka's and created a harmony that pushed you closer to your release.

You moaned freely into his neck as the change of positions dragged your swollen clit over his pelvis with every buck of your hips. Sweaty bodies pushing and pulling against each other in a motion that was more grinding than riding.

Wet and sticky slaps echoed around the room, punctuated by the meat of your ass meeting his wet thighs. Thighs made wet by your juices collecting at the base of his cock.

Your release bubbled low in your stomach, steadily being pushed higher with every one of Tanaka's sloppy thrusts. It pulled heavily from below your naval, expanding to the point where you felt like you could burst. You weren't a virgin—this wasn't your first time, but, God, it felt like it was. And it might as well be your first time with how sensitive he made you.

You were sweaty and you were sore and so, so completely overwhelmed. But your mind was wonderfully cloudy with the pleasurable haze of an incoming orgasm and it made it hard to care.

"You close, babe?" You whimpered out a weak yes as his lips trailed from your jawline down to your damp neck before sucking on the skin.

"Can feel you squeezing me. So damn tight." He panted against your heaving breasts.

You knew it was coming, but knowing and feeling were too different things. Your thighs burned with fatigue, but you couldn't stop. You were so close and the humid air blurred out everything that wasn't Ryuu's cock plunging against that spongy patch on your wall and you didn't want it to end.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you as you used him for your pleasure. Head thrown back and skin gleaming with sweat.

"Shit, I'm-" he grunted at the tightening grip your walls had on him, just begging him to cum, "Fuck, 'M not gonna last, babe." His hips twitched uncontrollably as he rammed into you.

The knot in your stomach built and built before suddenly loosening, your vision blanking completely. Not that you could tell with how far back your eyes rolled. Hands shooting forward to desperately cling onto him as you trembled. Nails digging into his tense biceps, a mantra of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your thighs shook as you rode yourself past the sensitivity.

And that's what does it for him, your impossibly tight heat clamping down on him. Tender balls pulled taut against his body as the white ring of cum coating his cock grew with every one of your thrusts down.

The only sound that escaped him was your name broken by his breathy moans.

Once you came back around, you're still dazed with cooling sweat gathering on both of your bodies. The air is still clammy and you were sore from your neck to your thighs but it didn't stop you from looping your arms around Ryuu's neck.

He gathered you into his warm chest, heavy arms locked around your waist.

"So," he huffed, "lesbian porn, huh?"

"Shut up, Ryuu."

[duxpuella]

could you do a meek x reader headcanons?

Headcanons of little things Steven M. would do in a relationship with (fem!) reader

<Atention: Modern AU where Neil lives, and Welton’s a boys & girls school.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of "heated moments", mentions of cigars/smoking; >

Note: Y/n - your name/ Y/Ln - your last name/ Y/fn - your friend’s; Also, I put as a (fem!) reader but i can make a (male!) or (gn!) version. :)

Also, here's my Meeks playlist, hope you enjoy it!

Meeks is a man of action, not words;

Greet you with a peck on your hand like a damn victorian EVERY TIME you meet;

He would make sure you're drinking your water and not skipping any meals. A full glass of water is placed in front of you and he will not leave until you drink it all. No time for lunch? He will take a damn plate for you and make you eat it;

If you ever called on it and asked for a reason he would go "I'm keeping you.";

Every time he has the chance, gifting you with something to support your hobbies (pens, sketchbooks, anything related to it....);

"Steven, you're aware that you do not need to bring me a gift every time you go out right?" "Yeah." "So?" "So... what? *legit confused*" "Will you stop?" "Wh- you don't like it?" "I DO! I-i do, but-" "Then no, why would I stop?" "It's not necessary, I don't want you to keep wasting money like this." "If you want to convince me you'll have to give me a better excuse than that." He said smiling coy and sipping from a coffee mug, "Plus, it's not a waste of money, you always get excited with it, is lovely."

The first times you sleep in his dorm, he will let you have the bed. You had to slide to the floor with him a couple of times until he gave up and shared the bed with you. "You want to share the bed today? Oh-oh, that's bold," you said with a mischievous smile "Well, my beloved (Y/n), I tried repeatedly to be a gentleman and sleep on the floor but every morning you were in beside me, relentlessly. Who's fault it is, huh?" "I regret nothing." and he giggled while a pink shade covered his cheeks;

Shared Spotify sessions ALL THE TIME!!!!

And speaking of songs, he would show you face to face every new song he comes across just to see your reaction;

Would gift you with personalized playlists FOR SURE;

Serenade you whenever he got drunk or losen up. Here are a few songs he sang to you:

I'm a Believer by The Monkees (he said it was The perfect song for you, this one happened on a karaoke hang out with all of the poets when you started dating);

Stargazing by TNBH (while dancing with you, was clumsy but really cute);

Creep by Radiohead (baby boy was drunk and a bit depressed);

Beggin' by Maneskin (he got carried away and literally got on his knees lol Charlie picked on him for at least a week non stop);

Old fashion loverboy by Queen (One time he saw you staring at a couple being super duper cheesy in public and felt you wanted some romance);

Never gonna give you up by Rick Astley ('cause you cannot tell me otherwise);

Lovesong, Adele's version (this one was on a late-night date, he waltzed slowly with you and passionately whispered the lyrics to your ear);

One time, things were getting heated and you expressed insecurities in your body. He just went "Hey, I think you're beautiful anyway, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I can just-" Then proceeded to take off his glasses in a half-clumsy half seductive way, "There, I won't see," and you both started laughing;

Would 10/10 read for you, all you gotta do is ask and give him the book in question;

All of the boys are canonically smokers, and if you were too, he would make sure to light it for you every time;

Terrible dad jokes, just so he can see you smile;

Small love notes in latin;

Finally, his hoodies are yours, that's not up for discussion. Borrow it whenever you want (he loves to see you wearing it);

Hope you like it! I take requests by ask! (info on requests);

Also, you’ll find more of my writing here.

[agentnico]

The Suicide Squad (2021) Review

This may be the better of the two, but the first Suicide Squad film will always hold the crown for managing to win an Oscar... somehow.

Plot: The government sends the most dangerous supervillains in the world -- Bloodsport, Peacemaker, King Shark, Harley Quinn and others -- to the remote, enemy-infused island of Corto Maltese. Armed with high-tech weapons, they trek through the dangerous jungle on a search-and-destroy mission, with only Col. Rick Flag on the ground to make them behave.

“So that’s it, huh? We’re some kind of suicide squad?” says Will Smith in the original first film, with the line in itself being a poor attempt at a fourth wall break, yet, that movie never reached that promise of being a true Suicide Squad film. Because hardly anyone died, and as a whole David Ayer’s film was a generic mess, regardless of studio interference or not. In comes James Gunn from Marvel, who seems to have cracked the code for how to bring this comic book series to live action in proper gratuitous form, with even the ‘The’ in the title symbolizing that this is the one!

I remember going to see the first Guardians of the Galaxy film at the cinema, and back then I was still only just getting acquainted with watching western media, and that included superhero films. Heck my first ever Marvel movie was Thor: The Dark World! I know, what a banger to start with.......NAAAWT!! Anyway, I went to see Guardians and it was one of the first superhero films I came out of feeling like I truly witnessed something special. It had action, comedy and a good heart to it, and wouldn’t you know, my good old pal James Gunn was behind that flick. I don’t know why I called him my good old pal, I don’t even know the fella. Except in my dreams, but we don’t talk about that. So, flashforward to Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, which I absolutely hated, and for that movie I’m pretty sure Marvel gave Mr Gunn mostly full reigns of creative freedom, as long as he kept it family friendly, and the result was a mess. Hence naturally now I was really sceptical when James Gunn ended up at Warner Bros. following the controversial moment when cancel culture decided to aim it’s slimy fingers at him, as he was given directing and writing duties for this new The Suicide Squad film, and also it was heavily insinuated that Warner Bros. basically told him he could do with the movie whatever the f*** he wanted, excuse my French. And we remember how it panned out last time when James Gunn was given a lot of creative freedom. 

Flashforward to present day; here I am wondering and scratching my head thinking what in the heavens has happened, as by golly I am happy to report that The Suicide Squad is a total winner and a blast with a capital B - Blast! Gosh goodness golly goblin, this movie is so much fun from beginning to end. Right from the opening sequence you know that this film isn’t holding back any punches. It’s going at a 447.19 km/h speed of a Koenigsegg Agera RS crashing through any barriers like it’s nothing. Speaking of the opening sequence, it establishes why the movie is called what it’s called from the get-go. You straight away are proven how not a single character is safe, minus the obvious one that we know who it is, as there ain’t no way Warner Bros. would have allowed James Gunn to kill off that one character. But besides that person, everyone else feels like they could die at any given moment. That’s really a big charm of it, as it is frustrating how in many superhero films, let alone any blockbuster action flicks, so many characters always feel so safe and unstoppable, no matter how many times they get shot or how many buildings crash down upon them. And yes, this movie features a certain CGI character that constantly gets that treatment and survives, although it’s very self aware in that regard and is purposefully humoristic. But overall the entire set of characters feel easily disposable, and so so many of them die in such gruesome fashion, so indeed don’t get attached, as they don’t. 

Speaking of which, this movie is hardcore gory! You see limbs and intestines flying round left and right, a guy gets ripped in half by a humanoid shark, another’s face gets teared off by a shotgun bullet and so on forth in all kinds of gruesome fashion. Visually this is one for the big screen, as here’s the thing: you’re either a mummy’s boy or you grow some cojones and go see a man’s heart get stabbed with a piece of debris glass in 4K high rate definition! Your choice! Oh, and it’s not just the violence, also the cinematography and the practical set pieces all look incredible. This is easily James Gunn’s best looking movie. The entire think LOOKS incredible!

We also have to talk about the cast, as they are all great! There literally isn’t a single weakling among them. Each one, no matter how big or small their role is, brings something to the table. I can’t talk about all of them, as we’d be here all day, so I’m simply going to mention a few of the stand-outs. Idris Elba comes in to replace Will Smith as a character called Bloodsport, who is in some ways a different character but evidently is a replacement of Smith’s. But that’s no bad thing, as with any ensemble movie you still need a main character to latch onto and have an emotional hook towards, and he is that character. In fact, I’d say he’s arguably better than Will Smith in the last movie, or at least he seems to be having more fun here. He works as a solid leading man, however what works even more is his banterous competitive genital-size-measuring back and forth with John Cena’s Peacemaker, who by the way is awesome as that character. He is not a good character, in fact he is as bad as a bad guy can get, especially cause he’s someone who believes that what he is doing is right, making him much more of a dangerous wild card. This is easily John Cena’s best role, with him adding to the comedy one-liners, but also delivering such an interesting character who I’m looking forward to seeing more of in his standalone spin-off show confirmed for next year. Oh, and he wears a toilet helmet on his head which he defines as “a beacon of freedom” which says it all. We also have returning characters from the last film Joel Kinnaman and Viola Davis as Rick Flag and Amanda Waller respectively, and both are given much more room to stretch their talents and spread their beautiful acting wings like the Hollywood angels that they are. Kinnaman’s Rick Flag is the moral compass of the group, as even though Elba is our main guy, he’s nonetheless a villain still, whilst Flag is a genuinely good guy and what is defined as a true American hero, to which Kinnaman fits the part well. And Viola Davis as Amanda Waller is on an absolutely different level. You can tell she’s an Academy Award winner through and through, as she plays such a serious character in an otherwise goofy movie, and so her presence is felt and it is felt BAD! She’s such a despicable yet intimidating personality and she gravitates all of the screen presence to herself. Margot Robbie returns as Harley Quinn, and she gets even more chance to develop this character that she’s played in multiple DCEU films now, and as per usual the Harley Quinn shtick works well for her, though I do kind of wish she didn’t always get all the attention. Look, I think she’s a fun character and Robbie plays her well, however she’s constantly used to overshadow others in these films which I don’t think is too fair, and its evident as ever in this film too. Anyway, the remainder of the cast including Jay Courtney as Captain Boomerang, David Dastmalchian as Polka-Dot Man, Michael Rooker as Savant, Nathan Fillion as TDK, Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher 2 (who gave me strong A Plague Tale: Innocence vibes) and many more all play villains, but villains that don’t have particularly great superpowers. This is where the tragedy of Task Force X as a team plays a part, as many of these villains aren’t even good at being villains. They are useless, and the movie is really self aware of this and so treats all characters as they should be. Dare I also not forget to mention the CGI characters in this film, with both Weasel and King Shark being absolute scene stealers! 

The Suicide Squad is the type of wham-bam-thank-you-mam batshit crazy entertainment which exists for the pure reasons of fun. It doesn’t set out to be the best superhero film ever, nor does it need to be. It’s an exhilarating, shocking, funny and amusing ride from beginning to end, with the energy never stopping, and is easily the best time I’ve had with a comic-book film in a long while, and I’m even talking about before COVID! Do yourself a favour and watch this one as soon as you can, as I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - The Suicide Squad is a BLAST!!

Overall score: 9/10

[rudolphsboyfriend]

JKR’s chamber of secrets: the racist undertones in the harry potter books

The harry potter book series is arguably one of the most popular works of modern fiction. It is widely regarded as essential reading for children all over the world, and has one of the biggest fan bases of any book series. Despite it being one of the biggest phenomena of English literature, the series and the author often showcase and promote bigoted opinions, such as racism, and transphobia. In this speech I will be discussing JKRs chamber of secrets: the underlying tones of racism in the Harry Potter books.

The first thing I would like to point out, is that the elves have from the beginning been seen as these happy, carefree slaves, that are completely and utterly against freedom. This to begin with, is feeding into the slaving myth and propaganda that slave owners that told to the general public so they could benefit from free labour. This is very racist as it suggests that JKR believes that slaves were a good thing and should not have been eradicated. Hermione is the only one who seems to care about the elves’ freedom and while fighting for their freedom she is seen as a silly, misguided person for it.

Another problem with this is that while the good guys try to fight back against Voldemort's racist ideology of only wanting purebloods to exist, and wants to eradicate muggleborns, they also complicit with Voldemort's racist ideology. Wizards treat muggles as inferior to them this is shown from the first book, ‘even the muggles have noticed somethings going on’ Professor McGonagall says dismissively and Hagrid tells Harry ‘It’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on’. It is obvious that the word muggle is not only a description it’s an insult. They also abuse muggles by erasing their memories which is distinctly a violation of consent. The books show an obvious social hierarchy, the idea that some people are better than others: purebloods, half-bloods, muggleborns, muggles, half-giants, werewolves, goblins, elves. And if this way of thinking is applied, as this book is targeted to children it can make them think that some people are better than others and if they apply this to race, sexuality, and transgender people, it can create a generation of bigoted people as so many people see her as a role model that they can copy her bigoted way of thinking. She is one of the main reasons that there are so many transphobic people is because SHE encouraged them to become more radicalised.

J.K Rowling is also anti semantic as she based goblins on harmful Jewish stereotypes. Due to years of anti-Semitism Jews were portrayed as having big noses and being greedy, as they tended to work with money. But at this point who's surprised?

The few people of colour presented in the books were done in a racist fashion. Firstly, the Patil sisters, were the only desi characters in the book and they were sort of prissy and irrelevant to the story, that being said. The outfit they were is a more simplistic, watered-down, unflattering version of actual Indian ethnic wear. In general, Indian clothing is so bright and beautiful, and the designs are so intricate, the designers simply didn’t bother to represent Indian culture, instead chose to focus entirely on Hermione's glow up. Secondly, Cho Chang. WOW! Do I need to say more? This is one of the most openely racist things she has done. She took two Korean surnames mixed them together and called it a day. Especially in a magical world full of mystical names like Luna Lovegood, Albus Dumbledore, and Nymphadora Tonks, she didn’t even give the name even an ounce of thought.

By casting a Korean actress to play Nagini, in Fantastic Beasts, who later on becomes a pet for a white man, when she is the only Asian character is racist. End of story. It is specifically the lack of diversity that makes this stand out. It IS racist to Asian women because Asian women only ever see stereotypes like the exotic Asian woman who is fetishized by white men – which is a REAL thing. Having Nagini being owned and controlled by a white man, is harmful and just racist. Did J.K Rowling not have a single person that could have pointed the problem of having an Asian women end up in permanent enslavement to an evil white guy?

Due to the criticism J.K Rowling received for not including enough diversity in the books, she claimed that Hermione was black, which is great, but did not bother to include this in the books. She thought that by saying that ‘hey guys I now think Hermione is black’ it was enough. She simply wanted those brownie points. It is increasingly obvious that she can never be bothered to write good representation.  She also did this when she made Albus Dumbledore gay, as queer baiting to add more diversity. This could be rebutted with the idea that she does not know how to include more accurate representation. However, Rick Riordan, who in the beginning didn’t have a very inclusive universe, strived and learned to write and include diversity in the Percy Jackson universe. The author of one of the most popular book series is more than capable of learning how to write more inclusive books, she does not though because she is racist, homophobic and transphobic.

In conclusion, there are a lot of racist undertones to the harry potter books, that reflect the authors actual feelings in real life. She does not include enough representation and the few she does are written in a racist manner. In recent years she has also proved to be incredibly transphobic, teaching young children who see her as a role model that trans men are not real men, when they are and the other way round. And this concludes, today’s speech on why JK Rowling is a vile human being.

this is my speech it suck but it drags JKR through the mud and i have no brain cells left over

also @noboren and @sarcastic-sayori heres my shitty speech if you think of ways of making better please tell me

WOOHOO BESTIEEE NICE!!!!! Drag her 😌🙏🏼

[luvknow]

priceless | bang chan [1/2]

genre: rich kid!chan x fem!reader feat. rich kid!felix & rick kid!woojin ; friends-to-lovers ; fluff ; angst ; alcohol consumption ; crazy rich asians inspired summary: lucky you, you fall for the rich and powerful bang chan that every woman has their eyes on and he likes you back! but you get a taste of the luxurious life they all live in and you realize that someone like you isn’t meant to be with someone like him. wc: 12.9k a/n: two parts cuz this woulda been like 20k and i’m tired lol enjoy!

PART 2/2

Love at first sight was a horrendous idea. The thought of falling for someone the second your eyes met was absolutely terrifying. Of course this wasn’t exactly how it worked, but it sounded like sorcery, didn’t it? At least to Chan it did. He asked his father one time what it meant to feel so enamored by someone simply from the first encounter and he replied with,

“That’s just Hollywood mumbo-jumbo! Love takes time and it will come naturally, not right at the start. Love is patient. Just look at me - I’m patient with your mother all the time!”

So instead of expecting a spark with every person he met, Chan didn’t bother and let his feelings develop naturally. With every girlfriend he’s ever had, he let his heart take the lead and his mind, body, and soul followed shortly after.

Then he met you. Everything he knew about falling love went out the window. With you, love was not patient, nor was it kind, nor was it anything close to how it should ‘develop naturally’. It was a bullet train that hit Chan without remorse, crumbling every word and memory about what he thought love was supposed to be. It was unforgiving, with you two spending your entire college careers together as he watched you smile whenever you got your food, witnessed the stars in your eyes on your weekend nights together, and took note of the way your brows furrowed cutely when you were focused. The worst was when he had to sit there and listen about the guy you went on a date with or took back to your place. Love was truly unfair, and yes, he wasn’t so innocent on his side either, but how else was he supposed to distract himself from you? Surely partly-meaningless but healthy relationships with other women was much healthier than drowning in alcohol or whatever his inheritance-mooching friends did these days, wasn’t it?

Koi no yokan. It meant something along the lines of the type of feeling when you meet someone and you know that one day, you’ll fall in love with them. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but it was inevitable. Chan hoped that was the kind of feeling you had when you met him. He hoped - he even prayed! - that the day you two met, you looked at him and thought, ‘he’s the type of man I could see myself falling for endlessly one day. Absolutely, positively ardently.’

Even when everyone around him and his ancestors above knew that you two couldn’t possibly be together, he’d find a way. Bang Chan always found a way.

After one thousand four hundred sixty days, multiple meaningless flings, and a couple of diplomas later, Chan continued to wait for that day to come.

four years ago:

You met Chan through your classmate-turned-friend Felix. It all started with some stupid class that was some elective you didn’t care about with a Professor who still believed in assigning partners for projects because college students weren’t capable of doing work on their own. Lo and behold, you were paired up with Felix, who wore an impossible amount of hyped-up designer brands, some of which you haven’t even heard of before. Of course you thought you were stuck with some rich, snobby, stuck-up inheritance-hogging brat who only went to college and majored in business so he could upstage all the other rich kids in his Daddy’s social circle, making him look like he was better than the rest of them for earning his inheritance. Surprisingly, that wasn’t all true. He was definitely trying to be The Top Heir, but he wasn’t a total dick. He was actually pretty nice for someone with a zillion dollars. That was the start of a beautiful and dynamic friendship.

“I can’t believe that’s what you really thought of me!” Felix gasped, clutching his heart at your insult. You tried to shush him from the nosy customers in the coffee shop, but he didn’t care. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, _____.”

“How can I not when you’ve rubbed your worth in my face since day one?” You took his Gucci x SUPREME collab black wallet with the signature GG logo and a Kingsnake painted on it that held four of his very heavy credit cards and shoved it in his face like he did with you and his entire existence.

“Yo, chill! The friction isn’t good for the credit cards!”

“I’m sure you have your emergency billion dollars stashed up in your penthouse suite just in case.”

“Yeah, but I hate carrying cash, so stop it,” he whined, snatching his wallet back. His phone vibrated on the table. “Oh, he’s almost here.”

“Who?”

“One of my friends. He asked to borrow the Versace belt you love so much.”

“You have two dozen Versace belts,” you scoffed. “Which one?”

“The one with the Barocco print.”

“English, Felix, English.”

“The floral one.”

“Oh my God, he wants to borrow that six-hundred dollar color-clashing mess!? Shouldn’t you people with money have some sort of fashion sense?”

“You are so mean. Stereotyping ‘my people’ is not cool, _____. Not cool! And my fashion sense is A-1!” he scolded, poking you harshly with his embossed fountain pen. “Can you at least try to be nice to him when he comes? You’re always so distant when you meet my friends.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Remember when you met Changbin?”

“Changbin told me he wanted to fly me to Paris to wine and dine me and rent a room in the Palace of Versailles like a Diamond-Grade prostitute, of course I try to stay far away from him!”

“But isn’t that the nicest thing a guy has ever told you? Isn’t it tempting to want to say yes? If I were you, I would’ve taken the offer.”

“Not surprised.”

It was then an impossibly handsome guy walked through the door. That had to be him because all of Felix’s friends were hot, but it was hard to tell. He wasn’t wearing anything ostentatious that screamed he was born into money (unlike your buddy Felix) nor did he wear anything that even resembled expensive brands. He wore all black, and though some items were stamped SUPREME, you couldn’t tell or at least recognize any other brands he wore. His fluffy, curly hair, cut jawline, kind eyes, and a warm million-dollar smile let you know he wasn’t like Felix’s other friends at all.

“_____, this is Chan, a family friend of mine. Chan, this is _____, the sole reason I haven’t flunked school yet.”

Chan was raised to judge every person he met by their looks and what they wore - it was an old habit his parents and grandparents embroidered in his brain, like silver thread on fine silk, that he was trying to get rid of since he started college. You wore nothing that indicated you were either from old or new money, nothing that said anything about your family name or bloodline, and no jewelry that looked like you inherited your great-great grandmother’s jewels that were gifted to her by a Prince. You were ordinary - quite possibly one of the only ordinary people he’s met thus far at this school.

Yes, you were nothing special material-wise, but you were pain-painstakingly stunning. How was that possible? Maybe it was your cute nose, or your pink lips, or the adorable way your brow quirked that caught his attention. Your curious eyes met his wide ones, sending his heart up to his throat, stopping him from breathing. It took him a minute to realize you had your hand out, waiting for him to connect. Quickly and awkwardly, he took your hand in his and felt his heart drop back into his chest cavity. But now he was sweating.

The effect you had on him was dangerous.

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely for the sake of Felix’s plea. The boy only nodded silently, trying not to look too affected by your infectious, beautiful smile. Great, another weirdo, you thought. Why were all the rich kids in this school so fucking weird!? Maybe it was your fault for accepting a scholarship to one of the country’s most expensive schools.

“Here’s the belt you requested.” Felix pulled out the belt a unicorn vomited on and handed it to Chan, who had snapped out of his trance. Your disgusted look doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he’s afraid you’re judging his choice in accessories. He wondered what kind of style you liked if you didn’t like this belt because all the upperclassmen born into old money that had girls falling on their knees had this belt. He’d have to ask Felix some other time.

“Thanks, dude. Mom said if I didn’t have Versace to wear at the charity event this weekend that she’d write me out of her will.”

So dramatic, you thought. You didn’t want to listen to boys talk about what pieces of clothing they had that cost more than tuition, so you sat back down and went back to studying.

“You owe me. Don’t get any champagne stains on it. And I better not see any wrinkles or stretches in the leather.”

“Yes, Dad. I can’t believe you let me borrow this. What are you gonna wear then?”

“I don’t know, something vintage probably, but I’ll figure it out. Got a date?”

“That’s requirement number two in order to stay in Mom’s will. I’m bringing Sana. What about you?”

“I’d rather go stag than bring some clingy arm candy to a simple charity fashion show. Unless _____ wants to be my date ~?”

“I’d rather die than be your arm candy,” you snorted.

To your dismay, Felix ruffled your hair playfully. “She hates it when I talk about this stuff. Don’t tell anyone I’m not bringing a date or else I’ll get kicked out, they’ll figure it out once I get there.”

“Gotcha. I’ll see you then.” After their bro handshake, Chan mustered up the courage to say, “It was nice meeting you, _____.”

“Nice meeting you,” you said in a sickly-sweet tone.

He saw right through you - you didn’t like him. He’s not sure why, when you barely talked to him for those two minutes he was there. Was he being too weird when you shook hands? Maybe he was talking too much about the show, since Felix mentioned you hated those kinds of talks, but why? Surely, you had to be used to this kind of stuff, right? Really, it shouldn’t bother him so much to know you didn’t like him already, but that famous Bang Pride coursed through his veins because everyone loved Bang Chan! It didn’t help that even knowing he didn’t need your attention, he was still so intrigued by you. To have those feelings not be reciprocated for the first time, to have you not eyeing him like you wanted him so badly, to you being completely disinterested at the simple mention of a high-class charity event that everyone was attending… It was exciting.

He accepted the challenge. He was going to win you over, whether you liked it or not.

“So what’d you think about Chan? He’s not so bad, right?” Felix asked before snatching up the last madeleine.

“He’s a little weird.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, though...”

“You mean he’s not a space case all the time?”

“Not at all. If anything, he’s the one with the most confidence and focus out of our group of friends. Usually, people become a space case because of HIS presence, never the other way around. Did you cast a spell on him, or something?”

“I must have if I got one of your cocky millionaire friends to fall silent. I can feel the power in my veins.”

“Hey man, you better not flaunt that big ass head of yours. If word gets out that Chan was like that around a lil ol’ ordinary Olivia like yourself, you could be in big trouble.”

“You never warned me like this when it was Changbin. What makes Chan different?”

“Chan’s wealth has a long history. Like, really long. Almost pre-1800s long. His great-great-great-grandmother was one of the most well-regarded doctors in the country in her time. She was very well-off with the money she made, lived happily on her own, did her duty as a citizen and helped heal the soldiers during some war, and captured the heart of one of the most honored war heroes. Chan’s fortune began with a doctor and a war hero who gave birth to some inventor guy who married a luxury hotel heiress, whose history of wealth even I can’t trace back, and gave birth to the hotel heir that expanded its locations to eighteen different countries who then married the founder of a children’s charity, much to everyone’s surprise, and they gave birth to Chan’s grandmother, the sole heiress to the number one luxury hotel chain in the world. His Mom, who is currently sits at the head of the charity organization, is next in line. Then Chan gets to lead the organization until he inherits the hotels.”

Your brain struggled to wrap around Chan’s pedigree. “So he’s rich just like the rest of you.”

“Yeah, but he’s filthy rich. He’s been the Asia'’s most eligible bachelor under twenty-five twice in a row. What I’m saying is Chan is probably the number one most sought after guy slash son-in-law right now, and if anyone knows he’s taken even the slightest interest in you, they’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you two don’t happen.”

Well, that was terrifying. “God, this sounds like Cinderella on steroids. You better make sure we don’t happen!”

“I refuse to mess with fate, so this is all on you, babe.”

The F in Felix stood for Fake Friend.

Chan couldn’t find anything about you.

Google told him nothing, your social media showed him zilch, hell even his family private investigator only got as far as your great-grandparents owned a restaurant together which your grandfather and then your father happily took over. Really, he should have known from the start when he saw your clothes and lack of jewels that you didn’t come from the same background as him or Felix. This only made you more interesting.

After his thorough research on your social media and accidentally hitting the ‘add friend’ button (to which he shut his laptop and refused to look at the app for at least twenty-four hours out of pure embarrassment), you added him back only a couple hours later and he couldn’t stop the goofy smile growing on his lips. He felt like a little kid with a crush on his classmate! Your pictures were very silly, but you were still so pretty, and your captions were goofy with a touch of your wit peaking through and God, Chan had never been so struck by someone before, let alone by someone whose family history didn’t have their own Wikipedia page.

He needed to get to know you - to pick your brain, figure out your taste, and see that smile again. He needed to.

Poor Felix had to deal with texts like this:

issa banger [11:03 am]: wyd

yung felix [11:05 am]: eating lunch, why?

issa banger [11:06 am]: is _____ with you?

yung felix [11:09 am]: ??????????? no, why??

issa banger [11:09 am]: Read at 11:09 am.

And this:

issa banger [9:23 pm]: is that _____ in your snapchat?

yung felix [9:26 pm]: yeah u creep, we’re studying.

issa banger [9:32 pm]: what a coincidence, me too! i’m coming over.

yung felix [9:55 pm]: oop, she just left.

issa banger [9:47 pm]: ………..…. well i’m already here, so open the door.

And most recently this:

issa banger [2:15 am]: she’z sooiioioo cute felix…………

yung felix [2:17 am]: oh my god can u shut the fuck up.

This was all within one week of meeting you! Felix had to end this. He had never seen such a sad, desperate, puppy-loving side of Chan before, it was disgusting! What happened to the ‘I-don’t-care-about-love-I’ll-just-fuck-around-for-now-because-I’ll-probably-be-arranged-to-be-married-and-have-a-mistress-on-the-side-before-I’m-thirty’ Chan he knew since they were in diapers!? And like, no offense to you, but Chan was like this because of you, of all people, who came from a working-class family. The Bangs were groomed to date and marry only the best, so you two would never work out for even a day if it even got that far. But whatever, if meeting you again was all it took for Chan to stop bothering him, then so be it. You might kill him later for setting this up, but he’ll take the fall - anything to get his filthy rich and lonely friend to stop breathing down his neck.

fungus [5:43 pm]: hey u at the coffee shop?

you [5:57 pm]: yeah why?

fungus [6:01 pm]: i told chan to drop off The Versace Barocco-Print Belt with u if that’s cool

you [6:02 pm]: uuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh fine

fungus [6:05 pm]: thanks bro.

fungus [6:06 pm]: play nice ~ he’s a cool guy.

On cue, the ever-so handsome, front cover of GQ magazine, most eligible bachelor under twenty-five who added you on social media at three in the morning last week walked through the door. Again, he didn’t wear anything that stood out or any brands you didn’t recognize, so he didn’t necessarily look like he had any type of money Felix had informed you the first time, but the way he walked made up for it. Back straight, broad shoulders that swayed, chest out and peaking through the white satin button-up that was buttoned too low, flexed jaw and pursed lips that said ‘move, bitch’, and his expensive dress shoes that clicked and echoed on the floor, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafe. He may not have dressed to stand out, but that didn’t matter because he drew everyone’s attention anyways.

He paid no mind to everyone else because all of his attention was on you. The second he laid eyes on you was when his annoyed expression melted into a mix of something sweet and thankful.

“_____,” he greeted simply in his honey voice. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hi,” you said casually. “Likewise. Do you have the world’s ugliest belt with you?”

He chuckled lightheartedly, which sounded more like a cute giggle. “Is it really that ugly?”

“Too avant garde, if you ask me.”

Chan invited himself to a seat next to you. When you didn’t object or look noticeably disgusted by his presence, he took it as a sign that you welcomed his company. One foot through the door. “I’ll have you know it was a hit last weekend.”

“I’m sure anything you wear is a hit, even if it is something so atrocious.”

“It’s called couture.”

“I suppose my taste isn’t as high-class compared to your couture.”

“What is your taste?”

“I don’t think the lack of zeros in my bank account qualify me to answer this question.”

Another silky laugh escaped his curled lips. _____, stop looking there! “You don’t need to have a lot of money to know or have good taste.”

“There’s a whole world of clothing, food, and architecture that I didn’t know about before meeting Felix, so the expanse of my knowledge when it comes to a taste of anything isn’t as vast as those who do have a butt-load of money.”

“Even so, I happen to like your style.”

You did that cute little brow quirk he liked so much. “My t-shirt and jeans? You’re kidding, right?”

“What? I’m wearing a shirt and jeans, too.”

“Your shirt is made from the finest silk China could afford and mine is a mix of cotton and polyester.”

“Close enough. At least our jeans match.” Chan placed the belt free of champagne stains and leather wrinkles on the table. “Here’s your favorite belt of art that’s been passed around our friend group like a blunt.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to hold something that’s touched nine millionaires’ crotches.”

“I bet,” he teased. “You look busy, so I’ll leave you alone.”

Normally, you’d be more than happy to bid a man farewell, but something came over you. “Actually, I’m not. Are you busy?”

“Me? No, why?”

“I’m kind of hungry. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Chan had to stop his grin from growing. He couldn’t look too excited, or that would creep you out. And to think he doubted himself about winning you over. You even beat him to asking you out! “I’d love to. I know the perfect place.”

“I’m sure you know this by now from my impeccable style but please choose somewhere affordable.”

“This place is cheap, I promise.”

“Like two dollar signs on Yelp cheap?”

“One.”

“Now you’re talking my language, Mr. Chan.”

He’ll talk all your ‘languages’ - your food language, your money language, your love language - he’ll come to know all of them like the back of his hand.

Despite picking a place to eat for the both of you to enjoy without denting your bank account, Chan ended up paying for both of your meals with his black metal credit card.

“Hey, why’d you do that!?” you whined.

“I never let my friends pay when they’re with me.”

“Well, I’m not one of your money-hungry friends! I have pride and dignity! This means I owe you a meal next time.”

“Ok, it’s a date.”

Chan was making his way towards the door before you could fully process the exchange. A date? Oh God, was tonight’s dinner a date!? No way, right…? Out the door, you saw him chuckle at how confused your face must have looked and he ushered you with his hand to hurry and follow.

Smooth move, Mr. Chan… I’ll let that one slide.

two years ago:

Falling for Chan was effortless. After dinner the night he returned Felix’s belt, spending time together happened so frequently that you didn’t even notice how fast you were falling. You hate to sound cliche, but Chan wasn’t like all the other rich kids within their massive social circle. He didn’t flaunt his worth, he didn’t judge you for your lack thereof, nor was he some dumb ass kid going to school to just party and hook up every other night.

Chan was kind. He’d always put your needs above his, like wanting to pay him back for all the food he’d buy, but that got hard to keep up with real fast. He never wanted you to pay him back in the first place, but if buying him a cup of coffee would make you happy, then so be it. He’d always walk you back to your dingy apartment after dinner or drive you home in his blacked-out Ferarri after studying at the library so late because he worried about you walking alone in the dark. You fell faster on the days you were sick and he’d stop by with the best chicken soup in the city, packets of fragrant teas to chase the Nyquil, and the fancy tissues with vapor rub and soothing lotion. But he must do these kinds of things with all of his friends, because that’s the kind of person he was.

Chan was intelligent. He told you about his childhood spent in private schools with private tutors while playing sports and instruments and learning multiple languages and if he didn’t rank in the top 5% every year, he got his ass handed to him by his mother (fourth year of high school was rough). What amazed you even more was how he retained all of the languages and talent.

“I took five years of Spanish and I can speak at a child’s level,” you pouted. “How the hell do you know seven languages!?”

“Gotta learn the languages of where the hotels are located, y’know?”

“Of course…”

Chan was passionate. Not just about the charity work his family does, not just about the hotel business, but every little thing that interested him sparked a little fire inside. Chan put his mind, body, and soul into all his projects, his work, and everything he ever cared about. When he’s focused and has a goal in mind, he won’t stop until he gets it done and the execution is perfect. You thought it was kind of hot - the way his pupils dilated, the satisfied smirk after completing something, the dangerous little sparkle in his eyes… So hot.

It was the little things that solidified his place in your heart. All the times he tucked your hair behind your ears, when his hand was on the small of your back to guide you, and when his breath tickled your ear when he leaned in close to whisper were all little catalysts to your already-aching heart that beats for him.

What were you to do? You, a simple woman growing up nowhere near his and Felix’s type of lifestyle. You didn’t have diamond-encrusted pacifiers, or ten maids and nannies, or a yacht that you got on your eighteenth birthday. You lived a simple teenage and young adult life that you wouldn’t change for the world, yet you fell for someone who had everything served to him on silver platters and fine china. You thought that there was no way you two could ever work even if he reciprocated your feelings.

But he didn’t see you as the simple woman you saw in the mirror. He saw the extraordinary, goofy, diligent, beautiful you all the time. Your background or financial status didn’t matter to him. The way you smiled at him mattered; the way your hand lingered on his arm a little longer after you hit him for something funny he said mattered; the dreamy look in your eyes that you had whenever you looked at him mattered. Nothing else mattered.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” he asked you one evening while hanging out on his massive penthouse porch.

“Like what?”

“With your wide eyes and that soft little smile that breaks all the boys’ hearts,” he teased. “Did I do something? Am I that sexy?”

“Shut up,” you blushed. “I’m just thinking about how it’s weird being friends with you.”

“Why weird?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to being around all of this.” Your arms widened to showcase Chan’s apartment that was at least ten times the size of yours.

“Ah, you mean my butt load of money. Even after two years of being The Dynamic Duo?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I just feel out of place, you know? I see the way some of your other friends look at me. It shouldn’t bother me so much, but I can’t help it. I feel like I don’t have the prerequisites to be your friend.”

“Who’s looking at you funny? Is it Bambam? I’ll kick his ass -”

“Stop, don’t kick your friends’ asses.”

“They just haven’t gotten to know the wonderful, thoughtful, dumb ass _____ yet.” Chan pulled you into a tight bro-like hug and ruffled your hair like a little kid to mask his rapidly-beating heart. “Don’t pay attention to them. You should know by now I don’t care about money.”

“But -”

“None of that about you matters to me, ok? Only you matter.”

You learned by now to not be affected by his poetic words, but tonight you fell back into your old habits. Only you mattered to him - that felt good. Feeling defeated by your dumb feelings, but comforted at the same time, you lazily wrapped your arms around Chan’s tiny waist as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“You’re so corny,” you muttered.

He ruffled your hair once more. “Only for you.”

It was then you thought to yourself that maybe this could work. Maybe falling for him wasn’t a mistake and being together wasn’t so far-fetched and being loved was something obtainable. For the first time, you thought having Chan by your side wasn’t as ridiculous as it seemed.

But of course, it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was simple when it came to Bang Chan. It was always out of the ordinary. Extraordinary. The night you realized you and him would never be was the same night you witnessed what life was like when you could drown in your own gold and jewels.

“Singapore?” you repeated to your two Aussie friends incredulously. “You’re going to Singapore just for the weekend?”

“We’re going to Singapore,” Chan corrected.

Felix called you and said to come over immediately because it was an emergency, which was Felix talk for ‘I have a trip in a couple of days and I need you to help me pick out my outfits.’ Really, you never actually helped with the picking process, he just wanted you there to tell him he looked good. So as usual, you sat in one of his oriental-style bright red cushioned chairs that were placed on both ends of the ten-by-ten foot mirror in his massive walk-in closet and Chan stood next to you, wondering how you ever put up with Felix’s outfit changes. Tonight wasn’t the usual packing agenda when they broke the news to you that yes, you were definitely joining them on a weekend trip to Singapore for Choi San’s birthday this weekend.

“I can’t afford that!” you screeched. “I can’t just book a flight and a hotel like this on the spot!”

“Oh, _____, you’re so cute ~” Felix teased, adjusting the collar on his shirt. “Like hell am I going to let us fly like the locals. We’re using my Dad’s private jet and staying in Chan’s private Black and White bungalow, of course. And none of us have to pay a dime.”

“But I don’t even know San like that.”

“You will this weekend. C’mon, it’ll be so much fun! It’s going to be the party of the century! He always throws the most extra parties.” 

“Even if I did want to go, I don’t have the clothes for it. I don’t own anything high-end like you guys. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I already got that covered.” With his shirt half-buttoned, Felix ran to the other side of the closet to open a door you had never seen before. Inside of his bedroom, which held a 500 square foot closet, held a smaller 300 square foot closet. A closet within a closet - closet-ception, if you will. You didn’t have to go inside to see all the crystal-embroidered tulle gowns and the silkiest shirts that hung on black velvet hangers. “My older sister keeps her clothes here sometimes so Dad doesn’t see it. Just borrow some of her stuff.”

“I can’t just take her clothes!”

“Actually, she already picked out the ones she thinks would look best on you,” Felix showed you her incoming text messages as proof that one, you definitely had her permission to wear whatever you’d like and two, she thought you looked best in Valentino.

“Ooh, Valentino ~ I agree,” Chan piped in.

“I don’t know…” you hesitated. You could handle Felix and Chan and their riches when it was just the two of them, but to be surrounded by hundreds of people who had the same kinds of bank accounts? And you, floating among them in clothing that wasn’t even yours, faking your way into the social circle? It sounded like a suicide mission.

“You’ll have one of us by your side the whole time, we promise. We want you to meet our friends and show you that not all rich people are assholes like our parents.” Chan stuck out his lower lip and clasped his hands together like a kid begging for some ice cream. “Please come?”

Felix joined in with the begging and now you have two golden retriever puppies begging you to go on what should be a multi-million dollar vacation for the weekend with them, dressed to the nines twenty-four seven. You had to be crazy to not immediately scream yes, but the whole idea of this weekend was just terrifying. But you’d be with Chan, vacationing in a beautiful country, with him by your side. You couldn’t pass this opportunity up.

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat.

“Yes! Ooh, this weekend is going to be so much fun! Hey, we should all match for the party! _____, I know exactly what you should wear -”

Chan snickered at the excited boy pulling out piles and piles of clothes to dress his new life-size doll. You already deeply regretted your decision.

As Felix held up pastel-colored tulles and jewel-toned satins up to your body in front of the ridiculously-sized mirror, Chan couldn’t help but fantasize about the weekend. He already had it all planned out - you would take the front seat in his cherry-red convertible and breathe in the clean Singaporean air with the biggest smile on your face as you all pulled up to his Black and White bungalow, your eyes would widen at the decor, you’d claim the bedroom right next to his, you’d take tons of pictures and capture every moment together, eat the foods he grew up with when he spent his summers here, and then party ‘til the sun rose. You’d look so beautiful in whatever Felix chose, and you’d link arms with him like you two were together. Then you’d dance, drink, and laugh the night away in his arms for hours. Felix would probably stray away to find some poor soul to bother and that’s when it’d be just the two of you. When the party was too much to handle or the alcohol was too strong, he’d walk you home. If you were stumbling over little bumps, he’d pick you up and carry you the whole three blocks distance and you’d be so cute and giggly that he, too, couldn’t help but laugh because the warmth of your blushing cheek pressed against his made his heart ecstatic. Once you arrive home, he’d take you to the backyard and you two would stargaze or watch the sun rise, depending on how late you came home. You’d start out with some space in between. Then he’d get closer. Then he’d brush his hands against yours. Then he’d hold them, fingers laced loosely at first, hoping you’d squeeze back tightly. Finally, he’d confess that after two years of knowing you, he’s fallen for you harder every single day since he met you at the coffee shop. If you felt the same, then perfect, the night would end with a soft kiss. If you didn’t, he’ll run to the pier and sail his yacht all the way back home and claim he was blackout drunk, or something.

Yeah, that sounded like a solid plan. What could go wrong?

It was six in the morning when you were dragged out of bed and thrown into Chan’s Ferrari. Felix’s private jet only had you, him, and Chan as passengers. You thought for something as big as a damn plane that maybe the whole friend group would be tagging along, but apparently they insisted on flying on their own and leaving a larger carbon footprint, but hey you weren’t surprised in the least. That just meant less arguing over what to watch on the eighty-inch flat screen and more champagne for the three of you.

“Holy shit,” you muttered after taking the middle seat in front of the television.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Felix boasted, hopping on the seat to your left. “Have I not introduced you to JASMINE before?”

“I think I’d remember if I’ve been on your private jet before.”

“Ah, maybe I’m remembering the time you went on my yacht, ROSEMARY.”

Chan joined in to your left with a handful of flute glasses filled with bubbly, golden champagne and a single raspberry at the bottom for you and Felix. He raised his glass in celebration. “Cheers to the weekend.”

“It’s six thirty in the morning,” you groaned tiredly.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“You can’t keep using that excuse, Chan, your liver will fail you one day.”

“A wise man once said YOLO, my dearest _____, so let’s drink to that!”

“Ugh… cheers,” After taking a sip, your face twisted sourly. “Oh, that’s not good…”

“It’s terrible, but it gets the job done.”

“You’re both crazy, I love this stuff,” Felix said, chugging the whole glass. “Forget water, make sure only champagne and 1738 course through my veins for the next two days.”

For the duration of the six hour flight, the three of you watched one horror movie (to which Felix cowered under his fluffy monogrammed blanket) and one romantic comedy (to which Felix cried while holding his Rilakkuma bear). Then after the smoothest plane landing you’ve ever experienced, you finally landed in the beautiful country of Singapore. The skies were so blue, the skyline was gorgeous, hell even the airport was voted the most beautiful airport in the world. A red convertible pulled up to the three of you waiting at the arrivals section and the driver tossed Chan the car keys. As the driver put your luggage in the back of a separate car, Chan opened the passenger seat open for you like a gentleman.

“Your chariot awaits, my darling,” he smiled cheekily. “Her name is Cherie.”

“Do all rich people name their motor vehicles?”

“Of course, it’s only right.”

The crisp afternoon air felt good flowing between your fingers. Chan caught glimpses of your smile and knew then that inviting you to this weekend was the best decision he’s made concerning you. His plan was going swimmingly thus far - now to survive the next couple days.

The Black and White house was quite literally a Black and White house, but it was nothing close to being monotonous. It was a beautiful symmetrical white bungalow with black trimming and a tanned overhanging roof. All of the shutter-style windows were wide open, allowing the same beautiful breeze to pass through the house, wafting the smell of fresh scones and muffins as you walked through the door. The inside of the house got more extravagant with every step you took. The walls were all white (porcelain white, not daisy, of course), the tiles a glossy pearl, every corner filled with the greenest potted plants and too many antique potteries to count, high ceilings with a crystal chandelier dropping in the living room, and a deep mahogany wood door that led to the backyard that overlooked the entire city.

“You vacationed here in the summer!?” you gasped.

“Yup, every year.”

“It’s beautiful!”

“You should see Changbin’s bungalow,” Felix interjected. “He demanded the house to be repainted black instead of the classic white.”

“My childhood summers were spent on my grandparent’s farm. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to wake up every morning to freshly-made scones and fruit jam.”

Chan led you up the stairs to show you the bedrooms. You lost count of how many there were by the time you got to his. His room was enormous, with a king-sized bed right in the middle covered in the fluffiest white covers. He had his guitar and other music-related toys on one wall of the room with a soft yellow neon sign that said ‘CB97’ mounted high on the wall with posters beside it. His room was decorated very Chan-like, and you thought it was quite charming.

“I didn’t like being by my siblings, so I asked to get the one at the very end and the spares were used whenever Felix and the guys came over. Felix’s is across the hall and your’s is the one next door.”

“Ah yes, Chan’s room - where all the magic happened,” Felix teased, jumping on the bed. “I’ve heard way too many stories about the girls you’d take up here -”

“Ah ha ha ~! No need to relive that!” Chan blushed deeply.

“You’re suddenly shy about it now? You sure didn’t have any problem boasting about it every summer.”

“That was so long ago.”

“Please, two years was not that long ago. Didn’t you come her last year, too? God, who knows what happened then.”

Your heart sunk. So he’s taken girls up here before. A lot of girls, according to Felix, and by the way Chan blushed from embarrassment, he wasn’t denying it, either. It wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, you didn’t even know him during those times, unless he had a fling last summer that no one knew about. No, it definitely wasn’t right for you to feel jealous, but the burning in your chest was a little difficult to ignore at one in the afternoon.

“Gross,” you say as light-heartedly as you could. You left sourly without another word to unpack your belongings.

Fuck. Damn Felix and his big ass mouth! You probably thought he was a disgusting playboy now. This was one of several things Chan was afraid of when you were introduced to this side of his life - that his scandalous, rebellious past would come back to haunt him and hit you in the face and you’d be so turned off by it. Well, that’s exactly what happened, not one hour on the island. He couldn’t help that he was a horny teenager back then! Chan chucked one of the embroidered silk pillows at his cowering childhood friend before hastily following you.

You held up a jewel-toned satin piece that Felix chose from his sister’s closet. It was different than the one chosen a couple of nights ago (“_____, I change my mind, wear this one instead.” “Wha - Felix, we’re leaving in ten minutes!” “Just trust me!”), but Chan thought this one suited you much better. The look on your face said you thought otherwise.

“Not a fan of Valentino?” he teased.

“Quite the opposite. I think it’s beautiful, it’s just I don’t think it’ll look beautiful on me.”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful in anything.”

“There’s no need to lie.”

“Who’s lying? You look especially dashing in t-shirt and jeans.”

“My impeccable sense of style,” you giggled. “Is the party tonight really going to be this fancy? Isn’t it just a house party?”

“My dear _____, it’s not just any house party, it’s the house party,” Chan corrected. “San owns the biggest Black and White bungalow in the country. He decks it out to the max with unnecessary decorations, hires Singapore’s multi-Michelin star restaurants to cater, ships in expensive wines and spirits, and hires those exotic dancers that hang from the ceiling. San’s parties make international headlines, and this one’s extra special because it’s his birthday, so yes, fancy is just an understatement.”

“Yeah, I really don’t belong here…”

“Don’t worry about it for now. What we need to worry about is lunch, ‘cuz I’m starving.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be with Jisung and Changbin until the party. I’ll just see you guys there,” Felix waved off casually.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” Chan hoped he didn’t look too glad Felix was gone. “I want to take you to a restaurant I always ate at in the summer.”

“How many dollar signs on Yelp?”

“Not telling ‘cuz I’m paying.”

“Chan, you ass, you said you’d make things even from now on!”

“A man just wants to fly his friend to a whole new country and treat her to his favorite restaurant, is that too much to ask for!?”

You didn’t answer while following a happy-go-lucky, skippy Chan to his red convertible. You’ve never seen him so happy before. He must have missed being on the soil that held his summer-y childhood memories. Being in the hot sticky sun in the house he loved the most with the widest, dimple-iest smile on his cute lips let you know that Chan was at home. Spending every moment with him for the next two days watching his smile grow as he revisited memory lane would make it hard for your heart to stop fluttering.

It was no more than a ten minute drive from his house, but from where you parked, you couldn't spot any restaurants.

"It's a bit of a hole in the wall. I hope you don't mind walking a bit."

"Not at all! The best places to eat are always hidden well."

The surrounding area reminded you of the more crowded and space-efficient parts of home. The buildings were all kind of squished together with tiny alleys in between and there was a ton of foot traffic, but it was probably because it was the weekend. You almost lost track of Chan until he grabbed onto your hand and guided you through the sea of locals.

"It's a little overwhelming if you haven't been here before," he said apologetically. "It's worth the journey, I promise."

"You used to come here a lot over the summer?"

"Almost every day. The woman who runs the place was like another grandmother to me. She is the sweetest thing. Oh, there she is!"

Chan sharply turned the corner of the street and you were taken to a whole other dimension. It reminded you of the beginning scene in Spirited Away when Chihiro and her parents stumbled upon the empty street filled with different tents of food, only this time you couldn't even see past the second tent. Even in the daytime, a place like this seemed so magical that it was no wonder a kid wanted to come here everyday. The different spices and aromas marinated in the air and it was so heavenly, you couldn't wait to get a bite! Somewhere in the middle, the tent that Chan had been dying to go to all year round was right where he left it.

"Auntie!" Chan called from the back of the endless line.

"Eh?" A cute little woman with a floral bandanna and red apron squinted in your direction. The second she saw Chan's handsome face, her grumpy expression smoothed to that of a grandma seeing her grandson grow so much in just a single year. "Channie! You're back for the summer!?"

"Just for the weekend, auntie."

She didn't miss a single beat as she continued to serve her loyal customers. "Ah, you're too busy to visit me everyday now, huh?"

"Sadly, yes," he pouted.

"You want the usual, Channie?"

"Yes, please! Can you make that two?"

"Eh?" Again, the little woman squinted in your direction. Chan had let go of your hand and placed them on your shoulder, indicating that you were his guest of honor this afternoon. A teasing twinkle gleamed in her youthful eyes. "Ah, I see ~"

Chan didn't deny her teasing. He didn't say, 'nah, it's not like that' or say 'she's just a friend'. Instead, he hung his head down embarrassingly, his grin not faltering, neither yours. You wondered what he was thinking.

The line was long, but it moved quickly when Chan was by your side telling you stories of his childhood spent with Felix and his other friends making a ruckus in the streets and buying up all the meat skewers until not a single shop had any left.

"Jeez, growth spurt much?"

"Hey, a man's gotta eat, ok?"

Finally, it was your turn in line, and the Queen of the shop already had two plates full of noodles slathered in a dark, sweet-smelling sauce and two large styrofoam cups.

"Channie never ate anything else besides my kway teow noodles,” Auntie told you. “The first few years of eating it as a little boy, he thought there were no vegetables, so I never told him there were any because it was the only way he'd eat them - covered in my special sauce.”

"No need to relive my unhealthy childhood…" he muttered while you laughed.

"It's fine now, since you've grown up to be so~o handsome!" she pinched his chubby cheek. "Finally, you have yourself a girlfriend. 'Bout time! Even San beat you! But that’s no surprise, the ladies love that bad boy."

"O-Oh, we're not…!" you stuttered nervously, unable to finish your sentence. She really was like an embarrassing auntie…

"We're not together like that," Chan concluded. “She’s just a close friend.”

She scoffed incredulously. "Yeah, for now."

"Auntie!"

She ignored her favorite customer’s whining and turned to you once more. “Watch out for this playboy, he’ll be hard to tie down.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Chan needed to get you out of there before any more of his past was brought up. So much for his stellar, fool-proof plan. He handed Auntie what looked to be a lot of money, but you’re not sure what the conversion is to their dollar. A quick kiss on her cheek and he whisked you away. “Bye, Auntie! Love you!”

“Visit me more often, you stingy brat! And by, sweetheart, it was nice meeting you!” she called out sweetly.

Chan hastily grabbed one of the wooden benches just outside of the long street of vendors. He seemed quite relieved to have left his favorite food stand before Auntie revealed too much of the past summers. Your feelings clashed with a sense of jealousy and a bit of pride that she thought you were his girlfriend. Yet again did you have to remind yourself that no, _____, you cannot be jealous, you dumb ass!

“Sorry about that,” Chan sighed. “She doesn’t have a filter.”

“I like her. She’s very spunky,” you laughed. “Does she do that to all the girls you bring to her?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“It seems like she’s met a few of them.”

“I’ve told her stories, but I’ve never brought any of them to this place. Now that I think about it, you’re the first girl I’ve brought to her. That’s probably why she thinks we’re serious.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You took your first bite of the savory-sweet noodles. It’s chewy, glutenous gold. “Holy shit.”

“Crazy good, right? Auntie makes them the best. And you’re asking why I never brought anyone else here?” You nodded silently, too preoccupied stuffing your face with Chan’s childhood favorite dish. “This place holds a special part of my childhood. I can’t just bring anyone here.”

“What’s makes it so special?” You took a sip from the styrofoam cup. It’s sugarcane juice!

“When I was a kid, I didn’t come here to bask in the sunlight and play at the beach all day. I’d go to summer school during the day where I was taught math and economics at least two grades ahead of me and attend Mom’s business and charity meetings in the evening. I was always so tired, no matter what time of day it was. One time, I was being so bratty and was crying so much from all the unwanted stress and my parents didn’t like it because I’m supposed to be the Charity Chairman’s perfect son and the perfect heir to the hotel franchise, you know? But I just wanted to be a kid. My family got so mad at me for being selfish that they kicked me out of the house for the night without dinner and I couldn’t come back until the morning.”

“That’s crazy! Where did you sleep!?”

“The pool house behind the main house,” he stated obviously.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

He threw his crumpled-up napkin at you before continuing. “That’s when I met Auntie. I was crying and wailing and sobbing like a baby on a Wednesday evening, so it wasn’t busy and no one really saw me. I sat at this very bench with my head down crying until I could fall asleep because I really didn’t want to return home. Then I felt someone nudge me awake. It was Auntie, and she gave me a bowl of curry with some paratha and I thought, ‘an old lady wouldn’t try to poison me, right?’ So I inhaled that whole bowl and chugged all of the chocolate Milo. I tried paying her with all the cash I had because I was so thankful, and she couldn’t believe a young kid like me had so much in the first place, but she never took it. I came every week to order from her and she remembered me every time. I tried everything on the menu by my tenth visit, and the kway teow is my favorite. I’d come here after a rough day with my parents, after I failed an exam, after I cried over some girl I had a crush on, after I found out my Dad had a mistress, you name it. Sometimes I came for no reason at all - I just didn’t want to be home.”

A shaky sigh escaped Chan’s lips. His eyes were glossy and it broke your heart to see Chan on the brink of tears, but he’s smiling. His upbringing was rough, but he’s smiling because he wouldn’t have survived his childhood without the spunky woman behind the food stand in the middle of the street. You dared to reach across the table and hold his hand, hoping he’d find some comfort in your touch. He does, and you know so by the way he squeeze it back so tightly. There were no more tears in his eyes.

“This place was my secret hideout for a good chunk of my life. I can’t just bring anyone here.” Chan began to trace little circles on the back of your hand.

“What am I if I’m not just anyone?”

“Special,” he replied. “To me, you’re special.”

The air was filled with your cute giggles and you took your hand back to cover your blushing, glowing face. Chan always had a way with words. “You’re a cornball!”

“I’ll have you know that the ladies love cornballs!”

“Not this one.”

“Oh, hold still, you got a little of the dark sauce on your cheek.” Chan leaned over the table with a napkin in his hand as you sat still. The very last second, he drops the napkin, scooped up a hefty dollop on his finger, and smeared it on your cheek.

“EW!”

“That’s what you get!”

Your special man began running to the car with you on his tail laughing like two young lovers on their honeymoon. Both of you failed to see someone taking pictures as they sent them to San’s entire guest list.

“Bro, you look hot.”

You jumped at Felix’s comment and chuck a pillow at his almost-shirtless torso. He had a weird habit of not buttoning up his shirts until the last minute. One of his many idiosyncrasies. 

“Chill, that’s a compliment! Didn’t I pick out a hot Valentino piece? Chef kiss, m’lady.”

“You’re so gross… But you do have taste, so thank you. You really didn’t have to ask your sister to let me borrow this, though. I still feel terrible.”

“Shut up, you’re fine. She’s never going to wear that, I promise you. Besides, I can’t have someone not wearing designer stand next to me, that’d be blasphemous.”

“Can you please button up your shirt?”

“Why? These Hawaiian Sweet Rolls too much for you to handle?” he teased, flexing his six-pack. You dry heaved dramatically.

“You two are like siblings, it’s so funny - whoa,” Chan stopped mid-sentence, completely stunned by your presence. Of course he’d love how you looked if you wore a hoodie and jeans because he never even imagined you wearing something like this, but you blew him away.

“Good whoa or bad whoa?” you panicked.

“Definitely a good whoa… U-Uh, I mean, yeah. Yes.”

“Thank you,” you grinned. You eyed the man in the black and gold polka-dotted Muslin Yves Saint Laurent button up (buttoned too low, as usual) tucked loosely in Yves Saint Laurent cuffed trousers. Certainly, Chan was bound to be the center of attention at one point, regardless of whose birthday it was. Felix sported Louis tonight and you thought to yourself that you three were quite a sexy trio. “You two don’t look too bad yourselves.”

“Straight from the runway,” Felix boasted.

“Straight from my closet,” Chan shrugged.

“Can we get drunk before I cry about how much money I don’t have?”

Chan’s driver sported a white Rolls Royce to take you all there, despite it being only three blocks away (Felix was more than happy because he didn’t want to scuff his shoes). You thought you were fashionably late, but it turns out San was just showing off his cars and leaving them parked on the circular driveway. The size of his house made the cars look so, so tiny, but his house was truly enormous, way bigger than Chan’s. Couples among couples began to file in the house, making you feel nervous and very, very single.

“Do people usually bring a date to these parties?” you asked the boys.

“Yeah, for clout. Two shots later and suddenly everyone’s up for grabs,” Felix explained, walking up the driveway without waiting. “I’ll see y’all back at home. Or not. Don’t wait up for me ~”

When Chan saw that what Felix said didn’t lessen your nerves one bit, he held his arm out for you. “Wanna be my date for tonight?”

“You won’t ditch me after two shots?”

“Two, no. Five, maybe.”

How could you deny his dimpled grin? You couldn’t, so you slipped your arm through and walked into San’s palace. You were taken to a whole new world; a whole new dimension of luxury and riches that you only tapped into upon landing here. There was indeed dancers twirling on ribbons from the ceilings, loud music from some famous DJ that headlined at EDC, and liquor of every shade of gold in crystal glasses. Everything was so magnificent and expensive, it was like you couldn’t even afford to look at anything or even anyone. Everyone who was anyone was here, and you recognized a lot of their faces from Chan and Felix’s social media. You couldn’t even pronounce the brands they were wearing! Again, Chan sensed your anxiousness, something he was so unbelievably good at, and slipped his arm down so that he could grab on to your hand. He figured if you were able to let all his past worries go away by just holding his hand across the table that he could do the same, only this time he was by your side like he always wanted to be. You always predicted that his hand would fit so nicely in yours.

“CHAN! MI AMIGO!” San screamed into the mic from the dance floor. “Everyone, the sexiest bachelor of the hour has arrived!”

“Oh, boy,” he sighed.

He was surprised to hear you giggle at his friend’s nickname. “Looks like we came a little late.”

San stumbled in front of you before falling into your arms for a tight hug. You weren’t used to such an affectionate San - you shared multiple classes with him and you’re surprised he even remembered you, if you were being honest.

“Happy birthday, San,” you struggled to say as you held the boy up.

“Hi, _____! Thank you! I’m so glad you’re here!” San’s foxy eyes widened at the sight of his questioning friend. “Chan! I missed you!”

“Miss you, too, buddy,” he chuckled, hugging the sloppy man. “Happy birthday, bro. Making Mina work hard, I see.”

“Why, do you see her!? Don’t tell her you saw me!” And that was the last time you saw San.

Chan shook his head at his childhood friend. Then he took your hand and lead you deeper into the party. “Let’s go find people we actually know.”

As you slipped between the crowd, you felt eyes staring. A bunch of eyes, actually. A lot of them. The owners were mostly girls, ones you recognized, and that’s when you knew it was because of Chan, the bachelor of the century. They eyed you maliciously, switching between judging you from what you were wearing and your hold onto Chan’s hand. Where was that handsome waiter with a tray full of shots? You needed that right about now.

On cue, Chan handed you liquid gold. “Cheers to a fun night.”

“Right… Cheers.” Bottoms up! Oh God, that burned! But the warm finish was quite nice. “More, please.”

“Jeez, what for? You trying to leave me after two shots already?” he teased.

“No, I’m just trying to blind myself from all those… eyes…”

“Huh?” Chan caught a glimpse of what you meant when he caught the eyes of familiar flings and old friends. His jaw clenched. “Don’t worry about them, ok?”

“I’m trying, but you’re holding me back if I can’t take at least one more shot.” Reluctantly, your handsome date gave you what you wanted and he followed suit. “Bottoms up!”

Bottoms up indeed, several times too many, if Chan thought so himself. But you were loosening up and not worrying about another thing he feared about this trip - that you would meet his exes, or worse, they would do something to hurt you because that’s just what girls with tons of money do. He soon forgot about all his worries when you dragged him on the dance floor and had your body pressed up against his. You were so goofy and cute when you were drunk just by itself, singing to all the songs and taking silly selfies, but when you were dancing? He could hardly keep his hands off of you.

Chan pulled away and you pouted, not wanting the warmth of his body to leave even for one second, but he told you he had to go to the bathroom and that he’d be right back, so don’t you move! But your intoxicated self didn’t listen and you found yourself wandering to the backyard where Hyunjin, Woojin, and a bunch of people you were familiar with gathered around the open-pit fire and having a little party themselves.

“Did _____ get her Rich Bitch ID?” Hyunjin teased, looking at the label of your dress. “Shit, I guess she has.”

“It’s Felix’s sister’s, so no, it’s just a fake ID to last me the night.”

Woojin swung his arm around you boyishly. “You’re always welcome to OUR Rich Bitch club. No cover for girls,” he winked.

“How generous of you.”

Chan didn’t take long in the bathroom. He made sure to come back to you as quickly as possible to pick up where you left off, but after a couple of minutes searching the crowd, he couldn’t find you. He’s not surprised you wandered off somewhere, he just wished you sent him a text, or something. He felt a tap on his shoulder, thinking it was you, but it ended up being Sana, his old fling.

“Channie!” she squealed happily, throwing her arms around his neck. “I missed you ~!”

“Hey, I missed you, too,” he hugged back awkwardly. “Long time no see.”

“I’m glad the feeling’s mutual. Whatcha doing?”

“I’m just looking for someone…” he said, continuing to scan the crowd like she wasn’t there. He shouldn’t have drank so much…

“You mean _____?”

How did she know your name? Not important. “Oh, yeah. Have you seen her?”

“She’s outside with Woojin.”

“With Woojin…?”

“Yup! Take a look.”

Sana took Chan by the hand and lead him to the back door. His tunnel vision, though quite blurry, found you with your back facing the door and Woojin, his childhood rival, to your right, where he had his arm around your shoulder. Oh, he was such a Kim! He always snatched whatever was his when he wasn’t looking, just like that modelling contract! Normally, Chan would be the bigger person and not care, but this was you, someone so important to him. He couldn’t let this go that easily. There’s this uncharacteristic rage and jealousy that built up in his chest, making his heart hurt with every beat. You weren’t even doing anything, but seeing you in someone else’s arms just as he left for the damn bathroom? After trying to make you his for so long? It hurt. It really, really hurt...

Sana took the opportunity to pull him away from you. “Hey, let’s dance. Like we used to.”

Without hesitating, Chan took the lead and went to the dance floor.

Time passed like it meant nothing while you caught up with some good friends, but sobriety was kicking in at three in the morning and you wondered how long Chan needed to go to the bathroom.

“I’m going to find my damn date,” you waved off to them.

Even at three in the morning, the house was still as crowded as ever, bumping music like the sun wasn’t going to rise in a couple of hours. You searched every room, every face on the dance floor, near every waiter that had a platter of liquor on it, and he was nowhere to be seen! Even the rooms that held couples making out (and then some) luckily didn’t have him in it, but where could he be? You ended up in the front yard last, perhaps he was looking at San’s cars, or something.

But that wasn’t where you saw him. At the end of the driveway, where it met the main street, you saw Chan walking some girl dressed in diamonds and crystals on the way back to the house.

That was the moment you knew you and Chan could never be. Even when he was with you for ninety percent of the night, he chose someone else. He was made to live his life in luxury, and that meant his love life was meant for luxury, too. No matter what you did, no matter how much you thought he liked you, how much you thought you were special to him, you could never live up to any of these other women at this party. You were nothing compared to them because you had nothing. You should have known better than to think otherwise.

“Hey,” you heard someone behind you. It was the ever-so handsome and dashing Woojin. Even in the dead of night, he looked so handsome. “Did you find Chan?”

“Um…” your voice was shaking. “Yeah, I think I saw him go home.”

From the tears in your eyes, Woojin assumed he didn’t go home alone. Typical heart-breaker Chan, always leaving girls behind to cry over him. Things never change. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

You and Woojin walked the three blocks in silence. There was a considerable amount of space in between as Woojin figured you didn’t want any man to be near you at the moment. Of course he understood - he’s had a fair share of his heart-breaking days. Those days were now over because he was getting tired of this lifestyle. His liver didn’t function like when he was younger and he craved something deeper than just one night stands. God, he sounded like a total douche.

The walk up Chan’s porch made you nervous and made Woojin nostalgic. He remembered coming here everyday after summer school when he was a kid. He kind of missed it here. Woojin was about to knock on the door but stopped when he realized you weren’t beside him. You stood by step, not wanting to go any further.

“Everything ok?” Woojin asked.

“Yeah… No. Not really. I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Why not?”

“Our rooms are next to each other and I don’t know how thin the walls are.”

Woojin didn’t laugh nor try to convince you otherwise. Instead, he walked up to you and stopped so close that you could smell his Gucci The Voice of the Snake cologne. Then, he smiled sweetly, a trait of his that you always thought was so cute, and sat on the stairs.

He patted the seat next to him. “I’ll keep you company.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t want to go home and I really don’t want to go back to the party.” His bottom lip pouted. “Please let me keep you company.”

You could use the distraction. “Even without trying, rich people get whatever they want.”

“Hey, we’re not all bad!”

“That’s what they all say,” you slurred, remembering that’s exactly what Chan said earlier.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re pretty bad.”

“Maybe I should stop hanging around you guys and start hanging around my people.”

“But I like hanging out with you.”

“You know, before I met Felix and Chan and all your little yacht club friends who make fun of me for the clothes I wear -”

“Hey, that’s just Hyunjin, don’t lump us together like that! I like you no matter what you’re wearing.”

“- my life was so much simpler! I lived a simple life without luxury, I ate foods without truffles and caviar, I drank cheap soju like a regular poor delinquent instead of champagne and top-shelf liquor, and I didn’t like boys whose yearly income were worth ten times as much as I’d make in ten years!” You cried out to the skies above and buried your face in your hands. “Biggie was right… Mo Money Mo Problems…”

“There there…” Woojin comforted awkwardly.

“Woojin, can you be honest with me for a sec? Coming from a sad, average girl seeking advice from a rich bitch like yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Was I stupid to think I was anything special to Chan?”

Again, the handsome man beside you wrapped his arm around your shoulder like a good friend. Woojin was always a good friend to you. Outside of Felix and Chan, he was the only other man who was kind, despite you not being like the rest of his social circle.

“You said I can be honest, right?” he asked nervously.

“Oh my God, I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, that’s not what I was going to say. I was thinking naive was more of an appropriate word choice.”

“I’m so dumb, I might as well drop out.”

Woojin’s grip around you tightened. “Stop, don’t say that. You’re the smartest person I know, did you know that? Remember when you tutored all of us that one time? If you can tutor nine idiots in one session and we all somehow passed the class, you’re not an idiot.”

“Being book smart and Rich Boy smart are on two totally different levels of intelligence! Why am I so dumb in the latter!?”

“You aren’t. We’re the dumb ones. We let amazing people slip through our fingers because somehow this lifestyle sucks us back in. Some of us are able to overcome it, but most succumb to it.”

“... You’re right, you guys are the dumb ones.”

You and Woojin sat on Chan’s summer Black and White bungalow for hours, talking about the most useless things until the sun rose above the horizon and the light was almost blinding. It started out crying about how boys were stupid and ended with laughing until you couldn’t breathe from the stories he told you about his old flings.

“She said the mitochondria was the trap house of the cell,” Woojin tisked.

“She must have been kidding.”

“I can assure you she was not.”

“Wow,” you giggled. “You’ve dated a lot of… exciting people.”

“I wouldn’t say exciting…”

“Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I heard about some poor girl coming out of your place from Felix. He likes to whine about how lucky you are. Has Woojin lost his touch?”

“I will never lose my touch, don’t get that twisted,” he warned. “Maybe I’m tired of hook-ups. Maybe I’m trying to settle down.”

“Ha! Good one!”

“No, really!”

“Yeah, ok ~”

“Let me prove it. Let’s go on a date.”

Your laugh got caught in your throat. You’re stunned silent, looking at the man beside you like he was delusional. He had to be talking nonsense - it was six in the morning and neither of you had any sleep or anything to eat for several hours, he’s just talking crazy, right!? But the slight smirk on his lips told you that no, he wasn’t joking. He was enjoying that you were probably thinking about it right at this moment - what it’d be like to go on a date with Mr. Kim Woojin. He’s not wrong.

The front door to Chan’s house opened and startled you to death, but you’re so, so thankful that the girl Chan took home stumbled in between you two and you could avoid Woojin’s proclamation for a little longer. Both of you turned to see Chan in his pajamas bottoms and no shirt standing in the doorway, hair disheveled with droopy eyes, looking like he didn’t get any sleep at all.

Woojin helped you to your feet before greeting his old friend. “Good morning, Chan.”

The sleepy boy’s jaw tightened. Why did he look so triumphant? If you two were here the whole night, it’s not like you two did anything… right?

“Hey,” he greeted shortly. 

Woojin turned to you. “Think about it. I’ll see you later?”

You nodded silently, still too stunned to move. Then, taking advantage of your frozen form, Woojin swooped in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh shit, this man was serious.

You’re completely sober and you really wished you weren’t because now you were going to reflect on everything that happened yesterday, from the time you landed until just this very second. On top of that, you were probably going to have to deal with Chan’s grumpy ass right now because when you walked right past him to the kitchen to chug a whole bottle of water, he followed right on your tail.

“How was last night?” he asked bitterly.

“Not as good as yours apparently,” you replied, trying to stay light-hearted and calm. Don’t get jealous, _____. You don’t have a right to.

“Nothing happened.”

“Oh?”

“She was puking all night. I barely had any sleep while taking care of her.”

“Did you bring her here just so she can puke in the comfort of your home, or was that just an inconvenient coincidence?” The words made you sound jealous, but you were genuinely curious. He claimed that nothing happened as if he knew you’d care if something did. Well, you didn’t!... you said, lying to yourself.

Chan stayed quiet. That was more than enough to answer your question.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled. “I’m going to bed.”

Chan wouldn’t let you. “What were you and Woojin doing?”

“Uh, talking?”

“On my porch?”

“Yeah? You left me at the party and I was all alone! So he was nice enough to walk me back here. I didn’t want to go inside to my room because God knows what you and her were doing there -”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated.

“Yeah, now I know. But if she wasn’t puking, who knows what would have happened, and guess what, I didn’t want to hear that or deal with it or even think about it, so we sat on your porch for hours until you opened the door.”

“You were the one who left me first. I thought you and I were having a great time! I was having so much fun with you and I wanted you back in my arms as soon as possible, but then I saw you in his. Do you know how much that hurt? I have liked you since the day you took my breath away when we first met, and I thought I could finally tell you that when you were back in my arms. But then I saw you in his and panicked. I swear to you, nothing happened with me and Sana. Nothing was going to happen, not when all I could think about was what you could possibly be doing with him. I thought you left me for him, and I got scared. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, ok? Can we talk about this over breakfast?”

That was what Chan wanted to say. But he’s tired, and he’s hurt, and the tears in your eyes were too much for him to handle. With his head down, he said,

“I hope you had fun.”

Chan brushed passed you to get to the coffee maker. He might as well stay up - what was the point in sleeping now?

You rushed up stairs so he didn’t see the tears rolling down your face.

The day was silent. Everything seemed to stop, but that was the last thing you wanted. You wanted to pack up, get in the damn cherry red convertible, and fly all the way home where you could forget about this whole weekend and the people involved. Felix finally made it home around noon, chatting nonstop about the yacht party that happened at four in the morning and all the girls he was talking to and thankful he couldn’t sense the tension between you and Chan.

The drive to the airport was silent. The flight back home was silent. The drive to your apartment was silent and the only noise you made that night was crying yourself to sleep.

Where did you go wrong? Was it when you wandered off to Woojin? Was it when you agreed to go on this trip? Was it when you fell for someone so unattainable for someone in your social class? Was it when you weren’t born with a billion dollars to your name?

Life was unfair and it had a funny way with playing with you and your heart.

You didn’t see Chan much after tonight.

[chicagoindiecritics]

New Written Review from Mike Crowley on You’ll Probably Agree: 10 Reasons Why ‘Blade Runner 2049’ is better than ‘Blade Runner’

If you haven’t’ seen the movie, see it then read this. No intro, let’s jump right in.

1. K is a replicant

The reveal of K’s genetic code, or lack thereof, flips everything we assume the movie will be on its head. We are learning along with K what it means to exist. Do we as humans, live like replicants? Do we obey a society that treats us like trash but breath anyways out of the fear of death? Where we viewed “Blade Runner” mostly through Deckard’s eyes who didn’t have much of a personality, K’s lack of a character is his entire purpose for existing. For K to emote is to face death.

Where Harrison Ford’s Deckard entire arc was us questioning if he’s human or not (despite what Ridley Scott unequivocally says), there’s nothing much of substance to Officer Deckard. He gets drunk, retires replicants, that’s it. Name one thing that makes Deckard standout? I’ll wait. Ryan Gosling’s Officer K goes from a machine that is dying spiritually on the inside to someone wanting to have a purpose in life. All while maintaining his composure, if perhaps too much poise for the film. Anything with a conscious can feel. Whether or not how it was made is as relevant as where you were born or what skin color you are. The importance is that you’re here.

K doesn’t seek gratitude nor affirmation. He doesn’t suffer from a narcissistic personality. All he wants is not just to be another useless piece of metal.

2. Deckard has depth this time

Being a daddy changes you a lot. Rick isn’t just a slouchy drunk who likes to shoot robots out of legal obligation. He’s a man who’s principles and love for forbidden things cost him his life. What kind of soul did Deckard have in the first film? Who did he care for? Please don’t say, Rachel, we all know why he was attracted to Rachel. Like Winston in 1984, Deckard rejects Big Brother for a life of pain to gain a glimmer of happiness. 

3. It’s horrifyingly relevant

Denis Villeneuve based the imagery in 2049 on a planet that has become degraded with pollution. The buildings are extrapolating enormous amounts of water into the atmosphere, the sea wall at the end of the picture will be our new Mount Rushmore, the orange Vegas is happening now. Denis Villeneuve didn’t predict the earth looking like this, but his production team was still spot on. A picture that transcends its very style, developing a look that will be discussed on its merits separate from the ubiquitous original, is a stunning achievement.

Everything isn’t dystopian because that’s the way it was in the book. It’s what will happen to us in real life, why we’d look for colonies to live on if we had the technology or funding towards NASA to do so. God help us all.

4. The love story questions the essence of relationships

The story between K and Joi further examines the meaning of love, sex, and mortality, with the two being different versions of artificiality. When the default sexed-up version of a naked Joy pops up on the screen, we are emotionally mortified. Some of us may be repulsed to observe a character we care for utilized like a thirsty Godzilla.

The towering ad tries to seduce K tempting him to buy it, rendering everything Joi said to K throughout the picture questionable. Its manipulation solidifies his final decision in life to help another man. We’re not sure if she loved him or said what it thought it wanted him to hear throughout the narrative. Possibly Joi herself didn’t know her intentions. An unusual amount of nuance and uncertainty rests in the love story. Who do we love? Why do we love? Do we love by the heart or the heart of our designers whom we don’t know?

Meanwhile, Deckard was just drunk and horny when he bashed Rachel up against the wall. Sorry, that really was all there was to their passion despite what Wallace says.

5. The movie was an honest commentary about how the world views woman

Here’s a controversial one. A lot of women were disgusted by the way they were depicted in the film. Outwardly watching the movie, I can’t blame them. I’ll let Mr. Villeneuve speak for himself. “I am very sensitive to how I portray women in movies. This is my ninth feature film and six of them have women in the lead role. The first Blade Runner was quite rough on the women, something about the film noir aesthetic. But I tried to bring depth to all the characters. For Joi, the holographic character, you see how she evolves. It’s interesting, I think. What is cinema? Cinema is a mirror on society. Blade Runner is not about tomorrow; it’s about today. And I’m sorry, but the world is not kind on women.”

Villeneuve is right. Women today are still sexualized. Even with the Me Too movement, women are continually seen as sex objects or subservient slaves in a male-dominated society. Villeneuve isn’t interested in painting a rosy picture that Hollywood does for female roles to make the audiences feel comfortable. It’s an honest reflection on who we are. What we see is what we don’t want to see, but that’s part of the honesty of cinema.

6. The score is mesmerizing

Another point in which I may face some contention. Yes, Vangelis’ score is iconic, but it only works for the era it was composed in. Much of its mixture of bleeps, blops, and wind chimes are a product of its time. A lot of emotion is missing from the score other than the opening theme and “Tears In Rain.” Hearing much of the soundtrack while on the road, I sometimes thought I was listening to something from a porno. Take a listen to “Wait For Me” in the soundtrack and tell me otherwise. Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Walfisch’s score is timeless while also paying respect to Vangelis’ synthetic use in the original. It dives into the character’s mind providing a replication of something more human than what Vangelis composed.

7. It thematically ties more directly to “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” than “Blade Runner” does.

“Blade Runner” got the overall gist of Phillip K Dick’s novel. Replicants are scared, trying to find a way to survive as Deckard hunts them down. However, the Andies in the movie almost deserve to die. In their quest for more life, they torture and kill multiple civilians. What did the guy making the eyes do to deserve being frozen to death? What about J.R. Sebastian? He was nothing but pleasant to Roy and Pris. Did Roy eye gauge him when he was done with Tyrell?

Aside from Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), our replicants are fully rounded people. Sapper Morton is a watchful protector who was meant to be a NEXUS 8 combat medic; Joi’s true intentions come into question for herself and us. K’s inner conflict is the central core of the story. All of this revolves around the meaning of existence within a world that has forgotten about you. The introduction of Robo procreation is an evolution of Dick’s ideas, widening his notion of why life exists in the first place.

8. It doesn’t get lost in the scale

Many sequels love scope over characters. Remember “The Matrix”? Remember how they talked about Zion and all these other things we didn’t see? When the sequels brought in Zion, the focus got lost in the spectacle. “The Matrix Reloaded” was a bumbling CGI mess of Agent Smith Clones and cave orgies. “The Matrix Revolutions” was a glorified “Space Invaders” game. Shoot as many sentinels as you can before becoming overwhelmed. Amidst the sequels bumbling chaos, I missed the smaller scale of the Nebuchadnezzar crew.

The story of “2049” could have focused on the replicant uprising with thousands of robots slamming into humans. We could have gone off-world to finally see what all these other colonies we’ve heard about are like. Some have argued that the movie could have borrowed some of its source material from the later novels about replicants creating humans, so on and so forth. All of that sounds incredible in theory. In execution, you would likely get “The Matrix” sequels.

A movie that overreaches in scope, attempting to please fans by showing everything. What we got was an incredibly meaningful story that further explores the themes of the original while building upon its world without going too far. We see what’s beyond L.A. on the dilapidated west coast. The answer is not much. The film aims at minimalism over extravaganza.

9. We’re still talking about it

After being MIA for decades, “Blade Runner 2049” isn’t forgotten. I can’t say the same for “Superman Returns,” “Monsters University,” “The Incredibles 2,” “Live Free or Die Hard,” and “Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull.” In fairness, people do talk about Indy 4, but not in a positive fashion. “Blade Runner 2049” returned to the limelight with disastrous box office results yet high accolades, even gaining the Academy’s attention. Ironically it seemed destined to live the life of its predecessor.

“2049” may have tanked because it was a multimillion-dollar art film that respected its audience’s intelligence. Maybe “Blade Runner” was too far gone amongst the public to gain an interest geared almost entirely towards comic books and Disney. I think the trailers after the reveal teaser looked too generic for my own two cents, turning me off from the film for a short while.

Here we are with Honest Trailers in 2020, making a video about a film that came out in 2017. Bloodsoaked orange skies from the headlines mention the atmosphere of this film. Somewhere, about 100 other people are writing their analysis of “Blade Runner 2049” as I type right now. Seven years from now, we’ll be talking about why the world is still like “Blade Runner 2049.” Villeneuve made a timeless sequel to be remembered.

10. It’s better than the first film and one of the best films in the last ten years

Here’s why you’ll probably agree with this one when you put your pitchfork down. Remove your nostalgia goggles. I know it’s hard to do, please, trust me. Look at the points I made above. Think about how ironic the love story is to our lives. The layers of meaning behind K’s existence is lightyears beyond the featureless Rick Deckard. The picture isn’t flawless. Niander Wallace is spectacularly corny in his scenery-chewing grim monologues. Dr. Eldon Tyrell had some ambiguity regarding the morale of his intentions. For that, I’ll give the original the benefit of my doubt. I understand Ryan Gosling was cast to be intentionally deadpan, but it’s okay to emote once. His distant stare in all of his other performances made it difficult for me to discern myself from the actor’s rather dull persona.

With this said, “Blade Runner 2049” understands cinema. Its atmosphere is why we venture into a dark room that takes us to a different place. Denis Villeneuve’s masterful follow up is one of the most orgasmic cinematic experiences I have witnessed in the last ten years that demands a re-screening in 2022 when theatres reopen at an entirely safe capacity. The style doesn’t overshadow its substance, which is far richer in detail than the original without grasping at blatant metaphors. “Blade Runner 2049” is slow cinema at its finest, letting us into the character’s heads, knowing when to be quiet and when to be loud.

Like “The Empire Strikes Back,” not everyone appreciated the movie at first. Time has been incredibly kind to it, though. I wish the Academy recognized “Blade Runner 2049” beyond its technical marvels in 2018. I suppose it wasn’t the type of picture that catches Oscar voter’s eyes. But it has acquired the audience’s to this day. Now, if you could just look up and to the left for me?

from you’ll probably agree website https://ift.tt/3kxHs7O via IFTTT

from WordPress https://ift.tt/3kG03i7 via IFTTT

[orbitswriter]

little lie

pairing; Rick Payne/Jim Clancy

rating; pg

warnings; none

summary; just wanted to rewrite Jim and Ricks meeting and put a little gay twist on it :)

｡ﾟ･ ──-ˋˏ 🐾 ˊ-── ｡ﾟ･

Jim had his reservations about seeing Rick Payne, the professor had been helpful to Melinda when she needed, but now he had to go, and make it seem not suspicious that he was there. He easily found his way around the campus to Paynes office. He gave a gentle knock on the already open office door to make himself present.

He saw a younger -- rather cute -- male leaning over a projector poking at it with a pencil.

"uh, hello? I'm looking for Professor-Dr Payne?" he asked figured the professor was somewhere else.

"So are half the credit card companies in the US" the male said, glancing up toward him "what can I do for you?" 

"You're Payne?" he asks.

"Yes, Unfortunately" he nods "You are?"

"Sorry I just thought you were much older" Jim says, suddenly he feels dumb, he probably looked dumb standing there shocked over seeing how young the professor was... had to be not much older then himself.

"Why don't you come back in 45 years?" he says.

Jim bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn't smile at the professors witty comments. He takes a deep breath regathering himself. He moved further into the office keeping his eyes on the professor as he continued to tinker with the projector. 

"Um, I'm Jim Clacy, Melinda Gordon's husband? She says you help her sometimes" this seems to get the young professors attention as he stood up and quickly shakes Jims hand.

There's a brief moment where Jim feels lost in the touch… what was happening to him… had to be this ghost thing getting to him… right?

"You're Melinda's husband" the man smiles "wow this is very interesting"

The shake is going on longer than needing to, yet Jim can't find it in him to complain.

"Yeah, my wife out of town, she sent me -"

"Your wife fascinates me," Payne cuts him off.

Jim feels a spike of jealousy rise in him… except he's not jealous of Payne, no, who then. Their still holding hands despite the fact they weren't shaking one anothers hand anymore. Jim wonders if Payne realize this but he can't think straight while the professors deep blue eyes are locked on to his, so full of wonder, so curious, almost like he's trying to get to know Jim without asking any questions.

"Yeah… she has that effect on people" he's surprised when he sounds bitter… okay stay calm Jim… you're just all messed up because of this ghost. "Look, sometimes she says you help her and I'm working on this project and I was wondering if you'd give me a hand" they finally let go of one another hands, except now Payne just feels too close to him, a smile on the professors lips.

"Well, what kind of project?" Payne asks.

"I'm writing a book, you know everyone's doing it these days," he says with a shrug.

"Melinda said you were a paramedic?" 

"It's a hobby"

"Saving lives is a hobby?"

This time Jim can't help but let out a small laugh "no writing"

"oh writing - writing the book is a hobby" Payne nods and it makes Jim wonder if he was this way all the time, he also can't help but want to find out.

"I'm a little lost right now, I'm playing with all this… symbolism, cats for instance, uh -" before he can finish his thought Payne starts walking away toward one of his bookshelves.

Jim looks after him confused and quickly follows. He misses how close they are, he wants them to be close again - focus Clancy. Payne grabs a book from the shelf and meets him part way at on of his desks.

"Here you go Melinda's husband" he says setting the book down "Take your pick"

Jim looks through the book, he flips a few pages, looking at the different breeds of cats. His eyes catches the one from his dream and quickly stops flipping.

"Ah, that one" he points to what book has labeled as 'The Abyssinian Cat'.

"Excellent, Abyssinian, an Egyptian cat, very spooky looking huh?" Pyan has a playful smile on his face that makes Jim smile as well, he nods in agreement, "You know the ancient Egyptians were crazy about cats Jim" 

Jim has to force himself to focus, because all his brain seemed to want to focus on was the fact that Payne said his name.

"If you killed a cat, you had to be killed… if your cat died you went into mourning, you shave off your eyebrows while in mourning - which I tell you must of been a fantastic look" 

Jim let out a slight laugh but nods, he likes the passionate glint in the professor's eyes as he tells Jim about this stuff. Jim loses himself in those eyes for a second before shaking his head slightly.

"Okay… well what if I throw some beetles in the story what would that mean?" he asks

"That would depend"

"On what?"

"The Beetle, I wasn't partial to George" 

Jim goes silent, if the professor wasn't so cute with his playful little jokes and snide remarks Jim would of been very annoyed. Instead he wants to listen to the professor talk more - he wants to see how the man conducts his classes, and how he is as a friend… maybe - damn it, it's just the ghost messing your head up. Payne moves past him and for the shortest, yet longest moment in Jim's life his arm brushes Paynes. Jim feels dazed.

"I'm joking, That's a joke" he says as he settles behind what seems to be his main desk and looks at his computer "Guess Melinda hasn't told you a lot about me" he sounds almost disappointed.

"No… No, she just said you were a great guy" he smiled, Payne did seems like a great guy, albeit a little sarcastic and coy, but still…

"Well, then you have been horribly miss informed" he said another playful smile that takes Jims breath away "what color are these beetles?"

"Their green… and their shiny, kinda beautiful when not appearing out of nowhere" he automatically feels likes he's given away to much.

Payne has that curious glint in his eyes again "Green? Those are scrabs, there's a lot of Eygiption symbolism in your book"

"Could be… yeah" Jim nods.

They not at one another, the eye contact feels too long and yet Jim wants it to last, however Payne breaks it to type something on his computer, mumbling to himself as he types.

"There's your green scarabs"

Jim takes that as an invitation to get closer to Payne again, he looks at that bugs on the screen pointing to one, but Paynes already explained.

"- usually symbolized regeneration or rebirth"

"Right so if I was - uh… if my character was getting sent these symbols what do you think that would mean?" he asks, despite all of Jim's weird behavior and thoughts he is getting the information his needs.

"Could mean a lot of things, could mean beauty, Egypt, could mean the goddess Isis she's the most powerful, most popular" he says, it give Jim's brain a jump start into actually thinking about this "but you have cats… that would make me think of the goddess Bastet, he's the protector or cats and women" Jim realizes something it must show on his face because the professor waits for him to speak.

"Did you just say Bastet?" he asks.

"Bastet, yeah, just now" Payne nods.

"Bastet cosmetics, you know Bastet cosmetics?" he asks quickly.

"Cosmetics? I - um - I'm not… that's not really my area of expertise" another playful smile that almost makes Jim forget the revelation he just made.

"You know what Doc. you helped me a lot, thanks" he shakes Payne's hand and starts to leave before he get caught up in the feeling of theirs hands touching again.

"You're leaving? Wait!" Payne moves to chase after him "Do you guys do this all the time? the two of you?"

Jim keeps walking, not allowing himself to look back, if he does he's afraid he might stay "what?" he asks getting to the door and having to pause.

"The: saying something, but I'm not telling you what I mean, and I'm being wacky and evasive thing, do you both do it?"

Jim looks back at him, giving him a playful smile "I don't know what your talking about" he shrugs.

"Yeah… " Payne smiles, it hits Jim hard, he made Payne smile "Just like that… that's good" 

Jim leave Payne forcing himself to keeping. Melinda, you love Melinda, don't go back. 

-

After talking to Melinda the next day they had settled on the choice that he should look for this model that's shown up in his dreams. He looks through every beauty and girly magazine he can get his hands on, grabbing all of them finally he finds her.

"There you are" he mumbled to himself, grabbing the magazine and going to check out.

He reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet, he hears footsteps behind him.

"Do you have Smithsonian?" It Payne, he doesn't have to look to know that and once again he's too close, yet not close enough.

Payne moved past him having to shuffle past Jims back.

"Sorry" Jim says keeping his head down, not looking at the man's beautiful blue eyes that make him question everything he knew about himself.

Payne says nothing until he gets a clear view of him then he's pointing at him "Ah your…" 

Jim hates that it hurts him so much that Payne forgot his name, he hoped it didn't show.

"Jim" 

"Jim! Melinda husband" stop calling me that - he reaches out shaking Jim's hand.

"Yeah… and your professor Payne" he says, once more the shake last a few seconds to long, was it Payne or him doing this?

"Yes I am" Jim hates what Paynes smile does to him, they let go of each others hands "But please call me Rick" 

The paramedic feels like he's been blessed, this man wants him to call him by his first name? It makes Jims heart flutter… fuck, whats happening to me? he simply nods.

"How's the book coming?" he asks.

Jim contemplated telling him the truth… he couldn't - "slowly" 

The vender starts saying out loud what he picked out and Jim feels mortified, he wants to crawl into the hole and stay there.

"- one fashion today, and one tween sheek" the vendor's voice is judgmental - Jim doesn't care about him.

He refused to look up but he sees Rick peeking over the vendors shoulder with a playful smile, like he's figured out something that no one else has, he forced his eyes back down to his wallet as he plays with a dollar bill poking out it.

"Melinda's still out of town?" Rick's voice is playful, Jim still feels embarrassed and he knows he's probably blushing, but he still loves that tone of the professor's voice.

"She's coming back soon" 

"Ah" Rick nods as Jim gets his change back.

Jim grabs his magazines and turns around to hide somewhere for awhile. Maybe for a few months until Rick forgets about this, and Jim is hopefully back to normal.

"Hey Jim" Rick says getting his attention to turn again "Maybe I can come by and keep you company while Melindas gone, or you could come by my office again and we can discuss your book" he smiles, its a genuine offer.

"Yeah… sure I'd like that" Jim nods his mouth not being able to close all the way.

Rick nods and smiles at him before turning to find his Smithsonian, Jim leaves. Looks like I have a book to start writing...

[scarletwitching]

You said Jonathan Hickmans Avengers made you real mad? Could you (or have you) elaborate on that?

When I first sat down to answer this, I decided I should re-read the run, so that I could better articulate what bothered me about it. Then I tried to re-read it, and I quickly went, “No. That’s not happening.” I didn’t get very far, which is why this won’t be the most well-argued post.

The thing that made me so mad that I quit reading most regular Avengers comics was the last issue where Steve and Tony punch each other while the world ends.

Avengers Vol. 5 #44

It’s a terrible scene, and it puts me in mind of this article about The Force Awakens.1

When you’ve actually invented a tragedy that’s hundreds of thousands of times bigger than the Holocaust (in a film that prominently references Nazis) only in order to threaten that they’re about to do it again, in a matter of seconds, YOU CANNOT ASK YOUR AUDIENCE TO CARE THAT SOME GUY AND HIS SON ARE WASTING THOSE ESSENTIAL SECONDS HAVING A MOMENT ON A BRIDGE.

No. You cannot. That is a fatal flaw. That is an inversion of stakes so monstrous that it makes the film actually despicable.

The world stops when two white men need to hash out their feelings.

I found the way Steve and Tony’s relationship was handled towards the end of that book to be uncomfortable and bad. “You lied to me!!!!11” Okay? Aren’t you guys supposed to be heroes? Shouldn’t you be focused on saving all the life in the universe? Who approved this characterization?2 Who thought this was a good idea? Why am I supposed to care about this when the world is ending? It seems like Hickman was just using their relationship (and the precedent set by Mark Millar) as an excuse to write them, particularly Steve, in the most unlikable way possible. ‘Oh, you know Steve and Tony. They’re just evil when they’re together.’

Over the past couple of decades, Marvel has decided that everyone is deeply invested in that dynamic, and I just… don’t care about it. That’s not to say that no one cares about it. We all have different tastes, and that’s fine. But that relationship is not for me, and it’s so overexposed that I don’t want to read comics about it anymore. Hickman’s Avengers was my breaking point. After that, I decided no more Steve and Tony, if they’re going to act like that around each other. Even if they aren’t, I still need a break. A years-long break.

…and then there was the part where the Avengers went to a sovereign nation, broke into the home of some civilian refugees fleeing a genocide, and beat them up. This is getting a little long, so I’ll put the rest under a cut.

Infinity #1

It’s exactly what I said. They went to Italy (Hawkeye now speaks perfect Italian for some reason). They broke into an apartment inhabited by refugees who had fled a genocide. They had been (illegally??) spying on the refugees, but hadn’t tried to piece together any information about them as individuals or their situation. There’s no evidence that the refugees hurt or even bothered anyone. But the Avengers broke down their door, and without putting any actual effort into a peaceful solution, beat them up and arrested them.

This was written in 2013. Not that there’s ever a good time to write this, but wow, this was written in 2013.

Oh, and Infinity’s final issue has this aside:

Infinity #6

There’s a counterargument here that the Skrulls are just aliens, and it’s not that serious. My counterargument to that counterargument is Secret Invasion. Secret Invasion is the most famous modern Skrull story, and it is the context a Skrull story from 2013 would be understood in. It’s also an Islamophobic metaphor where the Skrulls are religious extremists who want to take over Earth and who keep saying “jihad” for some reason, despite being aliens. I don’t think the Skrull scene from Infinity is as bad as Secret Invasion, but it’s also not good.

This scene speaks to deeper problems I have with Hickman’s Avengers run. He takes an authoritarian angle with the team. The Avengers aren’t just superheroes in his vision. They’re imperialist ICE agents. When I think about Hickman’s work, I always come back to that first issue of Ultimates he wrote, where no female characters speak and the most important on-page role a woman has is to give an Important Man™ his coffee.3 That issue ends like this:

Ultimate Comics: Ultimates #1

Once upon a time, the Avengers answered to bureaucrats. Now, everything is SHIELD, and presidents defer to superheroes. For some, this is a subtle change, a difference in details they don’t care about. To me, it fundamentally alters the nature of the team and the world they reside in. I can root for an Avengers team that has to steal a bus because their security clearance was taken away.4 I have a much harder time rooting for Hickman’s authoritarian god-men who hold the fate of all life in their hands, but choose to be petty and insular.

For Hickman, it’s an Avengers’ World, but an Avengers’ World is not one I’m interested in. It flattens the overall texture of the Marvel Universe, and it does a disservice to the Avengers themselves. They are much less relatable, likable, and human when it’s an Avengers’ World.

This is the point where I have to say, “Maybe we’re supposed to know that the Avengers are bad in this, and that’s the point.” I’m not sure how much I believe that though. Do I think Hickman thinks everything they’re doing is good and right? No, but he doesn’t do a good enough job of analyzing and critiquing their actions within the narrative to justify things like the Skrull scene. Depiction =/= endorsement, but you should be saying something greater than “these characters do bad stuff sometimes.” I’m not convinced Hickman’s Avengers has much self-awareness or commentary.

I don’t agree with the fandom line of thinking that Big Two characters are sacred and we should never do anything that might be negative with them. There are, for example, criticisms of Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch’s Ultimates that begin and end with, “They made Captain America a xenophobe, and that’s bad because Captain America is supposed to be a good guy.” I don’t see it that way. There are problems with Ultimates, but it’s an alternate universe that ought to be allowed an alternate take. Writers should be allowed to say something, via a character called Captain America, besides “Steve is nice.” It matters how it’s handled though, and I’m not sure it’s even worth it to try. There is so much emotional investment in these characters that it’s difficult to make sharp political statements with them.

Going back to depiction vs. endorsement, we’re supposed to know Millar and Hitch’s Ultimates are bad people, but that doesn’t make the sexism (or the outdated Freddie Prinze Jr. references) any less real. That book is trying to say something, and it aims to be a satire. But it lacks the necessary tact and finesse to make that work.

To steal from someone else’s Hickman critique: “That’s the point.” “That doesn’t make it better.”

Worst of all, Hickman’s Avengers made me feel bad for Rick Remender. His run on Uncanny happened concurrently with Hickmanvengers, and Remender made a big deal of pushing back against the narrative that had come out of Avengers vs. X-Men about the Avengers being jack-booted thugs. To the point where he had Captain America say, “We’re not jack-booted thugs” in the first issue.

Uncanny Avengers Vol. 1 #1

And then along came Hickman screaming, “Never mind!! Yes, they are!!!” Imagine trying to make a point about the Avengers not being authoritarian assholes while someone else is writing this in a different title:

Avengers Vol. 5 #35

You can tell Remender wasn’t pleased because he got salty about being negatively compared to Hickman in the Uncanny Avengers annual. In true Remender fashion, it was inappropriately salty, but I understood where he was coming from.

Uncanny Avengers Annual 1

Let me be clear: No one is lesser because they like Hickman’s Avengers. It’s not a reason to insult someone. Remender is being facetious (and kind of a jerk) here. But there is some truth in poking fun at the “indecipherable mysteries.” I’ve already talked some about what’s wrong with Remender’s criticism, so I won’t dwell on this too much.

Overall, Hickman’s tastes and mine seem diametrically opposed. I prefer smaller casts and stakes. I like personal, character-driven stories about women. I want nuanced characterization and subtle, organic character development. And I don’t get any of that from Hickman’s work. Some people find his character arcs compelling, but I don’t. The Steve/Tony dynamic in his run is so over the top and inauthentic that it would be comical if it weren’t so annoying. I read a Hickman comic, and I just see nonsense words and no real emotions. It’s all Important Men™ and the women who bring them coffee.

Anyway, the best thing about Hickman’s Avengers is that Wanda isn’t in it. We dodged a bullet there. A true W for the home team.

1. I don’t care about Star Wars. Please do not yell at me about Star Wars.

2. It was Tom Brevoort. It’s always Tom Brevoort.

3. Someone’s gonna tell me to read East of West. No, I haven’t read East of West. I’ve heard he handles the female characters in that better, but I couldn’t say whether or not that’s true.

4. The bus scene still has them kicking everyone else off, but it gives those people a voice, however briefly. The Avengers are still people in that scene. They’re not an absolute authority with power over everyone else.

[arecomicsevengood]

Stuart Immonen Superman Comics Circa 1998

There’s a lot of “best of the year” lists that appear at the end of the year, but after that flutter of activity, tied to commercial imperatives, there are moments for reconsideration, as we approach the year to come and ask ourselves what it is we want. So now is as good a time as any to talk about some Superman comics Stuart Immonen drew some twenty-odd years ago. The artist announced earlier this year that he was “retiring” from comics, but this didn’t mean he was going to stop making comics, just that what he did would be “personal” work, in collaboration with his wife. They recently launched a comic on Instagram, and they’ve done some graphic novels together previously, none of which I can recommend.

I do think it’s interesting that these personal works are scripted by his wife, rather than him writing them himself, though; because back in the nineties, working for DC, he took a few stabs at writing. This was done within a framework that must’ve removed some of the risk involved: The four monthly Superman series that together constituted a weekly serial split between different creative teams had him drawing Karl Kesel’s scripts for a few years before he took over a separate title for his own. In my mind, much of the overall plotting would be hashed out at a conference, and then kept coordinated by an editor. Ideally this process would be oriented around what it was each individual creative team wanted to write and draw: Immonen’s artwork was a little softer than his compatriots, a little more likely to seem like he could’ve drawn romance comics in a different era, maybe younger than the others and more interested in youth culture and fashion, probably more likely to admire Jaime Hernandez. Maybe all this just manifests in the context as being the one who could draw women, but in a era where none of the Superman comics are showy about what they do and all aspired to being solid and well-crafted, his were the most enjoyable.

This softness I appreciate in this work isn’t really present in his subsequent work, which is sharper, shinier, where figures and their wardrobes seem consistently sculpted out of plastic. Part of it’s the coloring, but there also seem to be changes in how scripts call for layouts. He’s also maybe working with ink wash underneath the digital coloring and delineating more how he wants values of light to be approached, I don’t know. I don’t really want to diminish the work the man’s been doing in the years I haven’t been reading superhero comics. I can look at the years of intervening work and see how the choices he’s making are confident ones, the result of years of drawing action comics. I haven’t really read any of them, but that’s not to say I wouldn’t.

Still, if you’re anything like me, you probably generally think that comics created by one person are better than those made in a collaboration mediated via a written script, so if I’m going to read anything by the guy, it’s going to be work created under those circumstances. I’ve heard that DC sort of has structures in place against writer-artists: this is why those “Bizarro World” anthologies where they brought in alternative cartoonists forced them all to collaborate with each each other. Maybe this rule was a little looser with the Superman books: After John Byrne relaunched the line in the mid-eighties, both Dan Jurgens and Jerry Ordway would write and draw chunks of their subsequent runs. Otherwise it’s pretty rare: The only other thing I can think of would be that Rick Veitch Swamp Thing run, the circumstances of its ending probably be why they don’t let that happen too often. A little after Immonen and Kesel did the event The Final Night, Immonen wrote and drew a 4-issue miniseries spotlighting the Legion Of Super-Heroes character Inferno. It’s not good or anything, but it does seem to revolve around the strengths or interests I understand him having at this time: It’s a comic about a young woman, hanging out in the mall with a group of other young women, who might be understood as punks, as some are homeless. Before Immonen worked for DC, his initial small-press work, Playground, made in collaboration with his future wife, was described in “punk rock” terms. He states in the Inferno letter column his goal was to make something someone who didn’t read other DC Comics could read and enjoy. I don’t think it gets anywhere near being able to achieve that, it’s confusing on multiple levels. The covers are probably the most memorable part, but because you can track those down easy enough, I’ll include a bit of interior sequential art.

Not long after that, he took over writing Action Comics. I haven’t read that many of those either! I had stopped reading the Superman comics regularly not long before this happened. It was during the time period when Superman had electric powers and a blue costume. I was in middle school. I found out he’d started writing when I found a couple issues in a bargain bin and picked them up, but I didn’t get back in the habit of reading Superman comics, as the story was pretty difficult to follow if you attempted to only read the series with the best art. He also didn’t really work as a writer for that long: After a little while, Mark Millar gets credited for providing scripts.

But a little while back, around the time I wrote that post about why I’m willing to read superhero comics with some degree of hope that they’ll be good, I ordered a three-issue arc that seemed kind of self-contained. Looking online, it seemed like after the whole “electric Superman” story wrapped up with a special called Superman Forever, each of the four monthly books told their own stories, set in different historical eras, for a few months. Immonen’s Action Comics issues had covers suggesting they were united in progressing from one to the other. I was pretty into them, though in some ways it was an unsatisfying experience. The first issue in the arc is drawn by a fill-in artist, the third part focuses on this separate narrative thread- It’s narrated by this new villain, with god-like powers, who I guess was behind the whole “multiple timelines” thing in the first place, so you there’s exactly one fairly self-contained normal Superman comic written and drawn by the dude, though that third issue kinda rules, as aside from the narration, you’re reading all the normal Superman storytelling stuff happen wordlessly, calling attention to the clarity of the storytelling. It might fail to live up to expectations for a third act based on the way serialization has it setting up the next big arc, but as an episode in itself, this would be a pretty fun surprise to come across in your pile of the week’s comics. Which, if you remember that post, was exactly what I claimed to be looking for.

There’s also an original graphic novel that’s a little later still, “End Of The Century,” which seems like it’s partly tying up a long-running subplot in the Superman comics about Lex Luthor and his wife. It honestly has WAY too much plot, and too many narrative threads, and it’s all still fairly generic. While I picked it up hoping to see cool visual storytelling, the amount of story there is to tell gets in the way. The visual art is good, Immonen’s linework shifts to be a little finer. There’s also this weird thing where real images are photographed/scanned and inserted like they’re laying on the edges of the page, which is dumb, but the technology to achieve this effect was probably only recently made available. There’s also some sepia painted pages, and the most likely reason the “graphic novel” exists is because Immonen wanted to do the painted pages and have the time to work on them. That’s as good a reason as it is to try writing comics for a few years because you’ve drawn them for a few years and writing doesn’t seem hard and you would get paid more, and reasoning resulted in work I thought was better than what you usually get.

Ambition is a wild thing, in that it can really just stir inside you feeling frustrated even as you have no idea what you want to do with it in particular. It can easily be applied to other people’s ends. Work might be personal not because of the importance of what “the artist” has to say but because it’s an outgrowth of a personal relationship. It’s worth noting, looking at his career, the importance of cultivated professional relationships: He had those comics scripted by Mark Millar, and decades later they did a comic together which has probably resulted in a development deal and a sizable paycheck. He did two creator-owned comics with Kurt Busiek, largely forgotten I’d say, and then worked with him on a Superman comic which is pretty well-regarded. He’s collaborated with both Warren Ellis and Brian Bendis multiple times. It is sensible to view all those professional relationships as having had their respective culminations, while working with one’s wife is more of an ongoing long-term project.

At the same time: Having someone write for you, and what they see as your skillset, is going to present different challenges than seeing what you can do and pushing yourself, even if the latter results in what can be easily described as failure. It’s fine either way. Career paths in the arts are always going to be weird and haphazard, because there are so many decisions to make in creating a piece of art that progress is never going to be linear. I don’t know if any of these collaborations embraced what I like about his work, but maybe what I like in his work isn’t what he sees as his strengths, but is just what was emblematic of his style at the point in time I was initially exposed to it. The questions of who we are in relationship to others vs. what our true potential is is always up for negotiation.

I think those Superman comics excel because I came to them with very particular set of expectations. Not only can I not expect anyone else to share those expectations, I don’t even really want to convince anyone to have them: There’s no small part of me that thinks of the fact that I tracked them down to write about them is in some ways squandering some bit of potential inside myself I can’t expect anyone else to care about. I don’t know what 2019 looks like, though I hope I won’t spend too much of it looking back twenty years at comics from 1999. I don’t like doing this thing where I try to make something “personal” to rationalize my talking about some some comic while actually just talking in vague generalities because I’m very reticent to talk about myself, but I’ll probably continue to do so. I’m probably not going to spend the next year looking at Stuart Immonen’s Instagram feed. But here at the end of this year, as I contemplate my own inertia and depressive laziness, I have to give an honest accounting and give it up to that dude for putting in the work.

[pbpress]

Untitled

By Katie Langlitz

It was a regular weekday school night.  Mom was on the couch, watching whatever reality TV show or true crime documentary that had her attention at the moment, waiting for dinner to finish, and I was pacing the kitchen tiles, without much intent, my attention bouncing from her show, to my phone, back to her show.  This particular program followed the lives of rich Southern millenials—and the scandals that come with a precious family legacy to preserve.   As the cast idled around their mansion’s halls, the camera panned over a portrait of a man, most likely some ancestor of theirs.  It held my attention.  I had seen it before.  I knew I had, but I didn’t have time to deliberate.

My mom switches the program, flickering through until she lands on a news channel.  She lingers for a moment.

“Hey, have you heard about this?” My mother waves the remote at the screen: a water crisis in Flint, Michigan.  Apparently, children throughout the city were suffering from mysterious illnesses and rashes, possibly linked to untreated tap water.  No, I hadn’t.

The portrait forgotten, moments later I was on my laptop, beginning my descent into the tragedy in Flint:

In April of 2014, Flint switched from water purchased from Detroit to water pumped through the Flint River that runs through the city to save money while officials waited for a new pipeline from Lake Huron.  Law-mandated chemicals controlling lead erosion had not been added to Flint’s pipes when the city switched to Flint River water, causing lead to break off, traveling through pipes into families’ homes.  The Michigan Department of Environmental Quality, as it was called at the time, told Flint officials that anti-corrosives were unnecessary, and a decision on whether the water was safe to drink could wait for another year.  In essence Flint residents could drink possibly unsafe water for a whole year before officials were even willing to evaluate the situation.  The result: in addition to disease-causing bacteria and carcinogens, which can cause cancer, Flint’s drinking water was flooded with lead.  Brown, filmy water smelling like sewer and mysterious rashes breaking out on children’s skin soon brought Flint residents to town hall meetings with grievance.  

Lead is an irreversible neurotoxin; no amount of it is safe.  There is a lead-crime hypothesis that argues lead exposure triggers impulsivity, social aggression and even attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) in children and thus causes delinquency and violent crime.  Despite data collected by a concerned, local pediatrician revealing children in Flint were experiencing high levels of blood lead, authorities didn’t act.  They accused her of fabricating reports to create baseless hysteria.  It was not until outside researchers from Virginia Tech. conducted intensive research on the city’s water that the state admitted there was a problem, over a year later.  In early 2016 the then Governor of Michigan, Rick Snyder, announced 87 cases of Legionnaires Disease, a type of pneumonia caused by bacteria, and 10 deaths linked to the water crisis in Flint.

I was stunned.  This violation of human rights in Flint and the lethargy of government officials—it was comic book level villainy.  How did something like this happen, in America, with something as essential to life as water?  That seemed to be what everyone was asking.  The EPA, United States Environmental Protection Agency, blames state officials for not following protocol mandating anti-corrosives, and the state blames the EPA for not enforcing federal policy.  While politicians continue to point fingers at each other, a larger crisis sits at the center of the Flint water tragedy: racial bias, which is really a euphemism for systematic racism.  

Wait.  Before anyone rolls their eyes and pulls up their blinders, some historical context:  Flint shadows the place it used to be.  It used to bustle with a wealthy, urban core, booming with motor industries, but like many other Midwestern cities, was ravaged by abandonment.  During the 1960’s General Motors, which was worshiped like religion by locals, relocated, and the city suffered subsequent economic depressions.  Today, the population is lower than it has ever been since the 1920’s.  Flint is also 57% black, 4% Latino and only 37% white.  40% of residents live below the poverty line, and although Flint is not quite as segregated as other cities like Detroit or Chicago, the black and Latino population suffer this poverty disproportionately.  To compare, the United States is 77% white, 13% black and 18% Hispanic or Latino, and only 12% live in poverty, according to censuses from 2018.  

Now this crisis doesn’t seem so mysterious; the reason why I’d never heard of it isn’t as elusive.  The NAACP, or National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, spoke on this issue.  The NAACP is the civil rights organization that championed black empowerment throughout the 1900’s, accredited for winning the 1954 Supreme Court Case Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka that ruled racial segregation “inherently unequal” and overturned previous decisions disenfranchising blacks after the Civil War.  According to a CNN article, in 2016 the NAACP said of Flint, “Would more have been done, and at a much faster pace, if nearly 40 percent of Flint residents were not living below the poverty line? The answer is unequivocally yes.”  We all know it, too.  If the same lead-laced water threatened a predominantly white, above the poverty line—not even upper class—community, there wouldn’t have even been a crisis.  The issue would have been resolved before it reached the home of children, before it would kill innocent residents and sicken dozens more.

The injustice seen in Flint is occurring everywhere, everyday across America in less televised but just as obscene ways.  Look at death row statistics.  Account for variables like the number of victims, murder brutality, and we’re still more likely to convict someone for murdering a white person than a black person.  Young black, American males are at same risk for gun homicide as nations with the highest murder rates in the world.  Blacks with a college degree are more likely to be unemployed than similarly educated whites.  When they are employed, blacks with a college degree are more likely than their whites to be underemployed for their skill level.  Then, inflating these issues, Congress has decreased anti-discrimination agency funding over the years, such as the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, which was established under the Civil Rights Act of 1964, one of the iconic civil rights bills Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. got passed through his nonviolent protests.  According to the US Census Bureau, “none of the 10 states with the highest percentage of Black residents provide these agencies with annual funding of more than 70 cents per resident per year… In some states… more taxpayer dollars are spent on the governor’s salary than on protecting millions of residents from employment discrimination.”  

After bingeing articles and documentaries on Flint, I felt slimy.  The violation of human rights in that city was perpetuated by racism.  Not the kind of racism we can see or hear; no N-words or confederate flags caused this.  (Though, ironically, Confederate flags are popular home decor amongst white residents of Flint.)  Systematic racism—the implicit and unconscious bias to value some people’s live more than others—did.  It’s a filthy realization to come to, full of shame and guilt, and we do all we can to blunt it.  Accepting systematic racism’s mere existence would admit our role—however small—in tragedies like Flint.  That’s why we’re defensive when we hear people talk of ideas like “systematic racism.”  Most of us pride ourselves on not being racist, on being better than our misguided ancestors so discovering we could be part of a system that perpetuates racism, being told we’re morally in the wrong, of course we want to deny it.  

And we do.  Even with disasters like Flint, we drown the guilt and hide behind those perky success stories, the ones you see on daytime talk shows and on college pamphlets, but they only dilute the truth.  Just because a youth choir from Detroit makes it to 2nd place on a national talent show doesn’t help the thousands—47%—of children who live in poverty in that same city, but it does sedate our conscience.  These stories tell us black poverty isn’t that bad: look at this one going to college, that one recovering from addiction.  

It’s the epitome of cognitive dissonance—the uncomfortable feeling when conflicting beliefs or behaviors collide.  In this case we are confronted with two realities of America: the one that upholds our founding fathers’ ideas of freedom and equality and the other that perpetuates injustice and hardship.  In true cognitive dissonant fashion we alter one of these realities to fit the other.  We ignore racial injustice—and deny ourselves a truly equal nation.  It’s ironic; to preserve the idea we have of America, we stop it from ever becoming that.  

However, the fact that TV programs exist solely to perpetuate these fairy tales of black empowerment reveal that this problem isn’t our fault.  Not entirely, anyways: “groups tend to be more immoral than individuals”—Martin Luther King Jr. writes in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”—, and this is a system, schemed with intent.  A system that encourages us to stay apathetic about racial injustice, that allows children to die from lead poisoning in the 21st century.  That’s the tricky thing about systematic racism: it’s perpetuated by apathy, by inaction.  That’s why it seems elusive.  Unlike with racism we can see or hear, we don’t know who to blame.  When someone slips the N-word or chuckles out a derogatory joke, we know who to point fingers at.  With systematic racism because it is not an individual person or isolated event, we have no one to attack.  It’s a system, and who do we blame for that?

That’s when I remembered the portrait from my mother’s reality TV show, the one about the wealthy Southerners.  John C. Calhoun.  If we ever charged someone with systematic racism, it’d be him.  He was our 7th Vice President, second to the infamously tyrannical and racist Andrew Jackson.  Amidst rising momentum for abolitionism in antebellum America, Calhoun performed his infamous “positive good” speech.  Rejecting the previous justification for slavery as a “necessary evil,” Calhoun defended his “peculiar institution” as a morally righteous crusade rehabilitating the devolved black race.  For example, he wrote, “in the course of a few generations it [the black race] has grown up under the fostering care of our institutions… to its present comparative civilized condition.”  To Calhoun slavery, thus, was an honorable institution founded on good will and charity that Southerners should defend against the treasonous Northerners with pride and dignity.  

He is the embodiment of systematic racism—and shows us why apathy is so dangerous.  Calhoun’s descendants, the kids on that TV show, didn’t seem like racists.  Privileged, sure, but not inherently evil people.  No one was waving Confederate flags or marching for white pride, yet their very existence preserves the legacy—the wealth accumulated, the hierarchy instituted—of slavery.  Emancipating blacks, establishing legal equality, founding empowerment agencies, although great feats, didn’t eradicate centuries of racism.  It didn’t dethrone the Southern oligarch.  A little slap on the wrist, a few elections diverted, and Calhoun’s fortune was allowed to survive—no, to thrive.  His still-wealthy lineage are proof that there are people in this 21st century that, despite not being racist, benefit from slavery.  If that sounds harsh, that’s because it is.  They didn’t chose their ancestors, sure, but they also don’t seem too ashamed of it either.  The man’s portrait is displayed in their home on national television for everyone to see.  Not to mention that they actually kept the family name, “Calhoun,” despite its connotations; ask anyone who’s studied American history what they think of when they hear “Calhoun,” they’re going to tell you one of two things: states rights, slavery or both.  Thus, his ancestors are ignoring the filthy implications of their family name.  Either that, or they’re blatant, white supremacy level racists, which not too many people are nowadays.  They stay ignorant and apathetic, and it’s apathy that protects the legacy of slavery, not racism.  Well, not overt, N-word, confederate flag racism—rather, systematic racism.

Despite how nonexistent it may seem in our everyday lives, how elusive it makes itself, because this is a system, it doesn’t matter where you live; you exist as part of it, and within this system, like all systems, there are two forces: the force that drives and the force that resists—the engine and the friction—, and because of the nature of systematic racism, simple apathy and inaction qualify as driving forces.  By not being an active counter force, you surrender your choice to be anything but the driving force spurring this institution of injustice forward.

Your ancestors probably didn’t single-handedly marshal the defense for slavery.  You’re probably not an active member of the Aryan Brotherhood, but just because you don’t have an obvious connection to slavery, doesn’t mean you get a moral freebie.  Martin Luther King Jr. wrote a letter to a group of 8 clergymen who contested that the battle against racial injustice should be fought solely in the courts, not the streets, denouncing King’s nonviolent protest.  To this King was compelled to write his famous “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.”  Throughout the letter King necessitates direct action as a means to racial justice.  Paralleling fundamental beliefs our founding fathers built this nation on, King writes, “One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws… “An unjust law is no law at all.””  In the context of systematic racism, we are not necessarily talking about statues, however, this same principle applies.  We—as in, the ordinary people living in this country—must, with a diligent moral compass, sift through the status quo to determine what is just and what is unjust.  Once we find injustice, we have a moral obligation to resist it—actively.  However, we cannot resist a system without first knowing it exists; admitting our role in systematic racism is uncomfortable at best, but that’s okay.  To quote King again, “constructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth,” which he says his protests aim to create, “will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood.”   We need tension in our conscience to realize, sometimes, what is right and what is not.  To confront a situation as it is, not as we wish it to be—even if it’s a little uncomfortable.

In the 21st century to be this active counter force which King calls for doesn’t necessarily mean you’re launching the NAACP 2.0.  It can begin by owning up to our cognitive dissonance, by accepting systematic racism as it is, by educating ourselves, by not being silent and by no longer staying apathetic. 

[daffodilon]

Hey!! So I just hit a really exciting follower milestone and since this blog is pretty new I’m extra excited about it. @jikooktemple​ tagged me in this “game of tag” get-to-know-me meme and now that there are a few of you here, it seems like a good time to do it! 

don’t come for me for doing this when i could be working on my wips ahahahaha

Rules:

tag the person who tagged you

answer the 30 questions

tag 10 people

Questions under the cut:

How tall are you? 177cm! and before you ask, yes it is breezy up here

What color and style is your hair? it’s red/orange and i grew it out from a really short pixie, and now it falls past my collarbones. it’s pretty straight and manageable other than a little damage to the ends from me bleaching it :)

What color are your eyes? blue!

Do you wear glasses? i do! could you tell from the plot of cafune pt 2 centering around being nearsighted af 🙄

Do you wear braces? i wore braces for like five years and thankfully i have had them off for many years now

What’s your fashion sense? Today I’m wearing a cute denim romper. I wear a lot of big sweaters and skinny jeans, or shorts over tights with a graphic tee tucked in and a flannel over, or random pieces i find online or in thrift stores. cute socks are my favorite accents and accessories, and i like to pair them with pretty shoes. i wear whatever i think is cute and flatters my body type! sometimes people tell me i dress like i’m “not ‘from here,’” whatever that means, but they tell me that wherever i go, so hmm. lol

Full Name: for the purposes of this blog you can call me Dilon! :)

When were you born? 950920

Where are you from and where do you live now? I am from the east coast (US) and now i live on the west coast (US) 

What school do you go to? I’m not currently a student

What kind of student are you? I’m the worst bc I’m the kind of kid who rarely does homework except like sitting on the floor in the hallway right outside the class five minutes beforehand. but I’m good at test taking so my grades were always good except in classes where homework is weighted more than quizzes. I raise my hand a lot and i don’t cause trouble, so teachers tend to like me, and i used get away with a lot of crap because of it. that’s what i mean by the worst lmao 

Do you like school?  I like school and learning in general a lot! i do a lot of self-study, especially languages

Favorite Subject: Oops i kind of answered it above, but I really like languages, any language. I was always pretty good in english, and for most other subjects my experience depends entirely on the kind of teacher i have. I have never been good at science, i’m not really good at math either but i’ve enjoyed a lot of math classes taught by great teachers. Oh, art. I love art and I’m good at it. Music as well. 

Favorite TV shows. Right now I don’t have cable or any streaming subscriptions so I’m watching very little TV but I just finished watching Guren Lagann today and I cried. Come talk to me about it if you’ve seen it lol. I’m also almost all the way through Sky Castle. holy shit bro that show

Favorite Movie? Not to be a fucking basic bitch but I love a ghibli movie man. I watch those when I’m having a shit day. I like the princess bride and certain avengers movies, but, like, don’t talk to me about the new ones bc yikes. what else. uhh i’ll rewatch harry potter any damn day call me i’m there. how the grinch stole christmas w jim carrey: a masterpiece. *seokjin voice* it’s a 명작 you know 명작? don’t ever watch it with me, i will be so insufferable the whole time. i’ll quote every line and in between dialogue i’ll monologue at you about rick baker and sfx makeup until you shove a sock in my mouth and throttle me

Favorite Books? my recent favorite is brandon sanderson’s stormlight archive series. I���ve loved all his books that i’ve read, i’m a fantasy fan and his affinity for worldbuilding is spectacular. i’m also obsessed with nora sakavic’s all for the game series. she’s everything i aspire to be as a writer, fuck

Favorite Past time? I like writing! I also like singing, listening to music, pretending I can play piano... 

Do you have any regrets? like a million hahaaaa 

Dream Job I’d love to do music, I’d love to do writing, I’d love to be involved in translating/interpreting/diplomacy, idk i have a lot of varied interests

Would ever like to be married? lets just say it is very low on my list of life goals n priorities. 

Would you like to have kids? someday? who knows, man. am i currently in any way equipped to be tasked with raising a real live human and do it without fucking them up for life? fuck no bro

How many? bruh i have no plans in this area whatsoever

Do you like shopping? sure, when i can afford to. otherwise the experience is stressful and nothing else 

What countries have you visited? just canada unfortunately. not that canada isn’t nice, i just mean i’d like to go to more places

Scariest nightmare you’ve ever had? probably one of the ones where i’m having a bad dream and i’m trying to wake up and i, like, kind of wake up? like, my eyes open but i don’t wake up all the way, so now i think i’m awake but the dream is still going on? my dream just changes so i’m in my own room and i’m “up” but whatever i was scared of before is still there like it followed me into the real world. sometimes this happens like twice or three times and i keep trying to wake up and i can’t until over and over until i’m not sure if i’m awake or not and i’m just terrified. like inception and it’s awful. it’s like almost-sleep paralysis but not quite

Any enemies? idk who has actual enemies in real life but i definitely have people i don’t have good relationships with anymore because i fucked up with them and don’t know how to fix it

Any significant other?  no ma’am

Do you get along with your family? some yes, some no

Do you believe in miracles? i believe that things with a shockingly low statistical chance of happening, happen, all the time 

How are you? I’m warm, I’m sitting in bed, it’s a really nice day. The windows are open, I can smell the ocean, and my guitar and dogs are within reach. There’s always anxiety in the back of my mind but right now in the front there is peace :)

[airoasis]

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/are-you-right-there-father-ted-father-ted-series-3-episode-1-dead-parrot-2/

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

What about decide upon it will possibly you do the 11 o’clock mass children I do the 11 and the 12 you will have to have a relaxation after that weekend away well Paris does are likely to take it out together with her i am off her sport Ted Kerr become a member of me no thanks Darren what time we long past to the colour for the races I suppose after lunch Oh mrs. Performed hopes you love puzzles i really like pheasant however this is what it can be all about best port attractive surroundings and shrewd corporation did you not have all that at your last parish no something appears to fit you though you have got bought a newfound gleam on your eyes yes I will have to be staying right here for a good file there’s somewhat metal of myself for doing anything stupid but all these bills appear in order for this letter I need to cry ask father credit about one or two of these things that he’s put down beneath fees goodness what’s making that totally annoying noise oh that is Ronaldo it was slightly lonely with out it head so I obtained a hamster instead yes am i able to ask though does he ever stop walking in that second wheel he’s have to use the wheel ever in view that he rolled this right into a seed tray however do not worry whats up I believe there may be simply something unsuitable with the brake how long has father Jack been dwelling in there I began just a few days after you left might be he’s agoraphobic Jack afraid of fighting i don’t feel oh hell mrs.Doran simply fell off the roof I feel i will go out google visit father Fitzpatrick I believe he has a guide belonging to me let’s see that – my lady here you know regularly I bounce by means of this to look just how some distance we have now come Syl fashioned Christian mysteries dis Canada internet under ah Stephen King’s The Shining well thanks for the tea father see the subsequent time we we’re sorry for the father i’m hoping you intellect your having you booked them why should we received a padlock on that door telephone is there some thing high-secret in there my collection oh yes oh so you the way does this you acquire this battle memorabilia apart you prefer to have a seem rather most likely taken from the German increase on Russia you’ll find the place the hammer hits the shell casing cut that is very exciting these are helmets regularly infantry yes these could be German as good would it not that’s proper you don’t have some thing from the Allied part no no that variety of thing wouldn’t interest at all an affair that’s my curiosity convinced and that is the final graphic taken of hair Hitler he is signing a number of loss of life warrants they’re funny how you get more proper-wing as you grow old twice well grace this that is all distinct stuff now some folks after they see it they may be now not too definite that you just seem absolutely although i’m specific you sisters watching you going yeah I instructed you little sleepy year ancient acquaintances of mine ok appear on the table it can be so dirty i will write in a minute there may be a gene Dubin where our 2nd as a substitute of residing in spin we’re simply going to have to get this location clean do –gel and seem at you appear at that hole to your tank top what if the character noticed that we’re just right all correct dogs would you look at that this year look a flawlessly square little bit of black grime on the window I imply how might you get a perfectly rectangular however a black dart on a window i would have idea that was once close to unimaginable it’s just mrs.Darling cannot do any cleansing her back is very bad considering she fell off the roof kind of preserve her steadiness at all that’s it then i’m simply going to need to come out and say it we’re going to have to easy this place ourselves what you heard me doogal are you with me what yeah proper then let’s go let’s clean this mom child anything it’s up into the lamp that came off I might pick that up excellent notion i am bored no seem i’m chinese language authorized come on Google loosen up do not with or chinese language people’s there okay Jack there I imply what mom’s a mement that’s the N household residing over there no longer old Chinatown discipline the town there there is a Chinatown and craggy Island Sokol i would not appear tall the Chinaman affect if I have no idea her to be a Chinaman there to peer which other form of mine impact why no longer useless huh not it’s racist they suppose i’m a racist i’m gonna ought to catch up with them and explain i’m not a racist and basically if i don’t specialize like mostly i assume things just cause spaz i’ve a reservation X is one time see you bye twice the quick oh that is done okay what’s that I ordered some new stuff on the residence do away with this historic hash Google you don’t suppose I upset these chinese folks er dude I don’t know Ted it was once like the time we placed on that kind show and you did that impression of Stephen Hawking he was the last character you’ll anticipate to turn off that used to be one million-to-one shot God he can barely transfer in that wheelchair when he’s irritated i do not worry about its head anyway who did your foam habitat no Hobbit hash like habitat itself gentle furnishing but in addition priests garments does it now not get confused with habitat though no that’s in no way occurred earlier than except simply there when you did anyway what else did you order priest sucks really black ones I read someplace I consider inside a piece of writing about pre sucks the pre socks are blacker than every other sort of stuff that’s right Google many times you see lay humans carrying what looked like black socks however in the event you appear intently you can see the very very very very very very very darkish blue that’s actual I concept my uncle Tommy was sporting black socks however after I looked at them carefully they had been simply very very very very very very very very very very dark blue on no account buy black socks in a normal keep it shaft you every time no they’re fired appear dwelling out no bows and same as your self excellent just right I hear you’re restless no father what how did you get occupied with that type of thing son of a racist every body’s pronouncing this father will have to we all be racist recognize what the authentic line the torch is taken is oh no handiest the farm takes up lots of the day and at night time oh identical to a cup of tea I prefer to be capable to dedicate myself full time to the historic racism insider what Oh mrs.Gorrie just right for you father however any individual both received to face as much as the mid lap coming over here taking our jobs and our women like father like are you you did not agree sister chinese language attorney correct there best get London I cannot restrict the Greek they invented gayness look any one i’m not a racist o.K. God sagging Rick how’s Mary she’s high-quality she’s bought that job bathroom hiya good day is that the indignity Fowley sure that is Sean Yin her father Ted Cunha right here I believe I owe you an apology like then have you learnt why’s a hydrogen that everything cleared up they’re coming straight around I just be very satisfactory to them and persons will stop saying i am a racist it is quality nothing could go mistaken outstanding so the story is you are not a racist as soon as no it is now not a story i am now not a racist hello everyone rather right here you are a racist no mrs. Dog just isn’t a racist i am not i’m not a racist mrs.Doyle we’re gonna need to do something for your back you can’t go on like this i am just going to check out some no don’t worry mrs. Doyle oh no no simply run Mac oh oh sure a lot better oh sure sure yes it is high-quality let me find no father no significantly father my fetus twenty years more youthful whats up the chinese language are coming all proper the place are they Beckett this tremendous mark continues to be within the window not ever mind good day hiya I do not know why we have got to speak to this fascist come on now it’ll have simply been the place are they going I invite them round and they don’t even let me tell them my part of the story this is horrible humans feel i am some kind of Nazi racist and i’m not fuckin Isis good day here is an concept proper off the top of my head now happens more difficult to so it’s most of the time now not brilliant but what the hell i do not talk and spot what comes out anyway tremendous some sorta distinctive occasion celebrating the entire special cultures and craggy Island after which men and women would consider you are a remarkable man as an alternative of a giant racist since however that is a good inspiration no it’s it’s real it’s famous simply in most cases whatever unsuitable with it I simply haven’t notion it by way of no i’m going to do it you have had a tremendous inspiration however break it down for me a bit extra what would an occasion celebrating all distinctive cultures in craggy Island really be like what what wouldn’t it contain I mean celebration sure however what form might it take Ted i want condo appear at me I went too a ways to tune I did not recognize what I was once coming into Ted I did not know you ought to comply with up a excellent thought with masses more little just right suggestions i am sorry okay i will sleep in the spare room oh woman i’m sorry you’re full a sheltered you for 50 years you’ve gotten certainly not even made me a cup of tea you’re making city i do know a lot about our natural washing up I believe it can be for the whole of 1947 and today in 1973 you rewrite you broke all of the position of and also you went k i am so tired and that i under no circumstances had to hurry up plates fill I used to be in the Verma – not ever you’re riding me insane i’ll take a valium – so – oh why does your ate the whole thing I do wait he is on valium these are the cyanide we kept for emergencies you put cyanide subsequent to the valium younger idiot that is soliciting for predicament you shut up Ramona acquired 50 so you sir depart me that is simply noted books that’s nice through me to place angelicus collide and ok excellent excellent good I stepped on the hamsters bike and fell down the stairs father Dugan I idea I informed you to put away that’s like safely did to it that’s what breaking the cage oh no no do not fear father it is brief I suppose outstanding I thoroughly forgotten that i can turn my head around like this all right well pay attention that stuff from habitat is arriving at present so when it comes give father jacket where is father Jack I think devour up the chimney will I burn the monk father smoked with backoffice can be everywhere the residence anyway when that stuff comes pull all of it up all of the new puppies and the things for the chairs and that’s your thing fairly i would recognize however that form of stuff for the reason that i am a person anyway we’re probably party of Craig island ethnic range well this usual beer Widow it can be a exceptional honor and privilege for me to present this get together of the wide range of cultures that exist in these days on craggy Island specifically chinese language folks and men and women from prag Island I secured a brief slide presentation which displays this multicultural combine so with out additional ado that’s a stack to exhibit it can be not visited the island a few years ago I fail to remember his name now but them I received on very well with them Sajal as a substitute well the beam is beautiful inebriated at this sure there shall be a constrained supply of free drink afterwards the excellent Wall of China a miracle of chinese engineering so massive you will see that it from anywhere on the planet Chairman Mao Secretary of the Communist celebration of China one of the vital greatest communist parties on the planet in my opinion the quality mr.Miyagi from the karate my favourite movie now not on the grounds that of the Karate child himself however on account that of mr. Miyagi now not ample day goes by using after I do not take into account one among his many phrases of knowledge kiddo we already spring from them the Maori sorry I do not know the right way to cuss in there and seem for our no Mary’s on calculator ring the message the nice of the entire chinese language men and women themselves look at them there and they create that brilliant a great bunch of that so I think it is simply all facets of chinese culture thank you interested by coming here good slide show free drink very a lot favored thank you father clearly sure good I just wanted to clear matters off i’m no longer a trend and the priest I must gown in black and go round telling folks what to do whereas priests extra drink anywhere in the air would you love a cup of tea oh no no thanks no i have a kind of hypersensitivity to as you realize it’s very infrequent we’re beautiful serious if I drink tea there is a 70% threat of dying you are making cope any method that you may to vary your intellect no thanks anyway to China hooray – cookie Islands hi there extra drink i’m sorry Tabasco how about all people comes again to my position for a drink wait I have to go to the toilet first this pleasure we have but try this stuff like sure and that i mentioned so awesome I’ve blown up in not up to an hour and there used to be this deposit yeah pricey father critic on the instructional materials of a recently deceased consumer father Seamus Fitzpatrick listed below are some objects which he precise you must have in the event of this demise i will be able to give an explanation for the whole lot definitely no I can not hey sorry again and then most significantly have you opened that gift but no watching ahead to it although a 12 months’s deliver of whiskey how very beneficiant sure the predicament there is in actual fact you see there’s been a little of a change of plan Oh you Oh you you

[batterymonster2021]

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/are-you-right-there-father-ted-father-ted-series-3-episode-1-dead-parrot-2/

"Are You Right There Father Ted?" | Father Ted | Series 3 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

What about decide upon it will possibly you do the 11 o’clock mass children I do the 11 and the 12 you will have to have a relaxation after that weekend away well Paris does are likely to take it out together with her i am off her sport Ted Kerr become a member of me no thanks Darren what time we long past to the colour for the races I suppose after lunch Oh mrs. Performed hopes you love puzzles i really like pheasant however this is what it can be all about best port attractive surroundings and shrewd corporation did you not have all that at your last parish no something appears to fit you though you have got bought a newfound gleam on your eyes yes I will have to be staying right here for a good file there’s somewhat metal of myself for doing anything stupid but all these bills appear in order for this letter I need to cry ask father credit about one or two of these things that he’s put down beneath fees goodness what’s making that totally annoying noise oh that is Ronaldo it was slightly lonely with out it head so I obtained a hamster instead yes am i able to ask though does he ever stop walking in that second wheel he’s have to use the wheel ever in view that he rolled this right into a seed tray however do not worry whats up I believe there may be simply something unsuitable with the brake how long has father Jack been dwelling in there I began just a few days after you left might be he’s agoraphobic Jack afraid of fighting i don’t feel oh hell mrs.Doran simply fell off the roof I feel i will go out google visit father Fitzpatrick I believe he has a guide belonging to me let’s see that – my lady here you know regularly I bounce by means of this to look just how some distance we have now come Syl fashioned Christian mysteries dis Canada internet under ah Stephen King’s The Shining well thanks for the tea father see the subsequent time we we’re sorry for the father i’m hoping you intellect your having you booked them why should we received a padlock on that door telephone is there some thing high-secret in there my collection oh yes oh so you the way does this you acquire this battle memorabilia apart you prefer to have a seem rather most likely taken from the German increase on Russia you’ll find the place the hammer hits the shell casing cut that is very exciting these are helmets regularly infantry yes these could be German as good would it not that’s proper you don’t have some thing from the Allied part no no that variety of thing wouldn’t interest at all an affair that’s my curiosity convinced and that is the final graphic taken of hair Hitler he is signing a number of loss of life warrants they’re funny how you get more proper-wing as you grow old twice well grace this that is all distinct stuff now some folks after they see it they may be now not too definite that you just seem absolutely although i’m specific you sisters watching you going yeah I instructed you little sleepy year ancient acquaintances of mine ok appear on the table it can be so dirty i will write in a minute there may be a gene Dubin where our 2nd as a substitute of residing in spin we’re simply going to have to get this location clean do –gel and seem at you appear at that hole to your tank top what if the character noticed that we’re just right all correct dogs would you look at that this year look a flawlessly square little bit of black grime on the window I imply how might you get a perfectly rectangular however a black dart on a window i would have idea that was once close to unimaginable it’s just mrs.Darling cannot do any cleansing her back is very bad considering she fell off the roof kind of preserve her steadiness at all that’s it then i’m simply going to need to come out and say it we’re going to have to easy this place ourselves what you heard me doogal are you with me what yeah proper then let’s go let’s clean this mom child anything it’s up into the lamp that came off I might pick that up excellent notion i am bored no seem i’m chinese language authorized come on Google loosen up do not with or chinese language people’s there okay Jack there I imply what mom’s a mement that’s the N household residing over there no longer old Chinatown discipline the town there there is a Chinatown and craggy Island Sokol i would not appear tall the Chinaman affect if I have no idea her to be a Chinaman there to peer which other form of mine impact why no longer useless huh not it’s racist they suppose i’m a racist i’m gonna ought to catch up with them and explain i’m not a racist and basically if i don’t specialize like mostly i assume things just cause spaz i’ve a reservation X is one time see you bye twice the quick oh that is done okay what’s that I ordered some new stuff on the residence do away with this historic hash Google you don’t suppose I upset these chinese folks er dude I don’t know Ted it was once like the time we placed on that kind show and you did that impression of Stephen Hawking he was the last character you’ll anticipate to turn off that used to be one million-to-one shot God he can barely transfer in that wheelchair when he’s irritated i do not worry about its head anyway who did your foam habitat no Hobbit hash like habitat itself gentle furnishing but in addition priests garments does it now not get confused with habitat though no that’s in no way occurred earlier than except simply there when you did anyway what else did you order priest sucks really black ones I read someplace I consider inside a piece of writing about pre sucks the pre socks are blacker than every other sort of stuff that’s right Google many times you see lay humans carrying what looked like black socks however in the event you appear intently you can see the very very very very very very very darkish blue that’s actual I concept my uncle Tommy was sporting black socks however after I looked at them carefully they had been simply very very very very very very very very very very dark blue on no account buy black socks in a normal keep it shaft you every time no they’re fired appear dwelling out no bows and same as your self excellent just right I hear you’re restless no father what how did you get occupied with that type of thing son of a racist every body’s pronouncing this father will have to we all be racist recognize what the authentic line the torch is taken is oh no handiest the farm takes up lots of the day and at night time oh identical to a cup of tea I prefer to be capable to dedicate myself full time to the historic racism insider what Oh mrs.Gorrie just right for you father however any individual both received to face as much as the mid lap coming over here taking our jobs and our women like father like are you you did not agree sister chinese language attorney correct there best get London I cannot restrict the Greek they invented gayness look any one i’m not a racist o.K. God sagging Rick how’s Mary she’s high-quality she’s bought that job bathroom hiya good day is that the indignity Fowley sure that is Sean Yin her father Ted Cunha right here I believe I owe you an apology like then have you learnt why’s a hydrogen that everything cleared up they’re coming straight around I just be very satisfactory to them and persons will stop saying i am a racist it is quality nothing could go mistaken outstanding so the story is you are not a racist as soon as no it is now not a story i am now not a racist hello everyone rather right here you are a racist no mrs. Dog just isn’t a racist i am not i’m not a racist mrs.Doyle we’re gonna need to do something for your back you can’t go on like this i am just going to check out some no don’t worry mrs. Doyle oh no no simply run Mac oh oh sure a lot better oh sure sure yes it is high-quality let me find no father no significantly father my fetus twenty years more youthful whats up the chinese language are coming all proper the place are they Beckett this tremendous mark continues to be within the window not ever mind good day hiya I do not know why we have got to speak to this fascist come on now it’ll have simply been the place are they going I invite them round and they don’t even let me tell them my part of the story this is horrible humans feel i am some kind of Nazi racist and i’m not fuckin Isis good day here is an concept proper off the top of my head now happens more difficult to so it’s most of the time now not brilliant but what the hell i do not talk and spot what comes out anyway tremendous some sorta distinctive occasion celebrating the entire special cultures and craggy Island after which men and women would consider you are a remarkable man as an alternative of a giant racist since however that is a good inspiration no it’s it’s real it’s famous simply in most cases whatever unsuitable with it I simply haven’t notion it by way of no i’m going to do it you have had a tremendous inspiration however break it down for me a bit extra what would an occasion celebrating all distinctive cultures in craggy Island really be like what what wouldn’t it contain I mean celebration sure however what form might it take Ted i want condo appear at me I went too a ways to tune I did not recognize what I was once coming into Ted I did not know you ought to comply with up a excellent thought with masses more little just right suggestions i am sorry okay i will sleep in the spare room oh woman i’m sorry you’re full a sheltered you for 50 years you’ve gotten certainly not even made me a cup of tea you’re making city i do know a lot about our natural washing up I believe it can be for the whole of 1947 and today in 1973 you rewrite you broke all of the position of and also you went k i am so tired and that i under no circumstances had to hurry up plates fill I used to be in the Verma – not ever you’re riding me insane i’ll take a valium – so – oh why does your ate the whole thing I do wait he is on valium these are the cyanide we kept for emergencies you put cyanide subsequent to the valium younger idiot that is soliciting for predicament you shut up Ramona acquired 50 so you sir depart me that is simply noted books that’s nice through me to place angelicus collide and ok excellent excellent good I stepped on the hamsters bike and fell down the stairs father Dugan I idea I informed you to put away that’s like safely did to it that’s what breaking the cage oh no no do not fear father it is brief I suppose outstanding I thoroughly forgotten that i can turn my head around like this all right well pay attention that stuff from habitat is arriving at present so when it comes give father jacket where is father Jack I think devour up the chimney will I burn the monk father smoked with backoffice can be everywhere the residence anyway when that stuff comes pull all of it up all of the new puppies and the things for the chairs and that’s your thing fairly i would recognize however that form of stuff for the reason that i am a person anyway we’re probably party of Craig island ethnic range well this usual beer Widow it can be a exceptional honor and privilege for me to present this get together of the wide range of cultures that exist in these days on craggy Island specifically chinese language folks and men and women from prag Island I secured a brief slide presentation which displays this multicultural combine so with out additional ado that’s a stack to exhibit it can be not visited the island a few years ago I fail to remember his name now but them I received on very well with them Sajal as a substitute well the beam is beautiful inebriated at this sure there shall be a constrained supply of free drink afterwards the excellent Wall of China a miracle of chinese engineering so massive you will see that it from anywhere on the planet Chairman Mao Secretary of the Communist celebration of China one of the vital greatest communist parties on the planet in my opinion the quality mr.Miyagi from the karate my favourite movie now not on the grounds that of the Karate child himself however on account that of mr. Miyagi now not ample day goes by using after I do not take into account one among his many phrases of knowledge kiddo we already spring from them the Maori sorry I do not know the right way to cuss in there and seem for our no Mary’s on calculator ring the message the nice of the entire chinese language men and women themselves look at them there and they create that brilliant a great bunch of that so I think it is simply all facets of chinese culture thank you interested by coming here good slide show free drink very a lot favored thank you father clearly sure good I just wanted to clear matters off i’m no longer a trend and the priest I must gown in black and go round telling folks what to do whereas priests extra drink anywhere in the air would you love a cup of tea oh no no thanks no i have a kind of hypersensitivity to as you realize it’s very infrequent we’re beautiful serious if I drink tea there is a 70% threat of dying you are making cope any method that you may to vary your intellect no thanks anyway to China hooray – cookie Islands hi there extra drink i’m sorry Tabasco how about all people comes again to my position for a drink wait I have to go to the toilet first this pleasure we have but try this stuff like sure and that i mentioned so awesome I’ve blown up in not up to an hour and there used to be this deposit yeah pricey father critic on the instructional materials of a recently deceased consumer father Seamus Fitzpatrick listed below are some objects which he precise you must have in the event of this demise i will be able to give an explanation for the whole lot definitely no I can not hey sorry again and then most significantly have you opened that gift but no watching ahead to it although a 12 months’s deliver of whiskey how very beneficiant sure the predicament there is in actual fact you see there’s been a little of a change of plan Oh you Oh you you

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #377

Top Ten Character Reveals in Movies

You only get one chance to make a first impression, unless you’re a movie version of a comic book character, in which case they’ll probably retell your origin story every seven years. But generally speaking, movie characters emerge onto our screens fully-formed and eager to show us their stuff. Sometimes this is a slow-build affair; sometimes a single frame is enough to give us an insight into their character. Often with a confident performance and excellent cinematography, a character can become iconic almost instantaneously, sometimes with little or no dialogue. This week I’m celebrating ten such characters, whose first appearance in the films in question is a marvel to behold. And – hey! – only one of them is actually from Marvel. Ain’t that a surprise?

Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, 2001): as much as I’ve cooled towards Depp in recent years, and as much as the Pirates films lost their way once their superlative first instalment sailed off the screen, no one can deny the majesty of this character introduction. Looking amazingly cool and confident, Jack Sparrow glides across the screen, seemingly standing astride the mast of a great pirate galleon. It is only as the camera pans wider that we see the boat is almost entirely sunken, with just the mast visible. This in itself is a perfect distillation of Sparrow – equal parts pirate rock god, master tactician, and clumsy drunken oaf – but the icing on the cake is that the sunken mast deposits him directly onto the shore at precisely the moment it disappears beneath the waves. Piratical perfection.

Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford, Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981): Indy is a character introduced in silhouette and close-up: the image of him, broad, leather-jacketed, fedoraed, walking through the jungle, is the first thing we see after the famous dissolve from the Paramount logo to a real mountain. After that his hands do the talking, examining arrowheads and assembling a map, before he whips out his, er, whip to disarm a treacherous guide. Only then does he finally step into the light and we see just how pretty Harrison Ford is. And it’s even later than that before he finally speaks. But Indy is already an icon: resourceful, robust, a sexy swarthy man’s man, a take-no-shit hero, and clearly incredibly competent and intelligent. And very, very pretty.

Jessica Rabbit (Kathleen Turner, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 1988): speaking of pretty… the joy of Jessica Rabbit’s introduction is partly in subverting our expectations (or, at least, watching Bob Hoskins’ Eddie Valiant have his expectations subverted). Roger Rabbit is cute but chaotic; Jessica is a bona fide sex bomb. Sultrily singing a bluesy number as she flirtatiously struts around the Ink and Paint Club, she is the antithesis of the family-friendly Roger, a busty pin-up model, all legs and curves and – vitally – the full-throated voice of Kathleen Turner. Quite frankly it’s rather shocking in a Disney movie from the director of Back to the Future.

Darth Vader (David Prowse, Star Wars, 1977): the opening scene of Star Wars is all tension. A small craft is abducted by a larger one; on board, two droids flit about whilst angst-faced soldiers await a boarding party. The subsequent firefight is short and rather brutal, efficiently directed by George Lucas, and leaving the corridor strewn with Rebel dead. And then, unheralded, out of the smoke emerges Darth Vader, beautifully framed, his vast black frame exquisitely contrasting with the white interior of the Tantive IV (and the “fascist white” of the Stormtrooper uniforms, according to Lucas’ own screenplay). He barks orders definitively in James Earl Jones’ baritone rumble, before hoisting a Rebel officer into the air by the scruff of his neck. He instantly oozes not just evil, but strong evil. He’s a Big Bad and no mistaking. Even without the depth and nuance afforded him by subsequent films, we know from frame one that he’s a really, really big deal.

Norman Stansfield (Gary Oldman, Leon, 1995): Stansfield is one of 90s cinema’s greatest villains. A whirling dervish of tics and eccentricities, beautifully orchestrated by Oldman. The first thing we see him do is rattle a small tin before removing and consuming some narcotic, which he swallows in almost orgasmic fervour, before mowing down an entire family with a shotgun (mum in the bath, teen girl in the back). But it’s his shark-like entrance through a beaded curtain that sticks with me, all cool malevolence and forward motion.

Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen, Toy Story, 1995): one of the beauties of Toy Story is how it presents its fantastical world – a world of living toys, but one which follows a very strict hierarchical structure – so efficiently. As such, the arrival of an exciting new toy into Andy’s bedroom is an incredibly tense event, portrayed mostly through sound and shadow. The symbolic nature of Woody, Andy’s favourite, being knocked off the bed but still trying to keep his optimism, is neatly done. And then we get the reveal: a slow pan up Buzz’s form, his slick plastic limbs giving way to his stern jaw and proud face. The subsequent scene, in which Buzz’s pomposity and assurance is quietly mocked but ultimately used to puncture Woody’s desperate and fragile self-belief, culminating in the “falling with style” scene, is a masterpiece of economic, witty script-writing, world-building, and character development. It also makes terrific use of nascent computer technology to deliver something that was, in 1995, a visual set-piece the likes of which we’d never seen.

Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart, Casablanca, 1942): like Indiana Jones (who was, presumably, inspired by him to a certain degree – or at least that typical Bogartian old-fashioned manly-man), Rick is a character introduced in his absence, other characters reacting to him in a way as a note is passed through his club and into his hands. His hands are the first thing we see as he signs off on a note of credit and lifts a cigarette to his lips. We can tell from the surroundings, the money, the reactions of others that this is a man with some degree of power; we can tell from the weariness of Bogart’s performance that it’s man with some degree of past.

The Borg Queen (Alice Krige, Star Trek: First Contact, 1997): the Borg were not meant to have a leader; the Borg were not meant to have individuality. To have the Borg as the villains in a movie felt like an obvious, inspired choice; after all, they were essentially the “big bad” of the Next Generation era. But how to give face to the faceless, how to give character to a legion of identikit drones? Creating the Queen is as elegant a choice as I think you could come up with, and Krige’s performance is all sensual menace, her bio-organic appearance almost giving off an air of Cenobitian S&M. And she speaks before we see her, so we get a little bit of darkly seductive exposition as she touts the Borg’s accomplishments to a captive Commander Data. But it’s her first appearance that sticks in the mind, if only for the technical chutzpah on display: Krige’s head and torso is lowered from the ceiling in one long panning shot, before being attached to her waiting body, all whilst she delivers a speech. Krige’s performance might be what makes the Borg Queen linger in the memory, but Jonathan Frakes’ direction, and the wizardry of First Contact’s FX team, is what made her stand out from frame one.

Quint (Robert Shaw, Jaws, 1975) Quint is introduced through one of the greatest uses of sound effects in movie history. During a tense, argumentative, and loud town meeting to discuss the killer shark of Amity, a horrid screeching noise is heard. Fingernails down a chalkboard. The culprit: Bartholomew Marion Quint (who I’m fairly certain is only ever called “Quint” in the film). From his appearance and accent we know this a salty old seadog, a man of the open ocean. He delivers one of a number of Quint monologues that have gone on to anchor a place for themselves in popular culture; the assured speech of a man who has no time for bluster or politics, a man who gets down to business. “You all know me,” he begins, “You know how I earn my livin’.” He grabs attention with the shrill finger-trick, he holds it with his stern but wry delivery. “For that you get the head, the tail, the whole damn fish.” He then disappears for an hour of film time, but we know he’ll be back; the film circles round him like a boat in a whirlpool.

Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson, Iron Man, 2008): I’d heard rumours. Sam Jackson was, apparently, going to play Nick Fury, following on from Bryan Hitch using Jackson as the basis for the character in The Ultimates. Art imitating life imitating another form of art; nice symmetry. But there was no confirmation; indeed, at this point, Marvel was treating the possibility of an Avengers crossover movie as a pipe dream, a wish only fulfilled if they’d done their homework and the audience was interested. So I didn’t even bother staying for the end credits. God, I wish I had. Because following on from Iron Man’s spectacular, hilarious final line, its continuity-baiting desire to move beyond simple comic adaptation with these characters, to see the world expand so explosively is really something to behold. Cocksure, arrogant, always-right Tony Stark has just announced to the world that he’s Iron Man; venturing back into his sexy cliffside mansion, his elaborate technology – showcased to winning effect throughout the film – is on the fritz. Lights don’t work, computer-Jarvis is popping and crackling. And then it comes: that distinctive Jackson baritone. And one of the most important lines in any movie, a line that shaped the next decade of cinema history, but a line that – at the time – just felt like a cool, somewhat badass thing for Jackson to spout: “You think you’re the only superhero in the world?” We knew he wasn’t; we knew the Hulk was around, that Captain America was frozen up north somewhere, that Thor was still on Asgard. We didn’t know that the Ancient One was over in New York, that Rocket, Star-Lord and the rest were up in space, that Carol Danvers was out there somewhere, that a small boy from Queens would one day be bitten by a spider. We didn’t know that Thanos was searching for Infinity Stones, that SHIELD had been infiltrated by HYDRA for years, that Hank Pym had had his company stolen out from under him. Everything got smaller and bigger all at the same time, all because a really, really cool dude in an eye patch and a long coat stepped from the shadows. Welcome to the Avengers Initiative, indeed.

There were others, as usual. Ones that I honestly thought would be included. I almost traded Fury for Thanos. There’s Harry Lime, of course. Trinity. Heath Ledger’s Joker (really, he fell by the wayside because however good the opening scene of The Dark Knight is, the best Joker scene is when he does his pencil trick, which is technically his second introduction). I even thought of doing Batman’s initial appearance from his 1989 film. But, y’know, ya gotta draw the line somewhere. These ten seem as good a place as any.