#laurents done nothing but its funny to me

[deripmaver]

4 5 6 for ALL OF THE CaPri FANFICS

LKSJMDHGVLKSJ ALL OF THEM???

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? 5: What part was hardest to write? 6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

Ink On Paper (tongue fic) 4. lmfaoooooooo there isn't a whole lot of dialogue in this one oop-

Laurent nodded. The wax softened as he pressed his hand into it, erasing his previous message. Soft, warm, melting under his touch. He wrote again, I need someone who is not afraid to read out the insults I make towards the idiots at court. You have been fired, Damianos.

i guess it technically counts lmfao. i just wanted to show laurent post-trauma still able to make jokes and snipe at his husband so it wasnt all doom and gloom 5. i'm not sure exactly what "hardest to write" here means because like... a lot of these fic have serious gore or otherwise upsetting content, but both emotionally and actually writing wise i find that kind of thing actually pretty easy to write hahahaha. i think i got stuck with the chronology and the decision to make it non-linear made it flow a lot better. for the record writing laurent getting raped and then having his tongue cut out was actually very easy to write, i think i got it out in basically one go. #cancelme the more fucked up and intense the easier i find to nyoom through it 6. my first ever fic in the capri fandom!!!! hehehehhehehe <333333 Level Of Concern (plan B fic) 4.

Before Nicaise could say anything, Laurent spat, “Does he know you had your first heat?”

SURPRISE nic was the one who was pregnant the whole time!!!!!!! 5. this one i banged out REALLY quickly so i cant think of anything here 6. capri omegaverse!!!!!!! i wish there was more of this 🥺🥺🥺 Like Me (what if Auguste was also abused fic) 4. ******CW INCEST MENTION CW ABUSE MENTION******

“Your brother’s stuck his dick in every single member of your family,” Auguste spat out, laughing, crying, and so miserable he thought his heart would stop. His voice rose again, and he felt something burst from him as he screamed for the whole world to hear, “Did you know that? Did you, huh papa? Did he fuck you too?”

dude this line is so fucked up lmfao but i enjoyed writing it so much. actually this entire scene where auguste is having his breakdown was really intense to write and im really pleased with how it came out OR

Auguste grabbed him suddenly, looking up into his grief-stricken face desperately. “Please, Laurent,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Please. Don’t let him end up like me.”

i felt entirely too clever with this line lmfao. i was like ~ooooohhhhh title drop~ im so dumb 5. i just remember this one like. dragged on for some time. i couldnt figure out what to do with it, how to get everything to coalesce around the final reveal about auguste 6. plot twist!!!!!!! plus auguste angst. i really enjoyed this one, i wrote it after watching the movie Spotlight which is one of my all time faves Softly, Gently 4.

“My King has been overexerting himself again, I presume?” Paschal sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “When have I ever done that?” Laurent cocked his head to the side, a wry smile on his face.

hehehehe sassy laurent my beloved <33333 5. honestly im just going to skip this one from now on lskjghmvlksjhglkvsjhdl i just get "stuck" sometimes without rhyme or reason and its usually on boring stuff, but then i cant remember later. the hardest part for me is when my dumb fucking adhd brain wont let me focus on writing but once i overcome that its usually pretty smooth sailing 6. horny omegaverse.................... my beloved............... giving men vaginas for horny reasons my beloved......................... Water of Life (birth fic)

“Do you want to hold him?” Erasmus breathed, eyes glassy. The baby cried, Erasmus bouncing him tenderly in those sunkissed arms. He looked apologetic. “Only for a moment, it’s not quite over yet.” A playful smile danced on Erasmus’ lips, and he brushed away a slick, damp curl from the wailing baby’s head. “A head this big, he certainly takes after Exalted.”

a cute, fun lil line in the sea of horrible angst lmfao ORRRRRR

Erasmus knelt before Damen, before Laurent. He said, “Exalted… Can you command his Highness to push?” Damen froze. “Do you mean…?” Erasmus nodded. “Alpha command.” Damen’s expression crumpled. He said, in a voice that shattered Erasmus’ heart, “I can’t. I can’t do that to him.” Erasmus licked his lips. “Exalted, in this state, he can’t push. His contractions are weaker. He’ll-” “I can’t,” Damen cried, clinging to Laurent’s limp body like a lifeline. “He’d… He’d never forgive me.”

damen is so sweet........ he loves laurent so much...... ORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

He stopped at the doorframe, turning to face Laurent with tears in his eyes, and whispered, “How long does it take, your Highness?” Laurent, shocked enough to respond, hissed, “What?” “I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking of it,” Erasmus said, voice thick in his throat, tears burning at his eyes. “How long until it’s over?”

real sad hours if u up click like. i love erasmus and laurent bonding over their shared trauma <33333333333333333333 laurent and erasmus friendship propaganda 24-fucking-7 bay bee!!!!! 6. unironically this is one of my fav fic ive ever written skdljmfhgvlksjdhflmgkvjshldkjfghvmls call the midwife is one of my favorite shows and writing this made me look at birth as something visceral and possibly horrible and traumatic. i wanna write more fucked up birth scenes, SO MANY MORE. ridley scott knew what he was doing Sandalwood (erasmus/kallias my sweet boys i love u so much) 4.

“I do,” Erasmus breathes, ducking his head, flushed as though embarrassed. “In the gardens, the perfume from the orange trees all around us on those summer nights.” Kallias smiles behind him – Erasmus knows his body so intimately he can feel it in how Kallias’ posture changes, though he can’t see the soft turn of his lips. “The scent was so cloying I thought it would drive me mad. It made me want to kiss you senseless.” Erasmus laughs, breathlessly, imagining the warm heat of Kallias’ mouth against his. “Don’t blame that on the orange trees, dear one.”

beloved..................... im weeping.......... 6. these two make me fuckign CRY ON THE REG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH MY SWEET BOYS YOU DESERVE THE WORLD- Wisps of Smoke******************* (lauguste fic) 4. ***CW EXPLICIT INCEST*** (i mean....... obviously lmfao)

“Call me what I like,” Auguste growled against his ear. “You know what I like.” He did. Laurent did. He knew everything Auguste liked – the slow flick of Laurent’s tongue on the underside of his cock, that tender spot behind his earlobe, the way Laurent’s thighs looked straddled atop him like his horse – and this. “Brother,” Laurent gasped, desperate, “Brother, please, harder. Harder.”

i wanted the incest to be explicitly part of the kink here lmfaoooooo 6. hehehehehehehhehehehhehe lauguste................... i need to write more of u But I Love It (laurent is allergic to latex fic) 4.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, voice high in warning. Laurent braced himself, stiffening visibly. With what seemed to be monumental effort, Auguste continued, “You know, Laurent. I’m proud of you.”

IM A SOFT BITCH OK???????????????? auguste is PROUD of his baby bro for overcoming his sexual trauma and getting that fat dick 6. SLJHVDLMKJDHGVLK PEOPLE FUCKING LOVED THIS FIC i tried to be funny and i think it worked. plus some softe bits thrown in. i also kind of see lots of humor fic where its a no abuse au, but i wanted to write something comedic where the regent still. existed u kno????? anyways hahahahha i dont think i can write anything like this again but im glad y'all liked it Is It Cold In The Water (slice of life fic) 4.

Laurent opens his mouth to say something cheeky, but instead, what comes out is: “Do you think Aimeric had the right idea?” Damen is quiet for so long, gaze serious and framed with his long, dark lashes, that Laurent wonders if he’d spoken aloud at all – and when he’s sure he had, he realizes Damen had remembered Aimeric after all. When he speaks again, the sleep is gone from his voice. “Laurent,” Damen says carefully, as though approaching a spooked horse, “Is something wrong?”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 soft,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 6. ruby likes this fic lskjdvhmflgksfjdhmvglkjsdhflkvgmjhlekjfhdvlgskjfhv im a SIMP- The Devil's Got Nothing On Me (AIMERIC FIC LEGGOOOO) 4. there are lots of lil nuggets in here!!!!

Aimeric blinks, and all he can think is, you knew? He says, "I – I just." "I am a patient man," Guion breathes, "I support everyone in my household. Everyone. But Aimeric, you are truly testing my patience. Your mother came to me in tears, begging me to find you. Look at what you did to her! There was nothing I could say until we found you!" "I'm sorry," Aimeric whispers, looking at Loyse, "I'm-" "Look at me," Guion roars.

this conversation was inspired by a very miserable encounter with my boss lmfao. fuck that guy and fuck guion

The regent, blue eyes sparkling - and Aimeric has never thought eyes could look just like a summer sky until now - says to Guion but really to Aimeric, "I was thinking I could take little Aimeric riding tomorrow. Just the two of us." Loyse says, before Guion can speak, voice trembling with relief, "I think that's a wonderful idea, your Highness."

~dramatic irony~ lmfaoooooooooo. WE know of course that this is a bad thing, but it's always fun to have characters make bad choices that they have no idea are bad. i also did this briefly in "Like Me" with auguste's ex wife taking nicaise to church because she was so overwhelmed at home and he offered to help. of course, the regent is always happy to help out. evil evil evil

"-was worried it might be difficult for him." A soft, lilting laugh. The guards had said the regent was in the library, and then there is Guion, right there with him. Aimeric is suddenly angry, not sure why his father is with the regent, who is his and no one else's. The regent responds, "I daresay it's been perfectly easy. It seems you've done most of the work already."

i wanted to highlight the fact that it was aimeric's neglect that lead him to the regent in the first place. hence "youve done most of the work already" - guion by ignoring and neglecting aimeric created the perfect environment for the regent to sweep in and take advantage. like leaving food out btwn 40-140 F is a perfect breeding ground for bacteria LOL. the books touch on that but i wanted to make it explicit

He is so, so ashamed. It's unbearable, the thought of her kind eyes, the way she cried for him, the way he pushed her away. Before he'd left to join the prince's guard, she had taken his hand, kissed it, and said in a voice fragile as glass, "It's been such a long time since I've seen you smile like that," but in that moment he could think only of the regent's letter warm in his pocket.

6. honestly i know ive sounded super conceited this whole time but i kind of tear up whenever i read through the end of the fic lmfao. aimeric is just so fucking depressing as a character and i love that i really got to explore that in this fic. he really didnt have anyone, did he????? he's like a tragic greek character where you just watch him stumbling towards his inevitable end and it hurts the whole time. its even worse on the reread ANYWAYYYYYYY thats it. thanks so much for the ask anon!!!!!!! feel free to send me more!!!

[damianosismyking]

Part IX

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII

CW: Mentions of Grief and Mourning. 

In the days that followed, Laurent often found himself in a state of confusion and uncertainty he could not shake. A general and constant feeling of being utterly at loss. 

It came from being around Damen, at the main house, where he was now installed. ‘It is the least I can do’ Damen justified Laurent and Auguste having to stay there and not at Laurent’s real room, down at the stables – that wasn’t his room anymore, he had to remind himself. 

It came from not knowing how to properly behave around him because of the feelings he couldn’t name, and the way Damen was polite but distant and looked at Laurent a certain way. 

It came from spotting Damen around the ranch and watching him spin on his heels to walk in the opposite direction whenever he saw Laurent approaching – and doing it himself when Damen didn’t.

From sitting in that office in the second floor to listen to Damen talk and talk about the case and their uncle and what they’d do next, if they’d settle or go to court, if there was a chance Laurent would have to testify in front of a grand jury and whatnots, all the while Damen would meet Auguste’s eyes but never his. And when he did, when Laurent managed to capture his attention, it was for only the breath of a moment.

It came from not being sure either Damen hated him so much he could not stand a glimpse of Laurent or if it was something else that pushed him away.

Most of the loss and confusion came from being around Auguste, though.

And the more he was around Auguste, the stronger it got because once the initial shock was over, Auguste was less and less what Laurent remembered him to be.

Every attempt of apologizing Laurent made was met with a consistent sneak away from the subject to question, instead, if the sun was always this hot around here or if the sky was always this blue.

Any mention of their old lives, their parents, the last time they saw each other, or the day Laurent disappeared caused Auguste to tense and bring up the lawsuit. Whenever Laurent asked about the wife or the child Auguste left in the city to come to the countryside – still in Dice, to where they moved since Laurent saw them last – earned a quick ‘they’re great’ before Auguste was talking, for the tenth time that day, about a funny-shaped tree or a bush.

“How was it,” Laurent inquired at their third day together. “When I left?”

“I managed,” Auguste gritted out. “Let's not talk about this.”

He said that a lot. ‘Let's not talk about this’. ‘Let's not get into that’. ‘Let the past stay in the past’. ‘I managed’. ‘It doesn’t matter’.

It did matter.

Laurent couldn’t tell if Auguste resent him or if he meant it and there was nothing he was holding against him. He couldn’t tell if Auguste was as pleased to see him as he claimed to be. At times, Laurent caught Auguste watching him speak of horses and grapes and wines like he’s been narrating the most compelling story. Other times, Laurent told him about the school he attended and his job with the horses and Auguste would darken, his eyes would pierce through him and there wasn’t a single expression on his face Laurent could make out.

He tried to get into that once.

“Are you mad at me?” he questioned while guiding Auguste through a path in the woods that led to a river with water so clear you could see every fish and rock underneath. He went there with Damen sometimes.

“Never,” Auguste had reassured, so cutting and exasperated Laurent didn’t have the guts to ask again.

For days, Laurent tried not to converge too much on that.

It was thrilling and terrifying to show Auguste the place he’s been living in for the past five and a half years. The view, no matter where they looked, was dizzying, beautiful and wide. Laurent was so excited to point, at distance, the places he cherished the most; to take Auguste to the white fence where they later sat for hours talking about nothing, bantering and teasing back and forth; to show Auguste to the trees he climbs proficiently and to challenge Auguste to do the same. Ride with him through the Vineyard. Laurent didn’t find it in him to care that he sounded childish pointing and rambling because Auguste looked at him and laughed at his little anecdotes and detailed stories of the ranch.

At the stables, Laurent introduced Auguste to each horse by name, glad Auguste took him seriously as he did so. Laurent introduced Auguste to his own horse last. “Remember when I told you about my brother?” Laurent whispered, “This is him. Why don’t you say hello?”

Laurent turned to find Auguste smiling at him. Fond. Sad. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hear that you kept my brother company when I couldn’t. Thank you so much for that.” He scratched behind its ear. Laurent knew what Auguste meant to say.

However much Auguste tried to hide, he was unhappy. Like an underlying of helplessness just underneath the surface that he failed to fully conceal. It was there when Laurent described to Auguste about how he escaped and how he ended up with the deAkielos. It was there when Auguste stopped laughing at a joke Laurent told and immediately closed himself off, almost as if reminded of something inexcusable.

So, in all, Laurent was confused a lot of the time.

A week later, worried by Theomedes’ constant dissatisfied glares in his directions, the muttering under his breath that followed, and the wearyness that came from seeing Damen and never talking to him (unless it was about legal matters), Laurent convinced Auguste to sneak out to spend the night at his old room. It didn’t take much persuading before Auguste was following him down the stone path and humming along as Laurent pointed him the constellations he invented throughout his adolescence.

They sat for a picnic inside the mostly empty space.

Although Laurent packed most of everything after the break up, Auguste took his time to study the place, poking at shelves and opening boxes. Strangely apprehensive, as if expecting Auguste to give his approval, Laurent watched from the floor, leaning his weight on his arms stretched behind him.

“It’s great in here,” Auguste said at last. “The smell though?”

“You get used to it.”

They said nothing for a while, having run out of shallow topics days ago. Auguste, at some point, made a joke about them being too old and too big to share the only bed in the room and Laurent bit his tongue not to say that he knew for a fact someone much bigger than Auguste fit there with him just fine. “Maybe we should go back and spend the night at the house?”

“No,” Laurent said, “I want to stay here. If it makes you feel better, I have an air mattress somewhere, we’ll just have to find it.”

“Don’t be silly.”

He kept peaking around until, from the box of books, Auguste pulled the photo album.

Careful to contain his tremble, he opened it slowly. Then, one page at a time, breathing loud and heavy, he went through it. Part of Laurent expected Auguste to smile at the memories, point at funny baby pictures and laugh. Maybe provide context to some of the photos Laurent came up with himself, not knowing anything about the real memory behind. Instead, Auguste’s face twisted into something resembling pain. Even when all Laurent could see was Auguste’s profile, he spotted the downwards twist of his lips.

Auguste excused himself. He had to take a call, he said, although his cellphone was not buzzing. Laurent knew it was best not to follow him, but he did it anyway.

Auguste was far away, beside the fence that encircled the stable area, his hand on the wood to support his weight. By the way his shoulders moved up then down, Laurent wondered whether he was crying or trying to grasp for air. 

He stood pressing a hand to his diaphragm, probably – Laurent was not sure being so far away and Auguste being on his back and it being night already. Auguste tilted his head up them raised his shoulders all the way up to his ears; when he dropped them, he was shaking his head.

“Auguste?”

He startled but did not turn. “I’m sorry,” clearing his throat. “You were an adorable baby. I’d forgotten about that.” Auguste sniffed. 

“Is everything –” Laurent stopped. “What is wrong?”

Auguste shook his head. “I’m fine. I needed – some air, it’s all.”

Laurent waited, for some time. Then some more. Auguste no longer shook his shoulders, taking up a motionless stance instead. His sniffing decreased to a stop and after that there were only the sounds of the night. Where they’d be relaxing any other day, now they only served to amplify how Auguste wasn’t saying anything or looking at Laurent.

Hesitant, Laurent said, “What was it like? When I ran away.” He thought it was the wrong thing to ask, but it was all that he had on his mind.

Auguste sighed. “Hard.” Laurent had no reason to hope Auguste would say anything to follow-up. “I can’t even put into words.”

It was better not to push. Auguste could not make it any clearer that he did not want to discuss this. Laurent bit on his lip and looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry."

Auguste shook his head again. Laurent waited for it –  don’t apologize; it’s in the past; it was not your fault . “You could have called,” Auguste's voice was barely a breath. “One time. Only once to let me know –�� his voice grew thicker. “You could’ve written to me. Anything. I would take anything .”

Laurent’s heart clenched. “I’m – sorry.”

“I mourned you,” Auguste said. “I am. I was. Mourning you. I buried your casket with our parents' because I couldn’t get your – ” A long pause followed that. “I thought he killed you. I thought he’s done something, killed you and hid your body somewhere. He was so  eager  to get your custody and I didn’t know why. I thought –”

“Auguste.”

“I looked everywhere, Laurent. I turned every last stone in that town. I... broke in into his house because I thought maybe he was keeping you from talking to me. I beat him up so he’d confess he did something and he wouldn’t. I ended up in prison for a minute for that and I didn’t care because I fucked up and he won and you were gone because of me. I finally stopped looking and someone told me - I should give you a proper burial. For closure. But I couldn’t even get your body back...”

Auguste stopped when his words became unintelligible. When Laurent reached for his shoulder, Auguste shuddered, and he let go. Apologies weren’t enough and Laurent knew it, so he just stood there and listened as Auguste gasped and mumbled with his face buried in his hand.

“I’m here,” Laurent said, mindlessly

Auguste nodded into his hand and after a moment he turned. “You are," he said after a sharp breath

This time when Laurent reached, Auguste let him. Auguste breathed unevenly. “I should’ve called,” Laurent admitted.

“You could have,” Auguste almost whimpered. Laurent never comforted anyone before. “Why didn’t you?”

“I –”  was scared ;  was being unreasonable ;  Was ashamed . “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He looked resigned.

Laurent gave Auguste’s shoulders a little squeeze. Auguste placed his hand on top of Laurent’s.

On their way back inside there was nothing Laurent could say that felt right so he said nothing. Auguste went for the photo album the first thing after entering the room and he mentioned, hoarse and with the tease of a smile on his lips, that his son resembles Laurent when Laurent was a baby. He pulled a picture from his wallet for proof.

Laurent carefully inspected the image and the beaming faces of the woman and child that were Auguste’s family. The family Laurent wasn’t a part of. One that was there for Auguste when all Laurent did was hurt him.

“What’s his name?” he asked, quietly.

“Aleron Laurent,” Auguste said. “We call him Ally.”

Two dead people , Laurent didn’t say. “Tell me about them,” he handed the photo back.

Auguste deliberated about it while carefully folding and tucking the picture back in the wallet. “Ok,” he said, then went about telling the story of how he met his wife in a support group meeting.

Laurent made sure to stay quiet and listen, not wanting to miss anything.

__

NEXT > 

Read it on AO3

[shesawriter39049]

|DON ME| M| HOSEOK

SMUT WITH LIKE...4% Plot if you squint and cock your head allll the way to the left

2K-

-Basically, Hoseok fucks you in the backseat of a limo on the way to an event!

THIS ONE-SHOT HAS ZERO CHILL ...YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

This COULD be Idol-verse..but in my mind...it's not, more Upper East Side rich squad vibes ya know? Ya know!

Calling a man a  “Don” is SUPER old-school and the actual meaning varies by person but it’s a compliment that’s for damn sure!

-ALSO regardless of what gif I use, he looks like he does during Bon Voyage ….tan..long hair, highlights, parted down the middle..yup a damn thirst trap!

WARNINGS: Dom Hoseok (A kinda soft one IMO) Daddy kink, light spit, and cum play, dirty talk, breathplay, choking, spanking, hair pulling, teasing, praise kink, semi-public sex (in the backseat of a limo), NOTE- he calls her a slut once, so I wouldn't say it’s full-on degradation kink but I just wanted to warn ya, slight over stimulation, unprotected sex but like...stay clean kids!

“Oh fuck yesss” Whinned through clenched teeth as you dug your nails even deeper into the leather seats, spreading your knees slightly so you could slip into an even deeper arch. A low, almost arrogant chuckle fell from Hoseok's lips as he hiked your dress even higher, winding his hand back to come flesh against your cheek. Making you moan and squeal all at the same damn time, the cluster of diamonds along his fingers leaving one hell of an imprint! Keeping his palm stationary for a second so he could appreciate the slight sting that radiated throughout his palm! Walls clenching even tighter from the impact, milking him for every inch of him and then some. Flipping your hair over your shoulder, turning your head to the slide slightly, eyes heavy, gaze dark. “Tell me how good I look...Tell me how good, my pussy looks spread along daddy's cock right now...”Tone exceptionally bratty as you rolled your hips back just enough to make him moan. Grip and jaw tightening on command, digging his thumb into the curve of your hip hard enough to leave one hell of a bruise.

“Fuck,you wanna- god your unreal...unfucking real!” Reaching forward to grab a fist full of your hair, craning your neck so you had no choice but to look at him. Sucking your bottom lip into your mouth with a smirk, you looked good, you knew you did! “Your so damn sexy…” Leaning up to nip at the hinge of your jaw slightly, as your eyes fluttered shut, moaning out contently at the slight sting! Flicking your tongue out slightly which he quickly sucked into his mouth, not enough to give you what you needed just enough to make you need more!

“And you look soo good on my cock baby...always! Can you hear how wet she is for me??” Cocking his head to the side slightly, zoning his eyes in on the sight unfolding before him! Hoseok's tenor was in straight bedroom mode, low, hushed, filled with all the lust in the world, a tone meant for your ears and your ears only! “Such a pretty little cunt too, nice and wet...my favorite is how needy she gets when I do this though…” Sliding out completely and you wanted to scream...already well aware of what he was referring too! The way your walls just clenched and released around fuck imagination at this point. ”Fuck, look at that...such a greedy little thing aren’t you baby?’ Pulling back to purse his lips right above your entrance, not that you needed it he just loved you messy! And to no one's surprise, your body even tried to clench down around that. The site alone makes Hoseok groan, not even able to stop himself from leaning down, grabbing the trail he just made with the tip of his tongue and swirling it around. Mixing it in with your own arousal, before pressing the muscle flat against your lips letting his tongue dance one slow drag from top to bottom. Blowing cold air against every path he just made with his tongue, until goosebumps were appearing in its wake! Even gently teasing your rim, just enough to make you squirm!

Sinking his teeth into your cheek..leaving a couple memories behind, sucking licking, rolling his tongue against your skin until you just couldn't take it anymore! Blue clit IS a thing Hoseok! Wiggling your ass impatiently, and the light chuckle you heard let you know he got the hint, or at least you thought he did, once he started teasing up your folds with the tip. Coating himself in your juices, the slight contact had you dripping down your inner thighs! “Either you slide back in, or I’m fucking myself with my fingers and making you wat-Fuckkk”  That earned a firm smack straight against the lips, pussy so wet it sounded as though he just splashed his hand in water!

“You were being such a good little slut for daddy earlier what happened hmm? What does my baby need?” The slight pout within his voice, in combination with the very rhetorical question, had you ready to choke him. Especially once he started easing his way in knowing damn well he could've done it in one stroke!

“Hmm? You need your pussy stuffed? Need me to tell you how pretty you look with my cock in you? Or does my baby just need a little love yeah? Maybe all three?” His tone was so condescending, yet arousing because he was practically moaning as he spoke! Your skin was one fire, the slow drag of his length stretching you back open seemed to be overpowering your frustration though!

“Oh for fuck's sake Seok jus-” You couldn’t even respond properly, honestly you don't even know what he wants to say, outside of probably “Go fuck yourself!” But all that dies on your tongue once he finally bottomed out and has you filled to the brim again. Just holding you stationary while your pulsing around his length! Gently releasing the grip he held on your scalp as he felt your body slowly start to relax into his touch..walls gently flexing enough to allow him to move. Leaning down to press an array of open-mouthed, kisses down your spine gently, his facade faltering ever so slightly! That is..until you started rolling your hips back into him, and well..yeah...daddy mode is in full effect! Letting that same hand glide from your scalp over to your throat, applying steady pressure until your whining to his ears content! Making his hand tighten ever so slightly, as Hoseok’s hips stutter, brining a finger down to your artery making your eyes flutter to the back of your head!

It's kinda funny how the two of you are taking your time, as if you're not basically face down ass up, in Vintage Versace, Giuseppe Zatonni shoes while your bodies draped in diamonds worth more than most gross yearly income. Yet here you are in the backseat of  Hoseok’s limo, which thank god is tinted, while he fucks you senseless! The two of you are supposed to be heading to dinner with a couple friends than over to the Fenty x Savage after party in New York! But by the looks of things..I doubt you’ll make an appearance! Unfortunately for you two come stains aren’t in style this season and considering Hoseok didn't have the patience to fully step out of his black Satin Laurent silk suit...yeah…

You could vaguely see him through a hazy peripheral and that alone had you feelin light-headed, he just looked so damn good! Skin and hair the perfect shade of brown, messily parted down the middle, a couple stray pieces sticking to his forehead from sweating! Nose scrunched into a slight snarl! Hoseok didn't even bother wearing a shirt under his blazer so everything was on full display. Chest glentsing as every muscle along his toned abdomen flexed against every thrust. A couple thick diamond Cuban link chains bounced along his hips as he worked you open, neck reclining slightly putting that deadly jawline on display as he allowed himself to get lost in the moment. Cursing low and husky under his breath the louder you got, digging your nails into his clothed thighs.

“Yeah, fuck you like that?  Like having your tight little pussy filled with daddy’s cock?” His tone was nothing short of menacing as he tightened the grip he held around your waist. One had propped around your throat, the other on your hips, shifting all his weight onto his knee which sat kneeled along the backseat! Pulling out almost completely only slamming right back in, every thrust knocking the wind out of you harder than the last! All you could hear through the muffled sounds of the radio was skin slapping, and to be honest the sound of you two fucking was probably louder than whatever Khalid song currently streamed through the limo!

Hoseok’s hand finally left your throat and made its way down to meet your clit, which was already aching and swollen as we speak! Giving it a couple firm smacks before pressing down on the bundle of nerves, working his fingers in firm counterclockwise motions until your thighs were trembling. “Oh- my-fuck” Choked from your lungs as you slouched forward, resting al of your weight on top of the headrest!  Teeth sinking into the words “Jung” that sat engraved in the plus leather, damn near drooling the deeper his hips rolled against you!

“Don’t stop please- fuck you feel soo good,” You were winded and whiney as he leaned down, pressing his lips firmly against the side of your neck.

Every ounce of skin felt hot to the touch ‘Yeah baby? You gonna come for me? Come until you've made a mess all over me? Fuck your ass is damn near sticking to my pants your so fuckin wet! Such a greedy little cunt for me huh?” Growled against the side of your neck as he nipped at the hinge of your jaw, fuck you were close, so damn close. Reclining your neck a little letting him know you needed his mouth somewhere else, somewhere to slightly muffle you considering his poor driver's face was probably bloodshot right now!

“Yeah, yeah  you daddy- fuck only for you….” Your eyes were continuously having meetings with the back of your head the more he fucked you. Hoseok was trying to ruin your as tonight and you had no complaints! Hoseok’s panting against your shoulder now, deep, and breathy, he always sounds so damn good when he’s fucking you. The sound of him losing his composure is almost enough to make you come alone, biting a bruise, right at the base of your neck!

There was a sudden growl of possessiveness that ripped from his throat at that “Mmm my baby?” Licking, sucking, nipping at the side of your neck, leaving a bouquet of bruises behind!

“Fuck yes” Bucking back slightly challenging Hosedok to get even deeper, and he does, making you both moan in unison!

Hoseok could feel you tightening around him with each drag, then relaxing to let him sink back in with ease! “That’s it, baby..fuck yourself back come on….” Loving the way you met each and every thrust with your own, Rolling your hips in a deep, lingued, wave-like motion...as your release sat dangling in front of your face!

Angling his hips back slightly so he could almost roll into you, and that was it, god that was it “Oh fuck, Seok-baby there, fuck right there..god-” Hoseok cut off the slew of rambles that you were trying to mindlessly spill, with a deep kiss. His tongue tangled with yours as he sucked it into his mouth, hand wrapping around your throat even tighter, caressing your clit with purpose, and relentless intent!

“Where was it, baby? There?  Is that what you need ?” You could already hear the smirk laced within his voice as your muscles started to tense! Repeatedly caressing that ridgit patch buried between your heat, the spot that had you falling apart, over..and over again as he smiled slightly against your lips. Still not fully breaking away from you, living for the way you were far too gone to even give a smart ass remark! All of your moans were muffled by the kiss as you neared your release, your entire body tensing and jerking through each wave of pleasure that Hoseok was bringing you.

‘Come. Come for daddy baby, I know you want too…” Fell against your lips in a slur of moans, since he didn't wanna completely pull away from you as he spoke!

“Shittt” Spilled from your lips almost frantically as you broke away from the kiss, fuck you had to everything was hitting your body like a tumble of bricks you could barely breathe!

Hoseok didn’t miss a damn beat when he felt you clench and spasm around him uncontrollably, the heat boiling within your stomach is sourcing and Hoseok's fingers on your clit is basically propane at this point! That drag of Hoseok’s cock inside you as he whispers of sweet nothingness is eventually what have you tumbling over yourself. Coming with a silent cry as your teeth sink back into the headrest….body shuttering beneath him!

“God yes, keep coming baby fuckkkkk” Moaned from his lips as reached for your neck, bringing your lips flush to his. While you both panted and moaned against each other's tongues. Hoseok’s hips move swiftly to finish just after you, which only amplified your orgasm since you didn't;t have time to come down. Hell, there was no comedown, Hoseok, worked your clit even through his own release, even while you twitched, jerked, and damn near tried to run away from him! Spilling out with such force you kinda blacked out for a moment, everything going fuzzy and a little plush around the edges. Nothing but static and, a white noise fills your head as you feel hips, fanning along your skin.

“Fuck…” fell from your lips barely above a whisper, as your chest fell painfully hard against itself. The feeling of Hoseok, hands gently kneading at your trembling thighs had you humming out in content “That...was…”

“So damn good…your always so damn good” Finishing your thought with a lazy smile, bringing his lips back down to yours, this time the kiss was slow, less need, more want. While his hands gently soothed your trembling thighs..both of you still breathing relatively heavy at this point. Hosoek hadn’t pulled out yet which isn't surprising, he typically stayed stationary until he was completely soft!

Before the two of you had a chance to even say anything else, Hoseok's phone started buzzing through the car, automatically syncing up to the Bluetooth connection. He didn't have to look to know it was Joon and Jimin…..let’s just say this scenario wasn't new. Hoseok’s driver has probably gone in circles at least 3 times by now and would continuously until he was told otherwise! Essentially the two of you are late..which again..is nothing new!

“Yah?” Not even trying to hide how winded or slightly annoyed he was at the moment.

“Yah? What the fuck do you mean Yah? Where the hell are you two!?” Your eyes met briefly and you couldn't even help but laugh, especially after you heard the way your friends groaned on the other end! Already bitching amongst themselves about how you two were probably going to bail at this point.

“Aye, stop your bitching, were still coming will just be a little late that’s all...we just need too ugh..change…” The smirk that laid along his lips was nothing short of smug, as his hand gently palmed your ass while slowly pulling out! Silently apologizing as he hears you fail to muffle a hiss of discomfort, plopping down onto the seat, thighs feelin like complete mush! Eyes fluttering shut as you tousled your fingers through your hair, gently breaking up the curls that started matting together from the heat!

“Seok really!? If both of you go home, in this traffic it will take ho-”

“I never said we were going home Chim...I’m just gonna call Michael and have him swing back by the Versace store on 5th. Yeah He’ll probably be pissed since it’s after hours, but the perks to being a Jung is..well he’ll say yes anyway..will see you in 30!”- Click

Reaching to his left, pressing the button to lower the partition “Hey Kun, can we change routes will quick? Swing by Vercase on 5th...please and thank you!” Hoseok’s eyes met his briefly with an all-knowing smile before rolling the divider back up. 

Shuffling next to you Hosoek wordlessly scoped you onto his lap, caressing the back fo your neck, pressing his lips into your hair “You good?” Not offering more than a slight nod in response which he expected, still able to feel how hard your thighs were shaking. Lightly kissing up the side of your face, as it nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Opening the glove compartment, and grabbing the package of baby wipes...because again this was nothing new...

”Hey Siri, call “Michael Versace”

“Okay, calling,” Michael Versace” - The line didn't ring more than twice before you heard an exasperated sigh trickle through the limo...

“And to what do I owe the pleasure tonight Mr. Jung?” 

THIS RANDOMLY CAME TO MIND..PROB BC I HAVE A “UPPER EASTSIDE RICH KID” AU SITTING IN MY WIPS...LOL...IDK HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN LIKE ALMOST 3 MONTHS.NOT SAYING IT’S MY BEST BUT IF YOU ENJOYED IT LEMME KNOW!

Show this some love and come swing by my asks and talk to me...love you guys as always,

Rocki

[ofxfrenchie-blog]

”FUCK YOUR BROOCH” SELF PARA 002 - PLOT DROP

where: main ballroom at import museum, dertosa c.a. when: toward the end of the evening, or at least, french’s evening

          It had been Frenchie’s first night out in what felt like ages... Well, that wasn’t necessarily true.  Everyone knows that she’s the floor manager of the Forbidden Vices, meaning that practically every night is a night out for her, but that was different.  This was a leisurely night out — every other night that she was out in the club ‘til close to the crack of dawn was mere business, no matter how entertaining it can be.  She had a whole bar stacked to the ceiling with alcohol, and if that wasn’t enough, she had a whole stock-room filled with replacement bottles.  But she didn’t drink it — or at least, she wasn’t supposed to.  And being that the club was her baby, she never risked drinking to the point where something could potentially happen to it.  It was mere business.

If she were at the club, her usual garb would consist of a pair of jeans, usually black and distressed, a ribbed wife-beater, usually black and clinging to her sweaty torso, and a pair of Timberlands, usually black and ready to kick a bitch’s head in if necessary.  But tonight was different — very different.  Her long braids, usually pulled up in a messy bun, were pulled back into a neat low-pony, the ends of her hair brushing against the skin of her back through the sheer lace of her gown.  French 77, the tiny take-no-shit manager that with a passing glance can be understandably mistaken as a younger boy, was wearing a gown.  And she was fuckin’ killing it, if she did say so herself.  

And she did say so herself, and so did all of her friends, some horny old elitist men, and even some strangers.   It was easily one of the hottest things she’d ever worn, at least in appearance only — the gown, which seemingly consisted of one singular garment of sheer, open lace clung to the petite woman’s body like a second skin (it actually made for one of the coldest things she’d ever worn too.  Fuckin’ AC was on blast in this place and lace was, like, not warm at all.).  Honestly, if it weren’t for the thicker patches of the floral lace that conveniently laid upon her womanly features, French would’ve been completely naked.  Without any undergarments on, if one or both of the only ribbons holding the hems of the lace together somehow came undone, she would be exposed to all of Dertosa and judging by the looks she had been receiving all night, especially from the males in the room, not everyone would’ve been opposed to that.  Despite how funny the thought was, and how she knows it would’ve no-doubt turned this otherwise drab party into something memorable, Frenchie was definitely opposed to it.  She had been drinking a lot, not nearly enough for her to flash everyone.

But she had been drinking a lot.  Currently, the woman was seated at a table that was equidistant from the bar and the restrooms — the two locations went hand-in-hand with one another and with that plus the company she had, Frenchie was sure she had the best seat in the house.  She was sitting with Nicky, who was the perfect person to drunkenly people-watch with, passing judgment at nearly every person who walked past their table before breaking into a fit of giggles every. Time.  They’d critique outfits, come up with narratives for the pathetic wives of the horndogs of Dertosa’s elite, discuss what their kinks were.  With every round of drinks they had, their comments got worse and worse, their outbreaks of laughter lasting longer and longer, their drinks diminishing quicker and quicker.  And they had had a lot of rounds.

It was a good thing French made sure to sit close enough to the restrooms, giggling as she pushed herself up from the table.  “I’ll be right back.” She said, patting her friend’s head before she moved to go.  She tried her hardest to hide her intoxication as she made her way to the “lavatories,” scoffing at the sign that read that before pushing the door in; fuckin’ fancy people and their fancy words — it was a bathroom.  There were a handful of ladies in the bathroom, probably like three or so by the mirror talking each others’ ears off about something that had absolutely no interest to Frenchie, and one hurling her brains out in one of the stalls, repeatedly flushing the toilet before each break.  After peeing for what felt like the millionth time (but it felt so good every time), Frenchie staggered over to the sinks because sober French had chimed in that it was probably in her best interest to wash her hands. 

The women who had been chattering away about God knew what were still lingering around the mirrors, staring at their reflections as they primped themselves up.  It was kinda sad to see; the women were easily in their mid-to-late forties, puckering their lips as they reapplied another thick layer of lipgloss and judging their dresses that they had probably picked out months ago and starved to fit into.  They gave each other back-handed compliments and had full-on conversations about things that had absolutely no significance to their lives, like how Donna Tramonti had finally gotten her “much-needed” nose job, and how they were sure Toxins had only been invited for good publicity on their part.  Their discussion immediately stopped when they had spotted Frenchie, and that was when she decided to pick her head up and actually give them a sliver of her attention.

“Wow, your dress is stunning.” One of then had said, her voice shrill with mock-adoration.  That seemed to be the cue for the other two to join in, going down a list of rehearsed fake compliments that they had saved for people just like Frenchie.  The ones who they knew didn’t belong.  “Yeah, you’re so pretty.”

She had heard the same compliments all night long, and while some were laced with lascivious tones and others with pleasant surprise, these were different.  Frenchie didn’t bother giving them much of a reaction, her gaze diverting back to the soap that lathered in her hands as she mumbled a soft and slurred, “Thank you.”  She had cut the niceties out, not even bothering to give them a compliment that she didn’t mean — she didn’t get the same thrill out of being outwardly fake as they seemed to get, so she didn’t even try.  She had done her business, washed her hands, and with a final glance at the three older women with bleached-blonde hair, she was back in party mode and ready for her next drink.  Or ten.

It had all happened so fast that Frenchie wasn’t quite sure when things had taken a turn for the worst.  She was so close to getting through one night, just one night, without things going awry.  For as long as she had been frequenting and eventually working the bar, French knew better than to hope for things to go perfectly.  That just wasn’t how things worked when you ran a club — fights broke out, people got black-out drunk and threw up, the list goes on and on.  Given how smoothly the night had gone thus far, the woman was close to calling this night a success; she had gotten more than sufficiently drunk, had plenty of options to choose from as far as night caps went, and she even got to dance a little with Mercury.  It was as close to a successful night as she had had in forever.

Until it wasn’t.  She had just left the bar, two drinks in hand — one that was supposed to be for Nicky that she had started upon receiving, and hers when the music was abruptly cut.  When the sudden silence caught Frenchie’s attention, she noticed that an announcement was being made on a podium on stage.  “Good evening, all.” The deeper voice had called out, belonging to a man that oddly resembled George Clooney.  He was actually kinda hot, his sun-kissed skin either a product of tanning-beds or the Mediterranean sun — there was no in-between.  He had a head of thick salt and pepper hair, gelled back and a suit sharper than anything she had ever seen before.  She knew she had seen the man’s face before, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who he was — probably someone “important,”  He continued on about how much of a success the gala was, and she was very close to zoning out and just returning to the table with empty drinks in her hand, and she almost did.  But she could’ve sworn she had heard the man say her name or something very similar to it, but when a moment had passed and nothing happened she just brushed it off. 

And then a beam of strong white light was suddenly flashed in her face and only her face.  You can’t zone out when you’re about to get abducted by aliens.  “Ava Laurent,” French had definitely heard her name this time, her dark eyes flickering to the source of the sound.  It was George Clooney, not aliens.  “You have been graciously invited to our annual gala and yet you allegedly repay your city by stealing from its members.”  

She was drunk, but she hadn’t imagined his words.  She didn’t listen to everything the man was saying, though she probably should’ve — being accused of a crime she didn’t commit might be something that she’d want to hear.  But she didn’t, her confused thoughts painting her face with obvious bewilderment.  The words were too weird for her to focus on; her, steal?  Frenchie had much better things to do than to steal, especially from a bunch of people who spent their money on such stupid things.  She managed to refocus, catching the last bit of the man’s spiel,  “— a missing brooch, and three of our trusted companions claim to have seen you put it in your purse.  Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

There was a brief pause as Frenchie recollected her thoughts, everyone’s eyes trained on her, not for the first time in the evening, but definitely not in the same light as before.  They waited for her to speak, to say something, anything that might explain herself or the situation.  When she finally spoke, it wasn’t quite the response they had expected: “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Gasps resounded in the sea of elitists watching in the darknes, the suddenly not-so-hot Geroge Clooney fumbled around with the mic, trying to recover the situation.  But he couldn’t, Frenchie had been triggered.  No one was going to falsely accuse her of shit and ruin her night, not when she had put so much effort into making this one night out something that wouldn’t leave a sour taste in her mouth regardless of the douchebags she had to share the night with.  She spoke as she walked out to the now-empty dancefloor, the spotlight following her as she walked.  “Do you really think that I would be able to get away with stealing a stupid brooch even if I had any desire to?  I’m practically fuckin’ naked — I’m sure no one could have missed me if I were trying to snoop around and steal something.  And even if I had, I think it’s disgusting that whoever ran this stupid gala thinks it’s okay to make a scene instead of taking the necessary precautions before wrongly accusing someone.”  Frenchie’s words came out faster and hotter than the steam that she swore blew out of her ears, “How about you pull me aside, ask to check my clutch, or, I don’t know, maybe run the tapes back?  This is bullsh—”

She was cut off by a nasally voice in the crowd, one that Frenchie was sure she had heard before.  But again, her blurry mind couldn’t put a finger on who the source was and how she knew it.  “Let’s refrain from the profanities, thanks.” The high-pitched voice called out, exasperation lacing her tone.  It was then that a second beam of light shone, this time on some blonde woman and her two carbon copies; they probably shared the same plastic surgeons and all used pictures of Nicole Kidman as inspiration for their procedures.  It didn’t take long for Frenchie to realize that these were the same women from the bathroom, her brows pulling together in anger as she entertained the woman’s words. “This is exactly what we get whenever we try to give back to the less fortunate communities.  I think this goes to show that we need not associate with those who can’t respect general human decency.  I mean, please,” The woman scoffed, “Who attends an event like this, ‘practically effing naked’ anyway?  This woman, these people, are classless.” The woman’s last word was spat out with disgust, and even from across the dancefloor, she could feel the intensity of the hag’s words.  “Why should we have to celebrate our beautiful city with its scum?”

French couldn’t quite remember the last bit of the woman’s words, but she knew it wasn’t anything pretty.  All she could really remember was crossing the dancefloor to where the woman stood, looking the bitch dead in the eyes for just a moment.  She would’ve been pretty, and French could vaguely remember wondering why she had even bothered spending all the money on surgeries if someone was just going to come along and ruin it.  That someone was her.  Her tiny fist connected with woman’s face, and she distinctly remembered feeling something very similar to a bubble popping underneath her knuckles.  Fuckin’ fillers.

Orders were given, glasses were dropped, gasps resounded once again, and she could vaguely hear more than a few laughs before blacking out.  It had all happened so fast, and before she knew, Frenchie found herself outside of the museum’s doors.  “Yeah, well fuck you.” The tiny woman yelled at the security, who chucked her clutch that didn’t contain the stolen brooch at her,  “I’m innocent and that bitch deserved it; I don’t need this shit.”  As they turned to head back inside, Frenchie scoffed at them, “And don’t think I forgot your faces.  Good luck trying to get in the club when you guys finally get your balls back.”

Great, a hot dress and an otherwise decent night, ruined.

[intro2filmbitterrootcollege]

The Most Affecting Films of 2017

I love putting this list together because a.) I’m a film geek and own it, b.) this writing exercise is cheaper than therapy, and c.) it helps me discover previously unrecognized themes shared across my selections. The thread of history runs through these picks, that of nations as well as the complex and messy relationships between parents and children. History is parent to our present, and thus the thematic through line of my favorite movies of 2017. Each title brought me to tears or rented space in my mind for days after the initial viewing, often both, but earned this response through quality of storytelling.

Choosing my top ten was difficult (see the following “Runners Up List” for evidence) because 2017 was a fine year in film. We should celebrate cinema, and the opportunity to do so, as long as it remains this dynamic.

-Matt

Honorable Mention: Their Finest

Directed by Lone Scherfig

Written by Gaby Chappe and Lissa Evans

A movie celebrating storytelling and writing, chronicling the making of a movie about the Dunkirk rescue, set in England during the Blitz, addressing the role women played in the war effort, packed with an embarrassment of Britain’s best character actors, exploring how cinema’s escape can help heal us in times of crisis, and that is also a love story has no right to work. Scherfig’s film defies such limitations and hops between these aspects like a trapeze artist. It’s a crowd-pleaser, a heartbreaker, and a movie celebrating movies, all buoyed by Gemma Arterton in the lead.

10.  The Lost City of Z

Written and Directed by James Gray

Cinematography by Darius Khondji

The real Percy Fawcett’s 1925 disappearance in the Brazilian jungle provides an unanswerable question that hangs over Gray’s film as he endeavors to explore mysteries of the egocentric self through immersion in the natural world. Like the protagonist, this seems simultaneously paradoxical and fitting.

Some clever non-linear editing and a final shot of Nina Fawcett, the only actual hero here, walking into the reflected image of a jungle, make for a lingering metaphor on those understandings our hearts are granted, and those we can never attain.

9.  Toni Erdmann*

Written and Directed by Maren Arden

When I thought this dark European comedy couldn’t get more surreal or funny, it didn’t, but instead ends with a peerless final beat, then drops The Cure’s “Plainsong” over the credits.

Cut to me radiant with joy at what cinema makes possible.

Hollywood stories of parents and children aren’t ever this delightfully weird, or dappled with scenes that let us find our own insights about economic disparity, sexism, and capitalism’s darker outcomes. Hollywood stories aren’t ever this genuine.

Maren Arden proves herself a visionary, not just among up-and-coming female directors, but all directors, and since her open-ended final scene is perfection, I’ll let the last dialogue in her script finish the same way:

The problem is, [life is] so often about getting things done. And then you still have to do this, or that. And, in the meantime, life just passes by. But how are we supposed to hang on to moments?

* released in 2016 but I had no way to see it until 2017

8.  The Big Sick

Directed by Michael Showalter

Written by Emily V. Gordon & Kumail Nanjiani

Gordon and Nanjiani’s story (based on the origin of their own marriage) took me two viewings across two seasons to relent and finally love it. Now it has my whole heart thanks to an earned emotional response and a script respecting the perspectives of all its characters. Likely the best screenplay of the year that might not be recognized as such, stand up comedy and parents are rarely revealed onscreen with such nuance, and never before in the same film.

7.  Five Came Back

Written by Mark Harris (based on his book Five Came Back: A Story of Hollywood and the Second World War)

Directed by Laurent Bouzereau

This three-part Netflix documentary chronicles the contributions from five of the top directors in Hollywood during WWII, many of whom gave up lucrative careers to serve the war effort via their craft. We see how filmmaking and storytelling, as the translation of fact and occurrence through moving image, can be a weapon and should be used with care. The stories of these five directors and how their lives and art were impacted by the conflict is engagingly humane. And the talking heads (aka legendary current filmmakers) are so damn insightful. MVP being Guillermo Del Toro. 

We celebrate such humanity, and in it our own, flawed and beautiful as both might be. This is best captured in Capra’s final voiceover proposing hope where it is needed.

6.  Wind River

Written and Directed by Taylor Sheridan

Sheridan’s crime-as-myth story is most concerned with grief and the ways we numb ourselves to pain at the cost of the memories of loved ones lost. Winter and the West stand in a neo-western backdrop where he colors the idea of how struggle can hollow out even the strongest among us.

We get our genre kicks in the Mexican Standoff shootout (praise to the screenplay-rulebook shredding use of editing and a flashback to set up this reckoning). The patience in ending his film with not one but two conversation scenes shows a preference for empathy over spectacle, and the way the injured souls connect therein haunts me.

5.  Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri

Written and Directed by Martin McDonagh

I enjoy being challenged by a film. McDonagh’s picture beat the shit out of me then tossed me a lollipop, and I beamed like a lovestruck idiot. An early reference to “A Good Man is Hard to Find” alludes that that there will be no predominant tone to cling to but instead a vacillation of many throughout this winding trip into darkness where any good that exists is a miracle. In the final scene and sublime character change of Sam Rockwell’s Officer Dixon, it does.

4. Blade Runner 2049

Directed by Denis Villeneuve

Cinematography by Roger Deakins

There wasn’t a more thoughtful film this year than Deakins’ visual magnum opus. The intelligence expected of Villeneuve surfaces throughout in beautifully complex questions about life, witnessing, and how we achieve our sense of identity.

The choice of Gosling’s K / Joe as protagonist, his illusory sense of importance as the “one” and what is done with this concept, shows how important it is to value the willingness to make choices, even when they seem tiny and tossed into the void. In Joi, he may have found a facsimile of love, or he may have actually found it. In response, we question our right to declare another’s life or love “artificial”.  The Hero’s Journey archetype is so common that it’s almost instinctive. Villeneuve subverts these expectations by stripping heroic action to its purest and leaving us with K / Joe’s not-tears in the ashen snow.

The acting is typically strong because, while he isn’t noticed for it, Villeneuve always gets strong work from his actors. Through one of Harrison Ford’s best performances, the theme of parents, children, and sacrifices made just for the latter’s prospect of a better life is most poignantly rendered in one line: “Sometimes to love someone, you got to be a stranger.” As 2017’s best sympathetic villain, Luv doesn’t possess the freedom of her inferior replicants; she is bound to Wallace, a slave in her programming. Wanting to be special, to be the “best one”. This denied want and inability to make her own choices, to create life and be alive, warp her into a destructive force seeking to stomp out anything that reminds her of her chains. Leto’s megalomaniac Wallace is a god-aspiring big bad in the Greek chorus role, showing up to voice the film’s themes but in a way that avoids ponderousness.

I could write an essay on this film. (Note to self: write more essays on films.)

3.  Lady Bird

Written and Directed by Greta Gerwig

Gerwig’s work is so accomplished that my mind boggles when contextualizing it as her first directed film. The movie world exists here as specific enough to leap outside of time and place in that mysterious dynamic of singular-becoming-universal. Coming of age stories with comedy draped around them, or them around it, are usually judgemental of broad supporting characters who get portrayed in one shade only. This film is so balanced and sympathetic to its people, and I say “people” with intention, that we turn from cursing them to pitying to loving as fluidly as we do from laughing to choking up. The final sequence might be the year’s most affecting editing through a use of different characters in essentially the same shot, and shows that car chases have nothing on cross-cutting between drivers in the Sacramento magic hour.

2.  Columbus

Written and Directed by Kogonada

Sheila O’Malley in her Rogerebert.com review:

"Columbus" is a movie about the experience of looking, the interior space that opens up when you devote yourself to looking at something, receptive to the messages it might have for you. Movies (the best ones anyway) are the same way. Looking at something in a concentrated way requires a mind-shift. Sometimes it takes time for the work to even reach you, since there's so much mental ballast in the way. The best directors point to things, saying, in essence: "Look." I haven't been able to get "Columbus" out of my mind.

Wholeheartedly agreed. It clung to me. First time director Kogonada gives us an immaculate use of the frame and mise en scene. My eyes wanted desperately to eat the screen, each and every frame a morsel. And my entire being wanted to remain in the film’s world. Sadness and all.

Kogonada’s work isn’t all visual gloss but uses stillness and subdued conversations to belie an emotional tempest inside each of the two characters. This is a romance, but one just as in thrall with life as it is with clean modernist lines and the creation of form through negative space that here symbolizes those unknowable aspects of Jin and Casey (Haley Lu Richardson lights the screen in my favorite performance this year), and by extension those they love. We carry our parents with us just as these buildings carry their histories. Columbus’ characters need to navigate the empty spaces in and around themselves to connect, even if fleetingly.

1.  Dunkirk

Written and Directed by Christopher Nolan

Cinematography by Hoyte Van Hoytema

Score by Hans Zimmer

I can rightfully be called a Christopher Nolan fanboy, but there’s no arguing the viscerality of this experiment. Nolan, Hoyte Van Hoytema, Hans Zimmer, and the rest of their collaborators crafted a singular war film that really isn’t a war film. It’s a story more existential. Time is elided, shattered, and edited with an exactitude that comments on history unlike any other movie in this genre.

That audiences responded to a story asking them to participate, emotionally and physically, but learn little of its characters is also fitting for the theme of people choosing to risk their own well being for the betterment of others. The lesson is to put aside your wants and let an experience take you.

The propulsive score, like the tension, never relents. How such induced anxiety can be thrilling is for later study (and this film will be studied for decades hence). It’s the notion, however, that I can be brought to tears by the shot of a Spitfire coasting across sky, out of gas but not fight, by small boats dotting the sea that are referred to as “Home”, and by Mark Rylance simply nodding to his son in acknowledgement that the right thing to do is often an act of empathy running against our in-the-moment emotional surge, that belies an elegance words can represent, but only sound and image can actually invite you to feel.

_______________________________________________________________________

We are born into a box of space and time. We are who and when and what we are and we're going to be that person until we die. But if we remain only that person, we will never grow and we will never change and things will never get better.

Movies are the most powerful empathy machine in all the arts. When I go to a great movie I can live somebody else's life for a while. I can walk in somebody else's shoes. I can see what it feels like to be a member of a different gender, a different race, a different economic class, to live in a different time, to have a different belief.

This is a freeing influence on me. It gives me a broader mind. It helps me to join my family of men and women on this planet. It helps me to identify with them, so I'm not just stuck being myself, day after day.

The great movies enlarge us, they civilize us, they make us more decent people.

-Roger Ebert

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Promising 2017 releases that I haven’t seen yet and might vie for retroactive inclusion on either this or the “Runners Up” list:

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

The Disaster Artist

Darkest Hour

Mudbound

First They Killed My Father

Spielberg

The Post

Molly’s Game

Phantom Thread

The Shape of Water

[soonwellbefoundfic]

being confused just takes control..

marlee.

"Why you not pick up? I worry for you!"

"I'm sorry, Lau." I spoke through a yawn. "I've been in and out of sleep."

"Where you is?"

His question made me pause. My eyes glazed over the span of the hotel suite I'd been calling home for nearly a week now.

"Bob!" He pressed.

"I'm not home." I told him, chewing my lip.

"I know that! I go there." His declaration shocked me. Last I'd checked he was in LA. "Where you is?"

"I don't wanna tell you," I muttered, scratching my scalp.

To say I'd let myself go would be a complete understatement. I hadn't put a comb to my head in days. My skin was dry and lacked its normal glow. The only thing I bothered to do was shower and to be honest I didn't want to do that. It was the sporadic spotting due to the abortion the forced me to clean myself.

"Why not?!"

"Because,” I paused with an inward sigh. “You're gonna tell your brother and I don't want to see him."

He blew out a sigh. "I not tell him anything!"

"You tell him everything." I stressed, rolling my eyes despite the fact that he couldn't see me.

"If you say dong tell him I won't."

"Whatever, Lau."

"Bob." He sighed. "I just need to see you okay."

"I'm fine."

"Marlee Estelle Bourgeois." I cringed at the name. At this point I'd go back to Nichols with no complaints.

I hesitated but caved, knowing he wouldn't let up. "If I tell you will you bring me food?"

"I bring whatever you need."

And he did.

Less than an hour later I was rummaging curiously through the bag he'd brought. Amongst all the items was the most important – sanitary napkins.

"I'm surprised you got the right ones. Larry always fucks up." His name on my tongue annoyed me.

I talked about him so much but it was difficult not to. So many areas of my life revolved around him. It was maddening.

"I better." Laurent smirked.

“True.” I mumbled, cracking open the Honeybun I'd requested. “Can you heat this for like, 15 seconds?”

Laurent wordlessly complied and when the sweet treat was to my liking he handed it back to me. I ate in silence mentally preparing myself for any questions my beloved brother would ask. He was too quiet and he was never quiet so that only meant that he had tons to say.

To my dismay, his silence lasted through my Honeybun and half my bag of Doritos. It was torturous. I wanted so badly to know what was going on in that head of his. My paranoia made me itch with a fear that Lau knew why I was here and what I'd done.

Could he smell the stench left from the sterile clinic in my pores? Did my body look different? Was I bathed in guilt? Apathy?

Not knowing where his head was killed me. His silence was torture. And the void it left needed to be filled.

“I want a divorce.” My lungs nearly popped from the pressure of saying the words aloud as I had never done so.

The declaration wasn't refreshing or liberating. I didn't feel better but worse. My biggest fear would play out because words were powerful. I'd put it out into the universe after fiddling with the thought for months and eventually it would materialize.

“Bob,” Lau started with a pained expression.

Seconds prior I'd craved his voice, or any sound from him, but now I didn't want to hear it. I knew his lips would spew words designed to alter my decision, or defend his brother.

“I'm getting a divorce.” I reiterated, refusing to let him say whatever he wanted to say.

My voice was stronger, full of purpose and my eyes full of tears.

"What are you doing?" He whirled around, seemingly surprised by my presence.

"I look through pictures." His eyes were warm, inviting and hopeful.

A few days had passed since my doctors appointment and I'd mostly avoided him. I was surprised yet appreciative that he let me. I needed the time. My thoughts were mostly redundant and my memories stagnant. It wasn't necessarily that I didn't know what I wanted it was more so the fact that I didn't know what to say to him.

My memories told the tale of a woman who evaded serious conversations – much like I was doing now. When Larry did his dirty work I solely acted on how I felt, I never said anything because I felt like he should've known. He out of all people was the closest to me. He was the sole person who had access to all parts of me. He was most in tune with my wants, my needs, the things that made me happy and the things that made me sad. He was most in tune with my emotions and with that fact came a responsibility. I expected him to know better and do better. And he didn't.

His lack of compassion led to my apathy. I kicked him out, then fled when I knew he would return, then aborted the child we'd conceived and finally filed for divorce – all without cluing him in because he of all people should have know why.

With the exception of the pregnancy I felt that explaining to him why my acts were a result of his actions was fruitless. He was an adult with common sense – he knew better. But now as I found myself repeating the same shit I wondered if I should take a different course of action. I was experiencing those same emotions that I'm sure I harbored in the past when we were actually falling apart but I didn't know how to express them. I didn't know what to say to him.

Was yelling at the top of my lungs as I stood before him the best tactic or was sitting and calm;y explaining a better route?

I was clueless, and as I watched him watch me I felt all the words I'd wanted to say retracing their steps away from the tip of my tongue. It took mere seconds for them to become a crowded mess in my brain again.

“Come see.”

I accepted the invitation, taking a seat opposite him on the coach. Being near him is the first step, I told myself hoping the words would eventually follow if I didn't try and force them.

The relief that flashed in his eyes nearly made me weep.

Despite everything he wanted me. Was this how I'd been with him in the past? Had I remained hopeful even as he pushed me away?

"I find this disk I forget all about." He explained gesturing towards the TV even as he looked at me.

My brows rose. "Disk?"

"You get scare of losing pictures or maybe damage them so you take to get backed up on DVD."

"Oooh." I nodded my understanding.

My eyes moved to the screen just in time to catch a picture of a younger Larry.

"You were so skinny.” I chuckled.

“You remember take these?” He quizzed and I narrowed my eyes on the cool toned photo of the twins.

“No.” I tilted my head as though it would jog my memory. “It's terrible.”

The picture was easily ten years old, and everything about it technically made me cringe. Then again, I was younger with none of the experience and expertise I had now. Mentally letting myself off of the hook, I peered at my husband and his twin, taking in the many ways they'd physically changed.

“Lau get so mad because he say you make me look better.” He cackled when the next picture came up.

“I probably did just to spite him.” I shrugged, as my gaze roamed over Larry's tattoo-less frame. “He was annoying as fuck back then.”

“I can't wait to tell him that!” He laughed. “Every time he see this picture my brother get mad and say the same thing. And you always deny but now you not remember you say the truth.”

His laughter brightened the room and I rolled my eyes with faux annoyance. “You bet not say shit to him.”

“He would get so mad! I swear!” He laughter hardened at the thought of agitating his twin.

Kissing my teeth, I playfully cut my eyes at him. “Go to the next picture.”

“Who is that?” I tilted my head, peering at me and a blonde haired girl that hadn't been in any of my memories.

Larry chuckled. “One of Lau's exes.”

The next picture was of me and another unfamiliar face. “Another ex?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?” I shook my head with confusion. “Am I the president of Laurent's harem? Did I even like them?”

“I think you do,” He shrugged. “They both nice but not really talk to you after my twin be stupid.”

I made a sound in my throat but said nothing as Larry clicked forward to the next picture.

My breathing completely stopped when a younger me sans clothes and common sense consumed the screen. My eyes widened to double their size as I took in my too thin eyes brows, red tinged hair and thinner frame.

“Larry, what the fuck?!” His laughter filled the room yet again only this time I didn't find anything funny. I was confused. “Why the hell am I naked?!”

“I love this picture.” He sang as his eyes roam across the screen. “You don't remember this?”

“No!”

He chuckled. “You do this for my birthday.” His hand moved to his chin, rubbing the sparse hairs there as his eyes stared unmovingly at the screen. “This my favorite picture.”

“Who even took this? What was I even doing?” I was in utter disbelief.

This move totally sounded like something I would do for him but it was weird seeing it. Seeing me – my younger self, before marriage and failed pregnancies and stress from life posing candidly for my man, my love.

“You take. With time thing.” He explained, still looking at the screen.

“I don't remember my hair ever being red.” I noted, swallowing my initial shock.

“You change it fast.” My response took form as a distant sound in the back of my throat. “You send nudes always. I don't know why you so shocked.”

“This ain't just a nude.” I chuckled. “It was planned. This looks good.”

“Believe me,” He eyed me with a mischievous smirk. “They all look good.”

“I guess it's just weird seeing me at the stage of my life. I know this is when were happy.” My words were enough to disintegrate his smile.

“We go through a lot but I think we mostly always happy. I want you to know that.” His voice had taken on a solemn quality.

“I do.” I nodded. “But you know, the bad has a way of smudging out the good.”

“If you let it.” He muttered, switching to another picture.

“Wow.” I tooked in the aged photo. “I don't remember my granny much but I dreamed about her the other night.”

“What happen?”

“Uh – I was grown and she kept asking me about the baby.”

“Oh.” His voice and eyes dimmed.

“It kinda fucked with me but that's all my brain seems to do anyway.” I shrugged.

“You talk about her a lot – you used to.” Larry supplied the information with ease. “But she die when you young – 12 years old.”

“I loved her.” I knew that to be a fact.

I couldn't really remember or voice or envision her face without pictures but I knew she meant a lot to me. She was a safe haven, a major pillar in my life. She was my peace.

Larry slowly clicked to the next picture which dragged me further into my emotions. It was my mom and I. Sensing that he would skip it for the sake of my mental state, I grabbed the remote.

“I um –“ I cleared my throat as my eyes roamed the picture. “It was her birthday the other day.”

His expression told me he knew. “Why you not say anything?”

“Why didn't you?” I shot back and he shrugged. I didn't need his verbal answer because I already knew it. He didn't want to make me sadder than I already was.

“With losing my memory I kinda feel like I'm living some sort of weird ass second life. It's hard to explain but –“ I paused, peering at my mom. “It feels like my mom and my granny are only people that I've heard really detailed stories about. Like, you know how someone tells you about a person and you start to feel like you know them?”

He nodded as his eyes moved cautiously over my face. I could sense that he was waiting, and preparing himself, for me to crack. I wouldn't.

“That's how I feel. It's fucked up because I know my mom and granny – knew them. But it feels like I didn't. It feels like in this life,” I quoted with my fingers. “I'm super disconnected from them. My memories of them are sparse and far apart. It's weird.” I sighed, moving to the next picture before eyes that used to calm me like no other deduced me to tears.

“Chink,” Larry called only to be ignored.

“This bitch.” I hissed, eyeing a picture of Erin and I on somebody's beach.

“You know, we can not look at this right now.” Larry went for the remote but I quickly dodged him, switching to the next picture. “Come walk Millie with me and then we eat.”

“I'm fine, Larry.” He sighed but didn't protest as another picture of Erin and I came up.

“You remember a lot for her?”

“Hmmm.” I hummed. “I do but I swear in every memory me and her are fucking arguing.”

His brows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah, makes me wonder how we were ever even friends.”

“Maybe is just what you remember because you get along good with her. I mean, you fight sometimes like me and Lau but who don't.”

His words were hard to process and even harder to believe. My memories had shaped Erin to be more of a frenemy than anything.

“Well,” I sighed as another picture of my mom and I came up. I could tell it was around the time she started getting sicker. “She wasn't such a good friend after all was she?”

Larry knew exactly what I was talking about and I could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't want to linger on the subject. He was smart.

“Where were we?” I paused on a picture of me in the pool.

He chuckled. “How you know I take this?”

“Wild guess.” I rolled my eyes.

“Tulum.”

“Old pictures of you make so happy.” I murmured, peering at a younger photo of him that I'd probably taken.

“Why?”

“I don't know.” I whispered the lie.

Old photos of Larry represented a love that was true – one without betrayal and lies and secrets. Old photos of him represented a time where he saw only me. A time where he considered himself to be deserving of my love and saw me as being equally as worthy of his – all of it. In the past I had no doubts or worries or fears – I had hope for a forever and Larry, then, embodied that. He'd been my future, my salvation – my remedy.

Silence drifted into the room and I did nothing to push it away. I used the silence to my advantage, focusing solely on bits and pieces of my past.

Jumbled up on this lone photo disk was everything. Things I'd forgotten, things I remembered. There were pictures of me as a lass, photos with family members I'd some how forgotten, pictures of the twins and all their awkwardness. The disk that I'd had made due to my paranoia was now acting as my saving grace.

It was proof that I had indeed lived a full life where I'd been happy and whole.

“What do you want to eat?” I quizzed, knowing I needed to talk to him. I'd look at pictures all day to avoid the task and I knew doing so was bad for both of us.

“It's a Brazillian spot down the street, or Mr. Chow.” I shook my head, knowing I didn't wanna go to Mr. Chow. That place put my mind too close to Pierre.

“I kinda want breakfast.”

“Cafeteria?”

“Yeah,” I muttered still halfheartedly clicking through the pictures.

“Okay, I walk Millie first then we–“ My gasp cut him off.

“Chink!” He called, seeing what I saw.

Acting fast, he went for the remote but it was too late. My eyes burned from familiarity, my heart ached from remembrance.

I dropped my face into my hands, wanting to unsee my bronzed skin, untamed hair and vivid green bikini because with those components came a protruding belly that housed a baby that hadn't made it. A precious baby boy named Laurent. An angel Larry had the chance to see and hold before he passed on.

My baby was only a part of my imagination. Up until this moment I'd never seen a picture of me pregnant. I had no stretch marks or maternity clothes. I had nothing but distant memories and the words of Larry.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, feeling Larry's arms along with a ton of dread wrapped around me.

Instead of soothing me he smothered me in angst, and regret. His warm hold felt constricting instead of comforting. His low murmurs echoed in my ears, morphing into rage filled howls. Even his scent that was usually tantalizing now reeked of bitterness and ire.

I winced as he apologized. His 'sorrys' and 'I didn't knows' pounded shards of repentance deeper into my heart. My pain coiled around my spine, blinding me with agony. With every second it intensified as the source shifted. Soon my tears weren't based on the child I'd just seen encased in my tanned belly – the one I'd lost. My tears now derived from the child that I hadn't allowed a chance to make my belly swell – the one I'd gotten rid of.

“I'm so sorry, Larry.” I croaked, my chest rattling as the words came to life on my tongue. “I'm sorry.”

“Marlee, it's okay, my baby.” He cooed, peppering kisses on my forehead.

He rocked me like a child, determined to dead my pain. He coddled and cosseted me when it should have been the other way around.

Larry was so many things. He was selfish and self-serving but nestled between the two was selflessness. It amazed and saddened me at the first same time.

In a matter of months I remembered a man who'd left me hanging when I needed him most while also experiencing a man who would carry me on his back to peace with his last bit of strength.

I could remember loosing our first child and feeling alone even though I wasn't. Larry had been there for me in every way yet I managed to push him away. We fought a lot and when we weren't fighting I was busy isolating myself. I remember feeling like loosing my baby affected only me, though Larry had lost the same thing. I'd blamed myself because it was my body that was designed to house and nurture our child and hadn't.

The second time around had been even more difficult. Reality had set in, making it apparent that I wouldn't be a mother without certain stipulations – stipulations that excluded my body as a whole. We had options, surrogacy and adoption, but I had no interest in either. And I think my failure to comply, mixed with my depression and overall poor attitude encouraged Larry to distance himself from. I didn't blame myself completely but I understood the part I played in that phase of our marriage.

By the third pregnancy, which was anything but planned, our marriage was inches away from the dumpster. In fact, immediately after the child was conceived what was left of our union deteriorated. My fears of both having another warped pregnancy and being alone led me to the abortion clinic. It had been a solo effort that Larry hadn't known about until after and in retrospect I felt terrible about it. And those feelings were raining down on me like shards of glass.

“Stop cry,” He urged as my wails grew in strength and sound, rattling my body. “Please don't cry, baby.” His lips were close to my ear, making it impossible for me to miss the pain webbed between his words.

He'd lost what I lost, I reminded myself. And he'd just seen the very same picture I'd seen yet instead of reacting to his own trauma he worked to rid of mine.

“Larry,” I murmured, freeing myself from his hold. “I'm so sorry.”

I was able to easily spot the confusion on his face even beyond the blur of my tears.

“Sorry – why baby?” He pulled me back to him but his eyes never flitted from my face.

“The abortion – I'm so sorry I got the abortion.” He froze and every part of him that was warm went cold.

His grip loosened before eventually falling away, leaving me to drift alone in my self-inflicted misery.

“Wha?” He blinked, furrowing sparse brows.

“I remembered,” I rasped.

A heavy bang at the door yanked me from my midday nap. Over and over a fist pounded at the door, fueling my anger and quickening my steps.

My quick movements caused a slight amount of pain to tug at my womb but my eagerness to figure out what the fuck was going on forced me to brush it off.

Not using my best judgment, I ignored both the peephole and ability of my own voice to figure out who the maniac on the other side of the door was.

I yanked the door open only to be met with the reddened face of my husband. His eyes were red and I couldn't tell if he'd been crying, if he was high or if he was suffering from extreme exhaustion.

"What you did?!"

"How did you find out where I was?" I asked though I already knew.

"I ask you one time and don't lie to me," His heat pressed against me as he moved forward. His anger pressed into my neck, making it hard to breathe. "Did you get abortion?"

The question was posed in the calmest manner but I saw right through it. I heard the slight rattle of his voice, felt his fury radiating off of his lengthy frame. And his fear, I could've smelled it from a mile away – it reeked, poisoning my suite with its pungent flare.

"Answer!"

My sharp intake of air soiled my calm façade just as his quivering voice had done his.

"If you're asking the question you already know the answer." I muttered numbly, moving away from him and further into the suite.

His hand curling around my wrist stopped me. "Say you lie, please?" He pleaded as his grip grew more constricting with every syllable. "Please," He begged.

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

"Marlee, please baby, tell me is not true." He was desperate for a truth I could not give him.

With a sigh, I dislodged my wrist, ignoring the present throb. "I can't carry children to term, Larry."

His neck nearly snapped in two as he jerked his head back. His nostrils threatened to tear as they flared and his every cranial vein pushed his skin to the limit, protruding dangerously.

"You said it yourself, my body can't carry kids." The 'private' conversation he'd had with his twin had nothing to do with this but I didn't care.

"You get abortion – yes or no?"

"Larry—"

"Yes or no?!" He roared, disturbing everything in the room.

"Yes!"

The silence that filled the space was deafening. The pressure made my eardrums pop and eyes water.

He was so still and so quiet that had I not been looking at him I would've been sure that he was gone. But he was wasn't. He was still there rooted in his spot as though he was glued there.

His eyes blazed with enough fire to wipe out of New York as he glared at me. I'd never seen so much disgust in his eyes – felt so much hate. My glare matched his, going against everything that I ever thought we would be.

Here we were, staring each other down, in a hotel suite I'd run away to after aborting his child, with enough heat and energy to build an atomic bomb. I never dreamed we'd turn into this. I never foresaw myself looking at him with such repulsion. I was nauseous and it had nothing to do with what I'd paid a doctor to do to me.

"I don't know why you mad – you don't even fucking want me." I snapped, pacing around his frozen frame. "Why don't you go have a baby with that Luzy bitch."

My words jolted him to life and within seconds he was in my face. His atomic heat melted away my resistance but I refused to crack. I refused to reveal that inside I was weeping and still longing for everything that he was.

“Don't ever say that shit to me again,” His voice was a low growl.

“Whatever.” I muttered, not knowing what part set him off the most – the part about him not wanting me or the part about Luzy.

“Y–you get pregnant and not tell me, Chink?” His voice cracked despite his effort to keep it steady.

“I called you, and where the fuck were you?! Where the fuck were you?” I pushed him and when that wasn’t enough I slammed a fist into his chest. “Huh?!”

“Stop touch me.”

“Fuck you, Larry!” My fist met his chest again.

“Fuck me?” His eyes blazed with fury. “You say fuck me when I come to you after find out that you get abortion? You my wife, Marlee.”

“And it seems that you only remember that when shit don’t go your way.” I scoffed. “I can’t have kids, Larry. I didn’t need your permission or approval to do what I did.”

“Is just as much my baby too, Marlee! How you so selfish?!”

“Selifish?”

“That’s what I say.” He deadpanned. “All this times we try for baby and it never be right because of whatever and you just get rid of one and it can be okay.”

A gnarly mixture of disbelief, anger and pain marred his face. His eyes blazed, showing his fury – they matched mine but our anger was rooted from two different places.

“And if it wasn’t?” I challenged only for him to refuse me an answer. “I can’t take another failed pregnancy, Larry. I’m not strong enough for that.”

“You say it like you have to be strong by yourself.”

“I don’t have you! Fuck you mean?!”

“I'm not you boyfriend or some guy you just fuck – I'm your husband!” He roared. “A decision like that can't be made without me!”

“Now you wanna be my husband.” My laughter was cold. “Get the fuck out.”

“I not leave until you tell me why you did what you did,” He growled, stepping even closer to me. “And why I go to Erin house to look for you and she tell me you have abortion?”

His admission knocked my world off its axis and nearly knocked me off my feet. My mouth fell open but nothing came out – not even a whisper of a breath..

“Answer!” He roared, pressing his forehead angrily to mine.

Ignoring both Larry and his rage, I moved away from him and over to the bed where I'd discarded a pair of sweats. Once they were covering my legs, I went for the pair of Jordans that hadn't housed my feet since I checked in days ago.

I felt Larry following me and heard his voice but my severe tunnel vision disabled my ability to react to him. Robotically I moved around the room, dressing and murmuring to myself. When I was dressed I spared him one last glance before leaving him alone in the suite.

His calls were all that followed me as I moved down the hall towards the elevator with my key card in my pocket and rage in my heart.

"A huge part of me feels like I made the right choice based on my physical ability to carry a child and my mental stability when it came to not being able to but—" I paused as Larry wiped at tears that wouldn't stop streaming. "I know my health wasn’t the only factor in my decision." I admitted to him for what I was sure to be the first time.

My memories painted a picture of an apathetic me, one who hadn't cared how Larry felt about the decision I'd made. I wanted redemption, though I was sure if I could do everything all over again I would've made the same choice while being more cognizant of Larry and his feelings.

"I was hurt and bitter and lonely but regardless of all of that I should have never excluded you from that decision." I sighed. “I'm sorry for that.”

“I forgive you.” I was more than positive that he'd said the words aloud moreso for himself than me. He needed that, and I understood.

“Thank you.” I whispered as his face nestled against my neck.

My hands moved to his scalp in an effort to comfort but deep down I knew there was nothing any part of me could do to make him feel at ease. I was lifting rugs, sending everything we'd swept under them flying everywhere. We were both uncomfortable – me because I was forcing myself to expose my deepest, most inner thoughts and him because I was bringing up shit he longed to forget.

"I remember thinking that you didn't want me and that you wanted Luzy because she could give you what I couldn't – and when she said that exact thing in those texts something in me died." I wanted to put him as close to knowing why I'd done what I'd done. He would never understand or relate but I wanted to grant him as much clarity as possible – even if he didn't want it.

"For years I felt like shit because I couldn't give you a baby. And I know it hurt you that I wouldn't try with other options like surrogacy." I sniffed, ignoring the fresh wave of tears that drifted down my face.

His lifted his head, peering at me with the saddest eyes I'd ever seen. They were damp and red but I knew he wouldn't cry. His selflessness would tug him away from his own emotions to tend to mine. And to prove my point, he reached out swiping my tears away with a gentle thumb.

"But I think you think I get mad and blame you and I don't." He insisted. "Yes, I want my way and I want baby but I understand and respect your feelings."

"Yet you went and told another woman about our... issues. You confided in her. You exposed my biggest flaw to her and," I wiped roughly at my face, completely over the waterworks. "I know you weren't being malicious but it felt like it."

"I just talk to her like my friend. I never complain or talk bad for you I just think I can trust her and tell her some things." He gripped my hand. “And I'm sorry for that. I know what she do embarrass you and make you look crazy and everything I say to her not right – I know this. Chink, I never love her or even want her – she just remind me of you when you happy and–“

“I hate when you say that.” I snatched my hand away from his. “Because I would never in a million years do what she did! So don't tell me that she reminded you of me. I'm not like that.”

“I'm sorry.” He quickly apologized and I nodded my acceptance.

Quiet consumed the room and I briefly wondered if we were even getting anywhere. We were exposing old wounds and saying things we should have said eons ago but for what? Were we trying to move on together? Or move on from each other? Was this closure? Or the peace we both longed for?

“How did this become us?” My questioned prompted more tears.

“We make so many mistakes.” He took my hand in his. “But I never stop loving you, Marlee.”

“How?!” I sniffed. “I did such a terrible thing to you.”

He frowned. “How you can ask me that when you love me no matter what I do? In the past and even stupid shit I do just 3 months ago?”

I shook my head. “I forgot everything – you never did.”

“And now you remember all the things I not want you to. So you don't love me anymore – because you remember?”  His next breath was dependent on my response.

“Of course I love you.” I was almost offended.

“So I supposed to stop love you after you make one mistake when you love me no matter how many dumb shit I do?” I didn't answer – I couldn't answer.

He stared at me with an almost peeved expression, making me feel foolish. I totally understood what he was saying but what I'd done – the way I'd done it – was a lot.

“What you do,” He sighed, looking off. “It kill me. It break my heart – bad. And for so long I live my life angry about it – angry about you not tell me, about how I find out, about how I never know why,” He trailed off as his eyes trailed over the open space of our livingroom.

“I'm still pissed.” He looked down at me, not bothering to tend to my tears this time around. “I pissed off that you didn't tell me, that I was not there to hold you and make sure you okay when you do it – and I'm pissed off because I never know if that baby was a healthy one.” He breathed a sigh that caused his body to vibrate.

“Larry–“ I whimpered only for his voice to stampede over mine.

“But I know your fear and I have that fear too so I would have never in my life asked you to even be pregnant long enough to know if that baby was healthy – I just wish so bad that I was a part of that decision.” His weeping eyes fell onto mine. “But I get it – I know you and everything I do and I get it. You wrong for it but you human. I put you through so much and not be there when you need me so you act  without me. I get it.” He was pounding the declaration into his own head. “But I'm still pissed.”

By now my tears had blurred my vision completely, making a mess of me. I sniffed and snotted, quaking against Larry as a mixture of guilt, angst and longing loomed in my lungs.

“Marlee, you have to forgive yourself.” Larry spoke, gripping my chin and raising my head. “This not about me forgive you – you have to forgive you first.”

“I can't.” I whined, covering my face with my hands.

“If you don't how you be happy – how we can be happy?” His speaking of a we made my soul quake.

I wanted so badly understand my feelings but I knew I never would, and because of that I wanted to bottle them up and toss them away. My memory wasn't sharp enough to understand. I felt disconnect from myself and damned near every decision that I'd ever made. The only thing I was sure I'd done right at this point was love Larry.

“I don't know.”

“I remember even when we young you feel like you don't deserve so many things – even me. You focus so much on all the bad that happen to you in your life that you try to push away the good because you think you not deserve it, or something bad happen to it.” He pulled my hands away from my face and stroked his fingers gently over my eyes, granting me sight. “You deserve everything you want, Chinky.”

He caressed my cheeks and stroked the pad of his thumb over my lips. “And I pray so hard to god that you still want me.”

-

I hope we can start brand new ‘cause I don’t wanna lose you..

[douggefresh-blog]

Top 10 favorite movies

1. Whiplash

2014

A promising young drummer enrolls at a cut-throat music conservatory where his dreams of greatness are mentored by an instructor who will stop at nothing to realize a student's potential.

Dir. and Writ. by Damien Chapelle

http://www.sonyclassics.com/awards-information/whiplash_screenplay.pdf

I believe Whiplash is one of the most well done films of all time. Whiplash has very simple and straightforward plot, however it’s very well paced and entertaining. I absolutely loved the message of the movie, and I believe it does an excellent job illustrating both sides of the argument. Even though the characters aren’t necessarily likable, their motivations where so powerful that we couldn’t help but relate. JK Simons provides a stellar and memorable performance as the film’s antagonist. Lastly, the music was absolutely phenomenal.

2. Toy Story 3

2010

The toys are mistakenly delivered to a day-care center instead of the attic right before Andy leaves for college, and it's up to Woody to convince the other toys that they weren't abandoned and to return home.

Dir. by Lee Unkrich

Writ. by Michael Arndt

I’m always a sucker for Pixar films. I think Toy Story 3 might be my most favorite of their films. I believe Toy Story 3 did an excellent job wrapping up the trilogy. Pixar has always been the champion of doing emotional scenes, and honestly, the last scene of the movie is so emotional and memorable that it earned the spot of one of my favorite animated movies of all time.

3. Interstellar

2014

A team of explorers travel through a wormhole in space in an attempt to ensure humanity's survival.

Dir. by Christopher Nolan

Writ. by Jonathan and Christopher Nolan

Interstellar is a movie that changed me and my outlook of human existence. Interstellar is a very complex movie with so much substance and messages. A movie with so much content is, without a doubt, going to have it’s flaws. However I believe what it does right, it really gets right. The plot is very captivating. The characters are likable. It has a very profound message. The performances are amazing, The music is emotional. Overall, an excellent film.

4. 12 Angry Men

1957

A jury holdout attempts to prevent a miscarriage of justice by forcing his colleagues to reconsider the evidence.

Dir. by Sidney Lumet

Writ. by Reginald Rose 

I loved the suspense in this movie. One thing I applaud this movie for the most is the fact that the entire movie basically took place in one entire room, yet the suspense was so powerful that it kept our attention the entire time. The movie is essentially just one long argument, but it creates great character development. It’s overall just a really solid movie.

5. Rope

1948

Two young men strangle their "inferior" classmate, hide his body in their apartment, and invite his friends and family to a dinner party as a means to challenge the "perfection" of their crime.

Dir. by Alfred Hitchcock

Writ. by Arthur Laurents

Speaking of suspense, I believe Alfred Hitchcock is still the master at it. It was hard to pick which Hitchcock film was my favorite, but Rope really stands out to me. I loved the cinematography of the film. The long shots make it seem like film is more natural. I believe it humanizes the film, since we are witnessing everything in real time. Also I absolutely love the suspense in this movie. The plot carries you through the entire film with you on the edge of your seat. I believe it’s a great film that demonstrates Hitchcock’s talents.  

6. Wall-E

2008

In the distant future, a small waste-collecting robot inadvertently embarks on a space journey that will ultimately decide the fate of mankind.

Dir. by Andrew Stanton

Writ. by Andrew Stanton and Jim Reardon

Wall-E is definitely, in my opinion, one of Pixar’s better films. This film is Pixar at it’s best. The characters are extremely likable and are easily memorable. The plot is very solid. It has a good heart and a great message. It also does most of the storytelling visually, which I love. The exposition is kept to a minimum and it helps us relate to the emotions of the robots.

7. 10 Cloverfield Lane

2016

After getting in a car accident, a woman is held in a shelter with two men, who claim the outside world is affected by a widespread chemical attack.

Dir. by Dan Trachtenberg

Writ. by Josh Campbell, Matthew Stuecken, and Damien Chazelle

This film is also a a great suspense film. Much like 12 Angry men and rope, the whole film basically takes place in one room. Yet the plot is so suspenseful and the situations and characters get very intense. I also love the slight bit of mystery to the film. This is definitely a film that you leave thinking about it for the next couple of days.

8. Inside Out

2015

After young Riley is uprooted from her Midwest life and moved to San Francisco, her emotions - Joy, Fear, Anger, Disgust and Sadness - conflict on how best to navigate a new city, house, and school.

Dir. by Pete Doctor

Writ. by Pete Docter, Meg LeFauve, and Josh Cooley

Like previously mentioned, I absolutely love the way Pixar does emotion. It’s their emotional scenes that are the bread and butter of Pixar films. Inside Out is a film all about emotion. This film does a great job explaining why our emotions are all important and that its important to embrace them, even the negative ones. The message of the film is that it’s ok to be sad sometimes. Being sad is what makes us human. I think that is an important lesson for children and adults alike. 

9. Iron Giant

1999

A young boy befriends a giant robot from outer space that a paranoid government agent wants to destroy.

Dir. by Brad Bird

Writ. by Tim McCanlies

Honestly, I just love the animation in this movie. I love 2D animation, especially when its done very well. Not only is the animation pretty spectacular, but the story is also heartwarming. This is an overall pleasant film to watch that leaves the viewer in a good mood! 

10. The Simpsons Movie

2007 

After Homer accidentally pollutes the town's water supply, Springfield is encased in a gigantic dome by the EPA and the Simpson family are declared fugitives.

Dir. by David Silverman

Writ. by James L. Brooks, Matt Groening, Al Jean, Ian Maxtone-Graham, George Meyer, David Mirkin, Mike Reiss, Mike Scully, Matt Selman, John Swartzwelder, and Jon Vitti

Growing up, I’ve always loved The Simpsons. The earlier episodes are definitely my favorite. I think this movie is an excellent incarnation of the TV show. It has everything any simpsons fan could want. The characters are great. The jokes are funny. The story is captivating and solid. It also has heart. This movie reminds us what made The Simpsons so iconic in the first place!