#also a song i'd play while contemplating life but that could just be me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryptiql · 4 years ago

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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getofy · 4 years ago

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the first years as bruno major songs...

characters: tsukishima, yamaguchi, hinata, & kageyama

spoiler warning: none!

cw: some angst on yams’ part

dude i really hope im not the only one that stares at their ceiling contemplating life while listening to bruno major... he just hits SO HARD. fr never misses. everyone please hop on the bruno major train. please.

tsukishima kei

song: nothing

“Have I told you lately

I'm grateful you're mine

We'll watch The Notebook

For the 17th time

I'll say "It's stupid"

Then you'll catch me crying”

‘it’s the person, not the place’ typa beat yk

a relationship with kei would be so incredibly laid back. you two find solace from the outside world in each other’s company.

you’re both so enamored with one another that simply doing nothing other than spending time together is enough.

loving each other is easy. despite his apparent apathy, he absolutely adores you, and don’t you ever forget it.

this entire song screams soulmate dynamic, which is exactly what you get when you’re dating this lanky boy <3

+ he’s totally the type to secretly cry over the notebook lol. but don’t worry! you won’t tease him...too much

somebody put this man in his place he deserves it

yamaguchi tadashi

song: she chose me

“Not much to talk to, I know how I look

What I know about life comes out of a book

But of all of the people there are in the world

She chose me”

this poor, insecure baby

he genuinely thinks that he doesn’t deserve you. you’re the most beautiful, interesting, and captivating person he’s ever met. he’s in genuine disbelief that someone like YOU could love someone as ‘plain’ as him.

a relationship with yamaguchi is so wholesome and pure. he’ll do whatever he can to help you see yourself the way he sees you. he thinks you’re INCREDIBLE.

yamaguchi is so hopelessly devoted to you and he wants to make you the happiest s/o in the world gaaaahhhh

please show him that he is MORE than enough

this boy needs to be showered in unconditional love :( he deserves the absolute world. he cares about you soso much it hurts

hinata shoyo

song: just the same

“Drag me through the dirt

Cut me to the bone

Leave me for dead and laugh your way back home

I'd still be smiling like a madman in the rain

And I would love you just the same”

like yamaguchi, hinata is also hopelessly devoted to you.

literally fights with this man are non-existent because (when he’s not busy playing vball lol) he’d be so attentive to your needs and your wants and your emotions that there’s literally no reason to argue

have you seen how this man is with kageyama??? so understanding and emotionally intelligent.

he knows exactly what everyone needs to feel good about themselves. LITERALLY just,,, the embodiment of sunshine. help me im so obsessed with him.

he’s also 100% the best-friend kind of lover. literally dating him=dating your platonic & romantic soulmate. he’s so perfect please.

once hinata shoyo loves you, he will always love you. no matter what. his affection is absolute. this way of loving is honestly toxic at times, but just treat him right and it won’t be a problem hehehe

this man thought of marrying you like 2 days into your relationship. head over heels for you lol have fun.

kageyama tobio

song: second time

“So dangerously tangled second time I met you

Now I’m so impatient to adore you

I crashed my car last night”

kageyama has no clue what you do to him

honestly, i feel as if he’d fall for you really fast, but be too oblivious to realize what it was until it was explained to him :(. poor kags.

cut to several months of intense pining + denial + awkward yet adorable interactions.

you came into his life like a hurricane. one moment he was fine, and the next his mind was completely filled with you. your eyes, your voice, your hair, your smile. everything. you capativate him. take up all his attention. destroy his normal routine.

and this man LOVES his routine (this is coming from a kags kinnie so you can trust me on this one. he’s gotta be simping very hard for you to break from his norm)

ever since he met you, he’s wanted to spend all his time with you. it scares him, honestly, how fast he fell. but he can’t help it. this is how he feels. you’re his #1 priority. seriously, he’s only ever been this passionate about volleyball, so be grateful. his love is clumsy, unapologetic, and impatient.

help him communicate his feelings, and you’re gonna be golden. because trust me he’s had heart-eyes for you ever since y’all first met. like, infatuation bordering on obsession.

dw tho. if nurtured properly, it’ll soon blossom into a healthy, beautiful love.

have fun lovin’ my highest kin :]

back to navigation ⇨ click here

masterlist ⇨ click here

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit permission

#haikyuu!!#hinata x you #hinata x reader #hinata x y/n #hinata shoyo #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi x you #yamaguchi x y/n #yamaguchi tadashi #kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama #kageyama x you #kageyama x y/n

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dean-winchesters-gardian-angel · 4 years ago

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The Same bed - Chapter 4

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Friends are there to help each other out, but can they help falling for each other when all the long days they spend together turn into late nights they have and their reliance on each other.

Word count: 2544

Warnings: Fluff, angst, description of blood and injuries, nightmares, slow burn.

A/N: Chapter 4! Off we go. Read it enjoy and I’ll see you on the other side. There’s also a tag list, so be sure to tell me if you want in, as well as a masterlist so be sure to check it out. As are the latests, Unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.

Series masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean didn't sleep that night, too busy cursing himself for hurting Y/N and simultaneously afraid he may have a nightmare. He had gotten up several times with the intention of going to her room and seeking forgiveness if she'd give it to him, though he wouldn't blame her if she refused. Instead, he'd pace around his room or make it as far as her door before heading to the bathroom to wash his face rather than knocking.

The next night Dean had been too exhausted to stay awake, now accustomed to getting around 8 hours he passed out some time just after 2 in the morning while everyone else slept soundly. Dean managed to get just over an hour of shut-eye before waking up to one of his worst nightmares. He jolted up with a scream though quickly cut himself off as to not wake anyone. Nevertheless, he was half a scream too late as Y/N sat up in her own bed wanting to go check on him but refused due to her own stubbornness.

Dean mumbled a 'son of bitch' before getting up and making his way to the kitchen to get started on some coffee. Dean was given about 2 hours to contemplate his idiocy towards Y/N before his brother found his way to the kitchen.

"Dean?"

"Huh? Hey, morning."

"Man, you look like trash."

"Oh, thanks you're not so bad yourself in the shorts." Sam looked to his running shorts before rolling his eyes.

"You always did give me a hard time for wanting to stay in shape."

"Hunting keeps you in shape, not some little jaunt you do every morning. Hey, speaking of, have you found any new cases seems like forever since we've killed a deserving asshat."

"I've been talking to Jody and Donna, they've got a lead on a vamp nest, said they're heading out in two days and we're more than welcome to tag along."

"So, tomorrow. What time."

"They wanted to hit it just after sundown. So, we would leave tomorrow morning if you're interested."

"Oh, I'm interested, give me some' to kill."

"Dean are you sure you're okay. You usually become self-destructive when you've got something going on, something you need to talk about."

"I'm fine, Sammy."

"I'd mention that Y/N isn't sleeping in your room anymore, but I think that'd just make you mad considering that's probably what's bothering you."

"So much for not mentioning it." Dean swallowed what was left in his coffee cup before washing it and setting it in the dry rack. He made his way back to his room hoping his brother would take the hint and leave for his run, which he did. Once he heard the bunker door shut Dean went back to the kitchen to have another cup of coffee. As he sat down the sound of footsteps padding down the hall alerting him that Y/N had awoken. Dean straightened his posture as she entered the kitchen making her way to the cabinet to fish out a mug without making eye contact.

"Morning Y/N."

"Oh my god! It speaks." She filled her mug before walking out having not looked him in the eyes once. Dean rested his chin in his palm kicking himself for having hurt her. After a deep sigh, he dragged his palm over his face closing his eyes momentarily allowing them some rest from the lights of the bunker. Dean strolled his way to Y/N's room and knocked on her door. He heard her sniffle some before the door swung open, Y/N standing in front of him, eyebrows raised clearly on her last nerve.

"I just wanted to let you know we've got a case tomorrow, with Jody and Donna, we've got to leave early-ish so, you know, you might want to pack today so you're not rushing. Anyway, just keeping you in the loop." Y/N looked at her best friend whose eyes were tired, red, and glossy, staring at the ground in front of him. She missed him, but she didn't know why he was angry at her.

"Thanks." She turned away from him intent on closing her door to block the view of the broken man she so deeply cared about and wanted to help, and he spoke.

"Y/N."

"Yeah?" Dean swallowed trying to think of what he wanted to say to her but came up with nothing. There wasn't anything specific he wanted to tell her in that moment he just wanted to be with her. In the same room sitting next to her, looking at her. He wanted to spend time with his best friend whom he had been missing lately but if there was one person more stubborn than Y/N it was Dean.

"Nothing...nothing." With a sad smile and a sigh, Dean walked to his own room with the aim of avoiding her, once again, all day.

Dean listens as Y/N played her music in her room and smiled when the Grease love song came though it wasn't given a chance to finish before Y/N skipped it. He could hear his brother and Y/N talking in the library during the day occasionally finding something funny as they giggled in unison. He missed having her, missed being the one laughing with her, or even just talking with her.

Nearing the end of the day, Dean made his way out of his room for the first time that to grab a snack before trying his hand at some forty winks, wanting to be rested up before their hunt tomorrow. The energy of the room sizzled to nothing as he entered the kitchen. Sammy and Y/N were sitting next to each other looking at pictures of haircuts on the internet.

"Seriously Sam, I've been cutting my own hair my whole life. Just let me add a little shape to it. A little trim here and there I can make you look like the handsome devil you really are."

"I'm not letting you cut my hair. I don't trust you not to just cut it all off. Besides, I don't—" Both their eyes looked up to Dean as he stood in the doorway observing their interaction. Once he noticed their gaze he moved to the counter, pulling a bowl from the cupboard and reaching for the box of cereal.

"Sam and I made pasta if you're hungry for real food." Dean looked over the noodles as his tummy growled, licking his lips.

"Dean, just have some, we're not gonna finish it. It'll just end up going to waste." He hesitantly looked over his shoulder forcing a smile to Y/N who had the smallest one of her on her face. She watched him as he traded his bowl for a plate. Dean plated himself some of the homemade food before Y/N gestured at the spot in front of herself and Sam along with the parmesan on the table. Dean took a seat not wanting to be impolite more so than he'd already been.

"Anyway, I'm trying to convince Sam to let me trim his hair."

"You're not touching my hair with a ten-foot pole."

"Oh, come on Sam it grows back. You'll see, it'll look really good and you won't even want to grow it back. Won't be in your eyes anymore, won't distract you during hunts, monsters won't be able to grab at it. You know I make a good case."

"Sure. But you're still not cutting my hair." Meanwhile, Dean was silently moaning at the flavours on his plate. Y/N watched as the eldest closed his eyes savouring the taste, before he spoke, displaying his voice to them for the first time since the early morning.

"This is kind of amazing. I don't think I've ever had spaghetti this amazing. What jar did you guys use?" Referring to the sauce that had his taste buds dancing on his tongue.

"Actually, Y/N made the sauce."

"My mum used to make these gigantic pots of spaghetti sauce and freeze it so we could have it whenever we want. I was missing it, so I made some from memory. It's not hers but I think it turned out alright. I know I missed something, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was." Dean looked up, his mouth full, to the women speaking, no longer focusing on him rather in her head desperately searching for the missing ingredient, as he swallowed.

"You made the sauce? From scratch?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah, I mean it's not really that hard just time consuming, you have to let it simmer for a little bit, but I think it's worth it. Once in a while at least."

"You mind if I have more?"

"Go right ahead. Sam and I both already had seconds." Dean finished what was left and helped himself to more before moving back to his spot at the table.

"Sam promised to make me the 'Winchester Surprise' one day? Said you used to make it for him." Sam looked to his brother who reminisced, thinking back to the worst meals he had prepared for his baby brother.

"It was terrible. Sam that's — to repay her for this. Seriously Y/N you won't want to eat anything we make for the rest of your life. It was god awful."

"As much as I believe you because I do, by the description, Sam gave me, oh boy, I'll still be the judge of that." Dean chuckled at her retort missing her effortless comebacks and modesty when it came to the things she was good at, though he found it frustrating when she didn't accept the compliment he'd give her. He wanted her to brag about how many Djinns she could kill in a week, or in this case how good the sauce was instead of saying it wasn't perfect, so he'd done it for her, telling his brother when she would do something 'awesome', as he'd put it, that made him feel proud to call himself her friend. The guilt he felt was sudden and overwhelming. Even after he'd gone days without speaking to her, after pushing her away so abruptly, she was still offering him dinner, the conversation, the casual smile, the eye contact. How he longed for her eye contact. She had always been able to communicate with him with her eyes. He craved her gaze, how her orbs would sparkle when she was happy or grow dark when hooded with anger. But the thing he loved the most about her eyes was the fact that when they looked into his, it was like nothing else mattered. He could see he had her attention, and he wouldn't want to look away.

"I'm—ehem— I'm heading to bed, didn't sleep well last night, gonna try to rest up before our hunt tomorrow." Dean looked to Y/N who had a saddened look on her face, clearly angry and confused as to why Dean wouldn't let her help him. When he noticed the look on her face, he realized his words and quickly made up an excuse for why he couldn't sleep hoping to ease Y/Ns mind indirectly.

"Maybe it was a full moon, could never sleep well during a full moon."

"Full moon was last week Dean." Y/N answered him with an unreadable expression along with it. He didn't respond in an effort to save what dignity he had left. He forced a smile in Y/Ns direction as he passed by, once he'd finished cleaning his dishes.

"You mind telling me what's going on between the two of you Y/N?"

"Honestly Sam I haven't got the slightest."

"I know you two were sharing a bed... was that like—"

"If you're suggesting that we were a thing then no. He slept better when there was someone in the room with him, so I was that someone. Then out of the blue, he got distant and said he didn't need me anymore so." She shrugged not sure how to further explain their recent exchanges. "I know he's not through with the nightmares though because I heard his screams last night. I didn't check on him 'cause I was angry at him saying they were done, and he didn't need me anymore, but it was petty. I wanted him to stew in his nightmare, remember how bad they were before I told him I'd stay. I just don't understand him, I didn't do anything to warrant his actions. I haven't bothered asking why he's mad at me and even if I did, he'd just ignore me some more so what's the point. He's being a child. He's acting like I killed his brother when really all I'm trying to do is cut his hair." Her joke succeeded in lightening the mood as Sam chuckled moving to the sink to clean off his plate.

"You're a good influence on him, you know?"

"Why's that."

"Well for starters, he washed his plate."

"Oh yeah, I yelled at him this one time for leaving a mess, which I'm pretty sure was actually mine from the night before, but he hasn't left dirty dishes since so I guess it all worked out." Sam outright laughed at that before excusing himself to prepare for bedtime.

By the time 8 o'clock rolled around the bunker was silent, everyone in their respective bedrooms reading or watching a little telly before getting some rest. Due to the lack of sleep the nights prior and the upcoming hunt, Dean closed his eyes tight willing the nightmares away as he gripped his sheets. It didn't take him long to doze off though and it didn't last long before he was startled awake by Y/Ns voice. "Dean! Wake up!" She looked terrified, holding Dean down by his shoulders. "You idiot. Get up."

"Y/N? Why? What's—" She dragged him out of bed to the bathroom.

"Look at your hand Dean." She could hear the anger in her voice frustrated with him for refusing her help. The help they both knew would work. Dean looked down at the palm she hadn't grasped as she marched him down the hall like a child in trouble. It was bleeding, trailing down his fingers, shards of dark glass still imbedded in the tender skin of his palm.

"How did—" It came out as a whisper, laced with sleep as he did his best to orientate himself. Y/N turned on the light in the bathroom before forcibly sitting him on the lid of the toilet.

"You must have grabbed the beer bottle on your nightstand in your sleep." Y/N had pulled out the first aid kit they had stored under the sink along with a pair of tweezers, kneeling in front of the older Winchester.

"Y/N you don't have to—"

"I swear Dean if you tell me you don't need my help one more time I swear," she looked up from his palm to glare at him, "I’m going to tie you down until you get past... what ever this is." She didn't break eye contact with him until he nodded, shamefully looking down at the injury he only now started to feel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5 ~~ Out now!

Tag List: @akshi8278 @bargedog @just-someone-difficult @mila-dans @valhallavxlkyrie

Series Tags: @autobotgirl15-blog @classyunknownlover @laycblack @lovememisha @music-is-all-i-need @redbarn1995 @wellfuckmyexistence

#fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #SPNFamily #spnfanficpond #dean #Dean Winchester x female reader #dean fluff #fluff #spn fanfic series #dean winchester x you #the same bed series #dean winchester fluff

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retphienix · 4 years ago

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youtube

I did it :)

So, I cried. That's a given.

Also this might be the most overwhelmingly happy ending in the series so far, you know, if you're used to every entry ending with "KIRYU DIE?????"

Bonus points because this ending DID NOT immediately reveal that he lives! I know my intro here is all unserious and the like but genuinely, that does a lot for making the scene so much more impactful and it worked here even though I know he returns for Y6.

So, I'm gonna do this post like the last big post because there's too many thoughts to expel.

Timestamps as I rewatch so I can share my thoughts. Then a short conclusion because honestly? This game has taken all my words multiple times.

I just want to calmly and happily say my final piece at the end :)

0:39 - Spoiler, this ending SUCKS because it doesn't include a final rhythm battle for Haruka! Now I think I read somewhere that there's a member of that assassin clan she can dance battle as a final challenge but I clearly didn't do that right and missed out and that's beside the point- THERE'S NO RHYTHM GAMEPLAY IN THIS FINALE >:(

9:00 - I EARNED IT, I'M USING IT!

13:00 - Spoiler for later, Shinada doesn't get to say this from what I recall. Instead Baba gets a different wake up call, but that works out :)

17:00 - Not now, but this will come up, I offer to you my johns for what happens in the first boss fight. My eyes were dry as hell so I missed some QTEs which means I didn't get the flashiest stuff to happen. This actually happened at the end of Y4 also but I restarted just to capture good footage- not this time.

17:30 - MOUSE. MOUSE MOUSE, A LITTLE RAT, MOUSE. Love to see it.

19:00 - The audible sigh I let out when they played the same song I've heard like 40 times in my playthrough was palpable. I do dig the song! But there are what? 4 Idol songs? They really needed more or to not saturate their use so much :(

19:40 - I legitimately gasped and went "Oh no... of course it's you!" at Baba's role in this. It added a lot of weight to the way he practically begged Haruka not to show up.

20:50 - So here's the gist. Majima's plan didn't work out, we know that. Majima has a REALLY good line and motivator moment where he says he's following orders now to protect Haruka because she means more to Kiryu than anything (and that's how Majima rolls), Majima then reveals some shit which can be amounted to "I think you've gotten weak and wanted to protect you!!!!" which does ring slightly hollow since we saw Majima at a ridiculously low point earlier. So either his low point was him contemplating Saejima's survival chances, or his low point was sincere (it sure sounded it) and his worry over Saejima being weak was just also happening at the same time. I don't really mind either way to be honest, we beat him up. I fail some QTEs.

33:00 - Baba deciding not to fulfill his orders on his own accord is actually extremely important and good as hell. It shows that all this changed him and gave him the motivation to forge his own path- or rather it began to though he's overwhelmed with doubt. It's extremely good.

33:50 - The fact he intentionally leaves evidence shows how much doubt he has though, he's giving up entirely more than forging his own path, he's just refusing to follow the orders of another but hasn't found the strength to continue on his own. It's really good is all.

38:00 - This was the first cry I had beating the game x.x Shinada is just a phenomenally likeable character, and watching him accept where his life has gone and what it's meant to others is way more touching than I'd assume considering it's a tale of a baseball star.

40:50 - THIS WAS HYPE AS HELL AND LEAD TO MY SECOND CRY. THIS PRISON FAMILY HAS NO RIGHT BEING THIS ENDEARING. Also, more or less, they get to deliver the message Shinada was supposed to lol.

42:50 - THIRD AND BIG AS HELL CRY. SHINADA YOU FOOL, YOU'VE A FOUND FAMILY AFTER-ALL!!! I genuinely adore this moment so much is all. It's such a wonderful payoff for this loveable fool. After all the runnin' away he has a home.

43:36 - I love Shinada so much the silly fuck.

46:00 - I got a laugh out of Akiyama KICKING ASS in the news footage (didn't mention but the first brawl cutscene was rather lacking wasn't it?) and Kiryu just like... punches a guy. It's hilarious to me. Also you best believe- I UNLOCKED IT, I'M USING IT!!!

48:00 - Now this is a, well, it's a bad reveal. Like look, there is a metric ton of good going on in this finale- but the reveal that Aizawa is his son and is evil and is the final boss is just too much zero-build-up-payoff. It's the worst part. It's not like extremely detrimental or anything- like it doesn't take away from the good stuff- but it's just entirely uninteresting and bad. It makes Aizawa's interest in Morinaga bizarre and uninteresting since he got no payoff, he had buildup with Saejima and then in the final scenes he's just like "Yeah, Mori was nice but who gives a fuck I am the one who killed him (I think he said) and I aspire to be strong as fuck because all of YOU IDIOTS have FRIENDS and CHARISMA >:(" and like, who fuckin' cares bud.

52:00 - Now I'll more or less sum up all of Akiyama's payoff here. 1- I unlocked it so I'm gonna use it! 2- He offhandedly says he wants to be a legend in this town, which in Y4 he already was- he was a myth, a city mystery- but of course he means like Kiryu not the loch ness monster. 3- He gets to be a legend by being the only civilian (or person in general) the Omi would bow to. It's kind of not built up at all and is a bit lame, but to be honest Akiyama has a pretty bit part in this entire game. He's kinda just a convenient returning character with motivation to assist Kiryu and a career that allows motivation to get involved through Park. To be blunt, his part in the story is weak. I wish it was stronger. But it's inoffensive and he at least gets something- as minor as it is. Getting to say he's king of the world is something, you know?

56:00 - I will say that the build up of "Oh shit, these are Kanai's men!" and the reveal that "Oh shit! They are WATASE'S men and all the clans who the Tojo were seeking alliances with!" is a good one. Watase is a fine enough character which I bring up only because I was told he was a standout- but he wasn't for me. His scenes are great, his growth with Katsuya is nice, but he's barely in the game and really only exists to be betrayed and then to be like "I'm one of the good yakuza despite being a war-lusting one because being a good yakuza is just complicated enough to allow this overlap" which is interesting for sure, but I don't know. Unless he does stuff in the subsequent games I didn't catch much in this one. Maybe he does- I assume he runs the Omi now!

1:00:00 - I kinda summed it up but yeah. Here's the final boss, Aizawa, a character we were mislead on and who's motivation is empty as fuck. It's, whatever. It's not the good part of the ending. The good part is everything prior and directly after. Like his entire deal is anti-silver-spoon talking points but also he includes being charismatic or capable as silver spoon-isms??? He pretty much just wants to be leader because he's strong. He'd arguably be more interesting if he just said it that way.

1:11:00 - The lyrics to Dream are anything but subtle and I love them and I love Haruka. Sliding this in here- Majima gets no payoff >:( Park's dream is accomplished in seeing her star on the stage, but no Majima moment? No sight of him accepting her loss? Lame.

1:14:00 - I genuinely LOVE that Aizawa focuses in on Kiryu's gunshot wound. He still accepts it as a fair fight because Kiryu presents it as one, but even then he pays mind to it as you'd expect someone wanting to fight at their strongest would- he wants to fight Kiryu at his best and he's accepting this because Kiryu presents as his best even when wounded- it's pretty cool. Fight happens. It's fine stuff, flashy and fun. Still maybe the weakest final boss yet because he has no build up. I'd be the first to admit without looking it up I can't list every final boss thus far, but like, Nishi was built up, Mine was built up, Goda was built up, I just, in this moment, don't recall having a big "WHO THE FUCK, THIS MEANS NOTHING?" fight in yakuza and this is certainly one of those.

1:25:00 - I cried AGAIN. Haruka just hit me with a truck of emotion here is all.

1:41:15 - This is a beautifully shot, emotional, and tragic looking ending. Heck, at 1:43:00 I initially thought he was being awoken in a hospital bed and I was like "Heh, there's the old Kiryu dies fakeout!" but no! They hammer home, they go for broke, they give a TRAGIC AS FUCK bitter ending on top of an ending that's like 99% happy as fuck in terms of offering everyone involved hope for the future. This was a good end :)

So then, some overall thoughts I maybe didn't get out- I mean there's no way this post touches everything but I want to at least try to because I like sharin' the experience and what I got out of it.

The fighting styles were mighty uneven as far as strengths or fun factor. To be blunt,

Kiryu has an overpowered counter attack and heat mode and since heat mode is underwhelming as hell that means he has JUST a counter attack- his strikes don't really hit all that well considering the improvements other characters saw this time around, so he's a bit one note here.

Saejima feel even meatier than before, nothing particularly 'stands out' but the fact that he has super armor as long as he has heat is a pretty big factor in making him feel good to use.

Akiyama got the short end of the straw this time around. His new gimmick is the launch combos and they are... well... less than shit at least from what I could feel during gameplay. They don't hurt much, they burn heat like crazy, and they can MISS, all while being a move that targets just one enemy- has no counter to blocking or armor- and provides no armor in turn.

Despite not losing anything, he kinda got screwed.

(I'm lead to believe Akiyama is invulnerable during his aerial combos which my blurb in my finale post complained felt worthless and cited that as a reason.

If so then I was wrong but I still hold all my other complaints towards it, just not the 'it has no armor or invuln' bit assuming that's true.)

Shinada wins out for being unique and being a weapon oriented character that actually does well with weapons. Weapons have always been something I pretty much ignore in Yakuza and the series itself has always desperately tried to make them interesting with things like weapon skills, Kamiya works, and the like. But other than the god weapons like the golden gun weapons just never felt good to manage.

Using them, sure, that's fine, but managing them? Durability and skills and limited movesets and all that? Nah. But Shinada really does a lot to make them less shit! His innate abilities that raise durability a metric ton REALLY make weapons feel better to use with him- and his unique movesets with weapons are pretty damn good (mostly. The pipe/'normal one hander pole size object' moveset is worthless as heck, it regularly misses).

He's fun.

===

Revelations were a miss this time around for me. Since you couldn't have seen them if you tried on my blog let it be known- I ONLY got the quest related revelations for each character- which is to say- ONE rev per character.

Revelations in 5 are weapon based, and not just 'bat or pole or gun' or whatever- they are DISPOSABLE TEMPORARY weapon based.

What you are supposed to do is go to the specific place on the map where that one revelation weapon spawns, hope like hell you find an enemy, and wail on them like crazy. If you use a weapon x amount of times then you'll get a revelation according to the internet. This is beyond ridiculous and means a normal playthrough will get none of these, while a focused one will be bored out of their mind GRINDING to get these.

I did not bother.

===

Now.

Yakuza 5.

This might be my favorite Yakuza overall.

I still think 0 is probably the best overall for most people, it has the best style, it has from what I've experienced the best gameplay, it's story is tear jerking and exciting and fun.

But as a yakuza game overall, I really have to give it to 5 personally. Because 0 tried to work within its bounds- it made itself a great entry point to the series or a great addition to Yakuza 1 / Kiwami as background.

But 5 is building on 4 previous games and it does so fucking phenomenally.

There's something to be said about a later entry in a series gaining extra payoff thanks to multiple entries of build up and character depth and 5 fucking does it.

I just. It explores the motivation of some fan-favorites so well, it expands characters so fucking well, I know I've harped on about it but just Saejima- man! Saejima goes from a run of the mill "Decent" character to a fully fledged and explored entity! And I LOVE him!

And no he's not the only shining spot, like hell he is, but he's such a posterchild for what 5 does right in my eyes- take something that's already good and breath some life into it. Also I adore it's laser focus on a singular theme and all the ways it wanted to explore it.

Like. I think Kiwami and Zero take the cake for the most fun I've had " 'playing' Yakuza so far, but 5 takes the cake for the most fun I've had 'in general' like gameplay and me just thinking about it because there's so much to think on.

More time will tell as I compartmentalize my thoughts and perhaps forget some details as one does, but right this moment- this might be my favorite Yakuza game.

I love it.

Also, woot! I beat Y5 before Monhun Rise came out :D Now I can start that game without putting a story on hold!

...

Except I also told my sister that I'd start Omori after Y5. So I guess alongside monhun I'll be playing through a game with a hefty and wonderfully done story. Which is what I didn't want to do with Y5.

I just can't win, lol.

#RetPlays #Yakuza #Yakuza 5 #Youtube

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 6 years ago

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Winter Rain

I'd like to thank @xerxezra for the encouragement. I really needed it, and to the Enya song in which the title and fic is based on. I'm still working on the fic to go with a fanart of mine, but until then feel free to check out my other fics which can be found on my Fanfic Masterpost or Ao3 links which are in my description under my header.

In this fic the reader deals with a change in plans.

_______________

City streets were passing by, underneath stormy skies. No, there were no neon signs but there were cargo trains rolling by on the tracks parallel to the main road. Hmm, wasn't that an Enya song? Perhaps it was.

Funny that you were thinking of new age songs when none were playing on the radio, though you wouldn't have minded if any music was on; it would've made a difference. Enya's songs in themselves reminded you of that one teacher in elementary school who wore that cherry brooch you liked and drowned herself in a bottle of perfume. Your teacher, whatever her name, was halfway pleasant, but always wore a blouse which was a size too big and thus you always saw more of her then you cared to whenever she leaned over a desk to assist another student. Another Enya song, Only Time, reminded you of that one book you tried to read around that time with the questionable cover. Of course, neither of these things had anything to do with the drive home, but it was a passing nostalgia you couldn't pass up.

Wiry, naked trees were scattered along the way; none of them of much consequence except to the fragments of your imagination, where they were dancers in a wintery, mournful ballet. For his part, Rick was unaware of these random thoughts, for you had not mentioned them, but you did wonder about something else when you took a glance at the time and found you two were getting home a little faster than usual. “Rick, do you prefer driving? Or is flying in your spaceship easier?”

“I-I think each one is great in its own way,” he answered, keeping his eyes on the road. “but th-the fastest way to travel is by using my portal gun.”

“So it is. Hmm, makes me wonder what the Flash would have to say about that.” you commented as rain pitter-pattered against the passenger side window. “I bet he'd have a few things to say if you can catch him.”

“Gee, I don't know. I'll ugh - I'll have to ask him the next time I'm in his Earth dimension.”

Sometimes you didn't know if he was being serious or simply joking, though you tended to believe him, especially since it only added to your natural wonder. Your curiosity was a quality which tickled him immensely, but whether he could withstand it while driving was not something you were about to test. Outside, straight ahead, the roads looked all the same, although, to the discerning eye, one would notice the cracks here and there, and the splattered paint on the curb closest to city hall and the fire station. And while the roads were neither empty or full, you would say they were in want of life and perhaps a good shoveling, but with whatever technology hidden in the nooks and crannies of his station wagon, you two drove on the icy roads with ease. It was cold outside, but you weren't cold; Rick made sure of that by giving you the heated seat and a quilt to drape over yourself.

You were, however slightly bored because Zeta-7 hadn't been talking all that much this evening. He had been in a mood and you thought it could've had something to do with the phone call he received while you two were at the craft shop but he didn't say. It hadn't made him any less sweet, but he seemed distant in a familiar way that you were sure you had experienced some time ago. Perhaps he was fearful, he would have reason; contemplative as always; afraid, to an almost unhealthy degree, but risking a chance to placate him, you joked. “Are you trying something new? Is it a seduction tactic, cause I'm certainly intrigued.”

“Wh-what?” he blushed, as he turned the corner to head towards your street.

“Aren't you trying the broodish thing all cool guys do in those cheap romance novels? You know, the kind they sell at the drugstore?” you giggled, turning up the heat in the car to fit your preference.

“Gosh, n-n-no. I ugh - I-I don't think I'm cool enough t-t-to do that.”

“Really? Well, I think if you wanted to you could, though I doubt you'd try it unless convinced it would work. Not sure how effective it would be on me, but this isn't about me. What's going on with you,” you questioned with a serious, but gentle candor. “you haven't said much tonight.”

“I ugh - I have a few things on my mind is all, but it's going t-to be okay. I'm sorry if I alarmed you.”

“Not too much, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Are you?”

Stopping in front of your home, he admitted with a sudden disheartenment. “I don't know. Sometimes it's - it's hard to know especially if you hear bad news but I th-think I will be. Eventually.”

One of his watches was flashing, and it made you wonder if it meant what you thought it meant. While you couldn't read the line of code which passed over its digital face, you thought you'd seen a similar line of code before. “Are you going to have to go? Is that what's bothering you? I know you promised that we'd paint together tonight, but you won't be able to will you?”

“No, I'm - I'm sorry. I had asked for the whole week off, but this - it's from my supervisor. I can't ignore it. I have to go in. I-I really wish I didn't have to.”

“Oh Rick, if you had to go, why didn't you tell me earlier? I would've understood.”

“You were having such a-a great time picking out supplies that I didn't - I couldn't bring myself to crush your excitement. Now th-that I think about it, I don't know if this was any better, but I-I asked that I'd be able to bring you home first so that I wouldn't have to worry about leaving you there without a-a word.”

Zeta-7 hated to break his promises, and you hated the feeling of a broken promise, but as he switched the car off, and you two walked towards your porch, you admitted. “I would've figured it out and got home somehow. I mean there's enough Uber drivers in this town, and one of them would've driven me home, but I'm glad that at least I had this time with you. Please be careful and visit me whenever. You know you can.”

Instead of comforting him as your easy resignation usually would, he balled his fists and hit them against the railing; hateful of his own inadequacies. You had to admit that when he got upset, it caught you off guard, but it also reminded you that he still was very much a Rick, albeit a softer one. “Th-this wasn't supposed to happen. I-I don't understand why it always comes to this. We were - I had so many things planned out for us and th-”

You hugged him from behind, interrupting what he was going to say. “There will always be next time. Calm down,” you cooed, “it's all going to be okay. It's not the end of the world and I'm not upset by it.”

“But I don't - I don't want t-to keep doing this to you. I promised.”

“I know, but it's not like you do this on purpose. You see, this is what happens when a girl like me dates a guy like you. Expect the unexpected, and maybe a few space worms every once in a while if I eat a sandwich from a gas station on a comet somewhere. These things happen.”

“I wish it - it didn't. Lately,” he confessed, his voice taking on its softer quality. “I've been thinking a-about when I'd like to retire. Maybe I finally should.”

“Whatever you want to do, I'm okay with it. As long as it makes you happy, but only if you do it without regret. You would know best of course.”

“I-I certainly hope so.”

You two stood there in silence for a moment, but you heard a beeping noise emanate from under his sleeve. “I d-don't want to say goodbye, but I'll miss you m-mi corazón.”

When he wasn't around, your home felt emptier,

though you refrained from saying so, and because you didn't want to add to his guilt you simply said. “I'll miss you too.”

“Th-there's a chance I won't see you in a few days. At least it will feel th-that way for me.”

“You can always call me, and if you can't then I'll see you when I see you. You know where I'll be.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “somewhere I-I'm not.”

“Don't say that. You're always on my mind, and I'd like to think you're always with me, in one way or another. There's no way I couldn't think of you.”

He turned around to face you, his eyes appearing twice as expressive through his glasses. Zeta-7 studied you and brushed his thumb across the back of your hand. “Siempre estás c-conmigo, and because of - of that, I'm never truly l-lonely.”

“Oh Rick, I love you.”

As easily as it was to adore him with your entire being, so it was to break his heart. Whether it had been a lack of love or an abundance of heartache in his life thus far which shook him to his bones, a replenishing of spirit was always in order. You weren't tall, you never had been, but stepping on the tips of your toes, you pressed a kiss on his cheek that never failed to floor him, and marvel as though it were from a fairy queen; one comprised of stardust and moonbeams. “This means you belong to me. Got it cutie? No one else has dibs except for me, so don't look so surprised. You're mine.”

Like a tease, the weather picked up and the strong gust which followed made you shiver, which alarmed him and prevented his reply. You were trying to tough it out because he could be gone at any moment. And must've sensed this, for against your control you shivered once more, but he pulled off his own scarf to wrap around your neck. “It's going t-t-to get colder,” he said protectively. “so please don't forget to wrap yourself up tonight. I um - I placed a-a few thick blankets in your closet just in case. Why d-don't you go inside?”

“Because I can bear it for a little bit longer. Thank you,” you smiled sweetly up at him, despite losing feeling in your cheeks. “but I doubt I'll try to leave my house for the next few days. I'll look after this for you. Hopefully, it's going to be warmer where you're going.”

“I-I can't say, it's…”

“Classified information.” you finished.

“Gosh, I-I-I guess you know th-the drill by now. Smart girl.”

“Maybe. I don't know much, but I know you, and that you can't tell me certain things because you don't want whichever information to be held against me. At least I'm learning. Either way,” you softened, buttoning the top button on his jacket. “please be careful.”

“I-I will. Can I um - can I-I give you a kiss?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Though of course, he would ask as though your disappointment would disqualify his validity to partake of your affection. He bent down to try to kiss you goodbye, his glasses fogging up at the closeness between you two, but a portal opened right behind him and the guard Rick's on the other side pulled him through. And like that, he was gone again; without a choice; without a goodbye. Your arms which had been around his waist a moment ago, you brought down to rest at your sides, and you too clenched your fists in quick frustration but found yourself halfway exhausted by the cold temperatures and suddenness of it all.

His scarf felt warm and soft about your neck and smelled like him; of vanilla, and of whatever his house smelled like. You thought of the painting that you two would not do tonight, and how you were once again alone. That seemed to magnify it all, intensify the fact that you might've always been alone and destined to remain as such. It used to make you cry when you realized that he could be taken from you at any moment, but you had gotten used to it, or at least you thought you did. Only a few hours ago, you two were at a café, discussing painting techniques and how with a little practice you too could paint that little tree you liked that was growing in the corner of your yard; his enthusiasm was contagious, and you were pumped because you really wanted to show him you had been practicing.

If once again someone cried, then it was you because he couldn't cry where he was going; he wouldn't dare to and repress it for as long as he could help it; if only you were as strong.

Oh, winter rain, how could it relate? It knew little except its natural way; of falling upon the earth; of life; of beginnings; of letting go; of uncertainty. Yet, it wasn't the rains fault; it does not know and could not know; if only. It was cold, and you were cold, with the only part of you that was really warm being where his scarf was.

Thinking of what lied in store for him made you want him back all the more so that you could hold him, and make him feel safe. You wanted him back now because it seemed so unfair that they'd take him when he didn't want to go, but you couldn't bring him back; not even for his sake; being against your power just like the rain. For now, all you could do was only open the front door to your home and step in as the last train passed by; not knowing when the next will come.

Fin

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #j19ζ7 #rick and morty fanfiction #rick and morty #rnm fanfic #rnm #my writing #my works #fanfiction #my fanfiction #doofus rick x y/n #rick sanchez x y/n

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terrablaze514 · 6 years ago

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Being Black + R. Kelly, Living With Secrets, and Writing Catatonic Fanfics

Hey everyone.

I'm up extra early, because this is bugging my mind and heart right now. The words might leave if I don't voice (write) it.

In a few hours, I'll be going to church again. Christian, yes. Predominantly Black, you've guessed it. Both of these cancel each other out. Why?

Despite my suspicions growing up, the vast majority of Black people I knew (family, friends, acquaintances, etc.) were still jamming to R. Kelly's music. It makes all the more sense why he's known as, "The Pied Piper", and that's scary as buck if you stop to think about it.

I've never understood why he was permitted to keep making music. Why the buck does Wendy Williams still have an audience? Why did 2Pac and Michael Jackson get destroyed by false allegations (until their sunset), while R. Kelly is still a free man in the music industry with proof of sexual deviance in multiple court cases?

I was 7 when I was molested by a grown woman. I couldn't approach my parents about it, because she became a close friend to my mother, got closer to other notable family friends, and I was already misunderstood at school and church (Grade 2 was a horrible year). My parents were also coming to terms with their breakup, so it didn't help (because what if they had another physical altercation?). Top that with the ongoing belief that men were innately predators...

October 2018, I've had a nightmare of her stalking me while visiting my hometown (the 514) - woke up in a sweat, purchased Black Panther on Google Play Movies, and watched the movie until my eyes shut again... Because mentally, I needed to feel safe. I wanted Wakanda's protection. And I ended up getting it in my dreams (occasionally). M'Baku and The Jabari Tribe are the best!

Back on topic... So, while I'm happy that justice is happening, I'm also disappointed. Deeply disappointed in The Black Community for sweeping this issue under the rug.👏🏾Every.👏🏾 Single.👏🏾Time.👏🏾 I understand firsthand why it's hard to come forward. Allow me to explain (and these are some of the reasons why going to church is a farce in my book).

I've shared with a few Gundam Wing fans (via Discord) that I've sung in three choirs (four if school curriculum counts). To this day, I still jam to my favourite songs and sing as a secret means to calm down when times are too stressful (and if I have no access to a pen and notebook). So why bring this up? Simply put, during my tenure in the third choir, I was spanked and grabbed on the buttocks for holding the door open for an elderly man. [This isn't funny, so if you're laughing, check yourself or leave my blog ASAP]. Not only did this trigger my fear and cripple my confidence as a young adult, but I wasn't able to focus. I've felt scared... Moreso when I've relayed the incident to a few choir members. They've laughed it off, because it sounded funny to them.

It didn't help that this also happened a week after one of my closest friends had died from cancer (and I couldn't make it to his funeral). So being forced to laugh it off, take it with a grain of salt, and keeping it moving wasn't easy. Also, being Black means you don't cry. "Stay strong," is all people would ever say.

I've also been approached and stalked by some strange men, around my age (no older than 27). I'd be waiting at the bus stop so I can commute to work. Strange man shows up, and requests (to the point of begging) that I take the taxi with him. One week later, he begs me to skip work and come over to his place. For what, only God knows. I didn't go, but I've sent text messages to friends. The majority of them found it funny - except one, who also called to check up on me. If it were up to him, he'd drive across town and set the stalker straight.

That was then.

There was a fellow co-worker (cisgender woman) who used to touch, or feel up my inner thighs and buttocks without my consent, and in the presence of customers. How many times have I reported her, yet supervisors promoted her, and would say, "That's her way of giving people props."

What the heck?

Then, by the time I was 25, I've reached my breaking point despite graduating from college and acquiring two careers to call my own. My physical appearance (gaining weight), marital status ("let's find a boyfriend for you on WhatsApp Messenger"), and popularity were the only things that mattered. Damn it all to the grave.

Dating prospects were more like, groomers. And they were all Christian Churchians.💯 I've never given up the V-card, but I've tried to fit in to the point of mental starvation and social exhaustion. In the worst case scenario, I've heard adults (including a parent) poke rape jokes. What's so funny about that?

We sure as hell did not deserve Aaliyah, because the ignorance is real.

I've ended up writing a fanfic project that deals with the music industry, and emphasizes deep comparisons between a good rep team versus an evil rep team, by pulling bits and pieces of experiences by real artists, as well as my "inability to be more transparent/speak up/get out of my shell", and conceptions of what could go wrong if there was no access to a healthy outlet... Combined them into the realities of the characters I'm borrowing. It's still in progress; I'm a perfectionist, yet, the story needs to be told.

There's a second project where two cousins grow up together in the kingdom, get separated after the death of a family member, and the elder cousin searches for his bestie in America. Friendships are formed, but there's also a rampant rape culture against girls in the community where his cousin took residence... Pedophiles will get killed after witnessing the dismissal of reports by police. Go figure.

Writing these types of things, is an outlet. I don't condone abuse, murder, things of that dark nature, but honestly. I grew up in a rape culture. I need a healthy way to deal with (process) that.

Talking about it to people is only safe enough in therapy sessions. Outside of that, get laughed at. Mocked. Told that You deserve it (or did something to deserve it).

I've contemplated suicide last month. Resurfaced memories do more harm than good... And even if I followed through on December 29th (I'm glad I didn't), everything in this post, especially the woman predator who was a babysitter, is the secret I would've taken to my grave. Who could I talk to without feeling unsafe or unwelcome? Without laughing it off in a dismissive manner? Without assuming that I've done something to deserve it, like forgetting to pull on my panties first?

No one.

I've been taught that my big butt, juicy thighs, bust... Yet fat belly, rolls on my back, and somewhat bouncy arms, are something to be ashamed of. From 14 to 23, I used to sport Beyoncé's figure (used to be slimmer)... Yet I still had to feel guilty for embracing that, because if I didn't cover up... If I walked out late... If I didn't keep up with trends... if I didn't turn up for what... If I didn't drop it like it's hot, turn around and bump bump bump, my body too bootylicious for 'em, 'cause if it's worth it lemme work it... And whenever I did these things...

I am guilty.

Now that I'm older, and I don't do these things as often...

I am still guilty.

Because I grew up in a community and a society that hates rapists and pedophiles while making excuses for rapists and pedophiles if I spoke up. If other girls and women spoke up. If boys and men came forward with their true accounts without receiving homophobic comments, or the overused, "You became a real man, congratulations!" Canada's Supreme Court will not keep a sex predator behind bars for more than ten years. That's all the additional proof you need.

The hypocrisy was real, and it still is.

There was an incident where a little girl complained about a church elder touching her... No one believed her.

Later on in my teens, a teenage boy was falsely accused of sexual harassment, and everyone believed the lie (except his closest friends, whom told her to stop following them around).

Another church elder (and a Bible thumper), fondled my breasts out of spite - and my mother blamed me! The next time I've seen that elder, I've set her straight, but who the hell am I for talking? She's still the most respected because she knows every scripture passage, from Genesis to Revelation, and also knows every volume, word for word, from The Spirit of Prophecy. So she has no sin...

THE LIES!

I was nervous shaky the entire time.

So growing up Black, in a church community, as a girl (now a woman) had many catastrophes. I'm not crazy for putting this out there, just keeping it real. I'll be in church in approximately less than three hours from now, and if anyone cracks jokes or makes demeaning comments about R. Kelly's current and former victims, talking about how they're fast, and how they should've come forward... Nah, Hollywood gets away with sexual deviance against minors. A large percentage of them have bought R. Kelly's music, at music stores and on iTunes/Google Play Music. No surprise, huh? As much as I love my church family, I cannot accommodate the ignorance that's gone on for my whole life so far. *Sigh* This has blackened my heart, I just... I am at a loss, not only for R. Kelly's victims, but every child and youth who will be targeted by men and women who cannot be trusted.

I will always support Black Empowerment, Black Lives Matter and Black History... But I have zero tolerance for the enabling of pedophiles and rapists. Even the jokes. It's distasteful.

If you are a supporter/apologist of R. Kelly, Sparkle, Marques Houston, and any other person who'd used/subjected minors to assault and/or grooming, get off my page. And stop pretending to be a huge Aaliyah fan... We've lost her because the adults in her life had failed in exchange for her fame. We also owe Michael Jackson's family an apology for destroying his character and career under false allegations, while R. Kelly was still a free man, preying on girls and grooming boys to become like him... And all the evidence of his crimes were readily available on the archives while I was in Junior High. While we're at it, Kitti Jones and Drea Kelly need to take several seats. They've had every opportunity to approach the police. They've known what R. Kelly did to all those girls and how it's destroyed their youth. They are the poorest examples of how to put sex offenders in their place, just so they can get money now that #MeToo (who never gave a damn about half of your experiences, unless you were penetrated by a man)... Nuh-uh! The lives that were destroyed by rape, molestation, grooming and exploitation matter more than the money anyone might make from a case that should've been dealt with decades ago! My heart is very heavy throughout this post. I know it's Sabbath hours, but I'm currently listening to "Don't Stay" by Linkin Park, because it truly reflects my thoughts and memories, in the wake of #SurvivingRKelly.

Everyone (especially Black people) who put on R. Kelly during weddings and birthday celebrations, I've taken notes. You will not be trusted around my future children (if it's meant to be). I've never healed, yet. The community does not offer a safe space to heal from the damage that's been done. So when I hear about Chester Bennington (Linkin Park -I hope I spelled his name right), AJ and Nick (Backstreet Boys - their parents stood up for their sons), B2K (especially Raz-B), IMx, Sammy, O'Ryan, the victim of Brock Turner, a few victims of Bill Cosby and that actor from 7th Heaven, the young girl who was sexually assaulted and exploited by that loser who was granted a chance to finish up his studies at UofC (University of Calgary), Natasha McKenna who was stripped, dehumanized and tasered in her last moments by eight men, the former victims of Eddie Long who were forcibly silenced, the girl who was raped, hospitalized and raped again in the hospital by her father and brother... This is real ish. I have no more words. Leave my page if you support R. Kelly... Special shoutout to John Legend for keeping it real. Another special shoutout to Terry Crews who spoke up. To the victims of Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey, you also need to get your voices heard, because you also matter. To the victims of Ryan Seacrest, the same also applies. May Corey Haim Rest in Power, because Charlie Sheen is getting his just reward for what he did decades ago. Although I'm glad B2K is reuniting for tour, I've been conflicted with how R. Kelly wrote your popular hits. That wasn't your fault, though. Your former manager (Chris Stokes - another pedophile) had that set up for your grooming - good thing y'all left TUG behind when you did. Other artists and notable faces in the entertainment industry - you don't have to comment, but I beseech you to STOP collaborating with R. Kelly. What he did to those girls is beyond me. If you keep enabling him, you're now guilty for proving that rape is okay.

It is not.💯

#r. kelly #terrablaze514 #memories #true story #surviving r. kelly

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estrxlar · 3 years ago

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The Ghost Of You

04 - Learning To Receive

These chapters songs:

Moonlight On The River; Mac Demarco

Nostalgic Feel; Bedroom

New Flesh; Current Joys

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TW: Self-harm, death.

(Not done by you, don't worry)

——

- K.S. Perspective

Only two or three days had passed since high school had started, which meant only a couple more walks home with Y/n. They were shorter and quiet, and of course, there weren't any swerving cars.

But so far, what I had suspected was correct. She and I made amends and became buddies, thankfully.

The only times she was left alone were when I had morning practice, and she had to have one of her friends drive her home. Either that or she would have to walk home alone. I would've loved to accompany her, but volleyball was something I didn't take lightly, and my priorities were important to me.

Both I and my younger brother participated in volleyball and gave it our all ever since we were able to balance on our feet. Sadly, our parents were far too busy to go to any games, or even help us practice at home. But their goal was for their kids to grow up strong and steady with good grades and good stats, so that's why they made sure my younger brother and I were on top of our shit.

Once my first year ended, I didn't expect that I would have to carry so many burdens all in one year. That's around the time mother had died from sickness, which left me with doubts, wishes, and an unaccomplished relationship with her.

After the sudden death, our family didn't move on very well. My brother developed anxiety and depression, and he eventually had to take a break from school and volleyball. Then, my father became dull and increased his hours at work to avoid coming home to such a depressing home, leaving my brother and me to continue caring for ourselves, by ourselves.

I, on the other hand, had barely anything to say about it. All I could do was pose as if I were handling it better than I had. Truth is, my mother's death changed my entire persona. I grew grim and gummy, deprived myself of rest, and repressed the trauma I've received. Not only did I overwork myself because of volleyball and stress, but I also grieved in harmful ways. It'd either be a blade to the wrist, or a night with a girl; anything that could help distract me from my state of deep dejection.

It's been that way ever since. Only recently have I realized that I'm ruining whatever recovery I built up. That was all because of my best friend— Daichi— who had helped me come out about my feelings towards my mom's passing. Ever since, I've been able to learn from my mistakes, and slowly pick my life back up. I was beginning to become a better player for my team, better support for my family, and a better person for myself.

That only happened recently. So now, I'm left with lots of things to mend, and relationships to make. I'm determined that I'll mourn more healthily than before.

——

"Y/n!" A hopeful call leaves my lips, turning her head. As assumed, it was Y/n. Today she looked even brighter than before; she just has gotten more sleep. Not to mention she wore long socks instead of leggings, which must have been pretty hard in this weather.

I didn't get to see her this morning due to morning practice, but I did catch her before lunch. Just enough time to tell her I won't be riding the bus tonight either.

I look both ways of the cross hallway, before grabbing my book bag strap with both hands and jogging towards Y/n. I wasn't sure why I was so eager to see her, but all I knew was I needed a refreshing moment, and she could give me exactly that.

"Why hello, Mrs. Refreshing!" I joke, bowing my head towards her while she giggled. Looking up, she stands there, shining by the sunlight that reflected on the windows.

'If I could, I'd take a photo of you right here, just to show you how gorgeous you are.' I quickly put a halter on my thoughts, snapping back to a respectful filter. 'No, I can't do that. Not to myself, most definitely not to Y/n.'

"You look nice today!" I exclaim, awkwardly patting the side of my hips while smiling at her. Hopefully, I hadn't made her uncomfortable in the first ten seconds of talking to her. The last thing I wanted was to ruin yet another relationship with a girl.

Thankfully, Y/n responded with kind appreciation to my comment. "Why thank you, sir. And what brings you in my presence?" Her words curl in a formal British accent, adding onto our joke.

Standing normally, I explain, "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say hi, and to tell you I might not be walking home with you today. I'm really sorry, practice has been very necessary for our team. I-I hope you understand." I stutter on the last part, with a gentle tone to add on. Ditching Y/n for most of the week wasn't what I had planned at first, but what I had told her was 100% true. The first years, as well as the rest of us, we're in bad shape. With our spring tournament coming up, we had no time to waste.

"Oh, that's alright. I understand. I was in volleyball too, after all. Although, I do wish you could still accompany me. It gets a little lonely.." She looks down for a minute while I contemplate my existence entirely. 'So it does bother her.' But she quickly caught onto my thoughts by my expression and came up with a solution. "If— if you'd like, I can simply stay near the gym until practice is over! That way I can see you and your boys in action, yeah?"

Her fists pop up into the air, as a bright smile appeared on her face. If you didn't know Y/n personally, you would expect them to be cold stone and dull. But in reality, I find they're like everybody else, and have a bright side to them, just like the one that was being portrayed right now.

Nodding with her statement, I reply hesitantly. "Hm, I'd have to ask the captain, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind—"

"Oh, Daichi? We're buddies, he'll be alright." I'm dazed by what she'd said, pausing the motion of rubbing my neck. She and Daichi hang in completely different groups, though! 'How is it they know each other? They hang around two very different friend groups.. that is unless they have some type of history I'm unaware about.' I think to myself, trying my best to find a reason they would be friends, but I couldn't. And so, I begin my questioning. "You two know each other?"

Suddenly, Y/ns gaze twists. "Suga, you introduced me to them during our first year, silly. Remember? I went with you from practice once. And besides that, my good friend Miya is close to him."

"Oh, yeah! I remember that. That means you only know Asahi, Daichi, and Kiyoko, right? I've gotta introduce you to the rest of the team! I'm sure they've missed you!" I chuckle, throwing an arm around her shoulders cautiously, expecting her to reject it. But she goes on casually with our discussion.

"That's right.. well... I'm also— sort of— friends with them. Well, except Asahi. But Kiyoko and I are pretty close."

'?' I tilt my head at the uncertain tone she spoke with. "Pretty close?" I ask, turning into the cafeteria with my arm still around her. The room is, of course, crowded as hell.

Still, I manage to draw out what Y/n was saying to me, leaning my ear close to her mouth for better audio. "Yes! She's one of my best friends.. we used to date and it didn't work out, but we're pretty tight!"

'DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?!' My eyes widen, and I immediately let go of her, tightening my hands around the strap of my school bag. A gulp falls down my throat before I ask, "Did you say.. date?! You mean you two went out?!"

To my surprise, Y/n nods proudly. "Yes! Why, did you not think she'd go out with a girl? Or is it so astonishing that I could ever get a girl like her?" She teases, while I'm still puzzled. So many questions ran through my head at the sudden fact: was Kiyoko gay? Was Y/n gay?! Does that mean she's gotten closer to Kiyoko than anyone before??

"Suga, calm down. It's not like we're still together. As I said, it didn't work out!" She smirks towards me, putting a finger up towards her cheek. "Why? You got a little crush on her..? I wouldn't blame you."

"N-no! It's not like that! It's just— she never told any of us. I guess she just keeps to herself more than predicted." My sentence comes out to sound like a question, rather than a response. It wasn't that I didn't support it, or that I was surprised Kiyoko would be her girlfriend. Honestly, I was just a little jealous of both of them.

Either way, it seemed it didn't work out. So it didn't matter now. "Anyway, we're about best friends now, so I'm pretty familiar with your team. I don't think they would mind if I came, but just in case, I'll ask Daichi and Kiyoko." She explains, before looking back towards the slowly dying crowd of students in front of the cafeteria. "I better go soon, Suga. I'll let your captain know I'll be heading over there later—"

"Wait!" I shut my eyes out of nervousness, as my brain wires work to come up with an excuse for why I yelled that. "You used to play volleyball, right?"

An awkward nod from Y/n is given to me, followed by, "Yes, but I was sort of just a bench warmer. Nothing big." The hands that held her lunch box gripped tighter, as she suspected I would ask her a favor much larger than a lunch.

"Mind helping me teach one of our new members how to receive?" I say. "His name is Hinata, and he's a first year. He has great talent and has great potential, but he kind of... sucks at volleyball. I mean, from what I've heard, he practices a lot. But I just think he needs some guidance. So, want to?"

"Uhm... I'm pretty rusty.. but sure! It wouldn't hurt, right? Besides, I think I need a break from my friends wouldn't do any harm."

'Yes, I did it.' I thought to myself, before leading her towards the doors that led to the gym. "Alright then, right this way!"

"Suga! Don't you need your bag?" She immediately asks, tugging on my collared shirt. But I shake my head, responding with a light smile.

"It's already outside, I just came to check on you, is all."

——

Up, down, and up again went the ball. Each receive that Hinata had tried had failed every time. At this point, I wouldn't blame Y/n if she wanted to leave. But there she sits against the concrete wall of the outside of the gym, licking white rice off a spoon.

"Hinata, drop your hips down more," I say to him, demonstrating the position I had stated. "Hit the ball like you're trying to return it where it came from. Got it?"

Hinata's light expression appears on his face once again. "Yeah, got it!" He exclaims, before getting right into position. I signal the ball is going in the air before my palm hits it in the right spot, sending it towards him.

And it shoots right back, along with a slap against Hinata's wrists. "Nice!" He praises himself, leaving a feeling of proudness deep within me.

I'd never been able to teach somebody one of my special skills and having them accomplish it, not the way I did with Hinata. But that was mostly because he was driven by his entire body and soul to memorize every movement in his muscles to create a perfect receive. And who had taught him that? Your one and only.

"Would you like me to start setting for you tomorrow morning?" I ask the ginger with confidence he'd reply with a yes. Thankfully, that's exactly what happened. His eyes light up in the sun, and his hands take full hold of the ball. "Y-you mean it, sir?!"

The cold wind hits me, as well as another dosage of serotonin from the first year."Well, I am Karasuno's official setter after all! And you wanna practice spikes, right?" I ask, placing my red hands onto my hips.

"Exactly! I love to spike! It feels so good when you get it right, and it's cooler than anything!" He shouts. I couldn't help but laugh at his excitement, even if it wasn't the first time he'd portrayed it. Hinata sure reminded me of my past self, and I'd do anything to help first-year Sugawara.

Y/n suddenly joins our conversation, digging into a reason why Hinata is the way he is when it comes to spikes. "You must have a thing for spiking, don't you?"

Hinata nods, putting a fist towards his face. "Yes. I didn't have a setter throughout middle school, and I was actually the only club member until my third year of junior high. I used to get my friend in the Basketball Club to toss for me, but after I had dropped out of the club, I went to anybody that could help me practice. Take the first years, and the ladies and setters from the girls' team, too. I've made a lot of friends along the way, but none of those people could ever become my real teammates. That's why I was dying to find out what kind of setters were in high school— but now.. you know."

Hinatas pure passion dies down once he reaches the word 'setter', and I wouldn't blame him. The person he's supposed to be paired with is his complete opposite, and frankly, a dick-head. "Well, as I said, I'm a setter too. I'll toss you a few, Hinata! Don't get all down."

I was expecting further satisfaction, but instead, his expression twists into envy. "But it's just that if I have you throw to me now, it kind of feels like... I'm losing." He frowns, looking away from my figure in anger.

"You're just like someone I know, Hinata! Always competitive." Y/n says, placing her small bento to the side, and lifting herself from the shaded spot she sat in. Her hands dust off her navy blue skirt, and her blazer comes off. "Why're you so competitive when it comes to Kageyama?"

"If you ask me, it's better to avoid making enemies with those kinds of people." I join in.

She wraps her hands around Hinatas shoulders, leaning over his shoulder. "You know, Hinata, you're not as bad as you make yourself out to be. Wanna know a secret about Kageyama?"Without hesitation, Hinata is fully interested in what Y/n had to say. Frankly, so was I.

"Whatever you see from Kageyama is something he's learned from other players. He wasn't always so snobby; he used to be calmer and kinder. But once he was shown what he could do with his talent, it went to his head. Don't let that become you, Hinata! You have so much potential it's insane! I've never met anybody with as much love for volleyball as you." She pulls up her sleeves, getting into position for a receive, signifying I could rest now. "

"How do you know what he used to be like, Y/n?" Hinata asks her, sending the ball into the air. My eyes follow it, but my ears listen intently to their conversation.

"Well, I went to the same middle school as him. When he was a first-year, I was a third. Me and my friend we're on the girls' team, while my other three friends were on the boys' team. The four of us practiced every second of the day, which meant the two teams spent a lot of time together. Everything Kageyama knows is from another player; don't think he's just magically good at volleyball. Anyway, I don't know much about Kageyama, but I do know that he's changed dramatically." She explained. Just then, the bell for our sixth period had rung, and doors were heard opening and closing, as well as students fluttering around hallways.

The three of us pause our mini practice and gather out things where they were settled. Thoughts ran through my head as I put my school blazer back onto my torso. If Y/n went to the same middle school as Kageyama, that must mean she knows a lot about Aoba Johsai: one of our greatest enemies in volleyball. And if she knows him, could she be familiar with his playstyle? In that case, having her around would not harm the team.

"Sugawara, I'm off." She's heard saying from behind me, while she put her school bag over her shoulders. "Thank you for having me here with you and Hinata, I'm glad I could be of help."

I nod in response, nervously breathing through the teeth."Yes, of course. Uhm— would you like me to pick you up from your classroom later on? Either that, or you could walk to the gym after band practice." I ask the young girl, longing for more time to hang about her.

Then, she began walking backward, meanwhile talking. "I think I'll be just fine, Sugawara. No need to worry about me all the time. I've managed without you the past couple of days haven't I?" Her h/c danced with the wind as she did so, and the corners of her lips rose as she said so.

"That's right.. I'll catch you later then!" I manage to shout out, raising a hand for a gentle wave, but it was too late. Y/n was already turning into the doors of the school, returning the gesture.

Somehow, she always found a way to make the chains around my heart tighten a bit more. What was it that drew me towards Y/n? Hell, if I knew. "Wow, Sugawara. You've got yourself a pretty friend! She seems nice, too." Hinata expresses, looking agar with me. "Is she your girlfriend, or something?"

"No, Hinata. Just an old friend. Someone who may know me better than anybody, you know." Y/n; The girl who knew her way around my heart.

—

Hey everybody, sorry I've been M.I.A for a while. Don't worry, I'm not giving up on my ff!!! I would never do that. This fan fiction is super duper important.

Please note my chapters!! It lets me know you guys enjoy them.

Make sure to be taking care of yourself: drink water, go outside, eat something, and heal yourself after hard work:) It's currently mental awareness month, and it's very important to be taking time for yourself.

love you guys

- Sugawara's beauty mark

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damnthatnoise · 5 years ago

Text

Darko The Super | Of Dogs & Devils | An Interview

Hip Hop has long been about bravado, skill, and how your personality can capture and pull the listener in even further than just your skillset. There have been many an MC who’s personality sometimes outshined the lyrical prowess for better or worse, but when I sit back and think of some of my favorite MC’s growing up (Redman, Slick Rick, Kool Keith, E-40, and Del to name a few) the personality often was near cartoonish with no real effort from the MC to make it appear that way. Enter MC Darko The Super who since first coming across his music via Already Dead Tapes has oozed oddball personality, and ever evolving skills as an MC. Darko is no joke rapper though, instead he is adept at delivering some stark reality raps littered with glints of humor we often use to cope with the pain of existence.

Fresh off delivering one of my personal favorites last year in the form of Card Tricks For Dogs, he returns with his friend Steel Tipped Dove to give us The Devil Defeated, and makes a claim as one of the indie hiphop scenes freshest, most colorful, and promising voices making music.

You can order the digital, cassette and SUPER vinyl copies of The Devil Defeated here, as well as all Darko The Super Items.

The Devil Defeated by Darko The Super & steel tipped dove

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Damn That Noise: Darko The Super. What’s the origin of that name and what’s it come to mean to you now?

Darko: I think Darko The Super was my gamertag on Xbox Live before it was my official artist alias. I did two albums as Evan Darko after I seen Donnie Darko in high school. It had a big impact on adolescent me. The Super comes from another big influence on me at the time, MF Doom. My favorite song my senior year was "Dead Bent". I thought the ending of Operation Doomsday was really cool. The way it let you decide between hero or villain. I was big into vigilante justice at the time. I wanted to be like my favorite superheroes. So that's where the name came from. Nowadays it's just a name. More people know me as Darko than my real name these days, so it'd be silly to change it. Name's don't define you. It doesn't matter much to me. Though I like it.

DTN: You’ve had a pretty prolific young career given that you’ve dropped 10+ projects since 2011, but when we were taking recently you said you’ve just now started to feel like you now know your voice. What’s changed in the last couple of years to get you to that place?

Darko: Since 2011 I may have done nearly 100 albums. Most haven't lasted. I've deleted and erased most of my material pre 2014 from the face of the internet. (If anyone has a Loser CD, please destroy it.) I put out 10 albums in 2018 alone. All better than the previous. "Watered Down Demon Fuzz" from 2017 is the album I truly found my voice on. I listened back to "Oh, No! It's Darko" for nostalgic purposes and it seems more like a comedy album than anything, and not that good of a comedy album either. I was 18 when I made the first album I put on cd and gave to everyone at shows when I was starting to go out and perform. It was called Loser, inspired by Beck. Next cd I made was a compilation, also terrible, but somehow it's going for $75 on Discogs. I personally don't like anything prior to 2016. "Carve a Happy Face on my Tombstone" had a few good songs. Those were transformative years. My perspective on life has changed severely. It's hard to be happy with things you create when you're not even happy with who you are. I think in finding myself, I found my voice too. Life will always be a mystery. But at least I'm more comfortable in my own skin at the moment. Therefore more comfortable in my art.

DTN: Why erase the evidence of growth though? If anything that could show folks the rapid progression of Darko?

Darko: I'd prefer to leave a better first impression. Maybe I'm too insecure to show people my progression. It's also just a matter of that not being the way I feel anymore as far as the way I wrote back then.

DTN: Your style is a bit unorthodox in that you kind of dance all over the pocket of the beats, and your inflections seem to change at the drop of a hat. I know E-40 and DOOM are a couple favorites of yours but who else’s impressed a young Darko and helped give us the man we have now? Who made you say “I think this is something I want to do!!”?

Darko: Murdoc and MyGrane McNastee from Orlando, Florida were a couple of the first independent rappers I got into from watching the Wake Up Show freestyles on Youtube. They were big influences on me. From there I got into MF Doom, Madlib, and J Dilla. During the datpiff era, I got really into Charles Hamilton's mixtapes. I was a big fan of a web series around that time called Internet Celebrities. Through them I found out about Das Racist. I remember listening to them for the first time on MySpace. I saw Big Baby Gandhi in a video with them. Later on his Debut would become one of my favorite albums. I was really into going on hip hop blogs. I remember watching Open Mike Eagle rap "Qualifiers" in a laundromat and having my mind blown. He told me Serengeti was his favorite rapper which had me watching every Kenny Dennis video I could find. Dennehy became my favorite album. I got into Mr. Muthafuckin' eXquire from seeing the Last Huzzah video with Das Racist, El-P, Despot, and Danny Brown. That's still my favorite posse cut. From checking out rap battles I got into Soul Khan who I remember posting about Homeboy Sandman's album The Good Sun. Blogs also got me listening to every Blu song. Her Favorite Color was something special to me. All those artists were huge in developing my approach. Nowadays my favorite rappers of all time are E-40, Serengeti, and Kool Keith

DTN: Card Tricks for Dogs feels like your most fully formed artistic statement yet and The Devil Defeated feels like the exclamation point showing folks you’re a real force. What helped bring those two records to life?

Darko: Both albums took a long time to come together, which usually isn't the case for me. I remember writing some of those Card Tricks for Dogs tracks while on vacation with my girlfriend and her family. I had tons of beats from my good friend and longtime collaborator Phil Ford aka BLKrKRT (Blacker Karat) loaded on my phone for those trips. I started it shortly after meeting Steel Tipped Dove for the first time. I released an album of his on my label and he offered to mix and master some tracks for me. So this was the first solo album of mine I let someone else do all the mixing for. I took my time with it and let it come together naturally. I believe everything happens at it's own time. As for The Devil Defeated, that album started out as a project called Contemplating Lonely Stuff, inspired by a Serengeti lyric. It was for the most part produced by Height Keech and Steel Tipped Dove. Eventually I decided to do albums with each of them separately. The album with Dove was pretty far along in the process and originally I wanted to call it "Playing Skee-Ball With Zev Love X" but we both agreed that was kinda corny and not many people would get what we were referencing. Then I heard the news of Daniel Johnston passing away, who is a hero of mine. I listened to nothing but Daniel for a few days straight and a few lyrics in particular stuck out to me. The one that landed was "The Devil Defeated" another possibility was My Yolk is Heavy. Me and Dove made over 20 songs for this album and eventually narrowed it down to the most cohesive project we could. We'll be doing a follow up of course. That's in the works now. I'm very proud of this album. My favorite track is a story I wrote based on a song called "Suzy's Face" by my favorite punk band, The Spits. I had to convince Dove on that one. There's another track I tried to convince him about too, but that will never see the light of day since I ended up agreeing with him.

DTN: You’ve has a chance to work with a lot of interesting and well loved folks. How the hell did the tracks with Lil��B, Charles Hamilton, Denmark Vessey and others come about?

Darko: I did an album called “Thank You BasedGod” dedicated to Lil B. I produced a track for him way back in 2014. He reached out to me after TYBG and offered to do a track together. So I sent him a couple Steel Tipped Dove beats and he chose the one that ended up on the album. Later I saw Charles Hamilton posting about doing features. I sent him the Lil B track since that’s a dream collaboration of mine. Lil B is a big Charles Hamilton fan, and they’re both internet gurus of their eras. Charles conquered the blog era by releasing tons of free albums on his own blog, landing on all the mixtape sites. Lil B mastered social media and became a marketing genius, even transpiring music. I’m proud to say the first time they worked together was with me. As for getting Denmark Vessey on the album, he had already worked with Dove and toured with my good friends, The Difference Machine. I was the one who showed them his album Buy Muy Drugs while I was out in Atlanta for a week. That album’s my favorite of the decade. He had posted about doing features so I sent him an email and made it happen.

DTN: You’ve released a lot of projects via Already Dead Tapes as well as starting UDDTBA. What is the connection with ADT and why start your own label? What have you learned from ADT and how has the played into how you run your label?

Darko: Already Dead Tapes taught me everything I need to know about running a record label. I met them in 2014 when I sent over my latest at the time “Oh, No! It’s Darko.” They were nice enough to release that on cassette. Soon after they invited me to play their weekend long festival in Kalamazoo, Michigan. I brought along ialive and we booked our first tour. Staying in Kalamazoo at the Knights Inn we recorded an album together and formed the now infamous duo The Hell Hole Store. From there we’ve played the Already Dead fest every year and I’ve released quite a few albums on Already Dead Tapes. U Don’t Deserve This Beautiful Art was grown out of wanting to support my friends and artists I admire. I brought on my best buds Steel Tipped Dove and Harvey Cliff to help me run things. Now the sky’s the limit.

DTN: “Suzy” is life a very interesting record as is “lo-fi princess” off of The Devil Defeated. You mentioned the influence for “Suzy” came from another artists song...how’d this end up on your record and why? Also what’s the idea behind “Lo-Fi..”?

Darko: During my commute one day I listened to The Spits first self titled album. I hadn’t played it in a while and instantly remembered why they’re the best. One song in particular stuck with me throughout that ride, “Suzy’s Face”. I decided to write a song building off of their track. Almost like taking a short story and creating a movie. I tried to describe in detail about why someone would shoot Suzy in the face at a high school dance. So that’s what I came up with. Lo-fi princess 2 is a sequel to the original from “Watered Down Demon Fuzz” both love songs to my girlfriend, Alora. I liked the phrase cos it reminded me of “Bow-tie Daddy” by Frank Zappa. Now that I think of it, an actual Lo-fi princess would be an anime babe trapped in the track art of a SoundCloud beat. We’d have to defeat the chill hop brigade to save her.

DTN: You and iAlive have a really dope chemistry and have two very different styles but similar energies that work so well off of each other. What makes that partnership work and why’d you guys want to keep it going after the one hotel infused brainstorming session?

Card Tricks For Dogs by Darko The Super & BLKrKRT

Darko: We kept it going cos there were more hotel sessions to be had. On tour you’re on the highway with a lot of time on your hands. That’s where most of our songs and ideas come from. We set up shop where ever we’re staying and start to bring these ideas to life. The people seem to like us and we enjoy performing together. That’s what keeps the hell hole going. We survive off friendship and fun times.

DTN: Okay sir Darko. You can only eat at two fast food places for the next year because you lost a bet. Where you going??

Darko: Obviously Taco Bell is numero uno, I’m a big Taco Bell enthusiast. Next would be Wendy’s, best fast food burgers by me, and they got those spicy nuggets. Plus I heard their salads are good too, which I would need a salad every now and then. I don’t think this is too far off from my normal diet. Worst thing that could happen is I have a heart attack. But I’m on that path anyway. Maybe I’ll start exercising. Maybe.

DTN: What are you picking if you only have Thor and Spider-Man as costumes for Halloween?!

Darko: Spider-Man of course. I could pull off a husky Spider-Man. Family Guy made it look good. I’d need the fake muscles for Thor. Fake muscles never look good. I don’t have the luxurious hair either.

DTN: What’s the writing process like for you?! Do you let the beat decide the direction? Do you have an idea or some lyrics written and you locate a beat that fits?

Darko: Either or. Writing always comes to me. It’s second nature. If it doesn’t come to me, I don’t write. That’s all there is to it. I only write when I’m inspired. That’s an easy way to go about it. My number one thing is creativity, I don’t wanna be complex or even an intellectual. I want my lyrics to be universally understood.

DTN: So what’s next on the horizon for Darko The Super?

Darko: Next up I’m working on an album with skits from a comedian friend of mine. He does tons of great characters and videos as Hot Talent Buffet. I think he’s a comedic genius. I’m also working on an album sampling nothing but my favorite band 10cc, titled “Strawberry Studios Jam ‘72” and another album sampling one of my favorite songwriters, Dean Friedman. The Dean and I have a 7” record on the way with my remix of his classic “McDonald’s Girl” on the B side with the original on the A side. I have a couple other collaborative albums coming along. The artist they’re with wants me to hold off announcing it until they’re ready, but I will say it’s a dream collaboration and I’m very excited for it.

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