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saintsenara · 5 months

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Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?” riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort #if wizards had the concept of safeguarding it would be a game changer...

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thevanillerose · 1 month

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MASTERPIECE | STEFANO VALENTINI x READER | TEW2

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

“You are...quite magnificent...”

The ropes that bound you felt like claws digging into your skin. You seemed limbless, tied to that chair with your arms and legs all wrapped up in rough fibers, and you only felt all the more helpless when you saw the way he was looking at you.

In his eyes...or eye, rather...you were not a human being. No...you were like...clay. Like a canvas, upon which he would paint a bloody masterpiece. Something malleable, from which he would carve something monstrous. All the while he would be smiling in that sinister manner, maintaining that look which he was currently giving you, as you sat there in the center of that dimly lit room. Alone, with him, under the spotlight.

“...What is it you want from me...?” Thankfully the grueling aftermath of whatever he'd stunned you with in the first place had started to wear off, enough so that you were able to form some weakly spoken words. And you were weak. Outwith all this, outwith Union and this entire STEM nightmare, even away from all the dreadful monsters and gutturally croaking zombies, you were weak. That was just your personality. Tender and soft, certainly not someone who could look lightly upon the sight of a dead person. Yet they must have seen something in you, to send you in here. Surely you weren't just a...distraction.

Right?

“So innocent...” Or perhaps that really was the case. Perhaps you really had been sent in here only because MOBIUS felt you'd be a fitting form of bait for this madman. Someone who would definitely scream how he wanted them to. Someone who would shed tears and only look more tragically picturesque in the process. Someone who would make a fine piece of art. “...You wonder what I want? Well...I would have thought it was clear by your surroundings.”

Stefano, the tall blue-eyed bastard that he was, gestured with gloved hands to the darkness, as if you were somehow supposed to see the room you were situated in. You were glad you couldn't. No doubt it was no different from the rest of this horrible place. 'Quaint little town'? Hardly. “-Did you not see my art as you wandered this place? Did you not lay eyes upon my perfect pieces?” Stefano questioned, and with a smooth motion doubled over and brought his face to your level.

You weren't particularly tall in the first place, but this 5'11” male seemed like even more of a giant what with you being tied to a chair and all. Though you wished he hadn't come so close to you, for now you stood no chance of escaping that cruel gaze. Nor his touch, which graced against your left cheek, trickling down until his fingers were dancing under your jawline. It made you tremble, and those little shakes of yours only served to bring him more pleasure.

“Yes...” he breathed out, lightly dusting your face with warmth in the process. He slid his digits deftly under your chin, keeping it tilted up, although the edges of your face and the majority of your neck still felt so numb that you doubted you could have looked down anyway. Tying you up seemed like nothing but a garnish when you were already practically paralyzed.

And where would you run to anyway? This was his domain. His all-seeing eye, his lens would catch up with you soon enough. You could run and run and hide and hide, but in the end, he'd capture you.

“...This is exactly what I sought. This...this...fear. Ah...you fear a lot of things, don't you?” he spoke as if he could read you like a book. His hand turned so the back of it now stroked your skin, an oddly comforting motion considering what was likely to come next.

“I can tell you are not particularly strong. Of mind, perhaps, but not of will. I will enjoy this...” Stefano inhaled with anticipation and suddenly pulled away, straightening up and venturing out of the light to fetch something. Panic suddenly wracked your body, and you tried desperately to free yourself. The feeling in your nerves came back like lightning, the sheer adrenaline pushing the wooziness aside. This was something you had never experienced before. The sensation of truly being on the precipice of death. Yes, the creatures in here with you both were terrible, sure. Yet you had been able to avoid them thanks to your quiet and careful approach. That approach couldn't save you from this situation though. All you could do was beg.

“P-please! Please, please don't kill me! Please, I don't want to become art!” You started to sob, hot tears spilling from your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you bumped the chair against the floor a few times with your efforts. Still, it wasn't enough to help snap the thick threads he had tied you up with. You remained in place, and eventually he returned, looking all too happy about commencing the next steps of his creative procedure.

At first, you almost didn't notice it. You were busily scanning his body for signs of scalpels, razor wire, a gun- anything and everything that could be used to give you a gruesome yet 'beautiful' death. You hadn't expected this though. Those same gloved hands that had touched your skin before were now clamped firmly to a crossbow, upon which a bolt was already loaded. The smirk on his face said it all, and instantly your body was sinking into the wood it was sat upon, hopelessness swallowing you up and keeping you prisoner.

“There is a nuisance...a man who has come in here to stop me, yet cannot appreciate my art in the same way I'm sure you do. Well...assuming you bothered to pay attention to any of it-” For a brief moment, the man seemed bitter, but he swiftly carried on as he drew closer, “-Regardless...he has quite the penchant for using this kind of device. So I decided I would try it out myself. It does seem quite capable of killing quickly...” His eyes glazed, as he came to a standstill several meters in front of you. “And that moment, that instant where death occurs, though quick...is by far the most mesmerizing part of it all. That second-” he raised one hand to snap his fingers, then set it back on the weapon again, “-where you see the light leave the eyes...is breathtaking.”

Suddenly, with that final word, he wasn't wasting time anymore. Stefano stopped talking and started raising the bolt point until it was level with your head. You could tell where he was aiming for. Your eye. Your right eye.

“Please!” That pained beg came again, a choke emerging afterward. You didn't know what to say. What could you say to a man like this? This was no fairytale. Stefano wasn't a misunderstood soul who could be softened with tender words. He was detached, the epitome of cruelty and selfish desire. All he cared about was making art. Your screams, your cries for mercy would only add to the enjoyment.

That certainly seemed to be the case. And yet...something suddenly happened which you did not expect. No, what you had expected was that Stefano would plunge a metal bolt through your eye, splattering matter against the wall behind you. He'd be so sure and certain with his aim that he wouldn't miss, not even if you squirmed. When that was done he'd finally untie you, and carry your stunned and dead body to whatever place he intended to frame you. This set-up did seem a bit dull after all...

You were wrong though. Stefano did none of that. Instead, the artist brought the device down again, a moment of clarity coming to his eye. Not innocence, mind you, never that. However, it was definitely a change of thought. He sucked in his bottom lip before breathing out again in a long sigh.

“Ahh...perhaps this is a bit quick. After all, you aren't like any of the other projects I've had. The Core is an exception to everything of course, but you...you certainly are intriguing...” Stefano purred, his lips curling up and teeth showing as he walked toward your shocked figure.

“Wh...why...you...? Why did you...?” The words didn't come out right. He seemed to grasp what you were saying though. “I've devised other plans for you my dear.” Stefano's voice became slightly obscured as he crouched down at the back of your chair and sliced the rope apart. He'd freed you, and somehow you were alive when it happened. Baffled, you couldn't bring yourself to even attempt a quick getaway, only sitting there obediently until he pulled you up himself. With weakened legs you stumbled forward and ended up against him, to which the sinister man only smirked. His palm met your back and pulled you closer, while his lips moved down and by your ear. His soft low voice spoke in a whisper against it, tickling the shell.

“You...will be my greatest work yet.” Stefano smirked again, as his lips left a chaste kiss upon your cheek. “You...will be my masterpiece.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

#xreader #reader insert #stefano valentini #the evil within #the evil within 2 #fanfic #stefano x reader #writingcommissions #writing #creative writing #horror #romance

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justatalkingface · 1 year

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The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part One (Chapters 1-4)

So, at the request of @lacunammmm, I'm going to be... well, rereading MHA. All of it, god help me. Because the chapter division is stupid and based off giving weekly (and often cheap) cliffhangers rather than smooth storytelling, I'm just going to reread arcs instead of individual chapters (the arcs I'm going to be using are the ones off the wiki, for the record), kinda summarize it, and write out my opinions as they happen in a stream of conscious kind of way.... which is going to be a mess, fair warning. If you've read my take on the War Arc as a whole, that is the vibe I'm going to be going for. Thankfully, the first couple of arcs are only a couple of chapters long, so I get to get some easy stuff as a warm up before it gets longer and more complicated. Anyways, I'll be doing this on and off, and if this gets any attention I'll probably move it up my priority list a bit.

Anyways, first impressions as I read: where the hell was this guy with dragon fire head the entire time? Right at the start of chapter one it has examples of Quirks and there's this guy freaking out, and it's like a fire version of all those dragon covenants from Darks Souls, which is fucking awesome. Seriously, talk about an underused idea.

*clears throat*

But. Anyways. There's some crazy nostalgia seeing normal kid!Izuku; I know he's technically the same character, but he's changed so much from then to now, it's almost like he's literally a different person. It's not just that he's more confident and stuff*, like, all his mannerisms are gone, too. I mean, hell, the only thing that really connects Izuku from then to the current version is him going Kaachan, of all things. There's this kind of disconnect because I can't think of Post War Izuku, or even to some extent before that, really acting like Izuku.

More than that, though, he feels... fleshed out, in the way later Izuku doesn't; this Izuku, for all his flaws, and often (but not just) because of them, feels a lot more like a person that late game SUPER-DEKU Izuku does. Man, I miss this version.

*Actually, now that I think about it, he doesn't actually seem to have grown in confidence, after a certain point. Maybe by BvI2, his confidence, as a person, seemed to have stalled a lot. He's more confident later on, true, but that's more in a, 'I have assessed I can take you' kind of way to various villains, where before he was more nervous and determined; he's more confident in his power, sure, and his power level means he can apply that confidence almost all the time, but beyond that? The Dark Deku bit is something I could see this Izuku doing, if with less confidence, and for him to go on for so long without really getting to value himself at all speaks of some serious lacking growth.

Ah, beginning Bakugou. I did not miss you. And geeze, Bakugou cares way too much about Izuku; that ego is as big as a blimp and as fragile as spun glass. God, I forgot how damn sinister he was early on; that smile while he's burning Izuku (which I note doesn't even to have marred his uniform) gives me 'child pulling fly wings' energy. I really could see early Bakugou going way too far on Izuku and seriously hurting him in that, 'I didn't mean to' kind of a way, only maybe regretting it afterwards, and that is a bad vibe to have. In a less serious note, how does the teacher teach anything with him in class? From the way his friends talked afterwords, the lack of reaction the teacher had to his fits, everything he did except the suicide baiting was standard. Yelling, standing on the desk, exploding shit? None of that registered.

I know he's supposed to get away with everything because the staff likes his potential, but how much of the class does the teacher have to yell over him and his explosions? Or does he patiently wait for him to shut up before the lesson can continue, because clearly Bakugou's not getting punished for any of that.

...Sweet flying fuck, it has just got to hit me how much that must have hurt, the slime villain thing. Drowning is supposed to be a horrible way to die, and I doubt drowning in slime is any better, and to add insult to injury? He calls Izuku 'his hero', fuck. All things considered, that's probably the first time Izuku's been told that since his mom played games with him a a kid, since I doubt it's as common a phrase in MHA as it is now...

...

Now that I think about it, I refuse to believe that some sort of All Might related slang doesn't exist in MHA somewhere, and is this super common thing that people say all the time. It makes too much sense to me, considering the semi-literal worship the man has, and makes me want to laugh too much for it not to be real.

Speaking of All Might, popping out of the sewer, while carrying his groceries, as you do: in retrospect, that's like Superman crossed with your favorite idol popping out of the sewer, dressed in a normal outfit, holding groceries. It is both hilarious and without the reader's context brings up so many questions.

God, I miss this All Might. He's posing as he jump/flies away, long past the time Izuku should be able to see him, delightfully extra about it, and he's just so casual about this interaction, as he checks on Izuku, secures the villain, and even gives him an autograph on sheer autopilot.

I... I think this might be peak!All Might? Like, I know we get more of his story later on (but not by much, and generally just to introduce another character), but as a character I feel like his entire personality just started to flatten out after this initial arc, and by the time the next arc hits he's already getting flanderized into the useless character we end up with. Give it a second, let's get to a bit later in the story and I'll expand on that.

That said, the fact Izuku managed to stay on his leg and not get flattened by the jump or something is amazing.

Ah, instant karma on Bakugou. But, as has been noted, not punishment; he's not being punished for being an asshole, something bad just randomly happened to him, in a way that makes readers subconsciously want to think he's been punished for being an asshole, without having to make up for it in anyways, in a kind of half assed version of the dying for redemption trope.

Alright, real talk time: All Might and turning down Izuku. A lot of people hate on All Might for this, and I mean, a lot. They call him hypocritical and cruel, and like, did you pay attention? The man is being consistent; he didn't become a hero (student) until he got a Quirk. More than that, he tried to let him off gently, told him about how else he could help, and he really was just being honest. He may have been wrong, but he was honestly wrong. The fact Izuku took it so bad was because All Might was his last hope, but you can't blame All Might for Izuku's entire life when this is literally the first time they met.

*side eyes Bakugou*

Anyways, and now we come to it: the big moment. Well, a big moment, anyways; a lot of big moments in these chapters.... but yeah, Izuku saving Bakugou. It's... I feel like hindsight is tainting me here, in all honesty. Because that face Bakugou makes, as all those heroes stand around*, it does get you in the gut, it really does, especially when it drives cowardly Izuku to charge forward to save him. Asshole or not, he is just a kid, and he doesn't deserve that...

But. I can't help but look at that and think, 'This is Hori skipping on characterization'. That is, rather than making him better (though, to be fair, these early parts are the part of his biggest growth), or kinder to fix his character, Hori is hitting us with a poor Bakugou moment to smash some sympathy into us to try and undo all the shit that made us hate him not five seconds ago, while still leaving him as is. I don't know, maybe I'm too cynical, but I can't shake the thought.

But yeah, this is like, the defining moment for who Izuku is as a person, and it still is great at making him feel heroic in this really realistic, yet still impressive and admirable way. I really do love these early chapters. As much as I hate to say it, though, if All Might wasn't there all that would have happened was he would have gotten killed, like, two seconds after that so the heroes kinda had a point yelling at him.

Trying to recruit the recently traumatized victim, though? That is pure shit. Less, 'do you want to work for me', and more, 'Do you have lung damage', please; you're apparently professionals so I'd love it if you acted like it.

*Yeah, I feel like Aizawa would have expected all his students to try and rescue someone trapped by the slime guy, Quirk match up or not; there's certainly enough bad match ups they have in literally every school sponsored fight we've seen that it feels off that someone just said, 'I have a disadvantage' and gave up. I can't tell if this is an excellent demonstration of how half assed the heroes are getting, that UA is just better, or all heroes got flanderized as the series progressed into just charging in all the time anyways and this kind of characterization got forgotten. Some of everything, maybe.

Also. You, Fire Hose Man. Backdraft. Look, you stupid fucker, I get you're putting fires out (the second Bakugou is not responsible is the second his Quirk starts being treated seriously, interestingly; can't light a shirt on fire but once the slime gets to him the city starts burning? After this I don't think he'll ever start a fire again, no matter how hard he's going on someone or how flammable various things are) but you know what might be more helpful? Stopping more fires from happening, and saving a literal child! Two-for-one!

The villain is made of slime. You have access to high pressure water.

Do I need to draw you a map?!

*sigh*

...Sweet fuck in any other context than him being hammier than ham, All Might would be terrifying. How much of that persona is All Might going, 'Don't be afraid, I'm here to rescue you', and how much is, 'Don't be afraid of me, I'm so extra! Clearly I can't single handedly cause natural disasters when I'm not carefully monitoring my strength; there's no way you're going to explode if I touch you!'

God Bakugou, your ego, dial it back. Izuku, why are you complimenting how he refuses to get over himself?

Actually, right before All Might shows up, Izuku basiclly moves on from what... All Might said, which is interesting. He clearly still wants to be a hero, but that moment in itself just seemed really grown up to me. I respect that.

And... ah. I think this is my favorite moment.

'You can be a hero'.

God that's so damn powerful, the way you can see Izuku's composure fail, second by second. And... look at the way All Might is standing, look at how confident he is standing there, even when he's Skele-Might. This is the All Might I like, this is the man who helped get me into this story in the first place; even at his weakest, even after burning past his limit, he's still got the aura of a top hero to him, before promptly being shown as a Real Human, and it's so different from how cringing he seems to get later on, and so different from all these other mentors and heroes. All Might is both larger than life and starkly human in these chapters and that contrast is glorious.

And then the training, and I just hate we can't get this for rest of the series; All Might has that retired coach kind of a feel to him, of a guy who has done everything and knows how it works, and is just surprised and delighted by how Izuku is not only keeping up with, but surpassing his expectations.

The training we see is short, but when Izuku ends up screaming his victory, god it feels like he earned that win, and it's viscerally satisfying to see him improve like that.

'Now eat this', lol.

...What the fuck is UA's budget. They have a fucking town, like, an actual town, to train in. More than one? People could live there. And it's nice to see Iida be a character again, and the little arc he goes through here is interesting; he's well meaning, but abrasive, and in Izuku's mind almost bullying him, but you can still see how he means well; he maybe be a bit of a jerk at this moment, but he's not an asshole, which makes him (for what, one chapter?) a far more satisfying rival character than Bakugou ever was. If the story was spun different, you could really see a competing sort of rivalry between them forming where they both ultimately respect each other even as they try to one up each other, the thing everyone seems to think Izuku has with Bakugou for no real reason.

On another retrospective note, I have mixed feelings about how OFA is working here; when I first read this, I got into it, Izuku's struggles really brought me in. And then he kept struggling. And kept struggling. And the way All Might is suddenly unable to see this obvious problem coming, when he was so competent until Izuku got to UA, for literal months, leaves a bad taste. Looking back, it feels like Izuku is getting nerfed so he can suffer and panic all the time, and All Might is getting dumber so he can be a joke, and that.... ugh.

Uraraka coming in clutch on that rescue, though.

And Bakugou, yet again I'm harsher in hindsight, or maybe just less connected to Izuku's view on him, who would of course expect Bakugou to be the best, but the way it's focusing on his 'sheer battle instinct' and that he ends up in first place just feels like Hori hyping him up just because he can.

And to wrap it up... I'm assuming the 'Your Hero Academia' makes more sense in Japanese, because that phrase just feels...awkward, reading that in English. Was it different in the official stuff, or did it just stay as that weird almost title drop...? I can't quite sympathize as much with Izuku here, because of course he was going to get in, but it's nice seeing him win anyways.

In all honesty, this ended up meatier than I expected for just four chapters; in the future, if/when I keep this up, and the arcs get bigger, I might need to break it into multiple chunks to stop them from getting too big. Or, maybe this intro is meatier into such a short span because it's the intro. Guess we'll have to see.

#The 'Great' MHA Read Along #mha critical #bnha critical #bakugou critical #i miss this all might #i have no idea what i'm doing #what the fuck did i just bring upon this cursed land

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sunburnacoustic · 2 years

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The First Great British Guitar Band of the 21st Century

(NME, October 1999 after the release of Showbiz)

Oh the angst! The Pain! Searching for truth in a meaning less world.. Such is life in Teignmouth. Just ask Muse, three lads who've escaped small-town hell to be the toast of America. This just looks silly.

Three 21-year-olds from the sleepy fringes of Devon, lording it up in a glitzy Manhattan hotel lounge, chomping gleefully on tree-trunk cigars like they've just shagged New York senseless and eaten the entire music business for dessert. Any minute now these straggly indie-kid interlopers are sure to be turfed out on to the sidewalk with all the other guitar toting losers, back to their Transit van world. See ya. Keep dreaming, suckers. Except this never happens. Because even if they remain just above toilet-gig level at home. Muse are trainee rock royalty in America right now. Madonna herself beat half-a-dozen bidders to sign the youngsters to her Maverick label last November. Which is why the Teignmouth trio are billeted in New York for three weeks of back-to-back promotion for an album that hasn't even been released yet.

When British record companies sniffed around Muse, they declared them 'the new Radiohead' and shuffled away. When American labels saw them in New York's CMJ in November, they declared them 'The new Radiohead!' and formed a queue to sign their asses on the spot - cultural differences or Brit snobbery? Probably a bit of both, as Muse are more than the new Radiohead - they're the new Pixies, Nirvana, Mansun, Queen and Guns N' Roses too. And in their own broody intense way, they are about to explode.

Matthew Bellamy (singer/guitarist), Chris Wolstenholme (bass) and Dominic Howard (drums) were thrown together in a dark place of stagnation and decay, despair and degradation. It's called Teignmouth. Just below Torquay on the English Riviera, Teignmouth is a black hearted realm of eternal torment from which few souls emerge unscathed. Beneath its sleepy surface of genteel retirement homes and crazy-golf ranges, something deeply wicked festers in the remorseless south Devon sun. Possibly. "It's sort of like Torquay without the nightclubs" shudders Dom. Sounds pretty sinister. Like one of those elegantly shabby red-brick English towns where it's forever 1952 apart from the raging crack problem... "I think the best way to describe Teignmouth would be if we sent you the article that was printed on the front page of the local paper," sneers Matthew. There's a picture of the mayor of Teignmouth putting our CD in the bin because apparently we said in some interview that Teignmouth is a boring place, full of drug-takers. He said "I don't know who these drug-takers are, no-one takes drugs here...' Hahaha! That gives you an idea of what the town is like." Naturally, growing up in a stifling backwater run by rock-hating killjoys straight out of Footloose, the Muse boys were sometimes suicidally bored. They even resorted to doing 'dodgy stuff' on occasion.

There was a whole lot of nights when there was nothing to do and the only stuff that was fun to do was music," recalls Matthew. "You ended up doing dodgy stuff like breaking in to swimming pools, just because that was something to do. Most of the friends we had have either gone to University or become drug dealers." Ooh, the mayor will love that. Picture a bonfire of NME's outside the town hall. But at least the nascent Muse had something to kick against. And kick they did, starting with their debut sixth form gig five years ago. "The first gig we ever played together was a Battle of the Bands contest," says Matthew. "We wore loads of make-up, played loads of trashy punk stuff and got the crowd to invade the stage and smash all our gear. And we won! That's the weird thing. Because we beat all these bands that were really technically proficient, bands that sounded like Jamiroquai. People were shouting, you fucking cunts!' That totally affected our view of what music's about - it's not necessarily about music, it's about really believing in what you're doing."

So Muse kept plugging away, ignoring their critics, trashing their gear, dreaming of the big league. They eventually signed with a West Country management company and won a UK record deal with Mushroom, home of Garbage. And now, five years later, Madonna owns their souls. Sweet revenge on snobby old Britain and tight-arsed little Teignmouth, right? "That's what started us but I don't think that's what we're doing now," says Matthew. "The stuff we write now is more of a realisation of what the world's like. It's easy to blame stuff on a small town but then you go out there and you realise that some of the attitudes that you thought were just in your small town are actually all over." Muse's debut album is called 'Showbiz'. Oh yes. Most first albums contain two or three half-great peaks padded out with fillers. 'Showbiz' has a dozen tracks. ALL of which are heart-wrenching Wagnerian uber-anthems with fiery Spanish rhythms seismic meta-choruses and bile-spewing ultra-lyrics from the scabrous depths of Matthew Bellamy's charred-black heart. In other words, it's fucking great. But, bloody hell, is it miserable. Not trouser-fumbling hey-nonny-no Belle and Sebastian wistful nor chest thumping Daddy-never-loved-me Pearl Jam feel-my-pain self pity. Not even beautifully desolate and fragile like Thom Yorke, but aaaargh! post-apocalyptic heart-on-skewer Nick Cave tormented and urrrgggh! self-lacerating edge-of-darkness Ian Curtis fucked-up desperate. Heroically, bracingly, cathartically tragic. Hooray!

And yet Matthew seems like a pleasant well-balanced chap in person. Why the long face Sadboy-Slim? "Erm.... is this the time or the place?" Matthew wonders nervously "I don't think it is. Aren't we all tormented in some way? I've always had trouble.... I think it's like existentialism or something. The problems I'm having, if everyone else is having them the world's a scary place." Is miserable music some kind of perverse comfort in a cruel world? "All I can say is some of the music I listened to when I was young was like how we sound," shrugs Matthew. "That emotional deep stuff was what made me feel good because someone else out there is saying things the same as me. I used to listen to a lot of blues - Robert Johnson, Ray Charles I think that music was way deeper than I could have understood but for some reason it spoke to me."

Of course, Muse will be roundly mocked for taking themselves so seriously. But cynics said the same thing about Nirvana at the end of the '80s. Remember these boys are only 21, hurtling into a new millennium with their emotional wounds wide open. "I think things pick up generally towards the start of every decade." nods Matthew, spotting light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. "In 2000 or 2001, people will start getting more positive. There's a lot of fear hanging around which people are trying to deny but there is. And when that's over hopefully there will be a positive thing. Either that or extremely negative, hahaha! And it will all be over..." The first great British guitar band of the 21st century has arrived. Enjoy them while there's still time.

#Muse band #Muse interviews #1999 #NME #Matt Bellamy #Dom Howard #from the archives - rocketbabydolls.com #where would we be without the internet archive #the websites are all gone #muse band #matt bellamy #dom howard #muse #muse interviews #Showbiz Muse #Showbiz era

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nitrosodiumfmp · 7 months

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Plans for the Dock Map

These are two pieces of artwork vaguely representing the Dock map. They're not 100% accurate, but they display the basics. You start out on the jetty, before heading into the first yard with a lighthouse on the side, two warehouses standing ominously on either side of you, and beyond a Gothic wrought-iron fence, a taller building, with a single open window glowing eerie blue. Your mission will be to enter the Shipwright's office and take a Soul Anchor from it - an important artifact that you'll need to get before continuing through the afterlife. To get there, you first need to enter Warehouse A, where you can find a note that says the only way into the Shipwright's office is through the outside. This, coupled with the face that the window is clearly visible, signals to the player that they now need to use parkour to reach the office. From spawn, a plank is visible connecting the main building to the roof of Warehouse B. The key in Warehouse A unlocks the gate to the Outskirts, a cluster of streets beyond the fence. After some exploration, the player will see that the main building is blocked off, and Warehouse B is locked. Via another note, they will learn that the key is in a side building, the Earthly Possessions storehouse. Once inside Warehouse B, they will use the elevator to reach the roof, and shimmy across a plank to reach the Shipwright's office. Inside, writing is scrawled across the walls, plus a maddening note left by the Shipwright detailing the event that warped the underworld; just more lore. Once you interact with the Soul Anchor on his desk, you complete the level.

So it's a basic puzzle encouraging exploration and introspection in the environment. Three notes, two keys; it's nothing too complex. I'm thinking of adding a unique red-clothed Grave Digger corpse on the ground before the Shipwright's window, implying that it's the Shipwright having fallen to his death. Obviously right now it's all big ugly blockouts, but here are some of my inspirations.

Shipping... and Receiving is a Thief 2 mission, where you must plunder a dockside system of warehouses. Obviously, it's very much like my map, having Garrett explore the containers of the warehouse's various tenants, including spice smugglers, Mechanist religious zealots, artists, recording companies, and traders. My Dock doesn't have the same variety; Warehouse A is filled with big rusted containers and wooden crates, and I plan for Warehouse B to have a boat chained up on it. Then the main building is mostly inaccessible, except for the Shipwright's office. This aesthetic of grimy brick and opaque old-style windows is essentially the bread and butter of the map so far, but the second section, the Outskirts, is going to be a little different.

Yes, it's Limbo of the Lost again, specifically the town area of Darkmere. Nearly every building has a large sign indicating its trade, and some screens have signposts showing multiple areas to go. I want to create the imagery of a crooked city block without making an entire city block, so I'll include lots of side areas with nothing in them, and street signs pointing to them. It's almost like a diorama of what a larger location would look like; a vertical slice for you to play through without sacrificing fun for realism. This idea of naming everything to give an impression of a larger space existing beyond the game's limits was done before in games like Bioshock.

(Note the Lower Wharf text at the bottom of the screen). Bioshock takes place in Rapture, a massive underwater city which you only see bits and pieces of throughout the game, and each sub-area is titled, to help sell the idea that you're in a real place and not just a level in a video game. This idea of immersion is key to Bioshock, and its strong aesthetic-oriented metropolis is a large inspiration for Sinister. The Neptune's Bounty area of Rapture shown in the image above is also quite usable for Sinister; it's the main port of the city, full of wooden struts and stacked shipping containers. That, combined with the gloomy cityscape visible from every porthole, bathed in turquoise light from the ocean depths, makes it very akin to Sinister.

#devlog #gamedev #indiedev #indiegamedev #nitrosodium #indie dev #indie game dev #indie game #indie games

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chidoroki · 1 year

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Black Clover ch356

Oh, so these angels aren’t really a spell but people Morris and/or Lucius did some crazy experiment on to help add to the chaos? Fantastic.. though I doubt it was anyone we really cared about if they were rebels. Even though defeating them already seems like a hard enough task I assume trying to save and restore the people would add another level of difficulty to the whole operation.

Most the magic knights are quick to give up but despite the hard challenge in front of them, at least we got some like En and Sol who are both standing strong and giving their all.

All hope isn’t lost as we finally get a little assistance from a certain spirit, not only strengthening the knight’s magic, but weakening the enemies as well.

So last week when I wondered whether Yuno was hiding some wind or star magic under those bandages on his left arm, it turns out to be both. The large scale mana zone this spells conjures up is pretty insane too. And if that ain’t crazy enough, the buffs and debuffs Sylph is casting inside it is due to manipulating time and space. Seems our tiny spirit and Yuno got both Dialga and Palkia under their control.

We also get quick glimpses of Klaus, Letoile, and plenty of other knights from other squads gaining some confidence and charging in. Some faces I vaguely recognize from the Royal Knights Exam too which is nice. I always enjoy seeing familiar faces.

Now the whole control over time and space seems a bit random at first, considering wind and star magic are both entirely different from the time magic we’ve seen, except we’ve seen Slyph do something similar before. Time literally stopped when she was first summoned way back in ch20 during the dungeon arc.

Now, I dunno why it took me this long until a chapter titled “Neverland” for me to make the connection that Yuno is essentially like Peter Pan. The boy uses wind magic to fly, he named his very fairy-looking spirit Bell (why I call and tag her as sylph instead im not sure) and now has a spell resemble the story of Neverland itself by not allowing time to pass within its space! And it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with the fairy tale, like hello TPN has its own Neverland/Peter Pan parallels too (obviously) but I’m still so shocked and pleasantly surprised that all these details kept stacking up in the background to accumulate in this big moment.

Lucius makes a comment about how Yuno is his “rival” and that’s certainly not something our boy takes lightly. There’s no way he’s gonna allow this sinister man to call himself that when he wounded his true rival. The anger is real and Yuno manages to slice off part of Lucius’ antler, so good knowing this dude can indeed be harmed, but with his power I’m sure he’s gonna recover with no issue.

I believe there’s a break next week.. which is fine. I’ll just sit her patiently to see more about the Silvas. It’s fine. Totally.

#black clover #bc manga #chidoroki used chatter

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allthemusic · 10 months

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Week ending: 14 January 1954

Our first chart week of 1954 - I don't know what happened to the week ending January 7th - and it's a three-song week! What a good start for the year. I'm intrigued what the British public were listening to, in the 1954 post-Christmas slump, so without further ado:

Rags to Riches - David Whitfield (peaked at No. 3)

This song starts, and I think I know it? It's a Tony Bennett original and there's an Elvis version, apparently, and I can only assume it's from that, but it doesn't seem to be one of Elvis' more popular songs, so it's a bit of a mystery why I know that, to be honest. I'm not an Elvis fan by any means. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise, as the song started.

Unfortunately, there aren't a whole lot of other points in David's favour here. It's not that the song is bad - quite the opposite, it's perfectly competent and enjoyable - but it's not very memorable, and David's delivering it in his usual slightly operatic, carefully enunciated style.

The sentiment is pretty sweet, I guess? If David's love would only pay him attention, he'd go "from rags to riches", metaphorically speaking, and "though my pocket may be empty / I'd be a millionaire". So far, so good. Okay, it's a bit cliché. But I enjoy a song that's about love trumping material concerns - call me a sap!

The line where David asks "Must I forever be a beggar / Whose golden drеams will not come true / Or will I go from rags to riches / My fatе is up to you" is a bit of a turn - he's putting a bit of pressure on his love, there, in a way that I don't generally care for. I don't know, it just feels a bit manipulative, and also very grandiose. Fortunately, the moment doesn't last long, so I can't get too worked up about it.

There's a nifty kind of almost-Latin Bolero-like rhythm on parts of this. It never quite manages it, but it's approaching something interesting, especially on lines like "tell me you're mine ever more", and in the little instrumental breaks. It's not much, but it keeps things fresh.

And then we get one of the Big Old Endings that David is so very good at. It's big, bombastic and jarringly loud, and this song, like most songs, doesn't need it. Sigh. "My fate is UUUUUUUUP TOOOOOOOOO you" indeed.

Blowing Wild (The Ballad of Black Gold) - Frankie Laine (2)

I had to check, at first, that I hadn't already covered this song. But no, that was the very similarly titled Where the Winds Blow. That was an interesting enough song, and this is cut from a similar mould, on the surface - a Western theme, with lots of plot-relevant drama, pounding drums and backing singers imitating wind.

The film this is from is also called Blowing Wild, and it sounds wild. Our main characters are Jeff and Dutch, two wildcatters (aka people who go around digging for oil in areas not known to have oil) who get entangled with two different women in a small Western town. There are bandits, oil wells blowing up, gambling and murder - Marina, in particular, the woman who's namechecked in the song, apparently kills a man by pushing him into machinery, and then is killed in an oil well explosion. Yikes.

Frankie, given this, sings with an entirely appropriate level of drama - which is to say, he hammily oversells the whole song. It's very, very dramatic, lurching from grand statement to grand statement, all over this big pounding drum beat and these dramatic horns.

It begins with an exhortation to the beloved Marina, but the singer is apparently torn between her and his need to find oil: "Marina mine / Set me free from black gold." The image of oil itself as a grasping, sinister presence that you need to be freed from is powerful.

Except it then seems like Marina's not exactly a much healthier alternative for Frankie? She's described as a sort of sinister presence throughout, and compared to a spider: "I was caught in her web / Just like the spider catches the fly". Yikes.

In fact, Frankie then declares that "I must leave her or die". Double yikes. Clearly not the most stable or healthy romance for Frankie.

And then, as suddenly as all that got set up, we end, with a bunch of backing singers pretending to be the wind. Which worked really well in Where the Winds Blow, but just sounds a bit silly in practice here. I don't know it it's because the "wind" goes up and down more? It sounds like the sort of noise you'd make if you were pretending unconvincingly to be a ghost. The overall effect is very much reminiscent of "Marley and Marley" from the Muppets Christmas carol, which I don't think helps this song.

Admittedly, the rest of the instrumentation is pretty effective at creating a tense, obviously Western atmosphere, full of menace. Which is all a Western theme needs to do, strictly speaking.

Overall, it's just a bit of a chaotic mess, though. You can't follow the story, it's not quite clear how or why Marina's meant to set Frankie free, and the instruments often overpower the singing, a bit. Plus those very silly ghosts at the end. Dramatic, but a bit too much - Where the Wind Blows is superior in just about every metric.

Cloud Lucky Seven - Guy Mitchell (2)

Hey, it's the ever-unreliable Guy Mitchell, whose songs I regularly enjoy and/or loathe! He must be the most-featured artist so far, or at least one of the most-featured artists, and I do feel like I'm getting quite a good feel for him, for better or for worse.

Thankfully, this is Guy in his chirpier, light-hearted mode, and he's even left the period-associated racism/misogyny at home, which is nice for once!

There's some super 1950s vocal harmony in the background of track, which I also really like, especially with all the "ooooh"s. It's tight and fun, and very vintage.

Lyrically, it's a very happy, simple song, the main idea simply being that when you're in love, "you're walkin' on cloud lucky seven". The backing singers particularly love this idea, and chip in regularly with a repeated cry of "lucky seven, lucky seven".

I particularly enjoy the development in the second verse, as Guy desribes the process of falling gradually in love, and how "When you meet someone new, / You're on clouds one and two" but how "As you see more and more / Of the one you adore / You're on clouds three and four / And bells are ringing". We then proceed through all the levels of falling in love, before - you guessed it - you end up back on Cloud Lucky Seven. It's cute, and I enjoy the acknowledgement that it's a thing that develops, and not love at first sight. I don't know, it feels a bit more nuanced and mature than some songs have been - for all that this song is a piece of sugary fluff.

I also appreciate the bells that come in - I'm a sucker for the trope where songs mention an instrument and then you hear that instrument playing, and church bells are rarely a bad addition to a song. They give it that sort of more epic vibe, and here, they're also brief enough to add some interest without outstaying their welcome. We get a similar thing happening later with a glockenspiel, too, but it's different enough not to feel repetitive. Nicely done.

This song is a guilty pleasure, because it's really very sappy, but it is quite a fundamenally likeable golden retriever of a song. Nobody's claiming it as a lost classic, but it's nice enough.

Well, that was about what I expected. I've got a decent sense of what to expect, with all three of these acts, and boy did they deliver here. Exactly the songs I expected to hear, kicking 1954 off well. Nothing stunning, but nothing completely dire.

Favourite song of the bunch: Cloud Lucky Seven.

#uk charts #1954 #david whitfield #frankie laine #guy mitchell

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we-are-knight · 4 years

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Shadiversity and the Far-Right

We should probably talk about how Shadiversity, a YouTuber known for his being a gateway into Fantasy/Historical content, often put on par with the likes of Skallagrim, Metatron, and others that dip into historical-fantasy content, has recently done some discussion of the ideas of Masculinity with the Far-Right personality, Sargon of Akkad.

It’s also not the first time that Shad has boldly stepped up to defend Sargon for being demonetised for being considered a racist figure. As for whether Sargon is a racist, sexist, threatening, pedophilic excuse of a person, well...explore the links at your own risk.

There is an issue in historical/fantasy circles of the crossover between figures like Sargon (Carl Benjamin), who tend to glorify and romanticise the past in a way that entirely fits their narrative. While one can always argue ‘but history is always down to interpretation’, the purpose of the Far Right is much more sinister, taking historical concepts, and defining them through a perverse lens that justifies their atrocity. This is a form of stolen valour.

Moving from that, the central issue we can see is that Shadiversity, whatever his claims over opinions may be, has elected to give a platform to a Far-Right mouthpiece, and discuss and defend him as part of his image. This is not an innocent act. Shadiversity is, of all figures on Youtube, choosing very deliberately to give consolation to, and support of, a figure that stands for some quite abominable beliefs. And Carl Benjamin is, to say the least, while not the most radical mouthpiece of the Far-Right, certainly one with a heavy agenda to push. Having heard a bit of Shad’s own stance on the difference of opinion, I’d consider the stance of diversity of opinion valid...except to the point of defending and befriending a figure that holds the opinions that anyone remotely left of Centre-Right should be seen as demented, who projects homosexual and r*pe-based slurs at people when given a platform by which to disagree with others, and who seemingly believes that the US and UK (both very Conservative nations, with the UK approaching a decade of power in the hands of the Conservatives) have a leftist agenda on an academic level.

I’ve sparred with Shad before via tumblr (mostly him saying my opinions of him were because I was jealous of his fame and wealth...?), and have said on several occasions that I don’t consider him a great resource for...fencing, martial arts, and in-depth history at all, but that his fantasy concepts are usually quite resourceful. While my opinion of his clickbaity videos and his general knowledge and personality are low, my opinion largely has been: “I just won’t click on his videos”, and “I don’t recommend him”. That’s going to need a revision. Anyone who gives a platform to, defends, and works alongside, a (frankly) even more horrific figure, is making an active choice to prop up the more horrific figure, not the other way around. And it seems Shadiversity has been supportive of (not condemning, like any rational, moral person) Carl Benjamin for several years now. While this does not make Shad a member of the Far-Right directly, it does make him a stan for the Far-Right; all evil needs to triumph is for good men to do nothing, after all, and Shad is not merely doing nothing, he is actively siding with a figure representing them.

As said to Shad himself via tumblr before, I don’t actively watch his content, I don’t like his videos, and that’s fine; he will not have to sob into his money over the loss of one person who already didn’t view his stuff. However, in light of his association with all the above, I would strongly recommend to many people in the historical and fantasy world, to keep away from him, also. I would like to also formally request my followers no longer mention him in Asks to myself (when they do come up), as I’m going to elect from here on to avoid giving him further mention. Freedom of speech (something Shad himself seems to allude to along with Sargon) protects one from Government retribution, but not from social response to one’s actions. In this case, I would recommend shunning or simply not electing to view Shad’s content as a way of response to his association with the Far-Right.

I would like to end this by adding that, while the above statements are true, and my personal feelings about Shad’s content and personality remain the same, I would strongly recommend his fans presently avoid him, not merely to manifest a form of punishment, but to prompt a change in a figure that is clearly beloved by so many people. If you do like Shadiversity, his videos and his manner of presentation, and wish for that not to be sullied by figures of the Far-Right, my suggestion is merely to allow Shad to have the chance to back away, change his stance, and support his viewers by terminating his connections. One can, and should, always allow for the opportunity for apology, or for reformation, in light of the current climate. However, as it stands, until such a change, I would like to reiterate that Shad’s current connections are, to say it diplomatically, problematic.

#Knight speaks #Shadiversity #Sargon of Akkad #Far-Right #TW: rape #tw: racial slurs #smite the alt-right

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s-brant · 3 years

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Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #i'm gonna miss these dorks #🥺#I love how he tries to break up with her and she’s like ‘no❤️’#also totally do not put on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift during the childhood flashbacks unless u wanna cry #cause I did and my sensitive ass was crying #that song is about John B and JJ okay #it just is

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.3

Childe elected to ignore your groan of pain when he yanked you to your feet. "No hard feelings, comrade."

"I-I'm gonna kill you," you breathed. "I'll kill you and that damned witch if it's the last thing I do." A cold hand pressed to your side while the harbinger threw your other arm over his shoulder to escort you inside.

"I suppose I'll have to train you then if that's your goal."

He wasn't joking; the two of you would remain at a stalemate until your strength grew. He taught you--what you assumed was--almost everything he knew, though for you to reap the full benefits of his knowledge would take years of training. Despite this he pushed you over and over again, every day, after the wound he gave you closed. He didn't give you the courtesy of healing completely before initiating fights with you. He didn't go easy on you either--but it's not like you would've wanted him to in the first place. At least your sparring sessions gave you an outlet to take out your frustrations on.

You didn't count the days that passed. You didn't call for Xiao. You didn't rely on him to save you when all is said and done. It was time to rescue yourself; if you overran the palace on your own, then other nations wouldn't need to get involved on your behalf. If the palace fell, no one except you would be held responsible. You were okay with that. If it meant Xiao, Aether and Zhongli would be excluded from the wrath of the cryo archon, then your struggles were more than worth it.

Yet with every passing day, more and more Fatui agents were injected with the serums that contained your blood--and survived. The only thing that made their successful adaptation possible was the sealing of your and Xiao's bond. With that thought in mind, you were growing increasingly impatient. You were the one that insisted upon training for most of the day, not Childe. You were the one looking for a fight.

"Why're you doing this?" You asked one day while your hand absently trailed down to the fresh scar on your side where he had impaled you.

"Doing what?"

"Training me. Isn't it a stupid move to train someone how to fight when they're intent on killing you? If I was you, I would've just let me bleed out in the snow back then."

"If I didn't train you, I would be missing out on one of the best fights of my life."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?"

"It's the truth. Where else am I supposed to find a worthy opponent? At my current power level, I'd have more luck with creating one." Childe conjured his bow and twirled it in his hand, seemingly debating something that was on his mind. "With your improved skills, I think we'd be able to take the other harbingers."

You froze. "What? Why would you say that? Whatever happened to your undying loyalty?"

"My loyalty for the Tsaritsa and my respect for my coworkers are two entirely different matters. What I really care about is fighting. It's been so long since I've had an exhilarating battle, even after Aether showed up. I would give anything to feel that thrilled again. And that, dear ojou-chan, is where you come in."

"I'm not fighting you for the thrills. I will kill you, I'll make sure of it." It's insulting that he'd even look at your anger as a type of entertainment! The nerve of this guy--

"Well until then I think we could stir up quite the trouble, you and I, don't you think?" His eyes finally left his weapon and locked onto you.

"...What exactly are you implying, Tartaglia?" Narrowed suspicious pupils returned his mischievous ones.

He didn't answer, instead leaving you with an ominous smirk and returning to the palace walls. Why should you trust a word that fell from his mouth after the Lantern Rite stunt he pulled? Maybe a small part of you wanted to believe he had some inkling of good in him, but you forced that wishful thinking down into the depths of your soul. Childe betrayed you so many times; it was in his nature to do so. He would never be done deceiving you either. You were sure of it despite the doubts that weighed on your mind.

.........................

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa." La Signora crossed her arms over her chest when you just glared at the dark throne that sat beneath the shadows.

"I think not."

The clicking of the harbinger's heels echoed in the silent room as everyone held their breaths. No one dared stand up to the cryo archon; it was unthinkable, even considered treason to question her actions. This would be the first meeting with the god since you formed a contract with her. And yet despite your quivering knees, you didn't remove your disrespectful glare from the throne.

"I wasn't asking." Fingers gripped your chin and forced you to look Signora in the face at an uncomfortably close distance. "You know the drill. Bow."

A beat of silence hung heavily in the air and then an awkward cough came from one of the Fatui advisors to your far right. You didn't blink. "Did I stutter?"

Signora's lips curled into a half-amused smirk before her fingers let go of your chin and were replaced by a palm slapping you instead. Her nails broke skin, but your expression never changed even when the stinging pain rang through your ear. "Have you forgotten who you serve?"

"She's not my god."

"Maybe not the one you worship, but I am the one you serve," the Tsaritsa leaned forward from her place on the throne and gestured for the Fair Lady to return to her side. "Tell me, why did you request to see me?"

A quick glance was sent Childe's away as if to check yourself. You had decided it best to at least try the peaceful way out before throwing yourself into a suicide mission. If worse came to worse, at least you'd be able to put your new knowledge to the test. "I'm no longer working for you." The archon's silence urged you to continue. "You don't need me here anymore. You got what you wanted. I'm going to return to Liyue."

"Is that so?"

"I will leave regardless of your answer."

"And you think I'd just let you walk out of here after all I've done for you?" The temperature dropped, but it displayed an emotion that you couldn't put your finger on. "I gifted you your vision, spared your life and that of your friends, and you insult me in return?"

What is this feeling of dread in my stomach? Your fists tightened and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. "The trials are over now that Dottore's injections work. That was our deal, was it not? You want to break our contract? I thought you were more credible than that," you tested.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's thin lips formed a sinister grin. "I know you're plotting to cause an uproar, and I am telling you now that you will fail. Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are and always will be under my control."

"Wh-What did you just say...?" Your heartbeat drummed loudly in your ears and you knees felt like they would give out beneath you. This...This happened before. When did she say that? Where did I hear these words from? Cold, desolate eyes watched you carefully as the room spun beneath your feet. "Stay...away..."

"You work for me, not the other way around. If you leave now, I'll give the order to kill those friends of yours. You're not done until I say you're done."

"You wouldn't--!" Bile burned the back of your throat, and a shaky hand covered your mouth in case you suddenly couldn't hold it in. "You...you..." An unsettling realization came to light.

"Do you understand the position you're in, Mezzetin?"

"It was...You gave me those nightmares! Those were all you?"

"You don't think I'm oblivious to your desires, do you? You will always be under my control."

"If you dare touch him I'll--!" Hundreds of shards manifested behind you and simultaneously shot at the throne. The more that shattered against the seat and back wall, the more that manifested and replaced them.

The ones that barreled nearest to the Tsaritsa diverted their path and shattered against the back wall like they had a mind of their own. Signora used her catalyst to redirect the remaining shards to you. Luckily none of them landed a strike on your skin, but a charged arrow of Childe's landed before your feet and you slipped on the forming ice. His hydro blade was immediately at your throat, along with Signora hovering over you with an annoyed look on her face. The three of you were surrounded by Fatui officers in an instant; despite their capabilities, they were slower than the harbingers.

"If she makes a move, kill her," the archon calmly ordered, completely unbothered by the commotion.

Signora had her men drag you away to the all-too familiar exit that led to the cells beneath the palace. They forced your head forward so you didn't see the Tsaritsa recline back in her seat and into the shadows.

The archon swiped her finger across her pale cheekbone and warily inspected the fresh blood that had run down the side of her face. I missed one? One of your shards did manage to hit her. Such a measly attack shouldn't have injured me, she thought as she stared at her fingers in awe and concern. While your power had grown to a certain extent thanks to Childe's training, it was by no means anywhere near equivalent to his--much less equivalent to a god's. Your strikes, while powerful, shouldn't have been able to hurt the cryo archon. Yet here she was, staring at the blood you drew from her.

She recalled the wild look in your eyes when you decided to attack her. Such a beautiful, pitiful sight that held an immeasurable lack of sanity and rational thought. Your rage was feral, but just like a wild animal, so was your fear of being caged. She could see it in your stance; you were all bark and little bite. The soft interior within her hardened heart actually admired your bravery...only a little, though. If she were to achieve her goals, that flame of admiration would quickly be extinguished since it had no place in such a cruel world.

Her thumb smoothed over her bloodied fingers while she thought quietly to herself. It shouldn't have been possible to harm her. Not on your own, not even with your vision. It was then that it dawned on her the true meaning of your bond with Morax's sole-surviving warrior adeptus.

So this is the power of the Vigilant Yaksha.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #say my name and ill be there #xiao fanfiction #genshin x reader #xiao x reader

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 3

“Fred. How’s their acting like to you?” Jack asked in a low voice.

They were seated at the edge of the stalls. They could also see Bond from where they were, completely focused on the stage.

“I’m not an actor myself, so this is just my personal opinion — but I think they’re awfully good,” Fred replied.

Jack gazed at the stage with a serious look in his eyes.

“I think so too. I won’t discount the fact that their sets and props look a little homemade, maybe due to a lack of budget; but when it comes to acting, each one of them is highly skilled. I can tell that the performers are all deeply familiar with the intent of the script.”

They were no theatre professionals for sure, but they possessed an eye for the true essence of their art.

The creases near Jack's eyes deepened as he quietly groaned.

“And best of all is that lady.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Moran agreed. With Fred included, all of them were focused on the lone person on the stage.

As Jack had pointed out, Maya, the chairwoman, was the standout actress even among the highly-skilled members of her own company.

Although she only held the lead role in “The Little Match Girl”, and was relegated to supporting roles for the other stories, the delivery of her lines, the movements of her body and hands, and even the slight shifts in her gaze — each and every one of her actions was perfectly under her control. They had seen a glimpse of this when she’d stood before her fellow company members previously, but this person on stage was completely different from the one who'd spoken to them at the entrance.

Even accounting for the fact that she had written the script herself, this level of sophistication in acting was not one which could be achieved by some run-of-the-mill actress. Moreover, the lines and pauses in the script had been carefully crafted to make it easy for the audience to relate to the stories.

From then on, the three of them enjoyed the rest of the play in silence, marvelling at her exceptional talent. Eventually, the rehearsal came to an end.

“——That concludes our performance. Thank you very much for coming.”

After her closing words, the company lined up on stage, silently waiting for Bond’s comments. While there had not been any flashy moments during the performance, almost all of them had sweat on their foreheads. Each breath they took revealed the depth of their concentration.

“…………”

For a short while, Bond stared at the stage without saying a word. Growing uneasy at the silence, the company members lowered their gazes slightly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Bond cleared his throat, and adjusted his posture. Seeing that, the company members straightened their backs.

“——If I were to summarise my thoughts, I think your acting has already reached a high standard. I’m sure all of you have put in much time and effort to achieve this.”

Their faces beamed at his compliment. But Bond would not allow them to be satisfied with that alone.

He rose from his seat.

“But that’s also why some bad habits have stood out to me. For example, the witch in ‘The Little Mermaid’: there were times when your movements were too exaggerated. I know that you wanted to emphasise her sinister nature, but the way you did so may turn off the audience.”

“Y-Yes……”

The actress who’d been singled out hung her head, perhaps out of shock. But Bond ignored this, and pointed to another woman.

“Now, you played the main character in ‘The Red Shoes’. I watched your steps after putting on the shoes — have you properly studied dance? It’s true that even some stage professionals may think that it’s alright to just mimic the real thing, but if you really want to make your performance more authentic, you must take the time to learn how to do it properly. Your audience will not be satisfied unless you show them a level of skill that will astonish even people in that profession.”

“Understood!” she responded with vigour.

“Next up is you: the way you project your voice——”

Then Bond singled out each of the performers in turn, highlighting in detail what they needed to work on. He only needed to watch their play once to spot areas for improvement at such a fine level of detail — his eye for the arts gave them all a sense of the former professional’s brilliance.

At last, Bond finished addressing every member of the company. But he then swept his gaze over the entire theatre.

“In addition…… this isn’t your fault at all, but your success today was only possible due to the small size of this theatre,” he said, with some distress. “If we were in a bigger venue, the hall would be wider and deeper to accommodate the larger audience. In other words, I’m afraid that with your current performance, your voices simply would not reach the entire audience.”

Maya paled.

“So, in order to accommodate the size of the venue……”

“Yes. The worst-case scenario would be that you have to rework the entire play. By the way, when is the opening night?”

“T—Two weeks later.”

The entire room was enveloped in silence. Even from where they were seated, Moran and the others felt the weight of their despair: all the hard work they had put in thus far, might just have amounted to nothing.

Even Bond, who had revealed this harsh reality, dropped his gaze and grimaced.

“Well, there are a fair number of productions that focus only on the stage, and do not account for the size of the audience, so you may not have to change——”

“——No, we’ll do it.”

Maya sharply interrupted his proposal.

“You’ve seen how I am; I’ve always been timid and hesitant…… but theatre is the one thing I will never compromise on. Especially now — this is a rare opportunity for us. For my fellow company members, for the people who’ve supported us this far, I want to show them something I’ve put every effort into making.”

“…………”

At her words, the rest of the company nodded in silence.

Even with the actual performance only two weeks away, Maya and her company had steeled their hearts and chosen to start again from scratch. That stubborn determination surprised Bond, and even Moran and the rest.

“U—Um…… Mr Bond, I actually have something I wish to discuss with you……”

Out of the blue, Maya’s voice had grown soft.

“U—Um, if it is alright with you, just for the next two weeks, could you sit in during our rehearsals? A—Ah, actually, just whenever you have the time would be fine……”

Bond chuckled.

Even after being told about all those problems, they refused to stand down, and even continued to ask for help. Their mental fortitude sparked hope in him, and he couldn’t help but let out a grin.

Bond shot the party in the stalls a questioning look. Moran looked to Jack and Fred in turn, before giving him a thumbs-up.

With that, the former flames of passion within Bond burned even hotter. He faced the company members with a determined grin.

“——Okay. But I will be especially tough on you all, so be prepared.”

Then, he called out to Fred.

“Fred-kun. I would like your help as well — is that alright with you?”

“Understood,” he replied, standing up.

“Bond, I’m always happy to teach knife-wielding.”

“And you can always ask me about gun handling.”

“Now that would be helpful,” Bond smiled at Jack and Moran’s jests, then turned back to the stage.

“Well then, everyone — for the next two weeks, let’s do our best together.”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“During a performance, you must be always be aware of three things: the audience, the other actors, and yourself. If the feeling of being ‘watched’ becomes too strong for you, first direct your attention within yourself. Then, you will be able to focus on your acting once again.”

“I don’t advocate the idea of getting into a role. In the end, acting is just a skill: what you should focus on instead is how you are moving.”

“Although an effective way of bringing out emotions is to dredge up your past memories, I would advise you to avoid that. Recent memories are too concrete and vivid — if you must do so, use memories from your distant past. And be careful: if you frequently immerse yourself in negative emotions, you will hurt yourself on a spiritual level too.”

In a small theatre in Whitechapel, Bond’s instructions came forth ceaselessly.

He stood on stage together with the company members: carefully reviewing their movements, even acting them out himself as an example on occasion, and putting in every effort to raise the level of their production.

The remaining two weeks were short, but with their foundations already strong to begin with, Maya and her company steadily honed their acting skills to perfection.

One week left until the show. His work as an instructor had finally ended for the day, and he let out a sigh as he sat in the stalls to catch his breath.

“Good work today — fancy a sip?”

Having watched the proceedings from the stalls, Moran handed him a bottle of water. It was a beer bottle — very Moran-like — and Bond accepted it with a smile.

“Thanks, Moran-kun.”

Bond gulped down a single mouthful of water.

“So, how’s the play going?”

“At first I thought we would be hard-pressed for time, but they truly exceeded my expectations. I think we might just make it. ……Scratch that, we will make it.”

Moran nodded.

“That’s right. And they seem to be well-liked by the residents around here. I really hope they can pull it off.”

As Moran gazed off into the distance, a thought just occurred to Bond. He cocked his head.

“Come to think of it, you really didn’t have to tag along with me all this time, you know?”

Ever since the day Bond had agreed to lend his support to the company, his other colleagues had stopped over from time to time to cheer him on. However, Moran had made it a point to come to the theatre every day without fail.

Moran scratched his cheek in embarrassment. 

“……Well, it’s not like I have anything else to do when there aren’t any missions. As a senior member of this organisation, I’m just here to see how my junior works.”

“Even though you’ve been skipping out on chores at the mansion?”

“D—Dammit, I told you before: I always do my share of the work, you know.”

Bond had said that half-jokingly, but his words flustered Moran nevertheless. It seemed he had not been entirely wrong about that.

Bond returned his gaze to the stage.

“……Thank you, Moran-kun,” he said quietly.

“Hmm? Didn’t you already say that earlier?”

“This one means something different,” he said, with a hint of mischief in his voice. Moran raised an eyebrow in bemusement, but the presence of a caring senior alone warmed Bond’s heart.

Just then, they heard the sound of the theatre doors opening.

As the two men turned to look, they saw a portly middle-aged man with a magnificent moustache standing at the entrance.

Maya hurriedly bowed in his direction. “T—Thank you so much for your help thus far! What brings you all the way here?”

From her formal manner, it seemed this was the very noble who had asked them to stage the opening act for his theatre.

“Ah, you’ve been working hard, I see,” he said as he stroked his moustache, a big smile on his face.

“Yes; with your assistance, we’ve been able to prepare for the performance in time. I’m sure the audience will be satisfied with——”

“Well, about that.”

The man interrupted Maya, still all smiles.

“——Your performance has been cancelled.”

“What?”

No one could believe their ears.

Her expression brimmed with confusion.

“U-Um, what do you mean……?”

“What does it mean? Just pretend our conversation back then didn’t happen. That’s all.”

The man made another simple pronouncement, then smiled as if nothing was wrong.

“Honestly, it’s just as well that this has happened, since I’ve also been troubled over your debut. So what I’m saying is, your company doesn’t have to turn up. That’s alright with you, isn’t it?”

The entire company was still in a state of shock. Then, Bond addressed the man directly.

“Now hold on just a moment. What do you mean, you were troubled? Then why did you ask them to perform? What’s more, isn’t it a little late to cancel the performance at this juncture?”

Hearing that, the man sighed in displeasure.

“Who are you, anyway? Someone connected to this company? I’m not happy to be asked so many questions at once.”

“Then I’ll summarise it for you. If you were going to cancel the performance so easily, why bother requesting Maya and her company to perform anyway?”

At Bond’s question, the nobleman shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, that’s simple. I just felt like it.”

“……What?”

Those shocking words froze him to the core.

“I’d heard about a reputable theatre company in the slums. Since there’s this notion of noblesse oblige anyway, I thought a performance would be a good topic for conversation and approached them. But then I grew to realise that the thought of poor people stepping onto the sacred stage of an official theatre just didn’t sit well with me. So yesterday, I finally decided to put an end to this madness.”

“How could you……”

He had asked Maya’s company to perform on a whim, and then cancelled their act on a selfish whim as well. And this was all decided just ‘yesterday’. Even though they had been putting in every effort into their play.

The nobleman continued.

“That’s all I had to say. You poor folk are living off the graces of the nobility, so be grateful that I even bothered to come all this way to talk to you. Now that I’m finished here, I’ll be leaving. The smell here is simply an assault on my senses.”

Right before he walked out, the man spat out one last line.

“Well, at least you all had a nice dream, didn’t you?”

“………!”

A violent rage surged within Bond. Somehow, he managed to grit his teeth and hold himself back. If he were to retaliate right now, he would be inviting unnecessary reprisal on Maya and her company rather than himself. So all he could do was look daggers at the nobleman’s back as he left.

The theatre was enveloped in a mournful silence. Everyone seemed to have lost their verve, and no one uttered a word. Bond was shaking with frustration.

Amidst the heavy atmosphere, just one man — Moran — gazed upon the situation with composure.

Finally, Maya, the chairwoman, mumbled in a thin voice.

“Um, I’m so sorry. I think, I’m not feeling too well……”

Then, with a hollow expression, she headed to the dressing room, her footsteps shaky.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

IMAGINE: Introduction

a successful Black woman named Tatyana is living the dream. She’s married to the love of her life and has two children by him. What happens when her marriage is on the rocks? Tatyana finds solice and unimaginable dick in a drug kingpin named Erik a.k.a Killa.

Warnings: Smut, Drug Dealer!Erik, Dominant!Erik. Entanglements lmaoo, Nasty Talk.

Suggested listenings: King Von- F**k Yo Man

The most feared trap house in Grove Park ATL. The name speaks for itself. It’s a place where drug dealers peddle their poison. The biggest dealer in Grove Park of illicit drugs traps people into his business. Once you are into organized crime activities, you may find it difficult to come out of it...especially alive. Big-time drug trafficker and kingpin Erik Stevens; Daddy E or Killa, makes millions of dollars a month selling opiates such as opium, heroin, morphine and codeine; MDMA better known as ecstasy; strong stimulants such as cocaine and crack cocaine; LSD if you want to hallucinate; Xanax illegally, better known as Z-bars or Zannies, and of course weed.

The Trap House is a bungalow style home on North Ave NW Atlanta, GA. It has a brand new front porch that overlooks a quiet corner lot in the heart of Atlanta. The outside of the single-family home is painted grey. It has a regular setting with children playing and the home is usually managed like a regular household by a middle-aged woman named Michelle, also known as the Trap Queen. She’s Killa’s godmother. Anyone who isn’t involved with the physically and psychologically hazardous activities happening within the Trap House would think it’s a standard family home. It’s all a hoax.

Killa and his group of duffle bag boys usually come in the late-night hours during the week, every other weekend, or the third day of the month. Loud trap music blares from the home, signifying that they are working. Killa’s matte black Mercedes-Benz G Wagon with black rims is the only car he drives to work at the Trap House. The living room is simply furnished with a clean-cut black leather sectional sofa, and a wall-mounted flat screen used for surveillance of the entire home. The kitchen isn’t anything special except for the refrigerator filled with different types of Hennessy.

The dining room is used for the dealers to play spades, dominoes, or gamble when there isn’t much to do except keep watch of the area. The main bathroom is a safe way to flush stash if need be but there was little concern for that since Killa has crooked cops in his circle. The three bedrooms all serve a purpose. The master bedroom or the Clandestine Chemistry Room is used as a drug laboratory to illegally manufacture drugs such as PCP, LSD, MDMA, Fentanyl, and Meth. The middle room has some local trap girls counting money with various bank machines and UV counterfeit detection lamps.

The last and smallest room is the artillery room or The Heat Room. Various guns like shotguns, Uzi’s, Smith & Wesson, Taurus 9MM, GLOCK INC 9MM and .45, and Sig Sauer P938 are stored in that room. Killa makes it mandatory that the Trap House is cleaned and no traces left behind every other weekend. He has a few storage units in Atlanta where he keeps everything when shipments come in. He’s always watching his men because he wants to make sure none of them are snitching to the feds. They wouldn’t dare to anyway because they knew where their fate would end up if they did.

Killa and the rest of the dealers were working in the Trap House on a Saturday evening. Killa is seated on his black leather sectional wearing a white beater, black and red basketball shorts, and Air Jordan 1s. He has a simple gold cross chain hanging from his neck and a gold and black Versace watch on his left wrist. Killa’s dreads are wild and tapered with the sides cut into a fade. He has bright white teeth lined with gold slugs behind his thick lips, a sinewy body covered in tattoos on his arms, chest, neck, and back, and black diamond studs in his ears. Evidently from the description of his physical appearance he’s absolutely sexy; fine; handsome; good-looking.

Killa’s obsidian eyes are unyielding as he watches the surveillance. His dark, unruly brows furrow when he notices a figure approach the Trap House. Killa turns down the music playing from the Bluetooth speakers before grabbing his gold chrome Glock, holding it behind his back at waist level. He walked up to the door, peering through the peephole to see who it was approaching. With an annoyed grunt, Killa opens the door to find one of his dealers carrying a black and grey duffel bag most likely filled with his money.

“Where the fuck have you been nigga?” He asked with an icy tone of voice, “you were supposed to show up a few hours ago with my money,” Killa checks the outside surroundings with a quick sweep of his eyes before opening the door wider, snatching the bag from his dealer's shoulder so harshly that the dealer’s arm was almost pulled from its socket.

“My fault, Killa, the drug deal started a little later than it was supposed to. They ain’t show up until thirty minutes after...I thought they were tryna jug me out of the deal.”

Killa didn’t care for the explanation, all he was worried about was his money and if it was there.

“Rick, go to Stella and tell her there’s more money to count. I wanna know how much is here. Make sure she does it right too,” Killa hands Rick, his most trusted duffel bag boy and sometimes henchmen, the money.

“Keith, right?” Killa says with hard unwavering eyes and a stony face, “You got one more time to be late. If you keep that shit up working for me then these other niggas around here will try and be on that same shit too...I don’t play bout’ my drugs, and most of all I don’t play bout’ dat payola… Yen know before you decided to be in this game, nigga?”

“Yo, Killa, I promise you, this shit won’t happen again,” He pleaded.

“Yeah, Aight, we’ll see,” Killa was standing at 6’3, “Lets take a trip to the money room.”

Walking to the money room, Killa was greeted with ebony beauties dressed half-naked counting money. The UV of the room made their acrylic nails glow. Nothing but juicy ass and titties handling Daddy E’s money. Stella, a redbone with her bleach-blonde hair styled in six stitch braids was on the last stack of money from the duffel bag. Killa strolled over to Stella, lightly tapping her on the ass which caused her to blush and smile.

“Hey, Daddy E. I’m almost finished,” She started up the counting machine while tapping it with her lime green stiletto nails. Once it was finished and she wrapped it in rubber bands, she allowed Killa to read the total. He felt like he was about to burst with rage. Stella made herself scarce and went to the other side of the room. Keith stood confused and from the deranged look on Killa face he knew he was in trouble.

Killa raised a single dark brow, “You must think I’m stupid, where is the rest of my fucking money?”

“I promise you, that’s all of it, Killa,” Keith says while fear throbbed inside of him.

“Like I said, you think I’m a fool? Nigga...if I let you get away with this shit then other niggas will steal from me too, I’m not finna have that shit,” Killa says while chuckling, “NOW WHERE IS THE REST OF MY FUCKING MONEY AT HOMIE?!”

“What’s going on Killa?” Rick walks in holding his strap.

“I told you this nigga is wishy washy, Rick,” Killa pointed his gold chrome Glock to the amount of money, “This is counting out 95G’s I’m missing 5G’s!!!” Killa felt himself getting even madder than he was before. Rick gives Keith a dirty look before charging up to him, balling up the front of his shirt within his large hulking fist.

“WHERE IS IT?” Rick asks with clenched teeth and spit flying menacingly.

“You better get it out of him before I end this nigga life, Rick. I’m itching to use my piece on this sell out, aint kill a nigga in a grip,” Killa cocks his gun, waiting for the perfect opportunity. If he lied, he was going to die and if he told the truth he was going to die. Either way, he’s dead.

“Didn’t you hear me ask you a question?!!! Where is Killa’s money!!!!” Rick pistol-whipped Keith, watching his lanky body fall to the floor. Killa crouched down to his level with his gold chrome gun dangling in his left hand. He gives Keith a sinister smile with eyes so vicious it made you feel like you were in the presence of the devil.

“What’s up with my money? And don’t lie to me,” Killa’s voice was smooth and threatening.

It was clear that panic fueled him. Killa could see right through him. The sweat on his face, the slight tremble of his body, the way his eyelids would flicker. Killa wordlessly points his Glock to Keith’s temple so hard it left a painful indentation from the barrel.

“I have it,” He finally says, “It’s in my car.”

Killa sniffled with rage before standing at his full height. He shared a look with Rick before placing his gold chrome Glock in the front of his shorts causing them to hang lower on his hips.

“Let’s take this nigga to the spot,” Killa tells Rick before walking out of the room.

“The what?!” Keith asks with his voice numb with shock. The more he talked, the more he stroked Killa’s anger.

“Take him out back to the Escalade, Rick, and bring PAC wit’ you too.”

“Wait!!! Wait!!!! The money is in my car!!!!” Keith yelled while Rick man-handled him to his feet by the collar of his white T-shirt causing it to rip, “I can go get it!!!! It’s all there, Killa!!! I promise you, man, it’s all there!!!!!”

“Niggas always wanna beg and plead when they about to die, shit is lame,” Killa spoke mostly to himself before entering his gun room to grab his favorite piece.

The black Escalade was the car that Killa used for committing murder. They have a designated spot which is a dirt-covered lot that overlooks Downtown Atlanta. The lot has a mechanic shop that Killa owns which is one of the businesses to clean up a few dollars; an easy way to legitimize the dirty money from the streets. Only his circle used the mechanic shop.

Killa sauntered out back to the parked Escalade with his Uzi. He checked the trunk to make sure everything needed to dispose of the body in such a way as to prevent, hinder, or delay discovery of the body, to prevent identification of the body, or to prevent autopsy, was there. Usually, after he murders his victims, Killa will have the bodies wrapped in heavy-duty plastic and driven out to a rural farm that he also owns to bury them. If someone were to ask him how many bodies are decaying there, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Rick and another henchman nicknamed PAC-man carried a struggling Keith from the house and tossed him in one of the back seats of the Escalade. Rick hopped in the driver's seat, cranking up the car before pulling out into a back alley.

“The house is getting cleaned up as we speak, Killa, here,” Rick hands him a handheld surveillance.

“Thanks, Patna, nigga did you bring me a blunt? I forgot my shit back in the living room,” Killa says.

“You lucky I rolled an extra one earlier,” Rick chuckled while passing Killa a freshly rolled blunt.

“Let’s get this shit over with so I can go see this broad,” Killa lights his blunt, takes a hit, and blows out smoke rings, “Aye, PAC, quiet that punk ass nigga down!!!” Killa yells over his shoulder, “Nigga crying too much...if you gotta gag that nigga do it...making my fucking ears hurt with all that bitch ass crying.” Rick and PAC-man share a laugh.

“What broad you seeing anyway, Patna?” Rick asks.

“Nicki,” Killa French inhaled the smoke while keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror.

“The bitch who’s mama you selling crack to? Explain this shit because I’m lost.”

Killa laughs, “For the record, I didn’t even know that was her mama until I saw both of them leaving Church’s Chicken. Anyway, she knows her mama is still smoking rocks...last time I had to check that old bitch,” Killa spits outside of the car window before licking his full lips.

“Fuck, was she the one that came by the Trap House on Monday night?” Rick makes a left turn.

“Bitch came banging on the door, Rick,” Killa shakes his head while stroking his goatee, “Begging me for some more crack. I told her old ass that she owes me 200 dollars for the crack I gave her a week ago...I only did that shit because Nicki didn’t have it to pay for it...why did this dry pussy bitch get down on her knees begging to suck my dick for some crack?!” Killa kisses his teeth, “I told her to take her ol’ ass off my porch before I put my foot in her. She ain’t getting no more from me until I get my money.”

“Why don’t you just drop Nicki? That’s some wack ass drama, Killa, you know you don’t need that shit,” Rick finally pulls into the dirt lot of the mechanic shop after a ten-minute ride.

“The pussy is so damn good…” Killa left it at that. Nicki was Killa’s on-again, off-again booty call. She was the only girl that could match his freaky, that was before he met Tatyana. Saving the rest of the conversation for another day, Killa grabs his Uzi from between his legs before exiting the Escalade. He puts out his weed before placing it in his pocket. Rick and PAC-man grab the traitor from the back of the car, dragging him in the dirt before dropping him face-first about six feet away from Killa.

“Aight, bring this nigga to his feet...face forward sneak nigga!!” Killa commanded before pointing his Uzi to the dealer's body, “There you go,” Killa congratulates Keith sarcastically, “Hold your chin up, Rick, grab his keys and wallet.”

Rick cleans out his pockets before pushing him with his Nike boot covered foot. Keith stumbled while staring at the Uzi in Killa’s hand. He didn’t dare move.

“Yeah...be a man and die right here like the rest of em’ you wanna steal from me? My money?” Killa spoke with squinted eyes and a tilt of his head, “I’m about to leave you layin’ where you standing.”

Rick and PAC-man chuckle when they notice Keith wetting his pants. The dirt beneath his feet turned damp.

“Ah, shit,” Killa laughs, “This nigga is pissing his pants…” Killa aims his Uzi for Keith’s left shoulder and shoots him. Keith screams with agony, clutching his shoulder. Killa shoots him in the hand that covered his shoulder. He paused again so that he could watch the mixture of pain and fear in Keith’s eyes. Maybe he was a sick, twisted individual for that but he thoroughly enjoyed watching his victims suffer before he really put their lights out.

“Damn, I bet that shit burn,” Killa shoots him in his stomach, watching him fall to his knees, “Open your mouth, bitch, let that blood out,” Killa fired off two rounds in his chest, “you dip into my bag I kill you,” with those last words, Killa blasted Keith in his head between his eyes like the middle of a dart board.

____________________

Tatyana Parham-Narvaez, a successful black business woman in Atlanta is best known for her line of intimate products and three luxury spa locations titled Tatyana’s Getaway. Tatyana’s Getaway boasts a fun yet relaxing environment that does not lose its chic and classic aesthetic. She believes that the overall experience is just as important as the quality of service that you receive. Licensed Esthetician,designer and Humanitarian, Tatyana holds yearly fundraisers to support other black owned businesses in Atlanta and also low income communities with food, beverages, clothing, and school supplies.

Tatyana has cat-like mink brown eyes fringed with long lashes, cinnamon skin silken and glowing, a dainty nose with a ring, moist lush lips, a TWA with thick, dark brown spirals, short with generous curves, and a dulcet voice. She’s adventurous, some would consider that rebellious because she craves her freedom and can come off as quite the difficult ‘nesting partner’. She can be naive which explains her optimism, and she’s very independent. Tatyana never saw herself getting married but she found the love of her life just two years ago. His name is Carlos Narvaez and he’s an ex-convict turned businessman. Carlos Narvaez is a Party Promoter and famous Jeweler who moved from Miami to Atlanta five years prior. Los Ice and Gold is the place to go for many Atlanta rappers.

Tatyana and Carlos first met each other at a mutual friends' album release party. It was his way with words, that dazzled her just like the ice around his neck and wrists. Usually, Tatyana would go for a much taller and more chiseled man but it was the way he articulated his words; bewitching her out of her panties, not to mention his beautiful smile and whiskey colored eyes. Carlos was the first man to ever sweep her off her feet with his mind rather than his dick. Carlos and Tatyana got married in Puerto Rico and just a year later they had a baby boy; Carlos Jayden Narvaez Jr, and soon after a baby girl; Nayelis Genesis Narvaez. Tatyana and her family live in Lawrenceville, GA, just 45 minutes outside of Atlanta. It’s a brick front suburban home with a driveway and a garage, four bedrooms and three bathrooms, a large family kitchen and dining area, a cozy living room, furnished basement, and a yard fit for summer occasions with a pool.

As sweet and loving as it looks from the outside, Tatyana’s marriage is troubled. Carlos and Tatyana bicker a great deal; escalating out of control and into screaming matches, they don’t talk to one another about their problems and feelings, there is inequality between both of them concerning gender roles and decision making, and the level of sexual intimacy in their marriage is low or there isn't any at all. Since both of them are always so busy, Carlos Jr. and Nayelis spend more time at Tatyana’s parents' home than their own on weekdays. Although she has given birth to 2 children and married “the love of her life,” she still finds herself stepping out of her mundane life to mess with Erik. He’s EVERYTHING her mother warned her about—dangerous, doesn’t give a fuck, liable to shoot now and ask questions later yet is so damn enticing/addicting.

Tatyana grew up in Bankhead,one of the places where Erik a.k.a Killa trafficked drugs. Tatyana’s baby sister, Tia, lives in Bankhead with her baby father and 8-month-old son named Demitri. From what Tatyana gathered about Erik when she saw him pull up in his matte black Mercedes Benz G Wagon is that he’s hood rich and he cares about his people. When Tatyana was leaving Tia’s home, Erik was talking to Miss Shay, Tatyana’s old babysitter, on her front porch. He was holding a white foam cup in his hand, and he was wearing a black beater with dark wash denim jeans and some black and white Jordan 1s on his feet.

——————————————-

(Flashback)

“Tati! Is that you?!” Miss Shay yelled from across the street. She waved one slender and frail hand at Tatyana. Tatyana was still in her formal work attire; black pencil skirt, fitted peach colored blouse, and black peekaboo Christian Louboutin pumps. She walked across the street to Miss Shay, taking off her Fendi sunglasses and placing them within her Christian Louboutin black embellished clutch.

“Miss Shay! Wow! You look amazing, you haven’t changed at all!!” Tatyana gives the elderly woman a gentle hug before kissing her cheek. She still wore that Sweet Honesty perfume by Avon. Miss Shay was known for being the Avon lady in Bankhead.

“Me?! Child, look at you!” Miss Shay laughs before coughing slightly. Tatyana guesses that she is still smoking cigarettes, “Still just as pretty as ever! I was talking to Tia the other day about you, wondering how you were. It’s good to see you, Erik, do you remember Tatyana from daycare?”

“Nah, auntie,” Erik says before taking a sip from his white foam cup, “I would have remembered shawty, trust me,” He brings the cup to his lips again, the gold watch on his wrist catching Tatyana’s eye. His stance was wide, shoulders squared, and brows furrowed slightly while his obsidian eyes never left Tatyana’s face for one second.

“I was pretty quiet back then, and I didn’t like playing with the boys,” Tatyana says before blinking her eyes away from Erik. He’s attractive. Tatyana stole another glance, allowing her mink brown eyes to regard him from head to toe. Very attractive. The body art made his sinewy body appear more defined. She never knew a neck tattoo would look so good on a man. It’s a spade with a skull in the middle surrounded by shaded roses. She could feel his rugged energy and it made her shudder.

“That’s cuz y’all couldn’t keep up wit’ us, baby,” He laughs and it was so smooth and sexy. He must have a habit of licking his lips like LL Cool J, “And I liked picking on y’all quiet girls back then, I bet you say I don’t know a lot,” He smiles and the dimples blew her away, “I don’t know, maybe” he mocked with a sweet voice.

“Jokes!!” Tatyana fought hard not to crack a smile but her lush lips turned up and her cheeks puffed out. Her laugh was a pleasant falsetto, “And you don’t know me like that so don’t come for me...Erik, right?” Tatyana says with an audacious tone.

“Erik, leave Tati alone, please,” Miss Shay spoke with a stringent tone. Tatyana giggles, she can remember that tone of voice like it was yesterday when she was seven years old, “Tati, how are the children?”

“They’re fine, Carlos Jr. will be two in about four months, Nayelis will be seven months.”

“I need a picture of them Tati!!! Erik bought me a cell phone, he’s been teaching me how to answer video calls and such.”

“That’s so sweet,” Tatyana gives Erik a respectful gaze, “Well, let’s exchange numbers, Miss Shay, and I can send you some photos today.”

“Oh! Let me go get my phone,” Miss Shay grabs the railing to her steps, pushing up onto her feet. Erik opens her screen door, making sure to watch her walk inside so she doesn’t trip and fall.

“Careful, auntie, don’t trip over that part,” Erik was referring to the cracked concrete of her top step, “I thought I called somebody to come fix that? These motherfuckers man,” His irritation crackled, “You broke your toe because of that fucking step, ima give them a call when I leave.”

“Erik, calm down, don’t go roughing those damn people up because of a step.”

Erik closes the screen door behind Miss Shay.

“She broke her toe?” Tatyana asks with concern.

“Yeah, like five months ago. I’ve been coming to check up on her to make sure she's good. Dats my auntie right there, she means the world to me.”

“I don’t know why I can’t remember you,” Tatyana says while her forehead creased in thought.

“It’s cool, shawty, don’t stress your pretty head,” his eyes shot down to Tatyana’s matte brown lips, “Damn...you got some sexy ass lips.”

“Excuse me?” Tatyana asks with a high-pitched tone.

“Your lips, they're sexy. You got a man?”

“I have a HUSBAND,” Tatyana clarified with a flippant tone.

“Oooh, okay,” Erik held his hands up in surrender with a grin on his face, “You ain’t gotta get all mouthy on a nigga...my guess is he doesn’t know how to correct you.”

“My guess is you have a habit of being in people’s business, Erik,” Tatyana spoke boldly, “and don’t no man correct me.”

“When I want to, yeah, I’ll make it my business. You’re feisty ain’t you?...how is ‘Hubby’ treating you Miss Tati?”

Tatyana couldn’t believe the boldness of him. He didn’t waste any time trying to get at her. To be honest, Erik is the finest man she’s ever seen and that’s coming from a married woman. He didn’t need to know that, his head is already too big.

“None of your concern, Sir,” Tatyana shakes her head, laughing lightly.

“I’m making it my concern though. Hubby doing what he’s supposed to? My guess is he’s not.”

“Boy,” Tatyana rolled her eyes. Miss Shay was taking way too long to grab her cell phone.

“Boy? Do I look like a boy?” He spoke harshly, “don’t be talking to me like you crazy Lil mama.”

“I am crazy, but you don’t know me, remember?” Tatyana wasn’t about to hold her tongue with some hood ass, narcissistic motherfucker.

“Yeah, I want you to keep that in mind and fix that shit before I fix you out here,” he warned her.

“You ain’t fixing shit, who the fuck are you to be talking to me like that?” Tatyana was in disbelief.

“You ain’t know?” He spoke arrogantly, “They call me Killa around here, ma,” he lowered his voice to a seductive lilt, “But you can call me Daddy E if you want, it’s up to you.” He says with a half-smirk.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Tatyana puts her Fendi sunglasses back on, “Can you tell Miss Shay that I had to run? I’ll just get her number from my sister Tia.”

“I’ll let her know,” Erik sips from his cup again, his eyes focused on Tatyana’s plush booty and shapely legs, “Now that I know Tia is your sister I’ll definitely be checking for you.”

“BYE, Killa,” Tatyana chucked up the deuces to Erik before entering her all-white Bentley.

___________________________

Erik was freshly showered and wearing a plain black T-shirt with a pair of G-Star relaxed fit black shorts and black Armani slides. There was a knock on the front door of his luxury Condo in Buckhead. The warm and stylish condo features a gourmet kitchen, three covered terraces, two bedrooms, and three bathrooms; one bathroom is a master bathroom with a side-entry shower. There is a wide-open living room that connects with his dining room. The building included an on-site lounge, a gym with views, and a palm-studded pool deck, and a spacious hot tub.

Erik was only expecting one person tonight; Nicki. Nicole Brown a.k.a Nicki is Erik’s frequent fuck buddy. She’s slim-thick with round cognac eyes, thinly arched brows like Megan Good, golden skin with raised freckles on her face, heart-shaped lips with a gap between her teeth, and a full head of thick, voluminous 4B curls. She can be self-centered, and stubborn. Nicki hates being ignored and not being treated like she’s in the first place. There had been many occasions where Erik had to put Nicki in her place. It was strictly sex between them both...only sex. Erik hadn’t seen Nicki in a week and the girl was blowing his phone up with at least ten calls a day. He was about to stretch her little pussy wide the fuck open on his daddy dick, got to teach um they place so they can remember, he says.

“Well? Can I come in, Daddy E,” Nicki says with a honeyed tone. The pink gloss on her lips matched her pink tongue and Erik couldn’t wait to stuff his pipe down her throat.

“Hurry up,” Erik opened the door wider so Nicki could walk inside. She’s wearing a pair of little black stretchy shorts, a hot pink bandeau, and a pair of black mules on her feet. She has her toes and nails painted with baby blue gel polish on purpose because she knows how much Erik loves blue against her skin.

“What have you been doing the past week,” Nicki takes off her shoes by the door, “I’m tired of you ignoring me, Erik. I missed you like crazy, you can’t be doing that,” Nicki threw her arms around Erik’s shoulders before kissing his thick lips, “mmm...minty,” She smiles.

“Don’t get too excited, we gotta talk first,” Erik removes her arms from around his shoulders, “did you want something to drink?”

“Nah, I’m good...what are we talking about?” Nicki takes a seat on his couch, “I have to talk to you as well...so my mom tells me that you threatened her? Fuck is going on with that?”

“You’re hella bipolar, didn’t you just walk in here telling me you missed me?”

“I did, and I still do, daddy, but you and I have a problem. She told me you threatened to kick her in the ass on Monday, E.”

“Did she?” Erik makes himself a small glass of Hennessy before joining Nicki on the couch. He takes a seat away from her, resting his back in the corner of the sectional couch, “did she tell you why I threatened her?”

“Doesn’t matter, THAT'S my mom, Erik. I know she’s going through some shit but don’t do that, I will kill you,” Nicki mouthed off.

“You’ll kill me? With what? These hands?” Erik grabs Nicki’s small hands, laughing at how little she is compared to him, “you can’t even wrap your hand around my neck fully so cut that shit out.”

“Whatever, asshole, DON'T threaten my mom again,” Nicki jabbed her finger into Erik’s solid chest, “Now you owe me...I want my pussy ate from the back.”

“Hm,” Erik brings his face closer to Nicki’s, “Did your momma tell you that she got down on her knees, begging to suck my dick?”

“...what?” Nicki’s eyes glanced at his lips.

“She came banging on the door to my Trap House, pleading to suck my dick for some more crack...what you got to say now, shawty? I don’t hear you talkin’ back.”

Nicki swallows spit, before letting out a ragged breath, “She didn’t tell me all that...She’s been staying with my aunt to get better…”

“Next time, I think you need to get all the facts before you come up in my place getting buck with me,” Erik spoke with a raw voice so close to her face that his nose was touching her cheek, “And you know what happens when you get buck with me, Nicki...shut yo ass up when you talking all that shit...told yo ass I ain’t nothing like these other niggas, bitch, I don’t play that shit.”

“I’m sorry, Erik-

“fuck your throat till I’m done...I don’t stop...you know I keep going.”

“I won’t do it again-

“You will because daddy’s dick is yo favorite...you love sucking this big black dick...get my dick nice and wet...giving me all that good sloppy top like the freak hoe you are...telling me I’m yo favorite thug nigga while you suck on my nuts…”

“Fuck,” Nicki turned so she could face Erik fully. Her nose brushed against his broad one and the tickle of it shot straight to her phat clit.

“Then you blowing up my phone all week like you ain’t got no damn sense,” Erik looks her up and down with eyes so ominous they made Nicki shiver, “Calling me ten times a fucking day...I hit you back when I’m ready, this my last time telling you, ma, hear me?”

Nicki nods her head before quickly saying, “Yes, Daddy E.”

“I ain’t have this pussy in a week...she's still super soaker wet?” Erik’s hand found its way between Nicki’s thighs, stroking her pussy, “I can feel that clit poking...that phat ass clit...you only want me to eat it from the back because I suck it good from that angle.”

“Damn...I miss your fingers on my pussy,” Nicki spoke with a serene voice.

“I miss that juicy mouth on my dick,” Erik roughly spreads Nicki’s thighs so he could see her pussy lips sitting nice and plump, “Big pussy on a tiny girl...I love that shit…”

“I need you,” Nicki says with her glossy cognac eyes filled with lust.

“Not before I get my dick sucked you don’t,” Erik stands up, undoing his shorts, bringing them down to rest around his ankles. He purposely left his Armani briefs on so she could see his thick print jump. It pulsated and pulsated. His wide glans was peeking at her from the bottom of his briefs. Nicki has to pick her jaw up off of the floor. She had that huge black dick buried in her pussy so many times before and yet she still couldn’t believe he was packing that much thickness and length.

“You need me? Suck this daddy dick,” He points to his crotch that he was blessed with. Nicki scoots over so that she’s seated perfectly in front of him before grabbing the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down so they could rest around his ankles with his shorts, “I need your lips to show my throbbing dick how much you appreciate every inch of me…”

Nicki grabs Erik’s dick in her hand. She moves it up and down...up and down...then she sticks her tongue out to lick his slit. Nicki’s tongue wiggles slowly while her cognac eyes blinked up at Erik innocently.

“Stop playing and put this dick in your mouth,” Erik says.

“This big dick right here?” Nicki uses her tongue to circle the tip of Erik’s dick.

“Nicki...stop playing with me,” Erik’s fingers tangled around her thick hair and he yanked it hard enough to extend her neck so that she could look at him, “And you can drop that good girl act you know when you see this dick all of that goes straight out the fucking window.”

Erik was reminded of how much of a nasty bitch Nicki is. Nicki spits on Erik’s dick before taking him halfway into her mouth and sucking him with just the power of her jaw muscles. She started making those nasty, loud slurping sounds that Erik loves. Nicki grabs Erik’s balls to massage them before using her lips to slurp along the sides of his lengthy dick.

“Fuckkkkkkkkk,” Nicki relished in the squelching sound of Erik’s spit covered dick in her hand while she jerked him slowly. She knew that he wanted her to swallow all of him but Nicki wanted him to make her do it.

“This dick is thick and heavy, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah? It likes being sucked too,” Erik takes his dick in his hand, “so why don’t you hop on that and stop playing, girl.”

“Or what? What?”

“I’ll just make you...open yo’ mouth.”

“Make me like you said you would,” Nicki says with a sly grin. Erik takes his thumb to rub Nicki’s bottom lip before dragging his hand down past her chin to grasp her throat with enough pressure to remind her of who is in charge.

“I need good head right now and I need you to focus...give me yo’ fucking throat.”

Erik slapped his dick on Nicki’s lips and she opened up for him, sticking her tongue all the way out graciously. Erik’s dick slid right in easily and with both of his hands holding her head in place Erik moved Nicki’s head back and forth. He watched his dick disappear between her glossy pink lips until his hands moved away from her head and Nicki was sucking all of him on her own.

“Looks like you don’t wanna stop...I don’t wanna let you stop...sucking the life outta me...suck all that dick...yeahhhh just like that...you’re into that I see why you called me ten times a day…”

“Mhmmmmmm,” Nicki’s eyes never left Erik’s and the eye contact made her mouth just as wet as her pussy. Nicki drooled all over Erik’s dick and the spit covered her chest, staining her bandeau top.

“Suck that dick bitch, I bet you wish this was a daily thing for you...no matter where we are...If you enjoy it like you say you do be a slut and suck this dick whenever I tell you to.”

Erik’s words excited Nicki. She knew it was in the heat of the moment because her sloppy head was making his dick swell but the thought of waking up with Erik’s dick in her mouth was a world she wanted to live in. Looking up into his fine ass face reminded her of how much she really REALLY wanted Erik to make her his girl. He kept talking that nasty shit to her and it made her take her fingers covered in her spit to rub her clit.

“Nah, don’t get distracted, I got too much dick to not be getting it sucked...Mhm, you see that dick getting fatter? that’s cuz daddy is about to bust...all that fucking nut? don’t waste my shit, Nicki, don’t be wasting my shit bitch! FUCK!” Erik grabs his dick to slap it on Nicki’s tongue. His cum spurted out in thick streams. Nicki wrapped her lips around Erik’s dick, “get all that nut the fuck out bitch.”

Nicki finished emptying him before licking her lips clean. She sat back on the couch with her face gleaming with saliva. Nicki turned around, arching her back and started twerking in her little shorts. Erik’s hands reached down to play with her ass while she bounced it for him. His fingers then start to rub her pussy from the back. Nicki starts thrusting her hips back against Erik while whining for attention.

“I know what you need, baby, you know nobody’s mouth is nastier than mine. Who sucks on that pussy the best?”

“Daddy E,” Nicki moaned.

“Who gets all that nut out?” Erik pulls Nicki’s shorts down to reveal that she isn’t wearing any panties.

“You do, Daddy,” Nicki hissed when her pussy finally became exposed to the cool air, “my pussy is so damn wet.”

“I’m looking at this fat, creamy pussy now...all that dripping from your pussy...and that clit…” Erik takes his thumb to stroke Nicki’s phat clit, “ima make you cum all over my thick dick.”

“Please,” Nicki reaches beneath her to hold her pussy lips open, “Daddy, please suck on my pussy...please…”

Erik got down on his knees and buried his face in Nicki’s pussy. His tongue lapped and cleaned up all her cream before sucking on her phat clit from behind. Erik spreads her cheeks so he could have more space to lick her asshole too. Nicki’s pussy was fitting in Erik’s mouth so good that it made him thrust his hips like he was fucking her. He just knew the tip of his dick was leaking pre-cum. He was eating that sloppy, juicy pussy.

“Daddy, yes, clean this pussy up and make some more,” Nicki licks her lips, “Oh, daddy, fuck yeah, oh, daddy, yes, right there, I’m gonna cum, yes, fuckkkkk, daddy, oh my God, daddy keep sucking,” Nicki shouts, “FUCK IM CUMMING!!!”

Erik kisses her clit before using his tongue to fuck her pussy and asshole, alternating back and forth. Nicki didn’t know what to do with herself. One minute, Erik’s tongue is in her pussy and the next minute it’s wiggling in her tight ass.

“Oh, shit,” Nicki could feel the sensation to cum creeping over her body again, “oooooo daddy you always eat my pussy so good!!!”

Erik helped Nicki get through her orgasm with rough spanking to her ass. His dick was painfully hard and as much as he loved slurping on Nicki’s phat clit he needed to bury all ten inches of his big black dick inside of her. Grabbing his jeans, Erik pulls out a magnum, opening it with his teeth before taking the condom and rolling it over his dick. Erik stood up while bending his knees slightly since Nicki is much shorter than him.

“You know what time it is, ma, keep this ass up so I can fuck you good, give you exactly what you deserve.”

Nicki held her arched position, pushing her hips higher so she could provide a good angle for Erik.

“Got this pretty pussy with all this fat ass for daddy to pound deep and hard…” Eriks hips retreated back , and forth as he found her entrance . His tip felt that warm slippery wet hole and he eased himself in, just enough to hear those sweet little gasps and pants from her. Nicki reached behind her to grasp Erik’s upper thigh. He always expected that because of his generous size.

“Aight, ma, ima put the rest of this dick in. Bite the couch if you need to,” Erik spoke casually. Erik slammed into Nicki hard, resulting in a huge slap from his pelvis against her plump booty. When he did it again her head flew back in bliss. He gave her another stroke, much harder than before. Nicki’s entire body from her head down to her toes felt that pressure and it caused her head to slump forward against the couch.

“Yeah, daddy got that ass now...this what you like? All this dick in you? Fix your arch, Nicki,” Nicki’s mouth drew wide open and she looked back at Erik. Erik invaded her tight wetness, reaching every spot that needed to be stroked. Hitting every itch that had been yearning to be touched. Erik fucked her hard and steady. It was the rhythm of his toned hips knocking into her that shocked Nicki every single time. His back muscles flexed when his arms reached forward to grab the back of the couch. Nicki felt like this was the only man that could control her body as if he practiced it. His thick pole hit a spongy spot of pleasure inside of her. It felt so damn fucking good that Nicki started throwing her hips back, fucking him. Nicki started moaning uncontrollably, so honest that her body practically did it for her each time.

“Fuck this dick! Take this shit!” Erik says all the while fucking Nicki himself, “I see you keeping this dick nice and slippery for me…”

“Mmm, daddy, you got me shaking and tightening all over that dick,” Nicki says between heavy sobs.

“I love when your pussy tells me I'm doing a good job...you got more for me?” Erik pushes himself all the way inside until his balls slapped her clit, “dropping this dick in that big pussy?”

“Fucck..... show me who’s daddy,” Nicki could feel Erik hitting the bottom of her pussy with the tip of his dick and he wasn’t slowing down. Erik brings one leg up to rest his foot on the couch before grabbing Nicki’s hips. He started really plowing her pussy; plowing it so damn good that Nicki started sounding like someone went at her throat with a cheese grater. Her ass was bouncing like a ball against him. Nicki wailed and Erik could feel the smooth ridges of her vaginal walls ripple along the broad shaft of his dick.

“Shit, I feel it coming, baby!!!!!!” Nicki’s ass ricocheted off of Erik before she went stiff, her thighs caving in like she was crippled. Her creamy orgasm oozed from her pussy and dripped to his couch. It was beautiful watching Nicki’s pussy cum. He could only imagine the overwhelming sensation she must be experiencing to cum on a thick dick.

“Wow, look at this juicy pussy,” Erik slows down before stopping completely, his dick slipping from her snug pussy and resting between her inner lips. The sound effects her wet pussy made when the tip of his dick stroked her labia caused Erik to bite down on his pouty bottom lip so hard it stung. His eyes glinted with desire when he saw how Nicki glazed his dick.

“Come clean up all this mess, girl,” The corners of his mouth turned up and then a stream of hisses followed. Nicki slurped all of her sticky cream from Erik’s dick. She showed him her cum covered tongue before licking her lips. Erik needed to bust a nut now, hard and urgent. Taking a seat on the couch, Erik forcefully slaps Nicki’s ass, soundlessly telling her that she needs to slam that pussy on his dick froggystyle. Nicki’s weak limbs shook out of control when she positioned herself over Erik’s fat ass dick.

“What you waiting on? Ride that fucking dick,” Erik pointed to his dick, “you see how you got my shit standing up? You better get on this dick and make me bust.”

Nicki guides Erik’s dick back to her overworked entrance before she finally lowered herself over him. Erik’s hands automatically grabbed each ass cheek so that he could have something to hold onto when he fucked her himself. Nicki started working just the tip of his dick, a constant whimper coming from her mouth.

“Where is the rest of that phat pussy? Ride the fuck outta me, Nicki...my nuts are so goddamn tight,” Erik tugged on his sack, “Lil ass bought to have me explode up in this bitch.”

“Shitttttttttttt, whew!!!!!!” Nicki finally takes all of him. She sat still while Erik’s hands still cupped her ass cheeks.

“Just like that, girl, keep going,” Erik started pumping his hips, “All I need you to do right now is make this big ass dick cum.”

“Fuck,” Nicki squeezes Erik’s shoulders and then with whatever strength she has left, Nicki started bouncing her pussy up and down Erik’s dick. The sound effects of her pussy increased with the speed of her strokes. With no warning, Erik started force feeding Nicki his fat dick. It was a good thing he had a grip on her ass because she allowed all of her body weight to fall forward against him.

“Gotta get up in it...DEEP...know what I’m saying?” He spoke nonchalantly like he wasn’t making Nicki cry above him. He didn’t expect her to answer him, not with all his dick in her stomach.

“Damn, fuck, shit, Oooh,” Nicki’s body started shaking and then as if a pipe burst she began to cum all in Erik’s lap, “FUUUUCK! Okay, baby, okay!!! Shit!!”

Erik wasn’t listening, his dick was trying to drill a new slippery hole in her pussy. Erik’s dick was all up in her to get to that perfect spot where he knows that every inch of his fat dick is stuffing her. He was afraid that the more he thrust against her cervix that the condom would break. Easing up a bit, Erik grabs Nicki’s hips and starts moving her up and down his dick instead. His head fell back to rest against the couch while his narrow eyes watched the blissful expression on her face. Nicki held onto Erik’s wrists and her bandeau top slid down to rest around her slender waist.

“You’re about to make me leak all in this rubber...ahhh fuck, yeah, you like this dick baby...you love being daddy’s nasty little fucking slut...yeah, ahhhhh, fuck...get on this dick, bitch, sit on this fat-fucking-dick, ride that fucking dick...ride this fat dick until I fucking cum…” Erik’s dick became so robust and rock-hard that Nicki began to scream from how vast his dick was making her pussy, “Fuckkkk, Nicki, you finna make me bust, girl, shittttttttt,” Erik’s hips left the couch and his toes curled. He filled that magnum to the brim. Nicki’s pussy damn near pranced from his dick and she was on her knees, between his athletically built thighs, waiting for her reward.

Nicki removed Erik’s condom, his cum overflowing his dick from his wide tip all the way down to the base. Nicki strokes her hair back before using only her tongue to clean him up. This was routine, Erik didn’t need to remind her what to do. His dick was only covered in her greedy saliva now. Nicki picks up the condom, tipping it over in her mouth and squeezing the remnants of his cum out like a tube of toothpaste. Erik lightly chuckles, he loved how cum hungry Nicki is.

“You taste so good...I could drink you,” Nicki stands before walking away with a dramatic switch of her hips to toss the condom in the trash. Erik sits up, his elbows resting on his kneecaps. He used his right hand to shake out his dreads. He was going to need to disinfect his couch. He could feel his sweat between his muscular ass cheeks. Grabbing his glass whiskey

tumbler, Erik takes a sip of his Hennessy to quench his thirst. Nicki smiles while tipping her head down slightly. She loved the way Erik looked after sex, sweaty and undomesticated. Nicki makes herself comfortable on Erik’s couch, her knees to her chest and thighs wide open. Erik drew his lower lip between his teeth and furrowed his brows at her.

“What?” She asked with genuine confusion.

“You know it’s time for you to go, right?” Erik stated in a straightforward tone of voice, “I only let you spend the night that one time because it was 3 AM and I was too damn faded to take yo’ ass home.”

“You’re such a Goddamn asshole. I just want my pussy ate again and I’ll be on my way,” Nicki spreads her pussy lips to reveal her pink center, “Candy coated and ready to be licked...don’t you wanna?”

“You know I like that sweet little pussy but I got a busy day tomorrow, ma. As tempting as that phat clit is...I gotta pass,” Erik settles back against his couch lazily.

“Not even a little lick?” Nicki begged.

“Not even a tiny taste, girl, next time though,” Erik closed his eyes and began to yawn. Nicki was staring all in his grill at his gold canines.

“Fine. I have an interview tomorrow for this CNA certificate program so I need to rest anyway,” Nicki grabs her little stretchy black shorts from the floor, “When should I call you for some more dick, daddy?”

“I’ll hit you up,” Erik helps Nicki by lifting her bandeau over her small, round breasts, “the next few days I got a shipment of supplies coming in and I’m gonna be really busy. Don’t worry, I gotchu.”

“We’ll see,” Nicki fluffs out her hair before standing from the couch, “Are you gonna escort me to the door?” Nicki says with attitude.

“Stop tripping,” Erik kisses his teeth, standing at his full height, grabbing a short Nicki around her waist before giving her a chaste kiss, “Why all that attitude? You know that shit don’t even mean nothing.”

“Whatever, I’m mad at you,” Nicki jabbed her pointer finger lightly against Erik’s right dimple. She allowed Erik to walk her to the door with his arm still wrapped around her petite waist. Finally at his door, Erik opens it, shielding his nude body so nobody can see him. Nicki turned towards him, flipping him off before making her way to the elevators. She made a sour face at him one final time before jabbing the down arrow button.

“Fix your pretty face,” Erik gives her a final air kiss, “I’ll hit you soon. Keep that pussy wet.”

Nicki couldn’t help but to blush at the last minute before the elevator doors closed. A wide smile was plastered to her face the whole ride down and butterflies were in her stomach. She felt like a teenager all over again, only this time she was getting dick. The elevator dinged and Nicki was back in the lobby, she walked along the tile flooring, passing all the paintings that lined the walls and the calming and soothing ambience of the blue and brown interior design. Nicki was just about to push open the commercial double glass doors when a woman with short chocolate ringlets dressed in a fitted, strapless, black maxi dress and black Birkenstocks with a cream Christian Louboutin tote bag in her left hand almost smacked her in the face with the door.

“My fault, girl,” She spoke with an apologetic tone, “I left my damn glasses in the car...excuse my blindness.”

Nicki gives her a polite smile followed by a light laugh. Her smile faded when she noticed the woman’s red-rimmed mink brown eyes are glossy, “It’s cool, sis, from blind girl to blind girl, I get it,” Nicki noticed the look of confusion on her face so she pointed to her left eye, “Contacts.”

“Ah,” She smiles pleasantly, the warmth in it causing Nicki to smirk, “My mind is all over the place...pretty mules by the way,” The pretty cinnamon skinned woman complimented while walking away.

“Thank you! I was just about to say the same about that bag on your arm,” Nicki admired it enviously.

“Thanks,” She stroked it, “My fault about the door, girl, have a good rest of your night.”

“Ain’t no thang, and you do the same,” Nicki gives her one final polite farewell before she turns to leave the lobby.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @thewaysheis--awkward @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel-blog @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @dameshaemonique @glittermakesmesmile @justgetitoverwith0 @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4 @ajjiiaaahhhh @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer @efonteno @mikesteel20 @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns @eevolsidog @xoxomyaah @asweet-serendipity @therealmrsmbjordan @ajspencer1892 @queengodiva619 @niqui87 @quietpoeticheart @itsjustyazz @dasia21 @woah-express @bbgiirrll @backandbetter2 @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife @queenflaws @cecereads209 @queenbetter @yomiloo @daddys-baby-girl-t @lovinthemelanin @ladymac82 @ambitionwood @t3mporaa @toniilaney @iv0rysoap @sinfully-dope @lovehatecritique @chocolategirl605 @naysianaee @nyleveeee @erlebnissebliss @melinaasap1 @woahthatshitfat @that-chick212 @scarypumkin23 @sambuckyslayallday @vikki240401 @kuaua98 @enigmadivine @gingerylimonte @counterfeit-recherche @unholyxcumbucket @xdezaraex @missgigglesmoultrie @imrootingforeveryoneblack @dashhoney25

#Erik Killmonger #killmonger smut #killmonger imagine #killmonger x oc #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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Digimon Data Squad Dub Comparison Episode 18 - The Clash With Merukimon!

This is a companion to my commentary on the original Japanese Digimon Savers! Reading my commentary on the original version of this episode (which you can find here) is recommended before reading this dub comparison.

Original name ~ Dubbed name

Masaru Daimon ~ Marcus Damon

Yoshino Fujieda ~ Yoshino “Yoshi” Fujieda

Tohma H. Norstein ~ Thomas H. Norstein

Ikuto ~ Keenan

Yukidarumon ~ Frigimon

Mercurimon ~ Merukimon

Professor Suguru Daimon ~ Doctor Spencer Damon

[Since several characters share the same name between the original and the dub, quotes from the dub will always be in italics, while quotes from the original will not, in order to distinguish them.]

Thomas is doing the recap, again. I wish it was Marcus more often. Or perhaps Yoshi this time, since she was the focus of the previous episode.

Recap Thomas: “A human boy named Keenan claimed to be a Digimon, and that his mother had been destroyed by humans.”

Sure. “Destroyed”. Definitely no death here; it’s not like Thomas’s own mother is also dead or anything.

Thomas wasn’t even there for this part, either, making it extra odd that he’s the person recapping this. It doesn’t actually matter because the recaps aren’t an in-universe thing, but still.

Gaomon is the one to read out the title card for some reason, despite him having no meaningful role in this episode.

Agumon: “Maybe he’s actually a Digimon!”

~~~~~

Agumon: “Maybe he’s a Digimon like Keenan.”

He’s talking about the old man, but only dub-Agumon brings up Keenan here. Either Agumon somehow actually believes Keenan’s claim that he’s a Digimon, or he just delivered a sick burn to Keenan’s belief that he is one.

Gaomon: “Don’t be stupid, that’s impossible.”

~~~~~

Gaomon: “Do me a favour. Just be quiet.”

Both Gaomons are writing Agumon’s comment off as nonsensical, but dub-Gaomon is being way more of a dick about it, geez.

Yoshino: “Why are you so familiar with him anyway?”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “Are you absolutely positive we can trust this guy?”

I don’t know why Yoshi is asking Marcus if he’s sure this guy is trustworthy when he hasn’t actually said he trusts him at all yet.

Thomas: “Well, I’m not entirely sure we should trust this guy.”

Marcus: “Why not? I do.”

Thomas: “That’s why.”

Geez, Thomas, I know you and Marcus bicker and have differing opinions, but Marcus has never been one to naively trust someone he shouldn’t. This is just being a dick, implying that Marcus is stupid and always wrong about everything.

Marcus: “Since when did you start caring about my opinion?”

That doesn’t make any sense as a response, because the phrase “caring about someone’s opinion” is usually in the sense of agreeing with it, which is not what Thomas was doing. “I care about your opinion, so that I can make a point of disagreeing with it just for the sake of being a dick to you” is not how that phrase works.

The BGM cue as we cut to Merukimon’s palace is the usual boomingly sinister one that he’s usually had… which really doesn’t work to set the right mood for this scene. This scene isn’t about presenting Merukimon as a bad guy (because this is the episode where we properly begin to learn that he isn’t) but about Keenan questioning his species and Merukimon making a misguided attempt to be supportive. The original gave it a sad, reflective BGM to fit that, instead of the previous totally-a-villain musical cue that Mercurimon had had a few times before. But the dub apparently just figured, nah, it’s still Merukimon’s palace, so OMINOUS EVIL it is.

Also, this scene features Gotsumon’s “why are you still alive” scowl at Keenan, except… he’s never directly tried to kill Keenan so far in the dub. So he shouldn’t really be scowling at Keenan any harder than he usually does. Though this could just be the face he always makes at Keenan whenever Merukimon’s being nice to him, I suppose.

The Digimon Analyser for Tsumemon here calls it In-Training level, the dub’s name for Baby, whereas the original claimed Tsumemon was Child-level. Since Tsumemon is actually meant to be Baby-level outside of Savers canon, I’ll give the dub this one for deciding to correct it. The dubbers do at least know some overarching Digimon lore.

Gotsumon: “Merukimon! They got past Tsumemon!”

That should not be remarkable at all, Gotsumon, especially when these Tsumemon are actually In-Training level and not Rookie (Child). What kind of person expects babies to be not just surveillance but actual security guards?

Keenan: “Me fight humons! I will… destroy!”

As much as I shouldn’t rag on this too badly because Ikuto’s broken grammar doesn’t make any sense in the original anyway, Keenan’s grammar being broken like this is even sillier. How do you use both “me” and then “I” as a subject in two successive sentences? If he’s going to get something like this wrong, he at least needs to be consistent about it – to have some kind of consistent-but-wrong idea in his head of how he thinks it works.

I want to remind you that Falcomon sounds like Keenan’s goddamn butler and this is not okay.

Mercurimon: “Letting Ikuto fight with humans will help him awaken into a true Digimon warrior.”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “Keenan must fight these humans. It is the only way for him to release his Digi-warrior from within.”

I guess that basically has the same meaning as the original line, but boy is it a sillier-sounding way to word it.

Gotsumon: (Human scum is still human scum.)

~~~~~

Gotsumon: (But humans are full of tricks.)

Dub-Gotsumon is still being distinctly less racist. The humans that he’s commenting on and being negative about here are the DATS humans, his enemies. It sounds like he’s mostly thinking about his previous concern, where he was asking Merukimon why he didn’t go to fight instead because he’s more powerful than Keenan. Meanwhile original-Gotsumon was clearly being derogatory towards Ikuto, taking the opportunity to scoff at idea that a human like him could ever be a Digimon warrior.

(If it sounds like I think it’s a good thing that dub-Gotsumon is less racist, I don’t, because him being racist towards Ikuto is the point to his character and his repeated attempts to murder the kid. The dub has consistently toned down not only the racism but also the murder attempts so far. Except, Gotsumon is going to keep trying to murder Ikuto and it is going to become more and more important to the plot that he’s doing that to the point that the dub won’t be able to gloss over it for much longer, so this really isn’t an aspect of his character that should be erased.)

Marcus: “Look, guys! Merukimon’s hideout! The Infinite Ice Ridge!”

No, Marcus, you’re already in the Infinite Ice Ridge; this thing you’re looking at is just Merukimon’s palace within the larger mountain range of that name. The dub definitely used that name to refer to the entire mountain when they were outside it at the end of last episode and this episode’s recap. Unless this is meant to be a joke about Marcus being slow and missing the point? But if it were I feel like someone else would exasperatedly correct him.

Ikuto: “Filthy humans, I will beat you!”

~~~~~

Keenan: “I beat you. Bad! All humons, I will destroy!”

Alas, there’s none of that fun sense from the original that Keenan is trying to emulate Merukimon’s speech pattern in any way.

Masaru: “All right, let’s put an end to this!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “I’ve had it. I’m takin’ this kid down!”

As he throws himself into the fight with Ikuto, Masaru comes across like he’s seeing this as the opportunity to settle their ongoing fight, since Ikuto’s here and looking for one. He’s just being his usual competitive self. But Marcus simply sounds like he’s sick of this kid and wants him gone, with none of that kind of respect for a worthy opponent.

The moment in the original where they awkwardly put an opening right in the middle of Masaru and Ikuto rushing at each other flows perfectly well without that in there, funnily enough. Well… almost; they kind of end up charging at each other with battle cries for just a little too long to the point that it almost seems like it’s going to turn into a joke.

Masaru: “Don’t get in our way, Ikuto!”

Old man: “Ikuto? I knew it, that’s Noguchi’s…!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Outta my way, kid!”

Old man: “Keenan? I knew it was you!”

It’s less clear how the old man became so certain that this is Keenan here, since Marcus didn’t use his name. Though I suppose this is also shortly after Keenan jumps down from the pillar and the man can get a much closer look at him, and Keenan definitely has some strong family resemblance to someone this old man knows, so I guess that’s why he figures it out in the dub’s version of things.

(Also, Marcus continuing to not use Keenan’s name where Masaru did is more of him treating this kid like an annoying obstruction rather than a person he respects even if they’re currently enemies.)

Old man: “Stop! Ikuto, you are…!”

~~~~~

Old man: “Keenan, stop! You’re not a Digimon!”

In the original, the old man probably wasn’t going to tell Ikuto he’s not a Digimon and was more likely about to say something about his human parents. Telling him he’s not a Digimon is rather basic and not the whole point. And surely the old man has enough sense to figure, given Marcus has clearly interacted with Keenan before, that wouldn’t he have already been told that?

He also has no reason to assume that Keenan would actually answer to the name Keenan, since Marcus didn’t use that name.

I’m not quite over Rock Fist being the dub name for Gotsumon’s attack where he shoots rocks from his head.

Gotsumon: “All of you will be smashed to pieces!”

Ikuto: “What do you mean ‘all’? Gotsumon!”

~~~~~

Gotsumon: “I’m gonna crush everyone here!”

Keenan: “Everyone? But that means you smash me!”

Gotsumon’s comment in the dub has no plausible deniability at all. “All of you” in the original could have been referring to just all of DATS, but “everyone here” literally means everybody in the cave right now and therefore must include Keenan. And Keenan fully picks up on this and outright realises that this means Gotsumon’s trying to kill him, rather than just acknowledging the possibility of it but not wanting to think that thought all the way through for now.

This is, as last, something which properly comes across as Gotsumon attempting to kill Keenan in the dub, at the very least along with the DATS humans in a deliberate kind of way, since he’s gloating about crushing everyone. Because, whoops, now that Keenan has to notice and react to Gotsumon trying to do this, suddenly it matters to the plot, almost like it always should have mattered from the beginning.

Old man: “Mercurimon! You’re watching this, aren’t you? I’ve got something to ask you. Let’s be honest with each other.”

~~~~~

Old man: “Merukimon, you’re watching, aren’t you? I have something to say. You should really hear me out.”

Originally the old man was asking for a two-sided negotiation, for them to talk to each other. But here the old man’s being a lot more one-sided about it. He has something to say, and Merukimon should listen. Never mind if Merukimon himself wants to say anything at all; apparently that doesn’t matter?

(Which doesn’t even make any sense, because what he actually wants out of this is to ask why Merukimon is (supposedly) attacking the human world, which requires Merukimon to say something! I don’t know what on earth the old man would have in mind for this confrontation that would just be him one-sidedly talking at Merukimon that would actually communicate anything meaningful.)

Ikuto: “Let go! I don’t want to be saved by human!”

~~~~~

Keenan: “No! Humon no save me! I save me!”

That’s nice and all, Keenan, but you can’t save yourself from this situation. Making it sound like he wants to or is telling himself he can is the dub disappointingly detracting from this moment in which Ikuto would literally rather die than have a human save his life.

Ikuto: “Why you save me?”

Masaru: “Isn’t it obvious? We haven’t finished our battle yet. How could I watch you die just like that?”

~~~~~

Keenan: “Why me? You save?”

Marcus: “Do I have to spell it out for ya? We’re not done fightin’ yet. I’ve gotta win first, got it?”

Way to imply that once you do win your fight, you’d be totally happy to drop him off a cliff to his death, Marcus. By making it about winning, he’s sounding like he only saved Keenan because he wants to be the one to “defeat” him, whatever that might mean. Which is exactly the sort of mindset that Keenan has about defeating these humans – he’s the warrior, he wants it to be him doing it rather than anybody else. And so (even aside from making Marcus way more of a dick, what the hell), this moment doesn’t work so well for Keenan realising that Marcus sees their ongoing fight very differently.

Falcomon: “Keenan? What if… they’re not like the humans from before who took Frigimon from you?”

Acceptable way to not directly mention death (especially since Falcomon would want to soften it), way better than the “destroyed” from earlier. I should also note that struggling to come to terms with this sort of idea sure is a rather childish way of thinking, now, isn’t it, dub, how about that.

Though, shouldn’t he say “from us”? Falcomon also cared about Frigimon a lot, too – a lot more in the dub than he cared about Keenan back then if episode 16’s dub changes are anything to go by.

(Also, reminder, dub-Falcomon apparently always knew Keenan was human, so surely he’d have had an easier time than this coming to terms with the notion that some humans might be good?)

The BGM for this bit where Falcomon tries to suggest maybe some humans are good and Keenan remembers Frigimon has a weirdly tense and sinister tone to it that doesn’t fit the mood; the original BGM was again going more sad and reflective here.

Ikuto: “There’s no way!”

~~~~~

Keenan: “Not true! All humons bad!”

Ikuto’s protest here read more like a “that can’t be true!”, like he’s mostly trying to convince himself of this because he wouldn’t know how to cope with it if it were true. But Keenan is being less nuanced about it and continuing to bluntly insist that they’re all bad, sounding more like he still 100% believes that.

Merukimon: “It has been a very long time.”

Old man: “And you haven’t forgotten me. I’m really touched.”

The old man does not sound remotely touched; he sounds like he’s being a snarky jerk about this for no apparent reason. This is not how you begin peace negotiations.

(Also, remember how I brought up in the original commentary that this bit is contradicted by future information about how the expedition went, in that this man and Mercurimon should never have personally met? That’s something a dub could fix, since the mistake is only in the dialogue! But of course not, because while the original may have made a small rare mishap in terms of keeping things consistent with future stuff, the dub is monumentally worse at caring about what’s going to happen or be revealed in future and making sure the present events are kept compatible with that.)

Mercurimon: “Ikuto is like a son to me. Humans have taught me what it is like to be a father.”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “Keenan is like the son I never had. His presence here helps me appreciate the human world better.”

Does it, Merukimon? Because you’re about to go into just how furious you are at every human who isn’t Keenan, so somehow I don’t think that’s why you keep Keenan around.

And this is instead of the perfectly good line in which Mercurimon implies that Digimon don’t usually do this whole parenting thing (which they don’t, and that’s a relevant thing to be aware of) and that he learned about the concept from guess who. That part can be true regardless of how he feels about the rest of the human world.

Mercurimon: “Silence! It was humans who struck first!”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “Silence! Have you conveniently forgotten that it was the humans who struck first?”

I actually like this little lip-flap-induced extra part to Merukimon’s statement, because he believes that the old man has just “conveniently forgotten” this – as in, Merukimon believes he’s aware of the massacre and is just pretending to have forgotten to try and appear innocent.

Old man: “What did you say? It’s true that we humans arrived unexpectedly in the Digital World ten years ago, but we never intended to be aggressive!

~~~~~

Old man: “It’s true that humans entered the Digital World before you entered ours, but we were never aggressive toward you!”

Note how originally the old man said they never intended to be aggressive, which is true, regardless of what actually ended up happening. Here he says they were never aggressive towards Digimon at all – and that’s not true, even just within the expedition that he was part of. He should know that.

Old man: “You understood that best!”

~~~~~

Old man: “…and you of all people should know that!”

This has slightly less of an implication that the old man personally spoke to Merukimon about this back then when he shouldn’t have… but that’s probably more out of luck than any deliberate dub intention to fix that inconsistency in the original.

Ikuto: “Fight me!”

Masaru: “Now’s not the time for this!”

~~~~~

Keenan: “You fight me!”

Marcus: “Bug off! I don’t have time for you!”

Masaru here sounded like he was acknowledging that he wanted to finish their fight sometime, but that he had bigger priorities right now. Marcus is sounding a lot more like he wouldn’t ever have time for Keenan and, again, just thinks he’s annoying and wants to get rid of him. Why is Marcus always more of a jerk.

Mercurimon: “That man made a deal with us. To preserve the peace between the Digital World and the human world, neither side would attack the other.”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “I was led to believe that we had brokered a treaty that would ensure stability between our two worlds!”

A “deal” is one thing, and potentially could refer to just an informal promise, which it was. But a “treaty” sounds like a whole official thing in which documents were signed and everything, and, yeah, there was none of that. This is a little misleading.

Merukimon: “Someone told me there would be no further strikes from your world.”

The whole thing of referring to someone as “that man” or “that person” to be vague about their identity appears to be a very Japanese sort of phrasing that doesn’t quite feel natural in English. So here’s the dub’s attempt to be similarly vague – except that it kind of ends up reading like even Merukimon has forgotten who that someone was.

Also, no “further” strikes? So was the expedition considered an initial act of aggression, or wasn’t it?

Merukimon: “And in clear violation of the treaty…”

…Yeah, this is absolutely making it sound like an official documented and signed treaty, if he’s talking about it like this. Again, it was not. You can’t “clearly violate” what was actually just an informal promise.

(In a later episode, they’re going to flail and backpedal on this by calling it an “unspoken treaty”, which entirely defeats the point of a treaty! You certainly can’t “clearly violate” something nobody ever actually said out loud.)

Merukimon: “…you destroyed several Digimon without warning!”

Sure. “Destroyed” them. Let’s not call it murder or anything, even though it was mass murder and this is kind of a big deal actually. Even if the dub insists on being allergic to mentioning death, there are ways to word this that wouldn’t make it sound like Digimon aren’t properly alive and therefore that their deaths matter less. The fact that their deaths mattered as much as human deaths and were cruel and wrong is extremely the point here!

Ikuto: “Humans… killed Yukidarumon! Never forgive you!”

~~~~~

Keenan: “You bad! No forgive for Frigimon! Now you pay for it!”

We know what Keenan means by this because he told Marcus what happened to Frigimon last episode, and at least he’s not saying she was “destroyed”, but it still lessens the impact somewhat when he’s dancing around it like this. It hits much harder when Ikuto is straightforwardly raging that humans killed her.

It hasn’t mattered quite as much until now, but a dubbing censorship philosophy that refuses to directly mention death or killing is starting to look like an extremely inappropriate choice for dubbing this particular anime with.

Marcus: “Digimon can’t die!”

Oh my god, he actually said the D-word. Maybe it’s only allowed when someone is saying it doesn’t happen or something, because that’s the only context in which anyone has ever said it.

Masaru: “What do you mean, killed? If Digimon lose in battle, don’t they just turn back into Digieggs? They can’t die!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “They just get re-digitised into new eggs. How do you not know that?”

Masaru was saying this like a question, an “isn’t this how it works, though?” He was not being certain that he knows Digimon better than someone who’s lived in the Digital World all his life. Marcus, meanwhile, is ignorantly acting like Keenan is being stupid and obviously wrong about his murdered mother. What the actual hell, Marcus.

Agumon: “That can happen?!”

~~~~~

Agumon: “That can’t happen!”

Agumon, why are you also getting in on being certain that this grieving kid must be wrong about the fact that his mother was murdered, as if he wasn’t there and saw her not turn into an egg himself.

Ikuto: “Yukidarumon was murdered!”

~~~~~

Keenan: “It did happen! Mother gone!”

Again, I liked how Ikuto was not pulling any punches and getting right to the point that she was murdered, which is watered down by the dub refusing to mention death. Though points to Keenan’s voice actor for doing his best to get across the fury of it anyway in his delivery.

Mercurimon: “None could be born again because they didn’t leave behind even a scrap of data.”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “The attacks wiped out entire banks of Digimon data memory, causing so many innocent Digimon to become permanently deleted!”

I don’t think data memory banks is quite how it works here. The original was saying that something about the way in which they were killed obliterated all of their data such that they couldn’t be remade into eggs like they usually are. But I don’t believe that’s supposed to involve these humans having separately gone into a memory bank where backups of their data are kept or something, in order to delete them? I don’t think the Digital World is quite that digital, at least not in this universe.

Mercurimon: “Even now, you have broken down the wall between the two worlds.”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “Once again, you humans have brought down the barrier between our worlds…”

What do you mean, once again? Does the dub think that by “bringing down the barrier”, Merukimon is just referring to them opening a Digital Gate to come here? That is extremely not what he is supposed to be getting at. Remember that plot point about the barrier between the two worlds getting weaker in a non-natural way, and how DATS blamed it on Mercurimon? No? Apparently the dub doesn’t.

…Wait, no. Hm. This… isn’t actually the dub’s fault? I checked the original Japanese line, and he actually does say a word which means “once again”, which the subbers just didn’t include in their translation. So… that’s actually what he’s saying in the original, too? Is Mercurimon really not accusing the humans of being the ones responsible for the barrier gradually breaking down? Because it doesn’t make any sense for that to be happening “once again”, unless he knows of some long-ago Digital World history in which this happened and was provably humanity’s fault. Baaaah, that’s really disappointing to me if so; I liked that idea that he was accusing the humans of exactly the same thing they’d baselessly accused him of.

(At the very least, it seems the subbers figured the “once again” didn’t make much sense and decided to sneakily rewrite it so that he definitely was accusing humanity of breaking down the barrier, because that’s more interesting. And little rewrites to make things more interesting are exactly the things a dub is allowed to do and could have done too! But of course it didn’t occur to them.)

Mercurimon: “Is it not to create chaos in the Digital World?”

Old man: “Never! Humans have done nothing!”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “…and you have done this to create chaos, and destroy Digimon forever!”

Old man: “No! Never! We would never do that!”

Originally the old man was going further than just denying that he and his colleagues have no intent to do anything bad like Mercurimon is assuming they are. By saying humans have done nothing wrong, he was also outright denying the truth of the massacre that Mercurimon was telling them about. In that, he was wrong. But here, when all he’s denying is his and his colleagues’ intent to do wrong in a way that doesn’t refer to anything that happened in the past, he’s not actually wrong and is being somewhat more reasonable about this.

Mercurimon: “Silence! I can’t stand it any more! Humans who do not admit to their wrongdoing… should be silenced for eternity!”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “These lies end now! You humans will be punished for the crimes you have committed. I will see to it that your tyranny will end, now!”

This loses the extra nuance I enjoyed from the original: that Mercurimon was furiously attacking them not only because of the massacre, but also especially because he can’t stand them coming in here and lying to his face about it (or so he believes). This also gives an explanation for why it took until the end of this long angry argument for Mercurimon to get to the point of outright attacking them – because he was hoping they’d at least own up to (what he thinks is) their wrongdoing, and he hated that they didn’t. If he really was only mad about the massacre, like Merukimon is, and didn’t care so much whether or not they’re lying about it, there’d be less reason for him to have not just flattened them all the moment they arrived here.

I felt like something was off in the BGM cue as Marcus rushed in, and then I realised – the original used Provocation Infinity, that piece I’m fond of, which the dub has almost always replaced with Probably Marcus’s Theme. But it didn’t do so here, nor is there any particularly excitement-building music at all. (Probably because they’re about to evolve and that means it’s Obligatory Evolution Theme time soon instead. Note that the original did not use Believer at all in this episode, because there’s nothing triumphant about how this fight turns out.)

Mercurimon: “That burning Digisoul in your fist…”

Masaru: “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Daimon Masaru-sama!”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “That DNA Charge is familiar to me!”

Marcus: “Well I’m glad you’ve heard of me. I’m the famous Marcus Damon!”

I appreciate the attempt to translate the self-sama, but I’m not sure I like that it became “famous” this time, rather than “great”. Despite the occasional arrogant-sounding self-sama, Masaru doesn’t actually care that much whether people have heard of him; the closest thing in that direction is that he somewhat cares about having made an impact on the people he has met and fought with, which is not quite the same thing. Masaru’s phrasing here is clearly referring back to the previous time he fought Mercurimon and expecting that to have stuck in Mercurimon’s mind (even though it didn’t). But Marcus sounds like he’s not even thinking back on that at all and wants Merukimon to have heard of him regardless, because he’s… just that famous, somehow? Even in the Digital World???

okay fine I can’t complain too much about the music because full charge theme woooo

…Which cuts out as soon as they’re done evolving and we go to a commercial break. Damn it.

…Never mind, we do get Probably Marcus’s Theme after the commercial break as they actually fight! The lull was a little awkward, but.

Yoshino: “We’ve never tried that before! Don’t be reckless!”

Tohma: “Heh. Gutsy as always.”

Yoshino: “Tohma!”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “Hang on, we’ve never done that before! It could be dangerous!”

Thomas: “…That makes me wanna do it even more.”

Yoshi: “You of all people?!”

Tohma was commenting on Masaru’s attitude about trying to combine their attacks and approving of his Masaru-like spirit. But Thomas sounds like he’s deciding entirely by himself that he wants to do this because it’s dangerous, somehow. I suppose the point still is that he’s acting Marcus-like either way, but it’s somewhat watered down here. (Because god forbid Thomas ever openly agree with Marcus about something, as the beginning of this episode insisted on shoving in our faces.)

Masaru: “No matter what, we’ll force out an advantage for ourselves! That’s what a man does!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “We’re never takin’ the easy way out again – we’re stayin’ and fightin’! Never surrender!”

And never be outdone~!

*cough* that was the dub opening taking over my brain, but otherwise, what does Marcus mean “again”, as if he’s ever deliberately taken the easy way out before? Of course he hasn’t; this is Marcus!

This is instead of one of Masaru’s manly lines that the dub insists on changing, but this one wasn’t that nuanced. It wouldn’t have been hard to keep his actual point about finding a way to win no matter what. Instead this is just about not running away, which is something entirely different? Apparently the dubbers just threw in whatever shounen-protagonisty line first came to mind without thinking about if it actually properly fit.

Gotsumon: “Th-The door to the Digital Gate has been…!”

~~~~~

Gotsumon: “The Digital Gate has been opened!”

…No? The Digital Gate behind this room has always been there and always been open. The wall between it and this room (or door, I guess, though that’s kind of weird way for original-Gotsumon to phrase it because it is a wall) has simply been broken through, so that we can now see the Gate. Seriously, does the dub not even remember past plot points: the part where Cherrymon told them how there’s a Digital Gate in Merukimon’s palace and that’s half the reason they even came here. (…I mean, apparently the dubbers forgot that literally like ten seconds after that fact was brought up in that very episode, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.)

Mercurimon: “You were able to injure me…”

~~~~~

Merukimon: “You actually weakened me…”

“Weakened” is a strong word here, Merukimon. If somebody managed to vaguely graze my arm, I wouldn’t say they had weakened me.

Thomas: “Gaomon! Are you okay?!”

Gaomon: “…Y-Yes. Yes, sir…”

Aww, Gaomon, his voice sounds small and weak and not okay at all but he’s still trying to say that he is because he is a good dog who wants to make his master (well, army officer) happy.

Apparently in English, Kamemon is pronounced Kay-muh-mon. What the hell. If you’re keeping the Japanese name, you ought to also keep at least a reasonable English attempt at the Japanese pronunciation.

Marcus: “The tea guy!”

Yoshi: “He fights?!”

Okay, this is good. They should have an incredulous reaction of wait isn’t this the guy who always makes us tea, what do you mean he’s been able to fight this whole time.

Despite not having a fully animated evolution sequence, the old man still gets the Obligatory Evolution Theme. Just the regular version, of course, since Kamemon only evolves to Champion (Adult) level, so it just feels really lacklustre now that we’re used to hearing the Full Charge theme.

Digimon Analyser Thomas: “His special attack mode…”

Why are we still doing this “attack mode” thing half the time in the Digimon Analyser. Who thinks this makes any kind of sense as a way to refer to it. They’re just attacks. The Digimon don’t go into any special modes in order to use them. This isn’t hard.

Old man: “Agumon and the others can’t carry on fighting. If this goes on, they’ll only be killed!”

~~~~~

Old man: “Our Digimon have nothing left; they can’t fight any more! We’d be defeated easily!”

“Defeated” is much less likely to be something that would actually make Marcus stop in his tracks. He’d just stubbornly insist that no, they won’t be defeated, not if they keep trying and never give up, because of course he would. (And heck, everyone except Kamemon basically has been defeated already!)

The point that gets to Masaru is that this is about more than just winning or losing; it’s about protecting their partners’ lives. But of course, the dub is allergic to mentioning death, so we can’t have that, and as such this moment doesn’t work as well. It just looks like Marcus suddenly thinks running away is better than “being defeated”, which doesn’t even make any sense, because to him, running away is defeat.

(Actually, the word the old man used in Japanese here wasn’t even literally “killed”; it was something more like “completely destroyed”. So hey, if the dub wanted, they could have used “destroyed” here too and I wouldn’t even have been able to complain! That’d have made Marcus’s reaction make way more sense than just “defeated”.)

Old man: “Right now, you must protect your friends. That’s what a man would do.”

~~~~~

Old man: “Protect your friends for now. Finish this later.”

This dub line is fine, I guess, but because the dub is also completely allergic to Masaru’s manliness thing (except when it occasionally randomly forgets to be), we lose the fun aspect of the old man having Masaru figured out and knowing how to press his buttons.

Overall differences

Nothing huge overall, but a lot of smaller bits of less sense and lost nuance and people being bigger dicks to each other for no reason, like usual.

Mostly, now that it’s become apparent that this is a story which involves mass murder as a significant plot point, the dub’s censorship really needs to stop awkwardly talking around it and refusing to use the word “killed” or “died” or anything to that effect. This was murder. That is kind of a big deal. Please start treating it as one.

Really, I am just bewildered by this censorship double-standard in which they’ll allow the airing of series that have a lot of death clearly happen in them, but not allow them to call it death, like that’ll somehow make it not actually death. What the heck even. If you really have such a problem with stories that involve death, maybe this series containing mass murder isn’t the right one for your network!

Probably the most significant change to the conversation with Merukimon was his insistence that there was a whole-ass “treaty” drawn up between the two sides which was violated by the massacre. Rest assured, there was not. It was nothing but an informal promise which Merukimon believed in. This is just more of the dub not watching ahead and making up whatever without checking to see if it’d actually make sense with future events.

Marcus’s interactions with Keenan continue to be significantly worse; it comes across entirely like he’s just sick of this kid and wants to get rid of him. The only reason he saved Keenan’s life appears to be because he wants to be the one to win their fight (implying he’d have happily dropped him off the cliff if he’d already won), not that he simply wants to settle their fight because Masaru’s seeing Ikuto as an equal, respected opponent. Plus Marcus is a huge insensitive dick when he learns about Digimon dying without leaving eggs, having the gall to act like Keenan is being stupid and obviously wrong about his murdered mother, instead of acknowledging that just maybe this kid knows this topic better than he does. What the hell, Marcus.

#digimon #digimon savers #digimon data squad

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Holy shit. Inferno #2 is hands down my favorite comic of the year.

I’m critical about plenty about Hickman and the Krakoan era but credit where credit is due, this was exactly the issue I was hoping it would be. EVERYTHING WAS SO MUCH IN ALL THE BEST WAYS.

The way Mystique finessed Destiny’s resurrection, despite all the roadblocks Xavier, Magneto and Moira threw in her way. How simple and elegant it all was, despite the fact that she would appear to have been at a massive disadvantage compared to them and all the cards they hold, while all she has is her shapeshifting and skills at manipulation....BUT THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN ALL SHE EVER NEEDS.

Like, this was Mystique bringing her A game from start to finish and I love love love seeing her get to be this damn good at what she does.

And like......her and Irene’s reunion as simple and relatively short as it was, was still thirty plus years in the making. And it hit hard. I think the soft touch was absolutely the right way to go here. The single tear on Raven’s cheek, while she’s still in disguise, when at long last she finally had her wife back......fucking wreck me, why don’t you.

AND ABSOLUTE TRUE POWER COUPLE OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE.

The sheer brutal EFFICIENCY with which they paved Destiny’s road to power and how they got her on the Quiet Council in like, what a week’s time? Like its hard? LMAO. They played everyone perfectly, even WITH Irene still unable to see the full picture and not yet knowing of Moira and where she fits into things in this lifetime. How they got the votes they needed (LOLOLOL whoops sorry about that Shaw, hahahaha man did they just make an enemy there but they absolutely do not care and why should they? they already got what they needed from him and what can he possibly do about it? He’s not on their level. Get wrecked, Shaw).

The way they got Exodus’ vote. The way they got Sinister’s. I really want to know what the hell is in that box that Emma wants so bad, as this isn’t the first time its come up, she’s been after that mysterious fucking box ever since the Hellfire Gala and I am trying to figure out what exactly it could be, but I’ve got nothing so far.

MOIRA WAS SO MAD. LOLOLOL whoops sorry, sucks to suck! If you’re going to manipulate everyone for the good of your people or whatever, maybe you should try being better at it? And I love that she and Charles finally pushed as far as they could with Erik and he told them to fuck off and that he wasn’t doing that. Not for any reason. The difference between Erik and Charles and Moira has always been that while for the most part their goals are aligned, the ends SOMETIMES justify the means for Erik, but not ALL means, not for ALL ends, whereas Charles and Moira are like I can, I will, I MUST win at all costs.

Erik’s like, nah dudes. Its called having a principle. You should try it some time.

Tbh, I was kinda expecting Moira to be revealed to the Council in the immediate aftermath of Destiny’s addition, but that was short-sighted of me. They’re not ready to play that card yet and are still trying to salvage this, first with Emma and then with their later addition to the Council.

And man did they fuck up with Emma. They read that room ENTIRELY wrong, and good for Hickman for getting Emma’s character right and having her respond appropriately to their utter arrogance and certainty. That’s gonna come back to bite them in the ass in a BIG way, and I can’t wait to see it. What has me most curious now though is the final new Council member, because of course I see why everyone else voted the way they did for his addition or against it.....except for Emma. Because Emma has to know EXACTLY why Xavier, Magneto and Moira floated this candidate out there, and so her vote can’t possibly be just on surface value, because she likes him and considers him a friend and ally the way Kate, Ororo and Kurt voted the ways they did.

She’s gotta know that the ONLY reason Moira, Xavier and Magneto pushed him forward is because they believe they can manipulate him and his votes unconditionally (especially as the eye glint in the last panel seems to ominously portend). And there’s absolutely no way Emma would stand for that.....so I’m very very curious why she voted the way she did and what her plan is moving forward, because you KNOW there’s no way she’s just going to sit on this bombshell now that she knows. She’s in the game now. She picked her side and it wasn’t theirs, and everything she does from here on out is going to be based on that.

Nah, I think Moira, X and Magneto THINK they really just did something here with stacking the Council in their favor, but I’m betting Emma is prepared to throw in her lot with Mystique and Destiny entirely now. This house of cards is tumbling down soon, and it won’t take much to get Kurt entirely on their side, and once the truth about Moira and how far they went to keep Destiny from being resurrected comes out....Kate and Ororo are going to see perfectly clearly EXACTLY why the three of them pushed this candidate and ACTUALLY wanted him on the Council....and they’re going to see the pure manipulation of that choice and reasoning. And I think THAT is what’s going to cost Xavier, Mags and Moira their loyalty in full, and they’re going to swing ENTIRELY in the opposite direction out of sheer fury at them.

Which means I think that no matter how they THINK they just stacked the Council, what ACTUALLY just happened is that now the Council lineup is:

Xavier, Magneto, (spoiler) and Shaw, even if Shaw’s just out to spite the others because of how his vote was used in the Destiny matter

Irene, Raven, Emma, Kurt, Ororo, Kate, and Bennet

With Sinister as the wildcard reveling in his unpredictability, but still largely irrelevant at this point, because even without his help, the others still have a solid majority over Xavier, Magneto and Moira.

Which actually IMO makes it likely that it won’t be long now before we see Sinister trying to kiss ass and get in good with Destiny and Mystique because of his massive fuck up over in Hellions and how many bridges that burned for him....he knows Krakoa needs him for resurrection but that only takes him so far, he wants POWER, and the way to actually get it and maintain it going forward is currying favor with Team Destiny versus trying to play act at unpredictability that isn’t enough to sway things one way or another.

But yeah, Xavier, Magneto and Moira miscalculated in a big way here, I think.

Loved this issue and everything it set up. Not sure where they’re going with the Nimrod and Omega Sentinel stuff, but we’ll see soon enough.

Oh, and just.....afhlskfhlafhlkfhalf

That moment when Xavier realizes how he’s been out maneuvered and is like all teeth clenched and like, okay sure, let’s vote on adding Destiny but then we’re going to immediately vote on removing Mystique.

And Mystique’s just sitting there like aww, you mad, Chucky? You gonna cry?

And then it cuts to Irene who is just so clearly smirking even despite wearing a mask that covers her entire face and makes it impossible to actually see what expression she’s making:

“Okay but do we NEED to have like the whole vote or whatever or can I just tell you how its going to go, PS you lose, you can trust me, I LITERALLY see the future.”

And then Xavier’s like....literal sulk as he’s like fine. Whatever. I GUESS.

asfhlkfahlfhalfahlaf

MYSTIQUE AND DESTINY ARE SO PETTY I LOVE THEM, THEY ARE GOING TO MILK THIS SHIT FOREVER

However.

All that said though, I have one caveat, and its the same one I’ve been making for years now about all this, because I truly get the impression that Hickman considers these little facets to be inconsequential and that’s why they’re not being brought up, not because they’re being saved for a grand plot twist. Especially with how willing he is to acknowledge Kurt is influenced on all this just by being Raven’s son and giving a shit about her happiness because he’s Kurt and he’s just like that.

And that is...WHERE ARE PROTEUS AND ROGUE IN ALL OF THIS.

They should be here. They NEED to be here. They are absolutely crucial to long-running epic plans that hinge ENTIRELY on Destiny being brought back and Moira being secretly alive all this time and manipulating everything....

Because like. Again. Can not stress this enough. DESTINY IS AS MUCH ROGUE’S MOTHER AS MYSTIQUE IS. THEY RAISED HER TOGETHER. ROGUE LOVES HER AND MISSES HER VERY MUCH.

Like, Hickman, my dude, you literally had Moira reading Destiny’s Diaries for intel, aka that plot element from Claremont’s X-Treme X-Men title from twenty years ago. The title that was predicated ENTIRELY on Rogue leading a team of X-Men to search for Destiny’s Diaries because actually, Destiny was one of her moms, see, and Rogue was like yes we need this intel but ALSO I MISS MY MOM, GUYS.

WHERE IS ROGUE IN ALL OF THIS? Her reaction to Destiny being brought back to life, WHEN???

And then Proteus, of course, equally relevant in my opinion, because hello, Proteus is not JUST one of Krakoa’s twelve prized omega mutants, a terraformer of Mars, and one of the Five, the resurrectionists at the heart of Krakoan culture and an absolute LYNCHPIN of their people.

He’s also....Kevin MacTaggert? Moira’s literal SON? Who she has always had a HUGELY rocky relationship with on levels that almost eclipse Xavier’s fuck-ups with HIS son, David, because of that whole.....oh, idk, locking Kevin up in a secret experimental facility as a kid because of how unstable his powers were? Aka that thing Kevin has actively hated her for at times, even while still loving her because she’s his mom?

I’m just saying, this is HIS mother that is secretly alive and pulling strings at the heart of all of this, and this should absolutely be a big deal to Kevin because he’s the kind of guy who historically, has had VERY VERY BIG FEELINGS on the subject of his mother’s life and death and also her string-pulling and manipulation. Everything about this plot is the precise intersection of those two elements, Moira’s manipulativeness and like, her not being dead, and Kevin ABSOLUTELY SHOULD AND WOULD CARE ABOUT THESE TWO SUPER KEY REVEALS.

And what Kevin cares about also has historically been kiiiiiiinda relevant to the X-Men and their plots, because again.....omega level reality warper with a history of temper tantrums and going full on villain because of that.

Umm.

We’re pretending he’s not relevant to all of this, WHY? Exactly?

Anyway, so that’s my final take. I really loved this issue, I’m gonna be over the moon about actual power couple Mystique and Destiny just power coupling their way all over their oppositions’ plans all willy nilly like for the foreseeable future, and Destiny can foresee a LOT of future, actually....

But still crossing fingers that at some point Hickman remembers how connected to two of his key players Rogue and Proteus both are, and actually like, DOES something with that. At the very least acknowledges it.

Because their omission from all of this is starting to get a tad glaring.

#wednesday spoilers #x-books spoilers

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curious-minx · 4 years

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Notable 2020 Video Game Soundtracks That Can Be Enjoyed As Standalone Experiences

Video Game Music is gaining recognition, with many soundtracks receiving vinyl pressings, orchestral concert reviews, and an increasing presence on music streaming platforms such as bandcamp and Spotify. We’re also witnessing the uprise of indie video game development teams where games are being made by the sort of passionate type of game designer that takes soundtracks seriously. Soundtracks by small teams of developers such as Celeste, Undertale, Disco Elysium, Hollow Knight, RuneScape, and Lisa: The Joyful are titles with soundtracks that easily stand up against the likes of bigger budget productions made by reliable sources of video game music like Square-Enix and Nintendo.

2020 is no exception in terms of having one of the biggest budget soundtracks around with Final Fantasy 7 Remake, which builds upon a legacy of industry-standard-creating soundtrack work. Taken as a whole, Final Fantasy 7 Remake’s soundtrack is clocking in at over 8 and half hours of music. The soundtrack has three composers with the Beethoven of video game music, Nobuo Uematsu, most notably coming out of retirement to get the job done. Here are some other amazing 2020 video game soundtracks more conducive for standalone background listening:

TETRIS EFFECT by HYDELIC

Genres: EDM, Ambient Pop and straight up Ambient

Describing this album makes me feel like I’m some sort of burnt out fanciful raver, head permanently lodged in the clouds. The level of giddy technicolor enthusiasm rivals that of Icelandic Sigur Ros frontman Jonsi, but if he wanted to keep his post-rock firmly planted in the outdoor music festival on Mars territory. Despite the album’s notable two hours runtime, each and every song feels like its own uniquely crafted composition, no repetitive motifs or nostalgia-baiting.

There is unfortunately still a Tetris movie in some sort of shaggy state of development in Hollywood right now. The movie is being billed as a dull biopic about the creator of the Tetris game. Whereas listening to Tetris Effect you imagine a Tetris movie directed by someone more fitting like the Wakowskis. Tetris Effect’s opening song “Connected (Yours Forever)” is a bonafide vocal pop song, like a more sugary CVRCHES-style cooing of the lyrics:

“I’m Yours Forever

There is No End in Sights For Us,

Nothing Can Measure the Kind of Strength Inside Our Hearts,

It’s all connected we’re all together in this life, don’t you forget it

We’re all connected in this”

Try your best not to imagine a cast of Hollywood’s most beautiful plucky orphan mutant misfit youths using the power of Tetris to heal a broken and dying planet!

Notable Track: Next Chapter

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HADES by DARREN KORB

Genres: Progressive Metal, Folktronica, Folk Metal, Dimotika, Greek Folk Music

Darren Korb has become one of the most notable video game composers of the past decade. Korb, an integral member of the Supergiant family, continues to outdo himself with each and every soundtrack. Bastion and Transistor originally found Korb creating a niche for himself with downtempo folk-infused electronic soundscapes and even some vocal pop with collaborator Ashley Barrett. Hades is an altogether different beast for Korb, who much like the developers of Hades, have found themselves at the height of their powers.

Korb also contributes vocals on this album, and I can say without hesitation that these are some of the nicest vocals I’ve ever heard from a video game music designer, because video game musicians are bonafide musicians.The album clocks in at two and half hours and separate from its game is still an absolute thrill ride.

Notable Track: In The Blood

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DEFECTIVE HOLIDAY by MECHATOK

Genres: Ambient Trance, Balearic Beat, Progressive Electronic, Nature Recordings, Spoken Word, New Age

One glance at the album artwork is all it took for me to know that I must listen to this album. Defective Holiday is an indie walking simulator that is explicit about its intentions: a lightly interactive one hour experience. This soundtrack clocks in at only 31 minutes and it is purely the most conventional album in terms of length.

Last week in late November, Mechatok announced a collaboration with one of the leading zoomer Swedish cloud rap mavericks Bladee, the cofounder of the Drain Gang. Last month gives a pretty clear picture of what kind of circles Mechatok is floating in on. Highly online gonzo vaporwave maestro James Ferraro is another apparent influence on this soundtrack, especially regarding the way the sinister mundane dialogue is woven into the soundscape. There’s one particular track on the Defective Holiday OST, “Rescue Shot Buibo”, that is adorned with standard trap-style drum fills that give the album a shot of energy before wandering back off into the haze. This soundtrack and video game is all about the pure vibe and aesthetic nature that are currently trending in these extremely stressful times. In a time where all of our holidays were defective from the very start, I think the casual walking simulator will remain a genre high in demand. I have a feeling we’re going to hear a lot more from this empathetic young German.

Notable Track: Valley

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Last of Us II by Gustavo Santaolalla, Mac Quayle (and Ashley Johnson)

Genres: Ambient, Cinematic Classical, Dark Ambient, Spanish Folk Music

The Last Of Us is a horror game where the music itself is arguably playing a critical character role, which can only be expected billing two titans of audio visual soundtracks. Of course Academy Award winner Santaolalla knows his way around a soundtrack. Wielding a resume of astonishing versatility in various TV and film projects, he might have found his higher calling in not only video games but in the horror music canon. Last of Us is an extremely emotional series, and with the wrong soundtrack, the experience could become insufferably bleak. The occasional splashes of color and light are what make this soundtrack so unsettling and eerie. Not since Silent Hill 2’s Akira Yamaoka has there been such an effective standalone horror video game soundtrack experience. No wonder Gustavo Santaolalla is one of the only video game composers integral enough to the game to warrant a cameo banjo-playing character model based off of him.

As if having one major composer from prestigious TV and movies wasn’t enough, Mac Quayle, composer of the whole Mr. Robot series, contrasts against Santaolalla’s acoustic contributions. The soundtrack itself is sequenced in a way that switches between the two composers. “The Cycle of Violence” composed by Quayle, a track that more than lives up to its name, is immediately followed by Santaolalla’s somber “Reclaimed Memories.” This dance between violence and heart is what the Last of Us excels at as a franchise, and that is why this soundtrack is an effective stand-alone experience.

The only disappointing part of the soundtrack is that Ashley Johnson, voice actor of Ellie’ three songs, is not included in the game’s official tracklist. Ellie’s “Take On Me” a-ha and “Future Days” Pearl Jam covers have made a little history by being the most powerful songs sung by a video game character. When Ellie sings and plays on her guitar they aren’t some little Easter egg idling moments to provide levity for this heavy revenge horror story. These songs are used to make some of the strongest character development choices made by a video game character seen in recent years. Ellie is joining a small club of singing video game characters alongside Parapa the Rapper and maybe the cast of obscure Atlus title Rhapsody: Musical Adventure.

Notable Track: Unbroken

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Persona 5 Royal Straight Flush Edition by Shoji Meguro

Genre: Acid Jazz, Alternative Rock, Alternative Metal, Lounge, Jazz-Funk

This is one of those soundtracks that, much like Nobuo Uematsu’s work in Final Fantasy, is really the heart and soul of the entire Persona franchise (and his work in the adjacent Shin Megami Tensei universe is equally as noteworthy). Persona 5 Royal finds Meguro making his most complete, funky, and otherworldly opus that sounds like no one else in the biz.

You will find many people online scouring message boards, subreddits, bandcamp features, and Yahoo Answers looking for more music like Persona 5. Outside of Metal Gear Solid: Snake Eater, how many other games are packed to the brim with truly foxy songs!? Persona 5 could not predict how badly the title “Throw Away Your Mask” would age, despite the game being more than ahead of its time with the majority of NPCs wearing PPE. Be a good Joker, put on your mask and keep chasing Meguro’s acid jazz-infused dragon through many more semesters to come.

Notable Track: I Imagine

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Streets of Rage 4 by Olivier Deriviere & Various

Genres: Electro House, Nu Jazz, Synth Funk, Acid House

Composer Olivier Deriviere is a living definition of a video game soundtrack journeyman. He has a career stretching back to the early 2000s working on notable big budget titles like the divisive 2008 Atari fifth Alone in the Dark installment and Remember Me, an unsung buried gem from the PS3/360 era Capcom title. Remember Me is where Deriviere’s electronic leanings started becoming especially prominent in his sound. On the Streets of Rage 4 soundtrack Deriviere has completely come into his own element, developing a whole new sense of campy playfulness.

Electronic French House music can be a divisive genre. For every Daft Punk commercial success there is a band that ruffles feathers like Justice. I sense a strong presence of late departed French House titan Philippe Zdar of Cassius as well. If you’d played this soundtrack for me out of context, I would have guessed an obscure voguing tape from the 80s or a really talented mysterious DJ set. Instead, this is a sequel to a classic beat em up franchise that left a portion of players disappointed by the game’s four hour playtime. The soundtrack is over an hour and fifty minutes long of high octane House music bliss. Much like the Tetris Effect soundtrack, it is truly impressive how much depth these tracks have when they could have easily been nostalgic recycled beats. Sometimes a game’s soundtrack can offer more post game enjoyment than an actual game.

Notable Track: Chill Or Don’t

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Hylics 2 by Chuck Salamone & Mason Lindroth

Genres: Experimental Rock, Neo-Psychedelia, Hypagogic Pop, Stoner Rock, Jazz-Rock

A soundtrack that comes closest to capturing the experience of hearing the Earthbound or Katamari Damacy soundtracks for the first time. The Hylic indie RPG series is a wonderful and strange beast that is ready to frolic and show its playful side. Hylics is a part of a recent uprising of indie games being developed on the RPG Maker software. 2020 year has left us all with variations of the same stressed out adjectives: Weird. Messed Up. Surreal.

Why not listen to an album from a game that is the perfect embodiment of that surreal mantra? Step away from your computer, draw a bath, and put this album on. Thank me later!

Notable track: Xeno Arcadia

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Ultrakill: Infinite Hyperdeath (Act I Soundtrack) by Heaven Pierce Her aka game developer Arsi “Hakita” Patala

Genres: Drum and Bass, Industrial Metal, Ambient, Progressive Metal, Acidcore

Nothing says “modern indie game development” more than a game built completely from the ground up by one person. Ultrakill’s developer “Hakita” is one of those kindly folkloric DIY figures that make video games such an extensive art form. The game is a painstaking gloriously bloody ode to Dooms of yesteryear but with plenty of its own fine tuned style. The perfect soundtrack for when you’re painting your personal Hell a darker shade of gore, but also would really like to kick your ass into shape if you need an adrenaline boost to your Quarantine blues.

Notable Track: Panic Betrayer

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Risk of Rain 2 by Chris Christodoulou

Genres: Progressive Rock, Space Rock, Space Ambient, Post-Rock

Something about the country of Greece brings the best kind of futurism out of the country’s composers. Christodoulou’s Risk of Rain 2 soundtrack is no Bladerunner knock off. This soundtrack for the colorful sci-fi indie rougelike is punchier and less nocturnal than your typical synth-heavy sci-fi soundtrack. Risk of Rain is one of the more successful Kickstarter series around and has the best quality an indie game can have: it feels like a labor of love on all fronts. There’s no reason a rougelike like Rain of Ruin or Hades needs a soundtrack this good, but Christodoulou casts a spell with his electronic-driven prog rock that makes you want to keep respawning. A huge missed opportunity if Christodoulou does not get to soundtrack an earnest sci-fi action-adventure for even big screens. Oh! This soundtrack also features some spoken word segments from Werner Herzog; what more do you need to know?

Notable Track: The Rain Formerly Known As Purple

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Warhammer 40,000: Mechanicus by Guillaume David

A big debut project from an up-and-coming composer Guillaume David. Prior to the making of this soundtrack, David was a video game voice actor who worked on a Resident Evil Devil May Cry crossover voicing the character of “Hunk.” Warhammer 40K might become a franchise that more people will care about solely based on the quality of this installment’s soundtrack. When you see the title Warhammer 40,000, what sort of sounds come to mind? If you guessed “Neo gothic cyber Gregorian chants that seamlessly melds the ancient and futuristic”, you would be correct. A turn-based action game could possibly fall into dull territory, but with a visual identity as strong as Warhammer 40K melded with a suitable musical atmosphere, the action and world becomes irresistible. This soundtrack is a brisk 56 minutes and the other soundtrack on this list with a more conventional runtime. Not a second is wasted on this dynamic and fantastical soundtrack. Prior to hearing this soundtrack I had no intention of ever looking into playing a game based off of something as convoluted as Warhammer 40K, but now I very much want to know what these robot priests are about. That’s the magic of a quality soundtrack.

Notable track: Millenial Rage

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Honorable Mentions:

Happy Listening!

#Video Games #Video Game Music #Soundtracks #Top 10 #Video Games 2020 #Final Fantasy 7 #Persona 5 #Streets of Rage #Hylic #Utrakill #Risk of Rain #indie games #Square Enix #Warhammer 40k #last of us #Last of us 2

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