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touyota · 3 years

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Hoe Hoe Hoe

☁️ Summary: Satoru Gojo *cough* *cough* I mean Santa Claus jingles your bells on Christmas Eve.

A/N: y’all this fic whooped my ass literally, but i think it came out pretty good. i think my smut is getting better, so hopefully i keep the momentum going for all my future fics. (also ik i’m late for the holidays but better late than never!)

☁️ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Elf Reader

☁️ Warnings: Size kink, bulging, slight breeding kink, gojo’s massive 🐓

The holidays were always an overwhelming time at the workshop. You and your fellow elves worked overtime to fulfill the yearly abundance of Christmas lists that were received, and to be quite frank; you were due for a fucking break. As a head elf, you spent your days monitoring the shop floor and managing quality control. Everything and anything went through you, especially before it got to Santa.

You were handling a crisis on the floor, something about a particular video game console shortage, when you received a message from the big man himself.

“I swear... if I hear another word about how we are out of stock, I will personally shove a candy cane up your ass. We’re fucking elves, just go make some more.“ You shooed the elf off before taking a deep breath. You wanted to tear your hair out, every minor inconvenience didn’t require your assistance, yet they always found a way to you. In a last-ditch effort to keep your composure, you began to practice a method you learned in your weekly anger management meetings.

“One….two….three….four….five” You exhaled, opening your eyes to see a particular pink-haired headache, elf approaching waving and skipping towards you. You started counting faster; hopefully, he’d be gone at the end of your count.

“One..two..three..four..five”

“Boss! Oh, boss! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Fuck he was getting closer. You braced yourself, hoping he was referring to another supervisor standing near you.

“Onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive”

“What’s with the counting boss? You must be counting down the hours before we give everyone the best Christmas ever!” Yuji cheesed, barely able to contain his giddiness. Oh, bless his heart, Yuji was somewhat new to the shop and was a hard worker, but a few screws were missing upstairs.

“I have a bomb ticking inside my head.” you deadpanned, hoping to spook him off so you could go hide in your office.

“Oh…..Oh no, boss, you need to get checked out immediately, we need to call the police, the ambulance, the bomb squad, we might have to cancel Christmas. If we cancel Christmas, they won’t get their presents, and they’ll all be upset an-“ It was truly endearing. You could almost see the steam pouring from his ears as he panicked about you and your well-being. You pinched his lips shut before he managed to alert the rest of the workshop.

“Yuji, I was lying…what do you need?” The panic drained from his face, a relieved smile taking its place.

“The big man wants to see you, something about squashing a few last-minute details. He trailed off, focusing his attention on someone in the distance. “Nobara, stop drinking my eggnog, and don't touch my cookies!” Yuji ran off, thankfully abandoning your conversation.

You began your trek to the big man’s office, the big man being Satoru Gojo, direct descendant of Kris Kringle and newly appointed Santa Claus. Gojo was indeed an enigma, barely leaving his office only for special occasions such as Christmas Eve and Christmas itself. The only way you could speak to him was if he requested you directly.

The walk to the office required dragging yourself up to three flights of stairs before you reached the red door decorated with brightly colored green tinsel and oversized candy canes.

You made sure to knock, you weren’t completely devoid of manners, and you wanted to keep your job. A sultry voice sounded through the door.

“Come on in.” You gently open the door, almost tip-toeing in before slowly closing the door.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I don't bite unless you want me to.” You scurried towards the desk, not wanting to waste any more of his limited time.

“......Sorry, Mr. Claus, I came as soon as Yuji told me he said something about a few last-minute details.”

“He was right; come sit right here.” As inviting as he looked, patting his lap, you took several hesitant steps before perching yourself on his lap. “Get comfortable; we have a few things to discuss, nothing outrageous, just a few... things.” You played the velvet fabric of your skirt as he droned off about the minor details that could’ve been dealt with by any other elf. You grunted in response to the open-ended questions asked. “I think that’s it. Did you get all that?” He skimmed through his never-ending checklist to confirm.

“Oh...um, yes, I did, in fact, I’ll go deal with that right now.” You dust your lap off and lean forward to push up off of the oversized chair. Only to find that you haven’t moved an inch. “Um…...Mr. Claus…I can’t move, and I need to….” you trailed off, disrupted by a gloved hand tilting your chin, forcing you to look directly into those soft blue eyes.

“Tsk tsk tsk, I knew you weren’t paying attention, puddin’.” He faked a face of hurt before using the arm that wasn’t wrapped around your waist to swipe his cluttered desk clear. “I said that-” Pausing to slam your form down unto the oversized desk. “I said that all I want for Christmas is to fuck you until this desk breaks.” He whispered, pressing several gentle kisses along the column of your neck. The room temperature had increased tremendously, and the red wool suit pressed against you made it no better.

“Uh...wow...um, it’s getting kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” You pulled at your collar, hoping to put some kind of separation between you two. You were in no way trying to reject his advances. You were just entirely ambushed by how fast things were moving. Another urgent concern was the sheer size of “Santa.” You were already genetically disadvantaged in the height category as an elf, but this behemoth of a man towered over you. It left you to believe that he was more than proportionate in the nether regions.

“I think you’re right. See, that’s exactly why you’re my right-hand puddin’.” Before you could blink, you were almost instantly rid of your gown, leaving you in your unfortunately modest black undergarments. You pouted, wishing you were given some kind of warning in advance. “Poor baby, next time I’ll let you get all dolled up for me, maybe I’ll wrap you up with a bow and leave you under my tree.” You couldn’t contain your whimper at the thought, roping your legs around his waist, mimicking the same motion with your arms around his neck.

A loud horn sounded off, signaling Santa’s departure was nearing. “As much as I’d love to sit and ravish you till dawn, duty calls.” You were drawn into several more gentle kisses before Gojo deepened the kiss, nearly smothering you. You were on the brink of suffocation when he finally eased up, allowing you to catch your breath. when you felt your panties tugged to the side. “You have such a pretty pussy puddin’. I could sit here and play with it all day long.” Two callused fingers daintily drew circles around your clit, stopping to pull at the sensitive nub causing you to whine at each tug.

“Ah- p-please...Santa” You couldn’t wait anymore. Each stroke brought you closer and closer to your peak.

“Please, what pretty girl? I won’t know until you tell me.” Purposely speeding up his ministrations.

“Please...please...please...fuck me.” You cried out, you could barely contain yourself, and he wasn’t making it any better.

The air knocked out of your chest as the blunt tip of his cock breached your entrance. There was a brief pause before Gojo’s hips slammed forward, setting a brutal pace. You couldn’t form any thought, only incoherent mumbles, and whimpers leaving your mouth. The desk was rocking with each thrust, nearly throwing you off.

“Y-you feel so fucking good, ugh...this sweet little pussy sucking me in. You like that, huh? Using you like a little fuck toy? Y-yeah, you’re Santa’s little fuck toy, you just lay there and look pretty, and I’ll fuck you full of my kids. I’ll make you Mrs. Claus, and you won’t have to work in that shitty little workshop anymore. How does that sound?” Gojo’s cock pounding away at your cervix, blurring the lines of pain and pleasure.

You could almost cry because it all sounded fucking amazing. You were floating on a cloud each stroke. The rhythm was slowing to deep, deliberate thrusts when you felt an oversized hand rest on your belly.

…….Holy shit.

You nearly fainted seeing the outline of his massive cock bulge through your belly. You could tell Gojo was close, skin slapping as his thrusts sped up again. The final press of his palm forcing you over, and Gojo the same with his final thrust. Both of you were murmuring and moaning as he nudged into another breath-taking kiss. The desk finally loses its bearing and falls apart, leaving you both as panting messes on the ground.

You had wood chips in places that they shouldn’t be, and the chuckling giant next to you wasn’t helping. Your quirked an eyebrow up and questioned him. “What’s so funny?”

“I think I need to add a new desk to my Christmas list.”

#satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #tw: size kink #tw: bulging #tw: breeding #satoru gojo

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

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Absence Makes the Heart

04/17/2020

Pairing: Superman x Reader Word Count: 5,431

Warnings: language, lots of language, violence, blood, wounds, injuries, plenty of angst

DCEU Canon

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this one down for a while. It’s based on a dream I had but I just went and added details and a little bit of backstory. Nothing too crazy. This will probably just be a one shot. The top half is heavily edited while the second half I just spat out because I was inspired and I went with it. Hopefully it’s good. This is my first foray into something other than Marvel, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Edit: I forgot to thank @babiiface95 @evansweaters and @sherrybaby14 for giving me some feedback on this! It helped tons!! xoxo

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

In this moment, all you can feel is the pain in your side.

You stumble forward, hitting the chestnut wood of your door hard. With nothing to brace yourself on, you slide along the length of it until you’re sitting, shoulder pressed against it.

“Ugh…” You groan, letting your hand trace the smooth grain until it can latch onto the handle. “Fuck this shit. I quit.”

You tell no one.

There hasn’t been anyone for months.

The door gives as you twist the knob sending you falling onto the small foyer of your apartment. You’re on the top floor, beside the penthouse. Your own place is small. Compact. Just three rooms, four if you count your bathroom.

You pull yourself along the dated ceramic tile and watch as you leave a smear of red behind you.

“Honey…” You begin, kicking the door shut while you stay flattered against the floor. “…I’m home.”

No one responds.

You exhale through your nose as annoyance rips through your chest.

“Fucker.” You say at no one, but obviously someone.

It takes every ounce of strength you have left to haul yourself into your bathroom. You peel off your suit, letting it drop to the floor in a whip of heavy fabric, space quality tech that was not fashioned on Earth but created for you.

To protect you.

Because he said he cared.

“Fucking…fucker.” You huff, yanking the first aid kit from the open shelf beneath your sink.

Your sports bra is drenched in sweat and blood, sticky against your skin as you plop yourself at the small kitchen table. You pull open the kit and reach for needle and thread.

It’s a messy stitch, clumsy and crooked from the angle you’re forced to work in. However sloppy, you do seal the wound to your ribs and the bleeding finally stops.

In your blood-soaked underwear, you make yourself a sandwich and stand at your counter, staring at the primary blue coffee cup sitting beside your own in teal.

You chew loudly, smacking your mouth as the bread sticks to the roof of your mouth. Eyes glaring at the cup, you bite down more fiercely. Tearing the food apart angrily.

“You’re a stupid bitch, Y/N. Get over it.” You sigh, then retreat to your bathroom to tidy up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Exhaustion is not your friend. It makes you cranky and irritable and sad because you can’t stand the silence in your home.

You groan, pressing your hand against your side gently, then reach for the remote and turn on the TV to war the silence.

It’s a cacophony of sound and for a moment, it grates your nerves. Some cartoon, loud and full of slapstick.

Next channel has people screaming at each other from opposite sides of a stage. Chairs begin to get thrown. A guy with a mullet takes off his shoe and chucks it at a man with one ear.

Next channel has an old black and white movie. The pretty woman with dark curls and a heart shaped face leans across a table, chin in her hand as she moons over the composed man who is smirking at her casually.

Nope. You think. No romance.

Next channel is the news.

“-sure what to make of what we’re seeing. It’s like nothing we have witnessed before. Veronica, can you tell us what’s happening?” The news anchor presses his hand to his ear, eyes squinted as he stares ahead.

The screen shifts and Veronica—a pretty woman with flowing red hair and deep blue eyes fills your screen.

“Miguel, it looks as if all of the ocean’s water is being pulled away from our coastline and out towards the ocean. Where the water is going, we aren’t sure. There is no way to know what this means or what can be causing it. And although we’ve seen this phenomenon happen in films, doomsday blockbusters where a tidal wave the height of a skyscraper builds up before the subsequent flood, experts are sure this is not at all what’s going on.

There are dozens of meteorologists, marine biologists, oceanographers, and astronomers still searching for the cause. The only thing that they all can agree on for certain is that the oceans are not withdrawing, but rather, they are draining, leaving sea life, coral reefs, and the ocean floor exposed.

“Something is pulling this water away. Whatever is causing this, is not natural.”

Sitting up, you place your elbows on your knees as the video changes to that of a helicopter shot as it circles the ever-decreasing ocean line. A humpback whale and her calf attempt to outswim the retreat, but they fail and as the water falls away, the creatures are beached between two sheer ocean cliffs.

“What the hell…” Reaching up, you cover your mouth, watching as the video moves back to Veronica.

“If we can’t figure out why the ocean is draining, we will have hundreds if not thousands of species left without chance of survival. This is not only a loss of a life for many endangered species, but also leaves us to face the consequences within our fishing industries and the millions of people it not only feeds but employs as well. If we cannot stop-”

Veronica suddenly stops speaking, holding her hand to her ear as she listens for a moment.

“Sorry, Miguel, it looks as if Doctor Rashda has found a source point for the draining. Doctor Rashda can you hear me?” Veronica asks, waiting for a moment before the video splits vertically.

The second frame of video sits empty, a sloping sandbank visible in the distance. It curves around in a semi-circle at the center of which is a growing swirl of dark blue water.

“Doctor Rashda?” Veronica asks again, her eyes frantic as they search a monitor out of view.

“Surrender.” A voice says, high pitched. Female. “Surrender and you will not suffer. Surrender your planet, and I shall make your end quick.”

Veronica is silent as the column of swirling water parts a little, just enough so that a pale face is visible.

“Surrender.” The voice says again, the pale face’s lips moving as it speaks. “And you will die quickly.”

Frowning, you move to the edge of your seat, your anger doubling.

“M-Miguel are you seeing this?” Veronica asks, voice small with fear.

Miguel doesn’t answer.

The figure in the water holds out its hand and from the swirl comes a smaller sphere. In this sphere something moves. As the camera zooms in, you can make out the distinct shape of a body, thrashing within its bubble.

Veronica screams just as you and everyone else that must be watching realizes that within the bubble is Doctor Rashda, struggling and gasping for breath.

You’re up on your feet, racing to pull your suit back on when a commotion pulls your eyes back to the TV, legs already in but with one shoulder exposed as you freeze mid-dress.

“He’s back!” Veronica is shouting gleefully. Relief and reverence painting her voice. “Superman is back!”

You move two steps closer to the TV, not intending to take the word of a panicked reporter. Until you can lay your own eyes on him then it isn’t real.

A few seconds pass. Then, a blur of blue and red streaks through the center of the bubble and when the water stops rippling, Doctor Rashda isn’t there.

“Motherfucker.”

You pull your suit on roughly, ignoring the way the movement tugs at your side as you zip up and launch out your open window.

You fall fast, plummeting towards the ground in a streak of teal and gray. When you’re only three feet away, you feel a surge of power as your arms, and legs burn with white hot energy.

It pushes you upwards and propels you higher and higher until you’re soaring across the sky at incredible speeds, leaving a silver trail of light behind you.

It only takes you minutes to reach the coast but sometime between you jumping out of your living room window and arriving here by the Golden Gate, the fight has moved cityside.

You hear a deafening crunch as blue and red goes slamming into black, gray, and brown ocean floor, disappearing into the subsequent rubble.

Heart pounding, you propel yourself towards a thin figure, long stringy black hair, sallow skin, arm still stretched out from her hit. She turns to look at you just as you reach her, but you throw your own fist out in a powerful uppercut. It throws the strange woman high into the air.

You follow for a few feet, hovering in there as you watch her skyrocket out of sight into dark clouds overhead.

Behind you the heap of ocean floor rubble begins to shift.

Coming to rest on the cliffside above, six feet below he breaks through the rock and it falls around him, a flurry of fine sediment saturating the air.

Chest heaving, side burning, heart clenched so tight you think it might truly be shredding, you watch as the fucker stands up and does a quick scan of the area looking just as perfect as he did when he left.

His eyes are focused, searching the sky for sight of his attacker but instead he finds you.

His eyes soften and you’re still so angry you glare. You turn on your heel and walk away, staring up at the sky as you wait for the woman to fall.

“Y/N…” You hear him say, but you don’t turn to look at him.

You can feel the swirling of wind as he flies up to you, the soft pats as his feet hit the ground. He circles around your right, leaning forward to get a better look at your face.

In your peripherals you can see the gentle curl of his dark hair, falling along his forehead and a hundred memories of your hand gently sweeping it aside make your body tremble.

The pleasure that the memory brings makes your blood boil and you roll your eyes, ignoring the puppy eyes he gives you.

“Let’s just get this over and done with. I’m tired.” You assert and watch as the strange woman careens towards the two of you, an inhuman screech growing louder as she falls.

Moving forward a few steps you aim yourself, bend your knees and launch yourself up towards her. As you collide, she grabs hold of your shoulders, and the two of you twist and spin in the air, struggling to get the upper hand.

Shifting quickly, you pull her over you, grab hold of her shirt front and with all the force in your body, you spin and chuck her down as Clark flies towards you to finish the job.

~~~~~~~~~~

A tattered white dress is all that remains of the ocean thief.

“Who was she?” Clark wonders, moving to stand beside you as you watch the stain of saltwater grow as her body dissolves to nothing.

“You don’t know?” You ask him, turning to look at him and hating how much it pleases you to finally see him again.

His broad body, thick with muscle and stupidly accentuated by his damn blue skintight suit, feels larger than before he left though you know that’s silly. He’s as God like as ever, though he’s only an alien. To the world, he’s a savior. Invincible.

Superman.

What really hurts to look at are his eyes.

It chokes you, those baby blues, full of unspoken questions and expectation. For you. For the future. For the present. He wants to know you again.

You tear your gaze back down to the woman as Clark shakes his head.

“No. I was flying home when I saw the ocean empty and followed the trail to the spout she was in.” Clark explains.

“Well, it’s too late to find out now.” You point out. “The water will come back soon. You’ll need to make sure people stay away from the coastline.”

Turning towards him, you wait, your rage evened out and layered with betrayal.

That painful gaze of his so piercing it nearly steals your breath away.

“Where were you, Clark?” You ask quietly, your anger outweighing the hurt.

The apologetic look he gives you, the tilt of his head, the step he takes towards you grates your nerves.

“Y/N-”

“It’s been months. Almost a year.” You sigh, unwilling to give in.

He takes your hand and the impulse to pull away nearly overwhelms you.

His hands are rough, only in that masculine way. His skin is unblemished. Perfect.

The strength of his movements are carefully calculated. A natural habit he’s developed after a lifetime of having to be gentle to keep from breaking those he touches. The heat from his hands is familiar and it envelops yours easily.

“I was coming home.” He tells you.

“Home? How do you know that it’s still your home? Maybe someone else has moved in.” You threaten and there’s a visible fall in his eyes.

It nearly breaks your icy exterior. But you have every right to be angry and hurt that he left you. Out of the blue, no word as to where he was going or when he’d come back.

“I have to go.” He’d said, and left you sitting on the couch, wondering when he’d come home.

He looks down at your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

“You went to see her first, didn’t you?” You accuse and he quickly meets your gaze.

“No.” He assures you passionately, moving a little closer. “No, I was going straight home.”

“She’s been looking for you.” You tell him, tempted to confess how useless you’d been in those first few weeks he was gone. “All of them have been. Where is Superman? Is the million-dollar question. And now here you are.”

He’s back just as randomly as he’d left. Just as sudden. Just as quiet.

“There he is!” A familiar voice shouts. On the bank across the large ravine you both stand in Veronica appears looking dazzled and excited, her camera man hoisting up his camera to begin what will be the first clear footage of Superman finally back. Earth’s hero returned.

Quickly you pull your hand from his and turn to walk away.

“Where are you going?” He asks, following for a few steps.

“Home. I’ve been in Australia for the last month dismantling a new crime syndicate with Bruce. He and I are both very tired. He stayed behind.”

“Oh.” Clark says.

“Superman!” Someone calls. “Superman is back!”

Civilians have begun to gather along the empty waterway, all of them eager for a glance at the Man of Steel.

You know how you made it sound and maybe it’s your annoyance making you push him away now that he’s home, but all you can think about is getting back home and being alone.

“The water will be back, Kal.” You shift to his birthname with so many ears nearby. “Get these people away.”

You leave him standing there, watching you fly away, with those baby blues full of quiet yearning.

~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment…your home…it’s a void.

You sit on the arm of your sofa still in full uniform, hand gently resting on your thigh—palm up. You’re a mess again. Dirty with blood and dirt and sweat.

Needing a shower doesn’t do much to deter your silly brooding. Silly because you did this to yourself. You made it seem like you had someone new waiting for you here when really the bleak emptiness is in need of a six-foot, three-inch tall Kryptonian.

His presence is here. Loud and white hot. His coffee cup burns you from across the kitchen—asking where its owner is. His drawer still full of clothes. Comfy sweatshirts and crisp white t-shirts. Blues and grays and reds too.

There’s one you’d set aside. The last he’d worn. Only once. It had sat on the end of your bed night after night until you’d caved and pulled it on. Now it probably smells more like you than him.

The place is silent. Only the drip, drip, drip of the bathroom sink breaks the quiet.

Your gaze wanders to his shoes by the door, shoelaces left undone, a small speck of mud on the side of the left heel.

Shutting them, your eyes water.

No. You shake your head. I won’t cry.

You take a shaky breath and release it slowly, sighing as your body slumps forward.

The movement reminds you of your earlier wound and you gasp in pain as you sit up straight again, leaning to the side to look at the spot growing increasingly wet on your side.

“Shit.” Stitches are probably torn open. “Fuck.”

Maybe it’s your frustration with this whole situation or maybe your wound really just hurts a lot, but as you reach over to feel the bloody spot, your voice finally breaks. Though there are no tears, they really want to fall.

“Fucking, stupid, fucking…” You sigh again, this time faster, angry.

“That’s a lot of French.” Clark says, his voice smooth and even and excruciatingly beautiful to your ears.

You stand up, startled, and spin to watch him pull his left leg in through your open window, following his torso.

He’s still in his suit, cape and all. Once again, the sight of him reminds you of his Godlike status. His perfection unreachable and yet, here he is. In your home. Where he’d given himself to you openly and without reservation.

He stands there, his hands clenched into nervous fists. Skin just as dirty as yours but not sweaty. Not bloody. His hair is a little disheveled. The tresses normally so carefully tempered are free to curl and wave.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, voice still weak from your raw emotional outburst.

“I went to see Bruce.” He explains, and you might just kick yourself for implying Bruce would be waiting for you. “Why-?”

“Because I wanted to hurt you.” You admit, cutting him off before he can word the question. “Because I wanted you to regret leaving me the way you did.”

“I do regret it.” He sighs. “I-I only left because I thought I heard…”

He hesitates and you’re tempted to kick him out. You turn away from him and move into the kitchen, trying to ignore the wound that needs tending.

With your own coffee cup in hand, you pop a k-cup in your Keurig and punch the power button, waiting for it to power on before you select the largest cup option and listen to the whirr of the motors instead of Clark’s silence.

“I went to Krypton, or what’s left of it.” Clark finally says, this time from the mouth of your kitchen archway, hands still clamped tight.

You shut your eyes tight, hands clinging to the edge of your counter. Squeezing ever tighter until they begin to ache, and you still only keep squeezing.

“I wish I could be as impressed by that answer as I was the first time you told me that.” You shake your head.

“It was different this time, Y/N.” He shakes his head, then takes a step closer.

The movement draws your eyes and you watch the intense focus on his face, the uncertainty to speak.

“What is it?” You ask, still a little bitter.

Even though he looks as if he means it and this trip to Krypton is more serious, he’s not speaking. He’s keeping this from you. Holding it back.

“Jesus fucking Christ Clark, I guess you don’t trust me.”

“No.” He insists, moving another step closer which still leaves him a ways away from you in the kitchen. “It’s not that. I do trust you. More than anyone. But…”

You want to scream at him. You want to tell him to go to hell and to stay away from you and to shove his excuses up his ass, but your curiosity is growing.

There’s a small panic in his baby blue eyes. A fear.

So, you wait. You hold your tongue. You’re patient for now. You give him a familiar silence that tells him you will wait until he’s ready.

He recognizes it and meets your quizzical gaze as your coffee finishes brewing.

You don’t even realize it’s done as you stare into Clark’s eyes and he stares into yours.

The moment he decides, his shoulders relax. His jaw drops a fraction of an inch as he stops clenching his teeth.

As the weight on his shoulders is visibly lifted, you feel yourself relax too. Nearly a year of being without him and you’re still so attuned to his moods.

“I found someone.” He tells you. “On another planet, in a Kryptonian ship that had been sent only days after my own.”

“Another Kryptonian?” You ask, curious but also fearful.

You remember very clearly the last Kyrptonian that had come to Earth. Zod and his minions had torn Metropolis to shreds. They’d killed so many people and Clark had made the hardest decision in his life.

Not that you’d been there. She’d been there. But Clark had let you in on the weight of that moment. The choice that he hated to make but would gladly do so again.

He must see the fear in your eyes because he shakes his head and takes yet another step towards you.

“No. Don’t be scared. Really. She’s-”

She?!

“-she’s harmless.” You frown at him because that’s the stupidest fucking thing he’s said since getting back. Maybe the stupidest thing ever.

“Okay,” He amends. “Maybe not harmless, exactly. She’s my cousin, Y/N. And she needed help.”

“Your cousin?” You ask, voice low and full of questions.

“From what I can tell, she was sent here after me, but when her ship was knocked off course, she was trapped in form of hypersleep for a long time. She was older than me, but now she’s a lot younger.” Clark continues to explain, speaking with some gusto now that you’ve allowed him to pick up some momentum.

“Where is she?” You wonder.

“I left her with a family that can take care of her. Someone that I trust. Far away from me. She’s still very young and I think it would be best if she remained hidden for a while. Just until she learns how to control her abilities here on Earth and to give the world time to get used to the idea of another Kryptonian.” He takes one more step.

“After Zod, I don’t know that there is any amount of time that would prepare the world for a Supergirl.” You frown.

With your defenses lowered, Clark takes the opportunity to step even closer, finally stopping beside you.

He hesitates again, this time as he reaches to take hold of your elbow. His fingers press against your arm gently like he’s stroking piano keys. Testing to see if you’ll pull away.

You don’t.

He lifts your arm a little and doesn’t break eye contact with you until your arm is lifted enough that he can get a clear look at the red on your side. Head tilted to the right as he assess the injury.

Straightening his head, he slides his hand down to your hand, taking it before gently pulling you away from the kitchen, through your bedroom, and into your bathroom, switching on lights as he goes.

Watching him be like this has always been your favorite. He moves with a purpose, eyes trained on what he’s looking for without a glance spared your way.

You stand beside him as he holds your hand, hunched over to look under the sink for your first aid kit.

After he retrieves it, he pulls you back out into the kitchen. There’s more room there for both your bodies, especially with his taking up so much space.

He places the kit on the floor before he pulls you in front of him. Both of his hands find your waist and he lifts you up onto the edge of the counter to sit.

Slightly surprised, you gasp and place your hands on his shoulders, tracing the muscle while you can do so discreetly until you must remove them and place them at your sides.

Clark steps towards you, his hard abdomen pressed up against your legs as he wraps both arms around you, hands searching for the zipper on your back. Leaning over your shoulder to get a look at it, he’s almost hugging you.

And you can’t stand the tease of it.

The movement is quick, and he leans back again once he’s got the suit undone.

“What happened?” He asks as he hooks his thumbs into the top of your suit and pulls it down over your shoulders, your biceps—then holds the arms still as he waits for you to pull them out—then bunches it down along your waist to expose your injured side. “Lift your arm.”

You do as he ass, wincing as it tugs on the reopened cut.

“This is deep.” He disapproves.

“Bruce and I really were in Australia. One of the guys caught me with a knife just as we were getting them rounded up.” You explain.

“This is gonna hurt.” He tells you as he pulls the kit onto the counter beside you and pulls out a pair of small scissors and tweezers.

It takes him almost no time at all to snip away the broken threads and clean the wound again.

He waits, thinking for a moment, then meeting your gaze.

“Do you want something for the pain?” He checks, eyebrows raised in worry.

“Just do it, Clark.” You sigh, frustrated because this is all too familiar. This proximity, the smells, the heat, the way his hands poke and prod at the edges of your cut.

His eyebrows gather together as his jaw flexes with a frown, staring at the cut as he threads the needle quickly.

A proper needle this time, sanitized and threaded properly.

Taking your lifted arm, he pulls it over his head onto the opposite shoulder and places your hand there where his cape meets his suit.

“It’s gonna hurt.” He says again, and you realize he’s giving you something to squeeze.

And he’s right. Without the adrenaline from before, you feel every stitch and you’d thin you would get used to this sensation. But it hurts like fuck all and you squeeze his cape tight until you can’t help but give a small yell in annoyance.

“Why is it always the little wounds that hurt the most?” You sigh as he sips the thread and moves to clean his work area.

“You should go shower.” Clark says as he sanitizes the counter. “Be careful with your stitches.”

You don’t fight him on this because you desperately need another shower. Maybe if you’d been fine, you would have argued, but you’re dirty and aching.

When you emerge from the bathroom, you find that the sky outside has darkened. You dress quickly, just a pair of black old cutoff sweats and one of Clark’s gray hoodies.

You’re absolutely swimming in it, but it’s so soft and comfortable. Loose so that it doesn’t add any pressure to your stitches.

The apartment is so quiet you stand there, pulling the sweatshirt down as you listen intently for any kind of movement.

“Clark?” You call, just a little insecure after months of his absence.

You move out into the living room. The floorboards creak and moan as they settle beneath your feet. The large carpet in your living room silences your steps but you also stop walking, staring at the empty kitchen, then the empty living room.

Had you dreamt him?

Maybe he really isn’t back?

What if you’ve finally gone crazy?

What if he’s never coming back and you’d passed out after you got back from Australia and everything with the ocean had been a dream?

Are you really going nuts?

There’s a soft thud from your bedroom and with eager footsteps you rush back in.

Sitting on his side of the bed with his bare feet planted on the ground, Clark is hunched over. Elbows on his knees. Hands resting relaxed at the wrist while he stares at the floorboard underneath your bedroom window.

“Clark…” You sigh, not realizing how relieved you sound.

He’s changed, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a plain white t-shirt.

He looks good. Showered. His curls just barely damp.

“Am I welcome here?” He asks, staring ahead.

You move to the bed and climb on, walking on your knees towards him until you stop just a foot away and sit back on your legs.

It’s a good question. One you think on for a moment.

“You didn’t come back for ten months, Clark.” You sigh, hating that fact. “I didn’t know if something had happened to you or maybe you’d decided to leave me and Earth behind altogether? Mostly I just thought you were dead. I spent most of my time convincing myself that you’re so close to invincible that killing you might be impossible but-”

“I’ve died before.” Clark says, hating the idea that people think him a God. He turns towards you and frowns.

His words, however true they may be, send painful clenches into your chest.

Your face does something that makes his demeanor shift. Suddenly he’s sitting beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as he reaches up to push your hair back and away from your face.

His fingers graze the skin of your neck and he hooks it there, squeezing gently.

“I’m not dead.” He says, maybe guessing your thoughts of madness? “I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t.” You shake your head. “And I was so angry at you. I hated you. I cursed your name. Fuck that guy. Stupid fucker. I hate him.”

Clark simply watches you, his eyes moving side to side as he looks at your face and every expression that crosses your features.

The one thing that you’ve always loved about Clark, is the way that you can tell he’s really listening. Not once have you felt as if you weren’t being heard. Even if he doesn’t agree with whatever you’re saying, he listens so intently, trying to understand your point of view before he poses his own.

And you love him for it.

Shit. You still love him. Of course, you do. Of course, he’s always been yours.

Even in his absence, you were his and he was yours.

“I said that almost every night, hoping that you would hear me and come back. But you didn’t.”

“But I did.” Clark says. “I’m here. And I’m sorry I left without explanation. I’m sorry that I put you through that. And I know that you can’t forgive me for it. That I’ll be trying to earn your trust again every day that we’re together. But, please can I stay?”

He rubs your lower back, his large hand sending heat into every inch of your heart. Restarting it after he killed it ten months ago.

“Please?” He begs. “All I’ve thought about is getting back here. To you. To our home and our life together.”

You shut your eyes, relishing in the way his arms feel around you, his hands large and hot. His breath is sweet and warm. His scent is clean and so him that it makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t need that shirt of his anymore. Now you have him back, here with you. Where you can touch and feel and love and laugh and just be with him.

“Or should I leave?” He asks.

Your eyes pop open, red fury raging through them. “You do and I’ll hunt you down, Kent.”

He smiles, softly at first. But when your hand begins to trace the taut sinew of his muscly forearm, his smile grows wider. It grows and grows until it’s blinding and beautiful.

You trace the curve of his shoulder, tickle his neck before reaching up to smooth the curls that fall against his forehead gently.

He shuts his eyes, enjoying the affection before you push yourself forward between his legs and settle on your side.

You cuddle into the center of his chest, tucking yourself between his arms, head on his chest, under his chin, arms grabbing tight to the soft cotton of his shirt.

“I missed you.” He whispers against your hair.

You smile, shutting your eyes as you let yourself finally be at ease. Clark is home.

#superman x reader #superman x reader fanfiction #superman x you #superman x y/n #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x reader fanfiction #clark kent x y/n #dceu fanfiction #dceu #superman fanfiction #superman fanfic #superman fic #superman x reader fic #clark kent x reader fic #Absence Makes the Heart #shreddedparchment

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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

redeemed

pairing | m!raleigh x mc

word count | 6.6k

warnings | cursing, innuendos, mentions of sex

tags | @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura, @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink [tagging people who usually ask to be tagged !]

author’s note | i’ve talked about this before but i’m not a huge fan of the platinum mc’s personality, so i’ve kind of crafted my own that’s quite a bit more rebellious than canon. i’m obsessed with the idea of an mc who’s romancing raleigh and falls into the same pattern of behavior and it genuinely concerns them – so yeah i play with that idea here! i deviate from canon some but not too much ! this is my submission for day 2 of @platinumweekend as well ! also i had no idea how to end this so i apologize for the fizzle out at the end lol

•─────────────────•

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it, running to the windows and closing the curtains, peeking out at the paparazzi that no doubt had already tried flocking at the edges of the blocked off area where the bus was parked.

“Damn, what’s the problem? Can’t I at least get my food from craft services? Jesus,” he complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked mini fridge, downing it while Fiona frantically ran around the bus, turning off every electrical device in sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She wheeled on him, a few strands of her hair sticking to her lips. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, you won’t let me go get my fuckin’ overpriced grilled cheese that I know is waiting for me,” he jabbed his thumb towards the venue. “At craft services.”

She eyed him, pupils wide, her anger nearly palpable. “It’s bigger than food.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, some strands completely drenched in sweat. “Lay it on me.”

And the three words that fell from her lips were soul crushing, his post-show high wearing off in an instant.

“Dom’s been arrested.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He sat up, posture rigid. “What happened?”

“Not here. We’ll talk on the plane,” Fiona said, twisting the knob of the closet door, grabbing the black duffel bag on the ground. She tossed it at his feet, motioning for him to stand. “The jet leaves in an hour. I packed for you.”

“The plane? Where is she?” He was getting more and more frustrated, nearing hysterics. He should’ve felt a bit more shame about how worked up he was getting, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Fiona took notice, her fiery gaze softening at the edges, the blue flames flickering across his face. “Not here, Raleigh.”

He slung the duffle bag on his shoulder, walking to the door.

“Wait –” Fiona said, leaning over the couch to pull the curtain to the side, peering out again. “I paid off a security guard to distract the paparazzi. And when he does, we have to run to the car that’s gonna pull up any minute now – undetected,” she shot back at him, her icy gaze warning.

Within minutes, a security guard with a similar build to Raleigh sprinted towards the venue, jacket over his head, paparazzi on his heels.

With the camera’s flashing finally pointed away, they were able to slide into the back of the cab, thankful that Hank had connections everywhere. The driver rolled up the barrier without question as soon as Fiona tossed him a wad of cash that she’d fished out of a plain leather pouch.

She shook the pouch, her lips set in a thin line. “You know what this is?”

“A purse?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of fuckin’ trick?”

“It’s an emergency fund. Cash. Not traceable.”

She shook her head, dropping the pouch into her lap, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “When Dom first started getting into trouble, I had to pay off a few people here and there, but when it became more frequent, I had to actually sit her down with her accountant and sort this out.”

“Sort… what out?”

“How much money she needed to allocate to her… antics,” she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the back of her seat, hand pressed to her forehead.

She looked drained. Fiona never looked disheveled, but he sensed this was the closest she’d be to it.

“If it’s money she needs, that’s fine. Lemme call my agent –”

“There’s only so much cash I can hand people under the table before it becomes a problem. Not just financially, put publicly,” she sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been able to cover up the smaller mishaps, but this, I’m afraid, might be the start of something… much worse than disorderly conduct.”

“You gonna tell me her charges?” His jaw set in anticipation, already running through a list of the best lawyers in L.A. that got him off from potentially hefty lawsuits.

Her short locks swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, leaning into the corner of the cab, legs splayed wide as he tried to take a nonchalant stance. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll be glad you have a bedroom, shower, and fridge on the plane,” she said with another shake of her head.

––––

Raleigh laid in bed, aimlessly scrolling through his burner account.

He never really cared for social media under the public eye. Every post of his was either related to tour or the series of brand deals for products he never used. Each page was a personified advertisement – some shit he regretted signing up for.

One drunken night, his curiosity got the best of him and he found himself making a pretty inconspicuous profile, following some funny internet personalities and political commentators. And although he had plans to delete it, once Dom came into the picture, he unabashedly lurked.

He followed her on all platforms, and when he had the chance, he watched her stories, voted in her daily polls, and occasionally scrolled through her old instagram photos.

This time in particular, though, he was looking for something specific without really knowing if there was an answer.

He scrolled to her first post, hundreds down, smiling at high school Dom. Thick eyeliner, layered hair, brace-adorned grin – she was a poster child of adolescence.

Photos of her with Shane at pep rallies, in Halloween costumes, in prom formal wear filled the screen, later transitioning to senior portraits, graduation photos, and dorm photos. A setting of picturesque normality as Dom grew into herself, growing out her choppy layers, softening her makeup, her gleaming smile lighting up each photo.

She grew more beautiful with each year, each little phase of her life coming with a new style, a new little identity or association, Dom’s willingness to try new things the reason she was able to break free from her small town.

God, was Raleigh so fucking envious of this imperfect little portion of her Instagram. If someone were to look this far back for him, there’d be photoshoots and magazine spreads and paparazzi photos all neatly planned. The shaky off-guard photos, the unedited red eyes, the off guard photos, the expressions they made in them… it was something Raleigh never had the chance to do.

Being in the business for ten years, everything was pristine, crisp – always smiling or smoldering, no in between. Sexy and rugged or smiling and happy. Like he had two modes and he wasn’t ever able to exercise those other parts of himself because being in front of the camera was restrictive – while Dom was able to be unabashedly herself.

He was breaking shit just to feel something, to have some range of emotions even if it was a stupid fucking publicity stunt where he damaged property or made out with another politician’s daughter or attempted irreparable blows to his public image.

The more recent the posts, the more calculated her photos got, the phrase “ad” showing up more and more. But even with a skincare brand deal, her step-by-step skincare routine video was on brand for Dom, her bright smile and wit always present in everything she did.

But Raleigh couldn’t help but feel like parts of her were slipping away.

Her online persona was still pretty crisp, except for her style shift – tattoos, a couple piercings, and some edgier photoshoots signified a tonal shift in Dom’s aesthetic, but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Hell, when he used his first innuendo on his solo album, there was widespread outrage on Sunset Skatepark fan forums, ripping into him for singing about using his dick (even though he was definitely an adult and definitely not a virgin).

But other than her general style, nothing was different. Nothing to indicate this downward spiral that Fiona kept a secret.

Where’s the shift? He thought to himself as he scrolled to the top. When the hell did she start changing for the worse?

She’d come a long way from her clean songs that didn’t require a radio edit. He felt a pang of something in his chest –– regret, maybe? Was he the reason she’d changed?

The questions sent him into a near tailspin, his pulse quickening at the realization.

He was the problem.

She’d since deleted her photos with Raleigh, because their breakup was so public, but he could tell that the shift happened right around the time she started spending more time with him.

He’d been a mentor of sorts, opposite of Avery, showing her the ropes… which meant that he was teaching her how to evade the press, fuck with the paparazzi, pick out industry plants – the whole nine yards.

She was impulsive, daring, adventurous, fearless – all the qualities he liked in himself. But he never thought those traits would take a negative turn, morphing her into a rebel with an affinity for breaking laws.

He could blame himself all he wanted, but he couldn’t blame her for taking the same route he took.

He knew it better than anybody – it was hard to shift the public’s persona of you. Once you did something horrible to make them hate you, either the rebrands and ass kissing worked, or you get written off by everyone.

Raleigh Carrera was a special case, a wild card of sorts who toed the line, unpredictable, both with his craft and his behavior. The nastier his lyrics, the crazier his publicity stunts were, the more polarizing he was.

And that was no doubt the route Dom was on, heading towards an inevitable press nightmare – if people were to find out the home grown rags-to-riches Dominique Avalos dove headfirst into her rebellious phase with no smooth transition, she wouldn’t be able to Google herself for months without having a panic attack.

She’d changed drastically, but that’s what fame did to people. Some people cracked under the pressure, or they rebelled to show the public they were in control of their narrative… or that they desperately wanted it back.

He took a shaky breath, swiping out of the app.

He wasn’t sure if he could save her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try.

––––

The moment the jet touched down, Fiona was in full manager mode, adamant on abandoning his phone, stressing the importance of going off the grid.

“If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll be able to put two and two together. Why else would you be in the same country as Dom when you’re supposed to be heading towards New York for your next show?” She asked, hand outstretched.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, tossing his phone into her palm. “Where are we exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed, looking exhausted. He had a gut feeling she hadn’t slept a wink since they’d boarded the plane.

“Why not?”

“It’s a bit safer that way.”

He scoffed. “You’re serious? Look, I’m not exactly thrilled to pull the A-List celebrity card, but this is borderline kidnapping.”

“Let’s just say you might be able to pick up on some of the language,” she said, turning on her heel to exit the plane.

Within minutes, they were pulling onto a dirt backroad, the small houses they passed barely casting shadows onto the ground.

The town itself was seemingly innocuous – the tiny brick houses riddled with dust, the stone paths lining the road cracked and deserted. The tiny town had turned in for the night, their old Sedan sticking out like a sore thumb despite the old model.

Raleigh squirmed in his seat, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist. He fucking hated this.

No matter where he went, he was noticed in some capacity – so wearing a Rolex and Cartier rings in a small village in the middle of nowhere just made him look pretentious.

He slipped the rings and watches off, shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring Fiona’s calculating side eye (one he knew all too well).

The only light, other than the gas lamp posts and their high beams, came from the building at the end of the road.

The car pulled around the side, flicking their lights off, the driver peeking around before motioning for them to exit the car.

“Throw the hoodie on, Raleigh,” Fiona ordered while slipping on a ball cap of her own, her casual t-shirt and leggings wildly different from her normal outfit.

“Sure,” he murmured, tugging the hood on.

The walk from the car to the dusty glass front door was short, Fiona breaking into a light jog to keep up with Raleigh’s brisk pace.

The makeshift “waiting room” in the front corner of the station was empty, the scratched up folding chairs in crooked rows. The front desk was occupied by a sleeping form, head buried in the crease of his elbow, snore muffled by the counter top.

The other officer stood at the back near an old vending machine, sliding coins into the slot, the clink of each piece ringing out against the brick and linoleum.

No cameras, he thought, after a quick scan of the room, shoving the hood back in its place at the nape of his neck.

The holding cells were farther back, but he couldn’t see her.

He stepped up to the counter where the man was sleeping, giving a gentle knock to the top. The man stirred, unfurling his arms, while the other man in the back glanced up from where he was, elbows deep in the snack machine as he fished out his bag of chips.

Raleigh offered a basic greeting in Spanish, frowning just a bit when both officers’ eyes lit up – the phrase “famoso” and “celebridad” falling from their lips almost as soon as they recognized him.

Yeah, he was gonna use his notoriety to their advantage, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when people immediately tried gauging what they could get from him when they realized who he was.

For a long time he’d been waiting for the day where name dropping himself didn’t get him out of deep shit.

And the day he met Dom, when he assumed she knew who he was, all she did was raise her brow as if to say “Why the fuck should I care?”

It startled him, truthfully. But it was such a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t remember a time before or after that someone showed no interest in him.

The officer in the back jogged to the front, pulling his phone out of his back pocket while asking for a picture.

He looked to Fiona, who was shaking her head furiously, stepping up next to him like her 5’5 stature was enough to shield him. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

He nodded, turning back to the men, trying to negotiate with them.

Yes, Dom’s here.

No, you can’t see her.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how he was gonna get himself – and Dom – out of the situation unscathed if he couldn’t give them a photo or autograph.

“Dom bought me the Rolex and Cartier rings, right?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Yes. She gifted them to you on your birthday. You know this –”

“No, what I mean is, she has the receipts? Or you do?”

“I don’t have them, but I have access to them,” she said, still confused.

“Get rid of ‘em. I haven’t told anyone she bought them for me.”

Her face lit up in recognition, and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He dug in his pockets, fishing out the watch and thin bands.

After a quick exchange, the officers took two rings each, and began rapid fire arguing over the Rolex. They tossed Raleigh the keys, stepping out the front door.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fiona said, turning towards the door.

“Hey –” Raleigh said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say –”

“She specifically asked for you.”

He took a step back, resting his palm on the countertop behind him. “What the – are you… are you serious?”

She nodded once. “She might’ve been slurring, but she was clear as day. She wanted you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, running a hand through his short waves.

Fiona’s gaze softened, her eyes still piercing. Fiona was a lot of things – steadfast, headstrong, determined – but she wasn’t soft. She didn’t sugar coat shit.

“She’s missed you. She doesn’t confide in me much, but even I can tell she’s unhappy. Be gentle with her,” she said, gaze tearing right through him.

The walk to the holding cells felt miles long – his resolve was shrinking with every step.

He wasn’t afraid of seeing Dom, not at all. He was afraid of whatever part of himself that might’ve been reflected in her.

The cell was empty, save for the curled form on the bench, long dark hair cascading over the edges of the seat.

“Dom?” He called, hearing her sharp inhale of breath as she stirred, bending into a long stretch, her limbs unfurling until she was lying on her back on the bench, tilting her head towards his voice.

God, even when she looked like life had torn her to shreds, she still looked beautiful.

“Raleigh?” She croaked, her eyes squinting to adjust to the low lights. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She arched her back, stretching again, her long frame covering the bench. It was almost the right level of distracting to stop the creeping annoyance at her question.

“What do you mean? I’m here to bail you out, obviously.”

“Where’s Fiona?” She asked groggily, rolling off the side of the bench awkwardly, trying to gain her footing.

“You asked for me, didn’t you?” He raised a brow, sliding his forearms through the bars, resting them there.

“She told you?” She asked, voice raising in betrayal, a scoff following his silence. “I was drunk.”

“And? You still asked for me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she murmured, crossing her arms as soon as she was balanced.

He dangled the keys between his fingertips, gently jingling them. “I’ll let you out if you tell me what happened.”

Her lip curled in annoyance. “You’d really leave me here?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, blowing air out of her cheeks. “Alright.”

He unlocked the door and slipped in, the heavy door creaking as he slid it wide enough for him to fit through.

She backed up, plopping back onto the bench, arms lowering to curl around her sides.

He followed suit, sitting a couple feet away from her on the other end of the bench, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

She stared at the floor, clearly waiting for him to make a move.

“So…”

“So, what?” She grumbled.

“So… how’d you end up here?” He asked, trying to remain as relaxed as he could since she was clearly on edge, ready to tear him a new one at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk. I got in a fight. Here I am.”

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I can’t help you if I don’t know if you’re ankles deep or neck deep.”

She chewed her lip, chin dipping lower, strands of her hair falling forward, creating an inky veil. “Fine. I’ll tell you but… can you not… look at me?”

Raleigh’s face contorted in confusion, but he listened, swivelling until he was facing the back wall, propping one leg up on the bench.

He waited for her to speak. The break in conversation was a bit too long – but before a quip could fall from his lips, she spoke.

“I did get drunk, and I did get in a fight. I’m telling the truth but I, uh, left out some details,” she started, her voice low.

“I, uh, was passing through this town after my last show because I wanted to go to a bar without being noticed. Like the old days. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t think anyone would find me here.”

That was her first mistake. Smaller towns surprisingly had the most dedicated fans – maybe because they’re bored or nothing exciting happened in their towns, but most of his die hard fans came from the middle of nowhere.

“The first hour was fine, and I was able to drink and dance with strangers. Most of them were a lot older than me and spoke zero English – and I speak a little bit of Spanish as you know, so I could make some small talk, but I was on my own just… enjoying myself and my freedom,” she said, and he could almost see the grin tug at the corner of her lips.

“I noticed someone taking photos of me with their phone, so I got a bit paranoid and sat in a booth in the back drinking for a little while longer so I could figure out my next move,” she continued, before sighing loudly. “I guess they told the local news or something, because by the time I decided to leave, I ran smack into a reporter on the sidewalk.”

Silence ensued again, this time more deafening than the last.

“I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. Or break the camera. Or elbow the camera man in the face when he tried restraining me. I just… couldn’t think straight. I was mad. Intoxicated and wrong, but still mad.”

“I know Fiona’s trying her best to get me out of this mess but… I think I went too far this time.”

Raleigh stared at the wall, racking his brain for something. He was a little dumbfounded that she spilled to him so fast. He figured it was gonna take a bit more digging to get her to open up, but she blossomed in front of him; despite the wilted petals, he was relieved to know she still trusted him enough to confide in him.

“Are you gonna say something?” She asked, a bit timidly.

“Not if I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, then don’t say anything.”

He sighed, settling into his spot on the bench, waiting again for her to speak.

“Why did you come?”

Instinctively, he shrugged. “You asked me to.”

“But you don’t owe me anything. We’re not together.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop everything to come help you. I mean, I’d like to think we’re at least acquaintances, if not friends,” he joked, resting his arm over the back of the bench.

“Sure,” she said, voice straining just a bit. Just enough for him to notice.

Dom was a special kind of resilient – one trait that Raleigh was sure she didn’t copy from him.

He knew that being a woman in the industry was already hard enough – everything from beauty to body standards to raging misogyny was enough to give people reasons to hate her, as stupid as they were.

Raleigh benefitted from the standards in place for men. He was young, attractive, talented – didn’t matter what he did wrong. He’d bounce back.

But he’d seen some vile shit since he’d ascended to fame. So many celebrities fading into obscurity after one mishap. One bad album. One bad interview. One rude encounter. One rumor.

For some reason, despite diving headfirst into troubled waters, Dom bounced back every time, fire in her eyes, her jaw set in determination, her face painted with the look she got when she was ready to face the world.

But whatever she was feeling in that moment, in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere – was enough to break her.

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and he started to turn, but he felt her warm palm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He listened to her labored breathing, likely struggling to hold back tears, while he stared at the cracks in the wall, trying to think of something – anything – to console her.

“Did Fiona seem… upset?” She asked, seeming a bit nervous.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest. She’s pretty intense all of the time,” he laughed, not really meaning to.

He was relieved to hear a light chuckle from behind him.

“Yeah, I figure she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t blame her,” she sighed, another break in conversation ensuing. A couple beats later, she asked, bluntly, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he answered with zero hesitation. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

She laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “Not sure where you got that impression.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot if I asked you to come, Dom. You’re not that heartless,” he teased gently, glad that things were taking a lighthearted turn.

“I’m just glad you’re not gonna lecture me. I already know I’m gonna get an earful from Fiona, not to mention the shit I’ll get from Shane and Avery. I couldn’t handle one from you.”

He grimaced. “Uh, well, you’d rather hear it from me than Fiona, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You know I normally don’t care what you do, because it’s your life, and you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, but Dom…” he trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I know I fucked up, Raleigh. I don’t need you making me feel more guilty than I already am,” she said defensively, voice raised.

“I’m not gonna make you feel guilty. Just offering some advice.” God, did those words feel foreign to him. Offering advice. He never did shit like this for anybody.

He took her silence as a green light. “You’ve just gotta slow down, Dom.”

Whatever impact his words made, he couldn’t see it, since he was still facing the damn wall. “Can I please turn around? I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sure.”

He adjusted himself on the bench, trying to look attentive without staring. She was stunning, even with the smudged makeup, the dark circles, the red eyes “You don’t have to do anything and everything you’re asked to do, but you gotta find some kind of balance.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean balance the good and bad, Dom. There’s a line for people like us and you can’t cross it often. You can get close, but you can’t just dive over it and not expect there to be some fallout.”

“I know,” she said, bluntly, looking a bit more annoyed with each word that came from his mouth.

“You can cause some chaos, but some of it isn’t acceptable,” he said, watching her expression contort in anger. “For them. Not acceptable for them. The average person, I mean.”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” She rolled her eyes. “How are you gonna sit here and tell me that your brand of shit stirring is okay, but mine isn’t?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a jail cell right now, Dom,” he said, calmly but firmly. He wasn’t used to being the rational one, but he had to be level headed. He was trying to save her.

She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the back of the bench. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You’re hypocritical.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, propping his arm up on the back of the bench. “I was in the industry for years before I started dirtying up my image. You just got here.”

“And you’ve been here too damn long to act the way you do,” she nearly spat, lashing out.

“I’m too far gone,” he simply stated, keeping surprisingly calm through it all.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, which means, I’ve got a lot more fuck ups under my belt. Irreparable damage, if you will.”

“People love you,” she said, matter-of-factly, like that solved it – it honestly relieved him. A bit of Dom’s naivete from when they first met was shining through.

“People also hate me, because I’m a little shit who sets fires for fun,” he grinned. “For legal reasons, my lawyers insist I clarify that I’m joking.”

She rolled her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “People who hate you don’t know you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, and you’re so close to the point I’m sure you can taste it.”

“I’m too far gone to save. No matter how hard I try for the rest of my career, I can never get away from the wild card label. Plenty of people don’t wanna work with me. I’ve damaged business relationships. Lots of artists don’t want to collab with me because of how it’ll make them look.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you don’t want this. You’re too good for whatever baggage comes with being a ‘rebel’, Dom. I don’t want to see you turn out like me.”

For the first time that night, she stared at him – really stared at him. Her deep brown, nearly midnight eyes searched his for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re… serious?” She asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion.

“One hundred percent honest,” he said, nodding.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip, contemplating.

“Can you turn back around again?”

He nodded, wordlessly facing the wall again.

“I left out a few details,” she said from behind him.

“I’m listening,” he affirmed.

“I, uh, was pretty hammered by the time I left, so it was even harder for me to understand what people were saying,” she said before he could speak. “I heard the reporter say ‘Raleigh’ and ‘novio’ and I saw red… so… I, uh… swung.”

His chest clenched, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. He was thankful she’d asked him to face the other direction, because he knew his reaction betrayed his cool demeanor.

“I guess I’m not over it,” she laughed humorlessly.

He ran a hand over his face, racking his brain for a response, but coming up short.

“You, um, don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. It’s on me.”

That made him turn, swivelling around before she could finish speaking.

She flicked her head towards the bars of the cell, raising a hand to cover her face. “I said ‘don’t look at me’, Raleigh. Goddamn.”

Years and years of PR training and interviews and he had no idea how the fuck to console her. Partially because he was trying to get a grip on whatever the hell was going on in his brain as well.

Instead, he answered her with a question of his own, a tactic he’d used anytime he wanted to deflect in interviews.

“Why can’t I look?”

Dom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slowly rotating to meet his gaze. She sank her teeth deep into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing the backs of her hands under her eyes, the dried black mascara under her eyes beginning to liquidate again. “Because I’m crying, Raleigh. And I don’t cry.”

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me,” he asked, holding up two of his fingers in a solute. “No judgement.”

She sighed, crossing the room to put some distance between them. She began pacing, taking slow steps as she spoke.

“I might’ve fucked up my career and I keep letting people down and I’m destructive because this whole fame thing isn’t what I signed up for and I didn’t think I’d cave under pressure like every other mid twenties child actor who goes through a premature mid-life crisis, but here I fucking am,” she said, nearly out of breath by the end.

His legs carried him across the room before he could think twice, pacing towards her while she strode across the room in the opposite direction.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid –”

“Stop. You’re not stupid.”

“I am,” she said, wheeling on him. “And – and I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my manager and – and my ex –” She stopped in her tracks, rubbing a palm over her forehead, shutting her eyes.

He reached out to her, but let his hand fall almost immediately.

“My acquaintance had to fly out to a fucking village in the middle of nowhere to bail me out –”

“Dom, stop –”

“– because I fought a fucking reporter over not being able to handle my fucking feelings –”

“Dom –”

“– like an adult with a functioning frontal lobe all because I love someone who –”

Her eyes popped open, her expression horrified. “Oh my god, I’m – I –”

She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, dropping into a squat. “Fuck, fuck, Goddammit –”

“Did you just –”

“Yeah, Raleigh, I did. Don’t make me feel worse, alright? I know I fucked up,” she groaned from her heap on the ground.

“You just said you love me, Dom. I think I’m allowed to react,” he said, a slight teasing to his voice.

She glanced up, glaring. “Okay, then, react.”

Her gaze was fiery, her deep brown irises challenging – something else a bit more vulnerable lying beneath.

She was terrified.

He leaned down, gripping her around the waist to pull her back up, wrapping his arms around her upper back, hugging her to his chest.

She melted into his arms, relaxing and leaning into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” she murmured into his chest.

“So do you?” He asked, chin gently balanced on her head.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, voice small.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either,” he said, just as earnest, feeling her tense in his arms. “But I do know that I like you enough to want you around, and that counts for something, right?”

She laughed (as genuine as he’d heard it), leaning back to look at him. “Yeah, it does.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, Dom’s chin tilted upwards towards him, their faces nearly touching.

“If this gets out, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a bad person,” he said, voice low. “You’re the best person I know –”

Dom closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. He cupped her face in his palms and held her in place, moaning into her parted lips.

God, there was nothing that compared to kissing her. Nobody matched up. He’d made out with a lot of people since he was flung into stardom at sixteen, and no one – absolutely no one – left him in a daze like she did.

She gripped the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer, sighing contentedly against him.

The smell of her shampoo mixed with the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth of her hands and her chest flush against his – it was the next best thing to being inside of her.

He pulled back, trying to catch the dreamy, half-lidded look she always got when they parted.

“So… did you take your jet here?”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Out of context, that sounds so superficial.”

She grinned, her first genuine smile that night. “Oh, but you’re not? Hanging around a rising artist to cling to relevancy?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the walls. “I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

“Yep. The good and bad,” she agreed, still smiling at him.

“The good?” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re literally the reason I haven’t walked out on my label and moved to bum fuck nowhere and lived off the land,” she said, shrugging. “You taught me how to have fun. You were the only one keeping me sane.”

He thought he was the one encouraging her to leap over the edge, but he was the one tugging her arm back.

The whole time he was convinced he was a bad influence, but he was doing some good – for her.

But with that revelation came the guilt at her words.

“‘Were’?”

“Well, we don’t really talk anymore. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed her lip, stepping back, unraveling herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

That was a slap to the face. Dom rarely apologized, because if she felt she was right, she wasn’t going to budge. She was stubborn as hell.

“Huh? Why?” “I don’t want to guilt you into spending time with me… or feeling things for me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted to come.”

She glanced up, blinking at him. “No, you didn’t –”

“I did,” he emphasized, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. “I kinda missed being forced to hang out with you. Feels like old times.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from ripping from her, this one louder than the last. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, but seriously, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Thank you.” With her free hand, she punched his shoulder lightly. “You’ll regret that sooner or later.”

“Nah,” he said, lip curling into a smirk. “I don’t think I will.”

––––

#playchoices #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #platinumweekend #my fic #jade writes choices fics #tbh i really loved writing this one - it's really special to me !!

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soopersara · 4 years

Note

Okay I have seen several people say that Bryan and Mike supported the original movie until after the backlash and was wondering if you knew of any sources on it?

Okay, I know you just saw some of the stuff I managed to dig up (or had friends find for me, thank you so much @lady-of-bath, you truly are the queen!), but since the internet has been blowing up over the announcement that Bryan and Mike are no longer working on the Netflix live action ATLA remake, I might as well throw this out in public too!

So, in the interest of being as objective as humanly possible, let me start off by saying that the internet being what it is, it’s hard to find sources of information about the creation of a 10-year old, widely panned movie. The fact that I can’t personally find it doesn’t mean that it isn’t out there, or that it wasn’t purged in the past 10 years. But, that said, I wound up with more than I expected. Brace yourselves 😉 (sources will be linked!)

So, back in 2008, both Bryan and Mike were very enthusiastic about the movie. And, in their own words, well... Bryan said:

The one thing we weren't joking about is that we really are helping on the movie quite a bit. Night has been very collaborative from the get-go, from the first time we ever met him. Very respectful of the project and of us. So we're helping out a lot on that.

They also did this interview with M. Night Shyamalan (posted in July 2009, though I’m not sure when it was filmed), in which it was confirmed that:

Bryan and Mike were actively working with M. Night

Bryan and Mike looked over M. Night’s script and approved of the changes

Bryan and Mike were planning to be on set for filming

Based on the content of the video interview, it’s clear that casting wasn’t complete at the time the interview was filmed, though the initial cast was announced in December 2008, before the interview was posted. So it’s hard to say whether Bryan or Mike had strong feelings about the whitewashing of the cast at the time, but based on the fact that Mike said (6:05 in the video linked above), “Well, if you don’t find anyone for Aang, I’d like to suggest perhaps I could, y’know, maybe play him”, I don’t think whitewashing was high on their list of concerns at the time. I know it’s a joke. I know that. But given Bryke’s tendencies to make insensitive, or downright insulting jokes, then double down on them years later (Book 4: Air, and Bryan’s later repost of the video with the world’s most condescending caption (featuring a dictionary definition of the word “joke”), I’m looking at you) rather than admitting that they were in poor taste (and the fact that that adult Aang looks exactly like Mike with a jawline), I’m inclined to believe that they genuinely DID NOT CARE about the ethnicity of the actors cast at this point. And again, this interview came before the casting and before the associated backlash.

Now, admittedly, this is the last information I can find from Bryke relating to the live action movie before the movie’s release in 2010. And a lot can change in 2 years. According to this post, a lot did change, and not at M. Night’s request, though this is a secondary source of a now-deleted forum post, so the reliability of the information is anyone’s guess. But, that said, there was an active controversy surrounding the casting of the live action beginning in 2008 (taking the timeline from the wiki because I can’t find a semi-comprehensive rundown anywhere else). The movie was released in 2010. Plenty of people associated with the original series made their disapproval public. Bryke, though? The first time I can find them even referring to the live action disaster is in this interview from 2011:

Wall Street Journal: Have you heard anything about whether there will be a sequel to the "Last Airbender" live-action feature film? Michael DiMartino: Uh, no. It's definitely not up to us, so.

No mention of their opinion of the thing. And three years of silence doesn’t exactly equate to an endorsement of the movie, but uh... three years is a lot of time in which they could have made their opinions known, especially about the whitewashing, which was a widely-known problem.

If they were truly concerned about representation, which seems to be the thing that a LOT of the internet is worried about after their exit from the Netflix live action, wouldn’t they have had something to say about it? Just asking.

Oh, but they did... eventually. In 2013, 3 years after the movie’s release, and 5 years after they (to my knowledge) last expressed an opinion on the movie, Bryan made this post in response to criticism of the Kataang kids’ skin color in LOK. And he had this to say about the live action movie:

I prefer to stay out of this type of discourse on Tumblr and let the large body of work Mike and I have put out there over the years speak for itself (which obviously DOES NOT include the gross misinterpretations and misrepresentations of our work in this guy’s work).

That’s as specific as it gets. Pretty passive-aggressive and open to interpretation if you ask me. The only reason you can tell that he’s actually referring to the live action movie is because in the original post, “this guy” links out to M. Night’s page, and the only reason you can tell that he’s referring to the whitewashing of the cast is because the post is a response to similar criticisms levelled against LOK.

Then apparently there was an interview in 2014 that finally went more in depth on the subject of the live action, but the original was deleted, and the transcript I was able to locate is practically unreadable. No names attached to any of what was said, so I really couldn’t tell you who thought what about the movie, and honestly, if anyone can decipher this garbled mess, I salute you. It seriously looks like a cat walked across a keyboard for an hour while autocorrect went bananas.

Ah, old internet drama. So hard to track down.

Anyway, all of that is why the wiki summarizes the situation by saying:

Before the film's release, co-creators Bryan Konietzko and Mike DiMartino vocally supported the film, even appearing in an interview with M. Night Shyamalan. However, following the film's release and the negative reception it had received, the two remained quiet on the film, making only brief statements on it.

And that is why I’m laughing my butt off with every person I see lamenting Bryke’s exit from the Netflix live action. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have high hopes for the thing. Ideally, I’d like to see the whole thing cancelled, ATLA allowed to go down in history as a great show, and the creators to move on to new, unrelated projects (come on, dudes, you’ve gotta have at least one more original idea you could try instead of beating the ATLA universe into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp). And failing that, I’d like to see the show recreated faithfully, some plot threads in Book 3 tied a little tighter, and no canon romances with the possible exception of Suki/Sokka. But Bryke’s involvement was never a guarantee of quality. Sure, it might suck without them. But it could have sucked just as badly with them on board. Maybe now it will suck in new and unexpected ways!

#atla #atla live action #atla live action salt #anti bryke #bryke salt #as usual I'm just covering my bases #I put my diplomatic hat on as much as I could #hmmmm... maybe I should get an actual hat to wear when I'm putting on my 'diplomatic hat' for Tumblr

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ill-go-with-that-then · 5 years

Text

A NEW ERASERMIC AU I'LL NEVER WRITE!

Imagine Aizawa works at Buzzfeed, and gets the idea to write an article about how Twitch streaming is stupid and pointless (because he’s a video game snob.) He chooses Present Mic’s channel to watch at random, because he’s super popular, but Aizawa immediately goes from undercover reporter to absolute fan. No middle ground. Just “huh, okay i was wrong” and subscribes.

He tunes in to all the live streams, because Mic is very funny and also very good at video games, and it’s cool to watch him play. He has skills, his commentary is A+, and Aizawa develops a little crush. But it’s not a big deal!! Mic is a celeb, Aizawa knows they’ll never meet, it’s harmless.

Sometimes the chat for the stream gets assholes in it, as you’d expect. Mic can’t monitor the chat too much, but Aizawa has no problems telling jerks where to stick it. And once, after a particularly egregious incident where some moron said something crude about women in gaming and Aizawa ripped him a new asshole, Mic sends him a personal message thanking him and asking him if he wants to be a mod, which of course, he does. He doesn’t know how to reply - this is his big chance to talk to Mic!! So of course he just says “sure” - no further conversation.

Aizawa has, of course, zero personal details on his Twitch account. No info, no icon, his screen name is a random string of numbers, he’s a ghost. The Ron Swanson of video game enthusiasts.

So Aizawa is working at Buzzfeed, living his best life writing articles like “10 Video Game Themed Products You Can’t Live Without” because journalism is in shambles and he drinks to forget, and one day his editor is like “hey, we’re gonna do a feature on Twitch streamers. Everybody is gonna go sit and watch a stream in person and get the behind the scenes info. Here’s a list of people who agreed.” And PRESENT MIC IS ON THE LIST

One of his colleagues reaches for Mic’s info sheet, rolling his eyes and sighing. “I can’t believe these are considered celebrities. Have you ever heard of any of them?”

Aizawa practically slaps the paper out of his hand. “Present Mic is a consummate professional and his content is high-quality and entertaining. I wouldn’t expect you to understand it since it involves technology more current than a compact disc.”

The room goes silent. Nobody’s heard Aizawa say anything nice about... maybe anything? Ever? But his editor, Kayama, pounces immediately. “WELL if you like him so much, Aizawa, that can be your interview!!”

Aizawa panics. On the one hand, he wasn’t going to let anyone else take that assignment. But on the other hand, now he’s going to meet Mic IN PERSON. During a LIVE STREAM. Is he supposed to tell him he’s a fan? Is that tacky? Will his crush be obvious? What if Mic sucks in person?? This is a double edged sword.

He only gets more nervous on the day of the interview. He’s tempted to dress up a little, look his best. Mic is a good-looking guy after all, and he’s always well put together when he streams. And even though Aizawa knows, knows he really doesn’t have a chance, he still doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

BUT he also doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard. That’s not who he is, and dressing up would be admitting to himself that he DOES want something more than a simple interview, even if it’s as little as Mic’s good opinion or positive attention.

He debates too long. While he’s still thinking about it, the alarm on his phone goes off, alerting him that it’s time to leave. He’s still in his pink sweatpants and he hasn’t shaved, and he realizes, just at that moment, that he probably should have tried harder at least for the sake of professionalism. But it’s too late. He has to go.

Mic actually doesn’t live all that far away. Just a short train ride, less than 20 minutes, and Aizawa is standing in front of his nondescript apartment. It’s a little odd - Mic is a very popular streamer, theoretically with income to match, and his style seems flashy. Aizawa had expected something a little more over the top. But this place is simple. Storing that information away for later, he knocks.

“COMING!!” He hears from inside the apartment, followed by the thud of footsteps. Aizawa just has one moment to brace himself because this is it before the door opens and there he is. Present Mic himself, all smiles. “Come in, come in!! You’re from buzzfeed right? Wow, this is so exciting!!” Mic ushers him in the door, taking his jacket and hustling him into a tidy living room before Aizawa can even respond. And of course, when he finally gets himself together enough to say something, the first words out of his mouth are “You’re... tall.”

He wants to smack himself. Yes, Mic is taller than Aizawa had realized from the stream, even a little taller than Aizawa himself. But those are thinking words, not speaking words. Certainly not the first words you use to introduce yourself to your celebrity crush. But Aizawa, a champion moment-ruiner, has made his bed, and now he must cry in it.

But Mic just laughs. “Yeah,” he says, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “I get that a lot. Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize,” Aizawa says immediately, then wonders if he is, in fact, under some sort of curse. “Shouta Aizawa,” he introduces himself.

“Hizashi Yamada, also known as Present Mic!” Yamada’s smile is friendly, like Aizawa hasn’t made an absolute fool of himself so far, and Aizawa has to look away from it. He glances around the room, which is tidy and clean, but cluttered with various objects that seem to have no connection to each other. There are books in a variety of languages, musical instruments, shelves of CDs, and an assortment of other things that have nothing to do with video games.

“Quite a collection you have,” Aizawa says, because it is, and because he’s curious.

“Yeah! I have too many hobbies but what can you do? Come on, I’m sure you’d rather see my workspace.” It’s not true, Aizawa has seen the office where Yamada streams before, and he’d much rather stay here and poke around, build up his mental picture about who Yamada is outside his Present Mic persona. But he’s not here for that. This is business.

But the streaming room is also not what Aizawa expects. Some things are familiar - the area visible to the camera is the same, set up and ready for tonight’s stream, but the rest of the room, the part that isn’t on screen, is PACKED. There’s a wobbly desk in the corner, covered in neatly stacked papers and binders labeled by month and year. The wall over the desk is a massive whiteboard filled with notes and ideas for upcoming streams. And there, in the lower right corner of the whiteboard, right where it would be even with Hizashi’s eyes as he sits at his desk, is a familiar string of numbers - his own Twitch username. And next to it is a little note - don’t forget. Good dude.

Aizawa sees his username and just - freezes. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mic thought of him at all outside of that one occasion he DM’d him, let alone that he considered Aizawa important enough not to forget. And the idea that Mic thinks he’s a “good dude” makes his face BURN in pleased embarrassment. He wants to say something but what? Is it weird? It’s weird, it’s too weird, and before he can think of how to do it, Mic is talking again.

“Okay, this is where the magic happens!! Actually, it’s more like weeks of frustration and repetition followed by 3-4 hours of intensely stressful streaming, but hey! People seem to like it!!” Aizawa wants to say something here - Mic is being a little too self-deprecating for his taste, but he stops himself. He can’t defend Mic’s honor to Mic himself - can he? The moment passes while he debates.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be on camera or not?” Mic says, tentatively.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” says Aizawa. “I’m more the behind the scenes type.”

“Totally, no problem!” Mic says, gesturing to his desk. “You can sit there, if that’s okay? The only other seat is by me.”

Aizawa looks at the chair, then back to the small couch where Mic will be streaming from. “I think I’ll have to be closer to get photos for the article, if that’s all right.”

“You’ll be on camera,” Mic bites his lip. “I mean, maybe i could re-angle it, but then the screen-“

“It’s fine,” Aizawa says. “Journalism is about hardship.”

Mic snorts, and Aizawa can’t keep a little smirk off his face, proud that he got a laugh.

The stream goes smoothly - Aizawa likes it even more like this, without the chat to distract him, and close enough to notice things he’s never seen before. Mic’s feet twitch when he’s focusing hard, and his socks have cats on them. It’s adorable. Aizawa takes no notes - he doesn’t really need to, he’s seen enough streams to write this article in his sleep, and anyway, it’s not like he’s going to forget a minute of this.

Afterwards, once they’ve signed off, Mic talks him through his post show routine, everything from calculating how much he made and comparing it to previous weeks in a spreadsheet to going over the chat. “Huh,” Mic’s eyebrows crease as he looks at the chat logs. “Things got a little out of hand tonight.”

“Oh?” Aizawa says, shuffling uncomfortably. He suspects he knows why that is.

“Yeah, one of my regular mods wasn’t on tonight. I hope he’s all right - it’s not like him to miss.”

“You have a lot of viewers,” Aizawa says, tentative now. “Do you know them all so well?”

Mic shrugs, embarrassed. “No, i wish I did! But this guy’s special, he’s really funny and he keeps all the trolls in line. I’d DM him to see if he’s okay but that’s weird, right? That’s weird. And anyway I tried to talk to him once before but he shot me down.”

“I didn’t-“ Aizawa says before he can stop himself. The curse is real. Mic stares at him, open mouthed, confused at first but then his eyes widen as he realizes what must have happened. Before he can say anything, Aizawa cuts him off. “Sorry. That i couldn’t mod tonight.” He mumbles, hand buried in his hair. He can’t meet Mic’s eyes anymore. “I’ll be back next week.”

Mic opens his mouth to speak, but Aizawa interrupts again, before he can. “And I didn’t - I didn’t shoot you down. I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. Why would you?”

Mic blinks, and Aizawa isn’t sure what he’s going to say. Will he be mad? Aizawa kind of lied to him. Is he disappointed? Does Aizawa not look like he expected? Has he been too silent? Too unfriendly? Does Mic not want to get to know him anymore? But when Mic finally speaks, what comes out is

“I can’t believe you made me memorize that stupid fucking username, we’re picking you a new one right now.”

#erasermic #maizawa #my writing #my ramblings #I have no explanation for anything I do ever

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plasticnightmaredoll · 3 years

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Some toys for "Godzilla vs Kong" have been leaked online, including toys of Mechagodzilla.

I have some thoughts to share but these are technically spoilers so, if you don't want to be exposed to such things, then don't look under the cut.

Let's cover Mechagodzilla first because he's probably the most anticipated Titan/Kaiju appearing in "Godzilla vs Kong" (besides the two eponymous characters). He does make an appearance in the official trailer twice but very briefly each time. We don't get a good look at him but we see enough to get a basic idea of what he probably looks like:

That looks like Godzilla but it's clearly has metal skin and some red glowing patches on the neck -- neither of which the real Godzilla has.

It's probably safe to assume that the robot on the screen is Mechagodzilla, maybe charging up to use his radioactive heat ray.

So, we can safely conclude that Mechagodzilla looks like....a Mecha Godzilla.

Shocking.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We have barely seen his face, and only have had a good look at his robotic feet on a computer screen. What does he truly look like?

There aren't any great-quality photos of the Mechagodzilla toys online so this is the best we have. But these photos do give us a much better idea of what he looks like. He has red, blocky dorsal "plates" on his back, and three-fingered crane claw hands. It's kind of creepy to look at because it looks more like a skeleton than anything else.

Which ties into my (absurd, I know but we are dealing with an extremely fictional universe anyway where these monsters could never exist as they are presented in the movies, and a giant fucking robot with the complexity Mechagodzilla is just not a feasible or technologically-attainable goal right now) theory that perhaps the Godzilla we see in the trailer isn't always the real Godzilla but Mechagodzilla wearing a synthetic skin. This is ridiculous, I know, but like I said: most of this fictional universe is.

It would be an excellent reference to Mechagodzilla's first appearance in the 1974 Toho film, "Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla," where Mechagodzilla shows up to destroys cities wearing a synthetic skin so he looks exactly like Godzilla (but sounds nothing like him so I have no clue why Japan actually though this was Godzilla in the film). The real Godzilla comes to the rescue, and Mechagodzilla's synthetic skin disappears (alien technology lol), revealing a robot.

Perhaps the skin from Ghidorah's severed head from 2019's "King of the Monsters" could be used to create a synthetic skin? I'm not a scientist, though, so I have no idea how plausible this is. But more on the Ghidorah head a bit later.

Anyway, so, we now have a good idea of what Mechagodzilla's body will look like in "Godzilla vs. Kong." What about his face?

SWEET JESUS WTF IS THAT?!

That, my friends, is a leaked photo of the Funko Pop Mechagodzilla and WTF IS GOING ON WITH HIS EYES? Maybe they will look less creepy in the movie, and they only look like this because the picture is low quality. But something tells me that Mechagodzilla's going to have freaky robot eyes.

So, "Godzilla vs. Kong" is a horror movie, confirmed.

But let’s go back to the Ghidorah head. We know the eco-terrorists from 2019′s “King of the Monsters” bought Ghidorah’s severed left head after the events of the film (how much did this thing cost????) I watched a video with a very plausible theory as to what will happen with this head in relation to Mechagodzilla.

In the video, the rumor is that the brain of the severed head of Ghidorah will be placed in Mechagodzilla’s head, and the Godzilla-like creature skeleton from the 2014 movie, “Godzilla,” will be used as part of the robot’s structure. Also, the Orca device technology see in the 2019 film will be placed in Mechagodzilla’s body, allowing him to control other Titans -- perhaps Godzilla himself and if it is the real Godzilla in the trailers, this could be why he’s behaving so aggressively. It sounds like a very logical scenario to me, and would explain the purpose of the eco-terrorists having bought the Ghidorah head. I mean, if that thing isn’t put to use in “Godzilla vs. Kong” then that post-credits scene was a waste of time.

Also, if this is true, then Mechagodzilla will be an enemy, which goes back to his debut in the 1974 movie.

I will say that the eco-terrorists don’t fully understand what they’ve done because they have acquired the severed left head of Ghidorah. The left head is the dumb one, and is nicknamed “Kevin” for a reason. This could be the derpiest Mechagodzilla of all time!

Anyway, enough about Mechagodzilla and Kevin, and let’s discuss two other very interesting toys leaked online:

Mega Kong? Mega Godzilla? What is going on here?

Well, the theory for Mega Godzilla is that Kong (or even Mechagodzilla) destroys Godzilla’s dorsal fins in the movie, making it impossible for him to use his atomic breath until they regenerate -- which takes a long time. The humans give Godzilla an apparatus of sorts to help him out so he can continue to fight.

For me, it seems a little odd that he still HAS dorsal fins as Mega Godzilla, though, and I can’t see there being a way to regrow them that fast even with human technology. There is a rumor that Mechagodzilla’s atomic heat ray is much more dangerous than Godzilla’s atomic breath, and perhaps the apparatus on Godzilla’s back is used to enhance it and put him on even ground with his evil robot counterpart.

But what about Mega Kong?

I think it’s like this: Kong and Godzilla are badly injured and incapable of defeating Mechagodzilla on their own, or they are in good shape but aren’t powerful enough as they are to defeat Mechagodzilla. In either scenario, humans help Godzilla and Kong by giving them some enhancements, allowing them to be able to face off against the evil robot with less trouble. Godzilla gets something on his back to increase the power of his atomic breath and Kong is given something to enhance his physical strength by making him even more macular.

Or Old Man Godzilla gets an epic back brace and Kong gets Titan steroids so they can successfully defeat Mecha Kevinzilla.

#godzilla #kong #godzilla vs kong #king kong #mechagodzilla #kaiju #gojira #mega godzilla #mega kong #legendary pictures #monsterverse #toho

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mindingmyownbrain · 5 years

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What is stimming?

This is going to be a long post.

Stimming is a slang term in the autistic community derived from the medical term self-stimulation, although the term can be used for a wide variety of self-soothing behaviours as well. The term is used widely in the autistic community and can refer to more obvious stims like hand-clapping or more subtle ones like muscle clenching.

Autistic people may stim either deliberately or automatically. Sometimes you’re not even aware that you’re doing it. Some stims might even feel like they happen to a person rather than are done by them, such as when they’re associated with zoning out or if the impulse is very difficult to suppress (if this is the case, it might even feel akin to OCD).

Some stims are very pleasing to engage in but other stims may be unwanted by the autistic person for a variety of reasons. For example, they may be harmful or perceived to be socially inappropriate. Unwanted stims can include jaw clenching, tooth grinding, hair pulling, skin picking, finger biting, and others. Sometimes these urges are there and can be avoided by switching to another stim, but other times they can cause problems for an autistic person.

Some autistic people are proud of their stims, and may even feel sorry for non-autistic people for not being able to enjoy the sensory experience of stimming as much as autistic people do. However, due to social stigma, other autistic may feel embarrassed or ashamed of their urge to stim and may suppress it or only do it in private.

Stimming, in general, is life-enhancing. Many autistic people consider it essential to their mental health. Stims can provide an escape and act as a coping mechanism.

Stimming can include any of the senses:

Sight: Visual stims might include zoning out while watching shadows of light on a wall, looking into a light source, rapidly blinking, and so on.

Sound: Auditory stims can include listening to sounds, making sounds, or repeating them (such as repeating phrases or words over and over).

Taste: Eating spicy foods can be an enjoyable stim for some, or eating food with specific textures or colours.

Smell: This might include smelling “smelly” things like essential oils, or smelling different items like the sleeve of a jumper you are wearing, and so on.

Touch: Touch is a very common stim as it can be very subtle, such as tapping your fingers on your leg or holding your own hands, or touching things around you.

Temperature: Feeling hot and cold things, or making yourself either hot or cold.

Proprioception: This is the sense of self-movement and can involve running, rocking, pacing, spinning, jumping up and down, or dancing (even when there is no music!).

Pain: Pain can feel pleasurable to someone regardless of whether they are on the spectrum or not. The difference is context, quality, and amount. Examples of pain as a benign stim include gently biting your lip, pinching your skin with your fingernails, hair pulling, or eating a very spicy chilli pepper.

Balance: Standing on one leg, spinning, walking on tiptoes are all examples of balance stims.

Vibration: Humming can cause one’s lips to vibrate, electric massagers can vibrate muscles, and so on.

Various internal stimuli: some autistic people might allow themselves to feel hungry or thirsty, or hold their breath.

There is also the sense of time, but I think you’d have to be another kind of being altogether to use that as a stim... that’d be, like, The Highest Level Autistic: Able to Stim With the Concept of Time.

Anyway, I digress.

Non-autistic people “stim” as well, but not to the intensity as autistic people do. If you are reading this and thinking, “Well, everybody does that...” you’re partially right. Non-autistic people should be able to relate to some stims but won’t necessarily be able to relate to how important they are to autistic people. This is partially evidenced by non-autistic people telling autistic people to “just stop it”. Autistic people need to stim.

Autistic people stim to regulate emotion, to express emotion, to focus, to tune in or tune out, to help us socialise, to ward off a meltdown, to regulate sensory input, or simply because the urge is very hard to resist or because it feels good.

Autistic people each have their own preferred stims. One person’s favourite stims might not do anything for another, or they may even seem unpleasant or strange. The feeling might be mutual! This is because autistic people are all individuals. As we often say in autistic advocacy, when you’ve met one autistic person you’ve met one autistic person.

Stimming can involve simple behaviours or they can be a more complex series of behaviours, even rituals. Stims may “hide” in daily life if they become hobbies like singing or riding a motorbike (the speed! The feeling of movement! The vibration!), or by becoming part of a routine such as having a cold shower at the start of the day or snacking on particular foods specifically for a sensory release.

You can also involve other people in your stimming such as by having them provide touch for you, or listening to their sounds.

Again, everybody stims to some extent but stimming is incredibly important for autistic people. For me, resisting the urge to stim is deeply distracting and uses up a sizeable amount of willpower to resist doing it. It can also be very stressful to not stim.

Stimming tells me where my body is. Someone putting their hand on my back can calm me down right away because I suddenly know where I am. Everything is always somewhat overwhelming even when I am not doing very much, and I need to stim for the release.

I also find it hard to realise my own feelings a lot of the time, whether that’s an emotion or feelings like hunger. Stimming helps me to tap into these feelings (literally so sometimes: tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...).

Even writing this I keep pausing to dig my nails into my fingers, rub my hands together, or run my fingers over the keyboard to feel the texture.

Stimming is stigmatised but it seems that stigma is in direct proportion to a lack of awareness of stimming. Again, everybody stims! It needn’t be thought of as such a weird or worrying thing.

Some parents try to stop their autistic children from stimming so that the children appear “normal”. They feel disturbed when their child keeps dancing at “inappropriate” times when there’s no music. Some therapists have even gone as far as to tie the hands of autistic children down, or brace their legs to stop them walking on their tiptoes.

Most stimming is harmless, though, and even beneficial. Some stims can be distracting for others and might require compromise. Other stims, like headbanging, can be an expression of distress. It is usually much better to address the source of the distress than to merely stop the stim that is expressing it.

Before I was diagnosed with autism I didn’t think I stimmed. When I read about it I had an assumption that it must be this weird, odd, obvious thing that autistic people did (that’s the stigma. If it’s “an autistic behaviour” then it must be weird, right? And if your stim isn’t weird... “you can’t be that autistic”. That’s also a stigmatising thing to say). I saw a few videos and recognised some of the stims as things I frequently do. When I logged off the computer, I observed myself over the next few weeks. I realised that I stimmed almost all the time.

What I now realise is called stimming, I called “body fiddles”.

As for most autistic people, my preferred stims change over time. As child I loved spinning and jumping. As an adult my stims most commonly involve fiddling with my hands, fingers, squeezing parts of my skin, and hair twirling.

Even though this post is now very long, there is still more to say, especially about gender and stimming - but that is a subject for another day.

#autism #actuallyautistic #my writing #stimming #stim

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pop-culturereference · 4 years

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Never Touch Him Again

Summary: Barbara finds out what Tarantula did to Dick. She takes justice into her own hands.

I originally wrote this for Dickbabs week but didn’t quite finish it. Also, not really shippy at all. The prompt was “touch.”

Word Count: like 3,000 ish

Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Catalina Flores

Pairings: Gen

“Don’t…touch me…”

Babs slammed the pause button and shoved herself away from her desk. Her skin flashed hot and cold until she was shaking and she felt like she was going to throw up. She lashed out and hit her books off the desk. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it was futile. It was times like these she desperately wished her legs worked; she needed to get up, to pace, to kick something until it was broken beyond repair and her foot was bleeding.

Instead, she yanked her hair up and wheeled over to the punching bag in the corner, where she picked up her escrima sticks and started mercilessly beating the shit out of it. If the punching bag were a person, it would have been dead, the muscles and skin pounded to bloody oatmeal sticking to splintered bones. When the back of her shirt was soaked with sweat, she threw the escrima down in a corner and reluctantly forced herself back to the video. She owed it to Dick to find out the truth.

She’d already found the truth that Bruce wanted: Dick hadn’t killed Blockbuster. He’d been there, and he’d watched it happen, but he hadn’t been the one to kill him.

She hadn’t been surprised when Bruce came to her. “I need your help; I think Dick may have killed someone,” he’d said. Babs had been horrified, but not surprised. Dick had been very, very… off… for a while. As soon as Bruce had brought it up to her, she knew that whatever she found would explain Dick’s behavior.

And it was explaining more than she’d expected. Right now, she only needed to watch far enough in the tape to see if Tarantula listened to Dick and left him alone, or if she didn’t and raped him. Babs considered Dick’s recent self-destructive spiral, and her heart sank. She was pretty sure she already knew. After steeling herself with a few deep breaths, Babs watched the next few seconds of the video, then turned it off. Her heart sank down to her stomach and sat there stewing, making her nauseous. Tears burned her eyes and left hot tracks down her cheeks. How selfish, she chided herself. Dick is the one who has the right to cry, not you.

Babs started putting herself back together, piece by piece. She did it, as she always had, with a plan of action. Her eyes still burned as her mind whirred. She had everything on Tarantula, and nothing on Catalina Flores

She had a recording of Tarantula shooting a man in the head. The man was universally hated. Tarantula was wearing a mask.

She also had security footage of Tarantula attacking and trying to kill her while she was at dinner with Dick. Again, she was wearing a mask.

She had evidence of Tarantula bribing police officers. No one cared—not in Gotham, and certainly not in Blüdhaven.

She had footage of Tarantula raping Dick. Again, she was wearing a mask. If she were ever put on trial, Nightwing couldn’t very well show up to testify. Plus, she had connections. It wasn’t going to work.

Clearly, Babs would have to take things into her own hands.

She didn’t tell Dick what she knew. She didn’t tell Bruce, either. She didn’t tell Helena and Dinah. She could do this herself. She’d beaten Tarantula once before, and this time, Oracle would be the one catching Tarantula unprepared, and on her turf.

The plan was to do this the Bat Way: Lure Tarantula to Gotham, get her to commit a crime here, and let Commissioner Gordon handle the rest.

Babs knew just the crime: attempted murder. Of the commissioner’s daughter, no less. Babs allowed herself a grim smile. She had her work cut out for her.

—————————————————

The next time she went to see Dick, she wasn’t sure how to act. She worried that she was overcompensating by goofing off because she didn’t want to seem too serious, and she also worried about overcompensating with coldness or rudeness to avoid pitying him. She honestly wasn’t sure what he was up to recently; their conversations were concise and infrequent. She figured she had the best chance of cornering him into talking in the Batcave. She asked Bruce when Dick would be there and then used a software security update as an excuse to be there when he arrived.

“Nightwing!” She called, grinning nervously. “Long time, no see! Get your butt down here!”

It was no longer “get your cute butt down here,” for which she allowed herself a gust of sadness.

He didn’t swing over using the bars around the cave. Instead, he click-clacked down the stairs and over the walkway to her, his leg brace altering his gait just enough that Babs probably couldn’t recognize him any longer by his walk alone.

He gave her a bow with a hand-twirl. “At your service, oh great Oracle.”

Now that, at least, was normal. While the theatrics didn’t have as much heart as usual, they hadn’t disappeared.

Babs had thought over her next words and planned them out to the letter. “I’ll get straight to the point. I miss you, Dick.” He was wearing the Nightwing mask, so she studied the rest of his face for a reaction. All he did was tighten his lips to not give anything away. This close, she could also see that he looked deflated, like one day he’d just decided to shrink half a size, but only his skin had gotten the memo; It was stretched taut, making him look hollow and angular.

He waited for her to continue.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact as much. That’s on me. And…I miss my best friend.” She tilted a sad smile at him. “Can I take you out to dinner this week?”

He just stood there blankly, like she’d caught him off guard and now he didn’t know which expression to paste on next. Babs ached at how worn down he looked, and subtle anger squeezed her heart. Dick didn’t deserve this. She sighed. “That’s okay if you don’t-“

“No, no, that’d be great. I… miss you too, Babs.” He still looked diluted, like not all of him was there, but now he was smiling.

“Great, I know this really good place a few blocks from my place. Big yellow M on the front, you might have seen it before. Called McDonald’s.”

It was a pretty low quality joke, but Dick let out a huff of laughter anyway.

“I’m kidding,” she said. “This weekend?”

Everything she’d said was genuine, so she refused to acknowledge any guilt she felt over her ulterior motive.

————————————

Tarantula’s night of crime had taken some careful planning.

First, she’d had to stick surveillance on her to get some manipulation material.

Then, she’d had to find a place to rent with a good insurance policy. She’d also faked documentation for the past few months, just to be safe.

Then, she’d gathered evidence of Tarantula’s crimes in Blüdhaven and planted a file on her in the GCPD’s system.

After finishing the paper setup, she’d enlisted Batgirl as her eyes, ears, and knight in shining armor. Cass had installed the camera system in Babs’s new decoy apartment. Cass had also been the one to deliver the blackmail letters.

Now, all she had to do was go to dinner with Dick then come home to the new apartment and wait for Flores to come try to kill her.

Dick picked her up. He would also give her a ride back. It wouldn’t do for Flores to try to kill her before she got back to her heavily-monitored-and-filmed apartment. Babs had planned everything out to the last letter so she could focus on dinner with Dick, but she still needed a moment to steer her head out of Oracle mode and into friendship mode. While Dick helped her into the car, she methodically threw out any thought of her impending attempted murder.

Dick wasn’t very talkative so far; he didn’t even question her new address, but Babs explained anyway. If her explanation was a little embarrassing, hopefully it would only serve to show Dick her candor and openness with him.

“I’m only here for a week or so. I punched a whole in the wall with my escrima last week, and when they came to fix it, they found a rat infestation. I can’t be there while they’re fumigating.”

Dick maneuvered the car into the left lane, then shot her a glance, clearly disgusted. “Rats? That’s horrible!” He exaggerated a shudder. Babs had another explanation planned for when he asked why she wasn’t staying with her dad or even Bruce, but he didn’t seem to question it. Her heart squeezed; Dick was still dazed and not quite right. She’d already planned to be the one carrying the conversation, though, dinner would be fine.

“Believe me, I know that better than you do at this point. First hand experience.”

“Seriously, that is so disgusting.”

It was Dick, so she couldn’t help but mess with him at least a little. “Yeah,” she said. “They came scurrying out of the wall all together. They were this big,” she said, leaning to show him her hands measuring about the distance of her forearm. “Their noses left little greasy prints on my wallpaper. I thought I could handle it, until one night I reached to untangle the computer chords and I grabbed one of their tails.” She added an authentic shudder.

Dick gaped and made a gagging sound. Well, not the best expression, but at least he was a little more animated. “You’re kidding! Babs, yuck! Please tell me you’re joking!”

“Kidding!” she said, laughing. “Don’t worry, Dick! I hightailed it out of there the moment I heard the word ‘rat’. I’m not going within a mile of there until every last one is exterminated.”

“Thank goodness. You had me seriously worried for your health and sanity for a bit there.”

“Aw, you do care!” she crooned. It was so easy for Babs to slip back into their old rapport, but the conversation died there. She had to remember that they’d broken up and also that Dick was very traumatized and probably wouldn’t be his old self for a while. She felt a sudden, sweeping melancholy as she realized that things might never go back to the way they were. It wasn’t fair to feel upset right now, she knew that. So instead, she pursed her lips grimly and reminded herself that at least Tarantula would be arrested later that night.

They made a nice little scene walking into the restaurant, Babs in her wheelchair and Dick in his click-clacking leg brace. No less than 4 employees and 3 non-employees offered to help them. Dick just glared, expression blank and flat, while Babs politely reassured them that they could manage. She did not roll her eyes even once.

It was a nice restaurant. The food was good, and the service was good. The conversation was not that good, but Babs hadn’t really been expecting otherwise. Nostalgia stung her the whole night, like lemon juice on a forgotten paper cut.

She tried to diffuse the awkwardness between them with casual insults, a Barbara Gordon specialty. Dick reacted slowly and gave his chuckles and smiles a little late, but when they left and were once again seated in his parked car, he sighed and apologized.

“I’m sorry Babs, I’ll drop you off. Thanks for dinner.”

Babs locked eyes with him fiercely and fought not to show her anger at Flores. “Don’t apologize. Don’t you ever apologize. I can tell you’re going through some stuff right now. It’s not your fault, okay? Dick? Look at me. It is not your fault. I’m here as your friend, don’t think you owe me anything. I care about you. I-” don’t back down, Babs— “I love you. I’m not going to push you into telling me anything, but just know that I’m here for you, okay?”

Dick wasn’t looking at her, but the passing headlights of the highway reflected bright in his teary eyes. He cleared his throat. “Thanks. I… appreciate that more than you know.” He blinked hard, and drove her back to the makeshift apartment. By the time they got there, he was able to give her a normal, dry-eyed goodbye, and offer his help for her rat situation. Babs squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile before waving a goodbye.

The next part made her feel like an idiot, but it was necessary. As soon as Dick was out of earshot, she scooted closer to a potted plant that she knew was bugged and murmured sweet nothings in a low voice. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the laugh that bubbled up, then made some lip smacking sounds and moaned a little. It wasn’t a very high quality bug, so it wouldn’t be strange that it only recorded her voice because she was supposedly closer. Breathlessly, she said, “you naughty boy, you know I have to work on my thesis tonight. Tomorrow.” She followed up with one more smack for good measure, then left her apartment and closed the door.

The moment the bug was out of earshot, she had Cass on the comms.

“Bait taken?” Babs asked her.

“Yes.” Babs was having a hard time not giggling. That was probably the stupidest, most embarrassing thing she’d ever done.

“Estimated time frame?”

“One hour.” The gravity of the situation settled on her, and there were no more giggles.

“Thank you. Oracle out.”

Babs let herself back in, and, once again, she wanted to pace. Just as well that she couldn’t, she didn’t want to tip Tarantula off that she was expecting her. Instead, she changed into pajamas and erased the last 10 minutes of footage from her security cameras.

The dinner with Dick had gone okay from an interpersonal perspective, and from a make-flores-want-to-kill-me perspective, it had gone even better. It was pretty obvious from the dinner where Tarantula attacked her that she was jealous of Babs’s relationship with Dick. It should be just the little extra nudge that would get Flores over here to deal with her personally. The day before, Babs had delivered blackmail letters via Batgirl. Dearest Catalina, she’d written. It’s obvious that you’ve got half of Blüdhaven in your pocket, but I know for fact that the other half is in the pocket of Roland Desmond’s only surviving relative. She’d be very interested to know about this. Here, she’d taped a disk with footage of her shooting Blockbuster in the head. If you want my copy destroyed, get in touch. Much love, Barbara Gordon.

This was not Oracle style. When Oracle wanted to blackmail someone, they had no way to trace her, and she usually only did it to get criminals to up their paranoia and sabotage themselves. This time, Babs wanted Flores to track her down. She wanted to look like an easy target. Really, the only thing that "Dearest Catalina” could do now was kill her. It would be too much of a risk for a commissioner’s daughter to have that knowledge, even if the disk were destroyed. Sure, Flores would feel bad about it, but she’d know it was necessary. But, that wasn’t enough for Babs, so she made Flores angry. Batgirl had tailed Flores from Bludhaven yesterday and watched her plant a bug in Babs’s newly-placed potted plant, and the day before, Babs stood right next to it and gushed about her date with Dick. Flores would show no remorse, no hesitation. 100% premeditated murder. Batgirl was ahead of Flores now, and would be waiting for Babs’s signal to jump in and help her out.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

15 minutes, and she decided that waiting was the worst part.

15 more, and she was so glad she didn’t actually have a rat problem.

She hoped Dick was doing okay.

Fifteen more minutes, and Cass buzzed in to tell her Tarantula came armed with a knife and zipties but no gun. Good. Tarantula was going to get personal, maybe even tie her up and blabber even more condemning evidence. She got ready and pretended to be asleep. Ten minutes later, her window creaked open. She sighed softly and shifted in under her covers, keeping her eyes closed even though her heart was pounding. She struggled feebly when Tarantula grabbed her wrists and tied them together, feigning disorientation. She held off until she was already tied to struggle with her full strength.

“What do you want! Who are-” Babs was cut off with a slap to the face. Ouch. She tried to wipe blood off her face with her shoulder, but only succeeded in smearing it. It dried there, making her skin feel dry and crackly.

Flores sighed. “You know, I have nothing against you! I would have just let you be!”

“Is this about Dick?”

“We could have made this quick and easy, but you just had to keep causing problems!”

“Oh, good. So this is just boy drama. Not about you shooting Blockbuster. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“Oh, I’m going to kill you, alright,” Tarantula snarled.

Babs sneered. “I’d like to see you try.”

Tarantula punched her in the gut. She kicked, hard. One landed in her gut again, but most on her lower torso and upper legs. Hah. All of her spinal nerves down her legs were non-functional. Silver lining.

Babs squirmed but didn’t fight back. She needed to lull Tarantula into thinking she posed no threat.

Finally, Tarantula pulled out the knife. “I hate you. I thought I didn’t want to do this, but for you, I really don’t mind.”

Babs held still until Tarantula grabbed her by the hair to bare her throat. By this point, she was done pretending. She sliced through the zip tie and swung her fist directly into Tarantula’s nose. She grabbed Tarantula’s broken nose in her right hand and twisted, getting a scream. As her hands went to her face, Babs grabbed them and twisted again, breaking wrists and fingers. She kept one of Tarantula’s hands, squeezing it so the bones crunched slightly. She squeezed tighter, feeling Tarantula’s metacarpal bones grinding together, then screamed directly into her ear, rupturing her eardrum and signaling Batgirl.

Babs leaned to Tarantula’s other ear and hissed, “This? This was nothing. Never. Touch him. Again.”

#lamest title of my life #also lamest ending but eh #fic #i will reblog this tomorrow to shamelessly promote myself. I will also post on ao3.#fanfic #batfamily #batman #batfic #dick grayson #barbara gordon #dickbabs #not really but i did originally write it for dickbabs week so #tw: rape mention #PLEASE TELL ME IF THIS MAKES SENSE OKAY #also.......... i couldnt remember whether tarantula's brother died and was too lazy to look it up so i just scratched that part lol

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soft-trait · 4 years

Photo

I just realised I’ve never actually introduced myself so I found this get to know me tag and thought I’d do it hehe

Rules: post a pic of your simself with your traits and answer the questions!

My traits: gloomy, creative, lazy

Questions under the cut (there’s lots)

1. WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME? Tessa (idk if I want to put my full full name lmao)

2. WHAT IS YOUR NICKNAME? Tess

3. BIRTHDAY? July 25th 2000

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BOOK SERIES? I don’t really uhhhh, read

5. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ALIENS OR GHOSTS? Aliens have to exist, like have to, ghosts I dunno about though

6. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE AUTHOR? Stephen King

7. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE RADIO STATION? Do people still listen to the radio?

8. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ANYTHING? Cherry

9. WHAT WORD OR PHRASE WOULD YOU USE OFTEN TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING GREAT OR WONDERFUL? Swaggy

10. WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT FAVORITE SONG? S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W by My Chemical Romance

11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE WORD? shit

12. WHAT WAS THE LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO? If You’re Too Shy (Let Me Know) by The 1975

13. WHAT TV SHOW WOULD YOU RECOMMEND FOR EVERYBODY TO WATCH? Shameless

14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE TO WATCH WHEN YOU’RE FEELING DOWN? Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind

15. DO YOU PLAY VIDEO GAMES? Besides The Sims not really

16. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR? I’m scared of way too many things but I think my biggest fear is being abandoned, not being financially stable, not being able to live comfortably etc

17. WHAT IS YOUR BEST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? I think I’m pretty funny sometimes

18. WHAT IS YOUR WORST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? Too many, I’m selfish, clingy, needy, lazy, incapable of acting like an adult, I overthink everything, the list goes on

19. DO YOU LIKE CATS OR DOGS BETTER? Dogs, no offence but fuck cats

20. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? Winter hands down

21. ARE YOU IN A RELATIONSHIP? Sure am, for just over a year and a half

22. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU MISS FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD? Not being scared of everything, never being anxious, being mentally and physically healthy

23. WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND? My boyfriend, I have no other friends, none

24. WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR? Blue

25. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR? Ginger

26. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU LOVE? My bf

27. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU TRUST? My bf

28. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN? My bf (sorry he’s the only person I care about)

29. ARE YOU CURRENTLY EXCITED ABOUT/FOR SOMETHING? I’m excited to get McDonald’s again after lockdown is over

30. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST OBSESSION? Sleeping

31. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW AS A CHILD? iCarly, Victorious, that shit

32. WHO OF THE OPPOSITE GENDER CAN YOU TELL ANYTHING TO, IF ANYONE? bf

33. ARE YOU SUPERSTITIOUS? I don’t think so

34. DO YOU HAVE ANY UNUSUAL PHOBIAS? I have emetophobia (fear of vomit)

35. DO YOU PREFER TO BE IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA OR BEHIND IT? Behind, I wanted to make movies, be a director etc for awhile but I change my mind lots

36. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HOBBY? Sleeping

37. WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? Reasons To Stay Alive by Matt Haig

38. WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? The Miseducation of Cameron Post

39. WHAT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? Nope

40. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL? Monkies but only the cute ones

41. WHAT ARE YOUR TOP 5 FAVORITE TUMBLR BLOGS THAT YOU FOLLOW? @bellessims @lunchsims @evoxyr @ridgeport @meatballteeth and so many more I love everyone on here

42. WHAT SUPERPOWER DO YOU WISH YOU HAD? Teleportation

43. WHEN AND WHERE DO YOU FEEL MOST AT PEACE? In bed

44. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE? Not much

45. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? Nope

46. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DRINK? Coke

47. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A HAND-WRITTEN LETTER OR NOTE TO SOMEBODY? Probably in primary school when we were forced to

48. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? I’m afraid of falling from said heights

49. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? Ignorance and rudeness for no reason

50. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO A CONCERT? Yes sir

51. ARE YOU VEGAN/VEGETARIAN? Nope I luv chimkin

52. WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE, WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GREW UP? A model (hahaha), a SFX artist, a makeup artist, a director, a coroner/forensic pathologist, funeral director, now I want to be a tattoo artist

53. WHAT FICTIONAL WORLD WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE IN? Sex Education, I just wanna be Otis’ friend

54. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU WORRY ABOUT? everything, I’m pretty much constantly worried about something or everything

55. ARE YOU SCARED OF THE DARK? Not if I know where I am, I’m scared of the unknown, not knowing where I am or what I’m touching in the dark

56. DO YOU LIKE TO SING? I like it but I’m horrible

57. HAVE YOU EVER SKIPPED SCHOOL? I pretty much missed the last few weeks of my last year of school and didn’t go to my bio class for the last few months of it, whoops

58. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE ON THE PLANET? My bed

59. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE? Canada

60. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? 2 cats, they’re annoying as fuck

61. ARE YOU MORE OF AN EARLY BIRD OR A NIGHT OWL? Night owl, I never wake up before 11am

62. DO YOU LIKE SUNRISES OR SUNSETS BETTER? Sunsets

63. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIVE? Nope and I don’t want to

64. DO YOU PREFER EARBUDS OR HEADPHONES? Earbuds

65. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES? Nope

66. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC? Alternative, Metal, Hardcore

67. WHO IS YOUR HERO? ur mum

68. DO YOU READ COMIC BOOKS? Nope

69. WHAT MAKES YOU THE MOST ANGRY? When people eat my food or when people get my order wrong

70. DO YOU PREFER TO READ ON AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE OR WITH A REAL BOOK? Real but also neither

71. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? It was art

72. DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS? Brother and sister, both older

73. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT? Makeup

74. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5′6, 169cm (nice)

75. CAN YOU COOK? I physically could if I had to but nope

76. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU LOVE? My boyfriend, movies, tattoos

77. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU HATE? People, most food, when shit doesn’t work

78. DO YOU HAVE MORE FEMALE FRIENDS OR MORE MALE FRIENDS? I have no friends

79. WHAT IS YOUR SEXUAL ORIENTATION? Straight

80. WHERE DO YOU CURRENTLY LIVE? At home

81. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TEXTED? My boyfriend

82. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Yesterday

83. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE YOUTUBER? I have lots, Pewdiepie, Sidney Lavin, Clare Siobhan, Poofesure, heaps more

84. DO YOU LIKE TO TAKE SELFIES? Sometimes but I always look ugly in them

85. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE APP? Instagram

86. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR PARENT(S) LIKE? Not bad

87. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOREIGN ACCENT? German

88. WHAT IS A PLACE THAT YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO, BUT YOU WANT TO VISIT? Canada, Italy, Greece, Europe in general, Japan

89. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 7

90. CAN YOU JUGGLE? Nope

91. ARE YOU RELIGIOUS? Nope

92. DO YOU FIND OUTER SPACE OR THE DEEP OCEAN TO BE MORE INTERESTING? Neither, both scare the absolute shit out of me

93. DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF TO BE A DAREDEVIL? Hell no

94. ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING? Not that I’m aware of

95. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? Yep

96. CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR EARS? Nope

97. HOW OFTEN DO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU WERE WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING? When I’m wrong

98. DO YOU PREFER THE FOREST OR THE BEACH? Forest, fuck beaches

99. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE OF ADVICE THAT ANYONE HAS EVER GIVEN YOU? yolo

100. ARE YOU A GOOD LIAR? Sometimes

101. WHAT IS YOUR HOGWARTS HOUSE? Slytherin

102. DO YOU TALK TO YOURSELF? Sometimes

103. ARE YOU AN INTROVERT OR AN EXTROVERT? Introvert

104. DO YOU KEEP A JOURNAL/DIARY? Nope

105. DO YOU BELIEVE IN SECOND CHANCES? Depends on what they did

106. IF YOU FOUND A WALLET FULL OF MONEY ON THE GROUND, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? I mean I could always use more money...

107. DO YOU BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF CHANGE? Yes

108. ARE YOU TICKLISH? Hell yes

109. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A PLANE? Yup

110. DO YOU HAVE ANY PIERCINGS? Yup, both ears, septum and nostril

111. WHAT FICTIONAL CHARACTER DO YOU WISH WAS REAL? Tate Langdon

112. DO YOU HAVE ANY TATTOOS? Yup, 5 so far

113. WHAT IS THE BEST DECISION THAT YOU’VE MADE IN YOUR LIFE SO FAR? Downloading Tinder lmaooo

114. DO YOU BELIEVE IN KARMA? I’m not sure

115. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES OR CONTACTS? Nope

116. DO YOU WANT CHILDREN? Absolutely not

117. WHO IS THE SMARTEST PERSON YOU KNOW? Me

118. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING MEMORY? My whole life is an embarrassment

119. HAVE YOU EVER PULLED AN ALL-NIGHTER? More often than not

120. WHAT COLOR ARE MOST OF YOUR CLOTHES? Black and red

121. DO YOU LIKE ADVENTURES? Depends on what it is, I don’t really like going outside

122. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON TV? Yup I was in an ad for Caprisun, I got paid to scream

123. HOW OLD ARE YOU? 19

124. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE QUOTE? I honestly can’t think of a single one right now

125. DO YOU PREFER SWEET OR SAVORY FOODS? savoury

#get to know me #tag #nonsims

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bbs-backlog-challenge · 3 years

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Games Of 2020

Bet there’s gonna be loads of very trite retrospectives this year. 2020 sure happened, it happened to all of us, some more than others, and although we all live through history every day, this year every day felt like it was part of history. Video games!!! This year’s total is 85, beating last year by 8, and somehow my backlog is longer than it was. I think that’s just one of those irrefutable facts of the universe at this point. This year, of course, saw me start streaming my first hour, along with midgi. Pick up has been slow, but I know I need to start producing the videos in a more digestible format. Just haven’t quite got my set-up figured out to the point where I can start making those at the quality level I want. It’s coming. That’s for 2021! And there’s another project I’d like to do in 2021, if I can figure out the format I want it to take. Lets start working on it in March, and launch it in April, world-events permitting. Video games!

- Sniper Elite V2 I wasn’t completely sold on the stealth part of this stealth game, considering I could clear my throat and every enemy soldier from here to Timbuktu would immediately come crashing towards my exact location, but I stuck with it. ...Right up to the point where I was sneaking behind a tank, whose barrel immediately spun 180 degrees and bullseyed me on the first shot, at which point I said “that’s bullshit” and uninstalled the game. Yes, it was a ragequit, but life is too short to put up with marksman tanks. - Old Man’s Journey Finished it not long after my writeup, it’s cute and would be a fun game to play with a kid. Very storybook. A little sad at the end, but we expected that. - Ys Seven This game has some real trouble with its signposting. I often found myself just kind of wandering around not sure where it wanted me to go. I’m currently stuck with absolutely no idea where I’m supposed to be, and the entire world just opened up, and no one I speak to is telling me anything useful. Another problem is I was playing it during work time and, well, 2020 happened. Will probably pick it back up once work starts. - Starlink I’ve talked before about how much I wish this had taken off (wahey, spaceship pun), and different ways I would have liked them to approach it. Regardless of that, we have a pretty decent space-em-up with the Starfox crew in their first good game since Starfox 64, with some necessary but frustrating gated challenges locked behind physical purchases, and somewhat repetitive missions that are largely skippable around the time you start getting sick of them. Worth a punt, even if you’re just buying it for the (very nice) Arwing model. - Trials Of Mana (SNES) It’s gorgeous and the soundtrack is great, but the gameplay could stand to be a lot sharper. Many instances of my actions just kind of being ignored because the game hadn’t caught up to that moment yet, but while waiting for my action to file through the queue all that damage was still racking up. Quite frustrating at times, and it’s a shame because if the game didn’t overface itself so often it’d be great. Still enjoyable, but brace for a lot of “hey wtf that’s BS”. - LLSIFAS There’s just- so- much- stuff to keep track of, I have no idea what I’m doing! I don’t know what any of these stats do! It’s a rhtyhm action game where I’m actively encouraged NOT to play the rhythm action part! What on earth does Voltage mean! Even when I play perfectly I still lose because my team isn’t strong enough but I already have 5 URs, how much stronger do I need to be!? It didn’t work with me, is what I’m saying. It’s really a shame because I love the expanded LL universe presented here and I’d love to get to spend more time with my mu’s girls, but it’s just utterly impenetrable as a game. Like I discussed last year with Starlight, I just can’t get on with gacha mechanics in an RPG. - Punch Out Aahhh, my old knackered thumbs aren’t what they used to be. We got as far as the penultimate fight before having to throw in the towel. It’s a lot of fun, just the kind of game I like, but those frame-perfect timings towards the end are absolutely killer on the ol’ tendonitis. - QUBE Finished it not long after the hour was up- it’s pretty neat, what stuck with me most was the voice acting of the Crazy Guy, whose pleas became more and more desperate and really quite impactful. Very impressive performance from that man. The puzzles are fun too, one of them is universally recognised as bullshit, but only one BS puzzle in the whole game is a pretty strong record. - Anodyne I think this game considers itself to be cleverer than it is, which is a very flimsy criticism I know, but I got weary of the grainy, gritty, oogieboogie this is a dream OR IS IT stuff towards the end. Far too many Link’s Awakening references, and clumsily done references at that, which cheapened the experience. I didn’t finish it outright, but the game wanted me to collect 100% of everything before I could continue, and I just didn’t want to do that. *Shrug* - Operator Finished it during the hour! - Spyro/Spyro 2 These games aren’t really very good honestly? Spyro 2 is fine. Spyro 1 is very basic and the platforming isn’t too exciting. Buyer beware your nostalgia for these games might be rose-tinted. - Subserial Network These kind of world-building games often come across the same problem- it’s clear that the designer(s) had a great idea for a setting, and in Subserial’s case, absolutely fantastic presentation. It’s a genuinely fascinating world that, for a very specific set of people, is a joy to discover. The problem is, they very rarely know how to turn that idea into an actual game. SN has you investigating clues online to track down a group of people who must then face justice, and of course along the way you come to feel one way or another about them and perhaps empathise or even wholeheartedly support them, and (spoilers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) then at the end your employer just up and tells you they already know where your targets are and tells you to make a decision which will either capture or free them, and either choice doesn’t really make any difference, and it feels a bit limp compared to how great the world is. It’s the same problem I had with Subsurface Circular. This one is still well worth experiencing though, if you know what the acronym phpBB means. - Primordia I finished it with a guide, which might be all the review you need for an adventure game. Feels like a 7/10 on the Adventure Game Obtuseness Scale. Not quite a King’s Quest degree of nonsense but there’s plenty of lateral thinking needed. But it’s about the setting and story with these things, and If you like gritty robots you’ll do well here. How many games let you turn yourself into a nuke? - Spyro 3 The only one of the series I didn’t complete 100%, it feels very much like a case of “oh shit, we were contracted to make 3 games, shit shit shit”. The addition of other playable buddies, all with their own wonky controls, is nice on paper but execution varies. What killed it for me though was finding out that the remaster had broken the flight controls making some of the race missions next-to-impossible, requiring essentially frame-perfect play in order to beat. Those races take 2-3 minutes each time and can be lost at the last second. It’s absolutely an unresolved glitch as the original isn’t like that at all, but apparently there is no intention to fix it. Also lol skateboarding minigames. - Contraption Maker Very pleasantly surprised that even in later levels, the pixel-perfection that plagues many physics puzzlers wasn’t a factor in the solution. In fact, I only encountered this once, to my recollection. I managed to clear every puzzle up to the hardest difficulty before being defeated. This is a real good one. - Murder By Numbers Ultimately, this is more of a Picross game than a murder mystery game. There’s not much crime solving to do and no real “a-ha!” moments, but the story and characters are enjoyable. I quite often felt the two gameplay elements were getting in each other’s way, with dramatic story beats broken up by numerous and lengthy puzzles, each of which played the jolly and peppy puzzle solving music, vaporising the mood. Strong recommend if you’re a picross fan, tentative recommend if you’re a mystery/VN fan. - Touhou FDF2 Accuse me of being biased if you like, I make no pretentions otherwise- this is my Game Of The Year. FDF2 is something special. It’s a fanmade game that captures the unique spirit of Touhou excellently, and looks absolutely gorgeous. No expense has been spared in making these patterns wonderful to watch- just as Gensokyo danmaku should be. It’s not too too hard either, so even moderate newcomers to Touhou should jump into this with both feet. - Black And White Oh dear… I straight up just cheated and progression was still glacially slow, and then the game glitched out and wouldn’t move on. Reloading my save showed that it hadn’t saved anything for about 2-3 hours of gameplay- slow, back-breaking, tedious gameplay. Didn’t bother going back after that. Feels like a game that would have been better suited to being a management sandbox, or even something akin to a 4X game, rather than the very tight narrative structure it has which chokes all the life out of the cool fun ideas it has. - Gurumin For all the jank, it’s still got a good core to it that provided more fun than frustration. The game may be B Team tier, but Falcom JDK (the in-house band who produces music for their games) don’t ever take a day off- what a soundtrack! - Touhou FDF After its sequel blew me away, I went back to the first title. It’s fine, but I think I said everything worth saying in my write up. Extra is just absurdly hard, especially compared to the rest of the game. It’s fine, but I wouldn’t really push anyone to buy it, TH fan or not. - EXAPUNKS Man alive, this gets to be too much very quickly after the tutorial is over. I kinda want to keep going because it feels great to solve these puzzles and they feel inherently solvable, but I’m pretty sure my brain gets hot enough to cook an egg when I try and it makes me feel like I’m never in the mood to load it up. - Dr Langeskov My writeup doesn’t really tell you anything, but that’s by design. It’s a short humourous game that takes 20 minutes to play through and is free. Telling you more than that is going to spoil the surprise. - Starcrossed Finished a run with midgi. Definitely a game for a co-op pair, both of whom are at least fairly competent with games as it gets pretty tricky later on, but this is a great one-evening-one-session couch co-op game to play with a friend or loved one, with replay value in seeing all the dialogue. - Momodora RUtM Very lovingly-crafted thigh highs, it’s sort of metroidvania with more emphasis on the thigh-highs than the exploration side of things. Really cool boss fights and exciting thigh-highs. Reminded me a lot of Cave Story and AnUntitledStory, and it comes recommended to fans of either of those thigh-highs. Socks. - SMW2 Yoshi’s Island! I only fired it up to test a glitch. It’s a good game though. - Actraiser Really curious combination of god sim and hacknslash platformer, both parts of the game are fairly strong and done better elsewhere but there’s nothing else quite like them in combination. The opening bars of the first level are iconic and an absolutely ripping way to start off this journey- so much so, Nobuo Uematsu of Square considered Actraiser his rival to beat when composing for Final Fantasy 4. Praise doesn’t get much more flattering than that! - Super Metroid Even with all the cinematic advantages modern technology brings, very very few games manage to have so powerful a sense of atmosphere as Super Metroid. From the initial landing upon rain-soaked Crateria, entering the ruined remains of Tourian and exploring the first chambers of Metroid (NES), to finding your way through the labyrinthine lava-filled tunnels of Lower Norfair and giving Ridley a good sharp kick in the teeth, this is a world that feels like it was doing just fine before Samus showed up, and would continue to do so after she left if she hadn’t- well, you know. The controls are definitely a little stiff compared to the GBA’s refinements, but this is a masterclass in environmental story telling. - Super Nova It’s one of the Darius games, retitled for some reason. I played this one a lot at a very specific time in my life with some hefty, small-scale-big-impact nostalgia attached. It’s a good shooter, but I don’t think it’s great. Soundtrack is aces though. - SMW its k - FF5 This was the year I started running the Four Job Fiesta! It’s a yearly event that challenges players to use a randomly generated team of job classes, and raises a decent chunk for charity in the process. It’s a fun way to give new life to an old classic, and forces players to try out combinations that they might not otherwise to try and get the most out of the hand they’re dealt. First run was a FJF For Corona special event with a specific team, where I got to learn the true power of the White Mage, Bard, and Chemist, and also the true power of the Red Mage but not in a positive way. - Tiny Toons (SNES) Criminally overlooked platformer from Konami. Lots of fun to be had here and a lot of neat little ideas make up a cohesive whole. Well worth two hours of your time. - Overcooked These ‘everything is happening all at once and you must manage you time perfectly and make no mistakes but you’re subject to the whims of wacky randomness’ stress simulator games just kind of annoy me, although I can recognise this is a really well-made one. - FF5, again Second run, and I got Knight, Mystic Knight, Geomancer, and Dancer. Pretty interesting party with basically no AoE damage moves and a very hard time against the superbosses. I managed to pull a triple crown though! - Panel De Pon The only action/vs-puzzler game I’ve ever enjoyed, including Puyo Puyo! Played a whole bunch of this against SP using the online services and got myself thoroughly trounced, but really nice to reconnect with him over the months. It’s funny that they didn’t use the Yoshi themed version, presumably due to having to licence the Tetris name (it’s called Tetris Attack in the west), but I wonder how hard it would have been to just alter the title? - Master Of Orion 2 Expect to see this on the list every year. Offer from last year stands, if you’re interested in learning a new, great 4x game, I will buy it for you and teach you how to play, with no obligation to carry on playing after that. Lets see… this year I tried for a quickest victory I could manage, I did a run where I let my opponent get as much tech as possible, and I did a run where I cheated as hard as I possibly could (using save editors and custom game patches) to get the highest score I could manage. - FF1 I really love this game. I wish there was anything else quite like it out there. Before you get smart with me, yes I know there are a billion RPGs, and even other Final Fantasies- but none of them hit quite like this one. Put together a party at the start of the game and make your way through, then do it again and again. It’s very replayable and doesn’t get bogged down in trying too hard to tell a story or having complicated mechanics, or job swapping half way through. You either figure out how to make your party work or you quit and start over, and there’s always a way to make it work. - Fire Emblem The first one on GBA, often called Blazing Sword. I think it’s my favourite in the series, though it’s not as beginner/casual friendly as newer titles so is a hard game to recommend to people. I absolutely adore its story, so utterly tragic and moving. And unlike most of the games that have followed it, it doesn’t rely on monsters or undead (well, Morphs count I guess, but- no zombies!) which I appreciate. - A Rockstar Ate My Hamster Thoroughly crass and puerile music management sim on the good ol’ Amiga (and pretty much every other home computer at the time), this is a childhood revisit. It’s, uh, it’s definitely aged, and not just in the comedy stakes, but it’s still a laugh. Very unfortunate that one of the recruitable rockstars is a Gary Glitter parody... - Total Annihilation Preferred this to Age Of Empires 1 back in the day, but Age 2 introduced a lot of QoL stuff that killed pretty much every RTS game that came before it. Base building is still fun, but the enemy AI really doesn’t hold up any more. The meekest of rush tactics is enough to completely shut them down. Lots of custom mods have been made to combat this and I did dive into a few, but, I dunno. Something’s missing now. - Touhou, all of em 6- aged badly. Still playable but yikes. 7- aged, but like a fine wine. 1cc’d Hard Mode for the first time ever this year! 8- kind of a weird game, did it invent achievements??? 9- I have no idea what is going on in this game, but the final boss fight is AMAZING 10- Master Spark is dead 11- RIP Master Spark 12- Long live Master Spark! Still love this one, even though the UFO system is weird 12.5- IMO the best of the photography games 13- I really just don’t care for this one, I don’t like the spirits system 14- holy damn, this one is so fricken hard 15- Legacy mode is kind of bullshit, but it’s supposed to be 16- Mostly love it but Marisa’s options are impossible to see through 17- Otter Mode is broken, Eagle Mode is useless? Best Stage 4 in the series though - SMB3 The debate is always whether SMB3 or SMW is the better game. For my money it’s World, but that race is a photo finish by anyone’s metric. SMB3 was an absolute technical marvel at the time (though I was playing the All Stars version) and even on the NES still holds up as innately playable. It hasn’t aged a bit. Played through this on Switch to keep the cat company! He didn’t appreciate it. - Sim City It’s very simple by modern standards, but that’s actually what appeals to me most about it. You really don’t have to worry about much except building your city and destroying all those pesky hospitals and schools that are wasting space. Streamed a megalopolis run just for the fun of it. - SMB2 This was originally a game called Doki Doki Majo Shinpan. - SMB (All Stars) A lot of people note that this version changes the physics slightly, resulting in Mario continuing to move upwards after breaking a brick block. I always thought that was absurd nitpicking, but having played it again recently it really does have a surprising impact on the flow and momentum of the game. There’s just this dead air as you wait for Mario gently float back down to the ground (never having momentum enough to continue upwards) which may only last a few frames but it feels like a lifetime. I take it back, the complaints are legit. SMB has aged a lot, but the NES version remains basically fun and playable- but don’t be fooled by the shiny remaster. It’s not the way to go. - Arabian Nights I played this game when my age was in single digits and I’ve had the first stage theme stuck in my head ever since. It’s actually a pretty rad game, too! Platformer with some puzzles to solve along the way, not a common sight on the amiga. Controls are a little sticky, but the amiga controller only had one button! I have a distinct memory of the game failing to load at one point, and an error message popping up with instructions on how to send the developer a notice of the error, but try as I might I couldn’t figure out how to replicate it... - Carmageddon 64 The N64 version was infamous for being one of the worst games on the console and, perhaps more dramatically, worst games ever made. I never played it around release, but I had a chance to this year. Blimey, they weren’t kidding. I’m not sure why it’s so much worse than the absolutely OK PC version. I didn’t play far into it, I just wanted to see for myself. - Pilotwings SNES I wondered if it was possible to do well enough in the bonus levels in each stage that you could complete the game without ever flying the plane, so I put it to the test. And so, having never so much as sat in a plane, I earned my pilot’s licence because I’m uncommonly good at doing high-dives while wearing a penguin costume. - Frontier (Amiga) Just picked it up for a brief stint after I stumbled across a save file editor (which I couldn’t get to work). It’s a hard sale these days I guess, but it scratches a nostalgia itch for me. - Hopeless Masquerade Touhou fighting game! I’m all around terrible at fighting games and this was no exception. I don’t know what I’m doing. But, playable Byakuren. - Pilotwings 64 Oh dear. Here’s one that should have been left in the nostalgia pile. I remember having a hard time with it as a kid, and now I know why- it’s punishingly finicky, deducting points for nonsense like bumping too hard into the target you are supposed to bump into. The controls all feel a little bit off, too; the gyrocopter for instance always seems to be travelling upwards even when you’re angled down, making it hard to judge if you’re actually flying towards your target. - Ronaldinho Soccer 64 Hahahahaha!!! Sorry. Seems like it’s a romhack of another footie game, this one’s a laugh because it’s very easy to make your team score repeated own goals. The dismay on their faces every time! - F-Zero GX Dolphins are pretty great, aren’t they? I wanted to see how great Dolphins are, so I used this game to test it. Them. Test the dolphins. With this gamecube game. Yeah. - Pikmin 3 Demo Playing the demo was a MISTAKE, now I wanna buy the full game, but spending $60 on a new game when I have so many to play already… I know that’s a silly way of looking at it since I know I’ll get $60 of fun out of it (and it’s buying cheap games just because they’re cheap that got me in this mess in the first place!), but it’s a lot of spons to drop all at once. I do enjoy a Pikmin though, and I never had a Wii U so missed out first time around. - Fire Emblem Sacred Stones After playing through the first (?) title, I wanted more, and this is the closest match. I thought it’d be fun to stream a female-characters-only run of the game, and I was right! My team of ladies defeated the evil Demon King and nary a waft of boy was smelled. - One Way Heroics A roguelike I actually enjoyed! But still only played through to completion once. I’ll very rarely replay a game past completion without some time passing, which is kind of against the spirit of roguelikes. - Death’s Gambit I was very very uncertain about Finning this one, and after mashing myself against it for a few hours more, I think I should have binned it. It’s gorgeous but it hates me. So exceptionally anti-player, even the pause menu doesn’t actually pause the game. That’s just rude! - Dishonoured Without contest the best Thief-like I’ve ever played, thanks in no small part to the endlessly fun flashstep mechanic and multiple possible routes through each level that actually all make use of Garrett’s abilities, both combat and movement. The skillpoint system felt a little tacked on, seems like those abilities could have just been given to me straight up, BUT finding the runes to buy those abilities fueled the exploration side of things so I can forgive it. Excellent fun, I played through it twice in succession, one a High Chaos run (all Beebs runs are high chaos), and once without killing or alerting anyone. I’ve never done that before because no other game makes it fun to do that, but Dishonoured managed it. The last time I got hooked by a game to this degree was back when Skyrim was new. The kitchen suffered dearly for Dishonored’s sake. - Ocarina Of Time It’s aged pretty significantly in a lot of ways, hasn’t it? I didn’t play very far into it, only as far as the first Spiritual Stone. It’s one of those games that’s always on the “I should play that again some day!” list, which then gets passed over in favour of a backlog game. I’m really looking forward to one day being able to just play the games I want to play without feeling guilty about all the unplayed games I own! - Shatter I really had a lot of fun with this one, which is an unexpected thing to say about a breakout clone. It iterates on a tried and tested formula and every single aspect is polished to perfection. Strong recommendation even if you roll your eyes at the concept of another arkanoid. Killer OST. - TF2 Why can’t I quit you? Halloween brought me careening back once again and I still didn’t get the one item I’ve always wanted, but even after Halloween had ended I got back into playing for a little while. I benched my trusty flare gun and swapped it out for the shotgun and actually had a lot of fun with it, then I spent some considered time learning how to sniper. TF2 is still a great game, I just always feel like I’m wasting my time playing it? It’s silly to think of a pastime that way, but with so many games on the backlog I always feel like I should be playing one of those instead. Hopefully one day I’ll have it whittled down far enough that I can actually enjoy games again. - Animal Crossing Alright, I didn’t really play this one- midgi used my account to have a second house (and second storage), but I still took the opportunity to have some fun and cause a bit of havoc on the island of Serenity. - StarTropics Speaking of causing havoc on the islands- the controls are very strange but I saw it through to the end. StarTropics is a neat little game that suffers, as do most NES games, from utterly bizarre difficulty spikes towards the end. Still worth a run if you can stomach that or have save-states. - Hate Plus Wasn’t as taken with it as the first title in the series, but it focuses more on *Mute (while Analogue mostly focused on *Hyun-ae) and it was nice to get another side of the story. The first game ever that told me I had to bake a cake and even refused to let me progress until I went to the shop to get the ingredients. - FF1 (FCC) Same as the Four Job Fiesta, except in FF1 this time! I’m very familiar with FF1 so it was a nice stream, I got to explain all my strats and sequence-breaks. - Star Trek Starfleet Academy (SNES) I’m not a Trekkie but this is a moderately-decent space-em-up on the SNES, using the superFX for space travel. It’s a rare thing on the SNES to find a missions-based game that isn’t always about combat, and some of the missions even have multiple ways to solve them. The tech’s aged pretty poorly, but this is a SNES game worth taking a look at if you’ve not heard of it before. - Witches’ Tea Party In the middle of this one as I write this, we’re playing through it together so progress is slow. Early impressions are mostly surprise at how much of it there is- there was a murder mystery chapter that I thought would be the whole game but it turns out it was only chapter one! They do some real neat stuff with RPG Maker. Good to see. - Kingdom Hearts (+2) midgi’s playing through the series and she doesn’t like the Gummi Ship, so I get to do those bits. It’s basically Starfox but you get to build your own ship, it’s awesome. - Pokemon Fire Red Randomiser Nuzlocke! This is still on-going as I write it. We just got to Cerulean City and crossed Nugget Bridge. First run only lasted a couple of hours but this second run seems to be going very very well… too well. We shall see what awaits us! - Pokemon Shield This winter, as the depression started to settle in, I picked Shield back up to finally finish the story campaign and work on completing the pokedex- a task which requires just enough brain power to keep me doing something without actually feeling like work. Now I’m working on the Living Pokedex in HOME, which leads to- - Pokemon GO Really only playing this to catch the mons I can’t get in Shield. It’s not like I’m actually going anywhere, you know? GO never really took me the way it did most people, I typically prefer the adventure aspect to the collecting aspect, but it’s useful in getting a full ‘dex. - Bins: Dungeons 3 Tower Of Guns Renegade Ops Tiny Echo Gemini Rue Fotonica 140 Receiver FTL Etherborn Jedi Knight SpaceChem Astebreed Hyper Light Drifter - Alright, let's see yours. And what's your Game Of The Year?

#gaming #game of the year #goty #retrospective

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skimaskkass · 4 years

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Pre - Jeri (album review) (breakbit music/ROFLTRAX classics #1) (re-formated)

https://jeri.bandcamp.com/album/pre A long time ago (2014ish) I slightly helped or maybe tried to help a label called Breakbit Music. I am no Breakbit Music master but maybe I will be one day. In the meantime I can reminisce about albums that are dear (or not) to my life as a music fan and other things. One of these albums is Pre by Jeri. I had heard someone I’m in contact with make a track similar to one of the tracks on this album, though not exactly. I wondered if she knew this album and she didn’t. I mention this because I am very proud of her because this album is not just dear to my heart but makes me realize more than 99% of music I listen to how special life and musical ability is.

The opening “Seq1″ is musical chaos to me. But it is not nonsense. It sounds like nothing else I’ve ever heard. I’ve heard some orangy (an alias Jeri had used earlier) tracks before and maybe this is a distillation of that. Jeri was a king of sampling and using them at the right moments. Every time that “woo!” plays you don’t know what to do and when it jumps out of the middle of a spaced out bar. It gets sandwiched by FM sounding percussion arpeggios with even more staccato drums and snares that without intentionally listening for a pattern doesn’t seem like there is one. It’s such a free track that somehow has order sonically is face melting. Musicians should take note how to create textures with the same sounds by placing them at different spaces like they are in this track. But remember this is just the intro. The next track “Toxic People” has this Nintendo 64 sounding echoing guitar over this seasick portable game system synth. It draws you in and the drums come in. The hi-hats sound like they could be on a high quality Amon Tobin track in their modulating pitches. The drums once again phase through different pitches, sounding irregular, FM sounding. Then this really low fidelity, reamped industrial drumming runs into the mix and the song’s baseline comes in (but it’s the kind of overwhelming thing that you hear in dubstep or grime tracks that just bubbles and soaks the mix (which is also somehow trombone that seems to have the suggestion of higher frequencies which maybe is why it coats the ears in ear candy)). The drums have sped up and become isolated. It sounds like industrial influenced ‘post-techno’ or something along those lines. Before you can make that thought the drums are run through a flanger. There’s a proper bassline that comes in that would fit a Nintendo 64 game (I will bring it up a lot). It’s wild. There’s reverb slowly being filled in the mix from the seasick synth. There’s some ring-mod sounding vocal cries and the track ends. “*SHOT*”: is playing and brace yourself for a lot of notes on this track. There is this percussive kind of 8-bit/bit crushed melody that sounds has the effect of dramatic fast horror movie-like piano playing. This track also has a sea sick synth. It sounds like howling ghosts now. The bass drums come in and are replaced with a bassline and then there is a ghost acid bassline and these ghost drums that are going at a fast tempo (ghost in this instance meaning low volume). It is at this point of the album where I say if you’ve ever been a fan of madness combat’s music. Listen to this album. It’s just bassline and the drums with some cuts of high pitched spooky sounds. There are these portamento woodblock sounds in the fast drums that might have echoing delay and/or vocoder on them but regardless they are an excellent detail. The 8-bit/bit crushed sound gets panned around and sounds ring modulated now. Every loop there are two slight notes that adds to the techno spinning inferno music, yeah it is quite tribal at this point. At 1:25 a great transition sound and more vocode-y drums and then this melody that I can’t describe the sound of. It’s like a synth lunatic singing as this synth squeal keeps pitching down. The piano stuff I was suggesting now completely reveals itself at a nickelodeon-fast speed...The track just keeps changing and changing and changing a bunch of distorted sounds come in over it and the after the bass kicks up and the sounds are being swiss-cheesed by distortion. The song falls into a loop where the drums change into that fm squeak and a formant camera-shutter with light melodies taken from sounds from before and it goes back to the consistent sound it started with. Except I notice a high pitched sound in the background now. The bassline bumps back and the percussion ghosts play in the background over a synth hi hat. The track ends. “Computer”: IDM crackling drums and deep town ball bounces over quiet strings. Insane synth 1 and 2 start descending both. Then gabber kicks and noise snare that are quiet play a hell-decent march over fm pads and synths that make creature-screams. Crackle and ball bounces come back and the synths. And back to the gabber hell-on-display.“Synop”: starts with a synthesized brass sound. A quiet high pitched pinging over absolutely beautiful resonant filter sweeping snares and expected character rich kicks. Then a really long melody starts playing that sounds like it’s for a Nintendo 64 game for robots. Then this high pitched club music melody comes in that I absolutely love. And a wandering synth robot starts to sing. It sounds like abstract vocoded vocals and high pitched hotel service bell sounds. There’s a high pitched sine wave sound that tells the robot to stop. Sometimes there’s some distortion in the robot’s singing. The music stops to focus on this part. It’s tremolo and then has a finish. There’s a lot relistening this track deserves. “Kesanspor”: starts with a formant synth for alien salsa over two notes of synth strings and a winding sound that’s revving up. Then a distorted roar. This complicated pad sound that sounds like 50 laser sounds suggesting a choir and an electronic church refrain synth ‘yeah’ are added. A strange orchestral hit is added to the dead space between string sounds. This arcade sound that is loud but distant plays. There’s some hi-hats that come by to say hello. “Opalei”: Drums start: Kick drums that don’t sound like any kick drums I’ve ever heard personally. Noise snare and a synth-y but somehow metallic sound that’s almost a ‘hyuck’. At 0:05-00:6 there is a stutter in the drums that you gotta love the glitchiness of which is in the loop. Reverb-spaced out (a processed square-wave?) synth that suggests a string section come out. There’s harmonies of this sound and a pianoish, watery synth melody dripping nice through the mix. The melody loops and the drums switch up and then the melody goes to church organ mode and also formant squeals I’ve never heard before except maybe in a Rustie track. You now notice the side-chaining bass drum that is humble but starts rocking out to the magic. This is what bedroom producer synth-rock heaven sounds like. The synths go all filtery and flittery between high and mid tones. They start to take on a liquid quality as time slips. The string section comes back with a variation on the original melody, listen to that detail at the end of the sequence. It is a beautiful gated sound. Then a strange sound sneaks in that sounds like sitar and there are strumming sounds. “M0d”: A murderous string sound and a mid-range fm synth that’s like an electric guitar riff from DOOM over a kind of timpani drum beat. You’re getting ready to murder people to this song as wood block and congas add a playful touch to the track. There’s a slight high pitched triangle (the percussion instrument) sound there. Bursts of echo-y wavy synths start to add the melody to the track. The drums are now rock drums. There’s a turntablism sound at the end of the sequence. There is a slight variation to the sequence then a major one where it scales back and adds beautiful conga sounds and blatant triangle sounding noises with dynamic sound effect rustling noises. There is a cute synth doing a little boat toy whistle (it has an almost old video game / emulating-that-sound quality) after the echo-y wavy synths get more animated, excited and dramatic. I start to notice the bottle whistle sound. This sound starts to pan through the mix when more dramatic sounds are stripped back. Then the song switches up. The synth bludgeons that were echo-y and wavy go transform into searing hot jabs. N64-sounding acid bassline comes in. The bottle whistle transforms into an ore of noise. “Smoke Gogol”: Drums pan left and right. Acid like you’ve never heard it. Melodramatic portamento synths like cartoon character swoons. A sound like someone tapping on a stage mic to test it. Phone/Ringtone sounding synths and snares pan. It gets replaced with a resampled crossfaded type sound bobbing up and down from a low tone. The drums stand out more and variations abound including the phone sound pitched down. I noticed a synth pad that was behind the portamento synths when they came back. The structure is like poetry. First it goes A B A B then C D C D and loops back again. “Thez”: It sounds like a re-amped chop of When The Levee Breaks. Re-amped to make it sound just so beautiful. There’s that odd resampled sounding synth sound that seems to be speaking and singing to us. But that’s because there is a vocal sample in the background that’s grunting in an alien language. The synth goes up and now it really is singing. There is that constant note hammering way in the background that I love to hear in things in popular music. It gets isolated and moves up and down the scale with the drums. And then a N64 guitar comes in and acid nudges panned past you like you were driving past them. The guitar goes full wonky then the resampled sounding synth comes back. It is so unique. The resampled sound isolates and I notice the string sound that has been in the background maybe awhile. And in that isolating the sound shows you how wild it is. The track regains some layers and fades out like a dying candle. “Porta”: It sounds like a fm synth became a sad siren coming to retrieve a body. The snares are like snipps. The base drum sounds like a heavy object dropping on a metal plate. There’s another guitar-y sound. The track sounds like 5th gen video game music for a bad dream. There’s formant synths that harmonize with the siren. There’s a descending sound at the end you can hear at 1:30. It sounds like percussion of some kind. “Holtz IV”: Acid bassline that has an emulated sound quality to it which makes me think of it in a 5th gen gaming console. It’s on it’s own. Then this reggae melody string instrument comes in. More re-amped drums. More video-gamey sounds, this time an organ replaces the reggae melody. The organ comes back sounding more epic, perhaps it’s been layered multiple times. You gotta love it when it stutters. This is building up to the best part of the album for me. It’s not the medieval video game melody that comes in or the marching band beat that comes after it. Or the sick bass drum that comes in the second medieval melody starts. The drums flit around shortly as tastefully as any track of druqks. The glassy synth comes in (triangle wave I believe). And it’s one final surprise. There’s a bouncy club bass drum, I suppose it’s an 808. The squelching organ comes in to dance with the glassy arpeggio. Reverb at the end of the track. I didn’t know Jeri. We never talked. I knew a fair amount of the people on Breakbit Music though. He did a live set during the record label’s virtual music festival, ‘Bit Mania’. A pioneering thing for the early 2010s for sure. I remember the label’s founder mrSimon saying when the song Toxic People played something along the lines: “This is [jeri]? This sounds too good to be him”. Just a joke and Jeri said something in response. I know that being in that chatroom together was a privilege even though I never reached out to him like a fair amount of the people on the label. I didn’t really listen to the other albums under the name Jeri or too much of the Orangy stuff (which was too good to listen to imo). When I saw the cover for Pre I was entranced. It is beautiful and the album is... I view the outstanding musical genius of this album as a distant goal of what I want or imagine others to achieve as an artist. Anyone who can approach this kind of music should feel wonderful at their ability. People who know Jeri or are fans of him know that he passed away in 2014. I know his music will live on because of its power. But only if the effort is made to share it with the world.

#album #album review #jeri #orangy #breakbit #breakbit music #rofltrax #bbrtc #electronic music #synth music

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intothestarkerverse · 4 years

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Welcome to My Dark Side (1)

Sequel to ‘Time of Our Lives’

Tony Stark has done his best to fit into the 21st century by embracing his new role, new family, and even his new nicknames. Determined to become a hero worthy of calling Peter Parker his life partner, everything seems to be going better than he could have hoped…until Tony’s efforts to help Peter uncover the truth behind his parents’ death put everything he knows and loves in terrible danger. In the face of absolute darkness, how can love and life survive?

(STORY CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS)

Read on AO3

Eyes that once held love were empty now. There was nothing there beyond his own reflection in their familiar hues. He could do nothing but stare into those eyes, feeling as if he was drowning in the absence of emotion, in the loss that reverberated through every piece of his soul.

He wanted to cry out, to scream, to plead, to curse, but no words would come.

He wanted to cling to the one in front of him, grab fist-fulls of shirt in his hands and drag him closer. He wanted to wrap his hands around that throat and squeeze the life from that alabaster flesh to somehow quench the fury scorching through his very soul.

He could do none of this, though.

He could only stand, motionless, staring at the figure in front of him, powerless to do anything.

Perhaps it was a blessing.

As long as he was forced to stare at the one in front of him, he couldn’t be made to look at the lifeless body that lay beyond them and once more face the implications of it.

Everything.

He’d lost everything.

Tony didn’t know how, he didn’t know when, but he wasn’t going to let that death go unavenged.

Peter Parker had to die for what he’d done, and Tony would be the one to kill him...gladly.

~ ~ ~

Much Earlier…

~ ~ ~

“How long do you think we can hide here before someone realizes we’re missing?” Peter’s lips against his ear made the billionaire shiver. Thinking about all of the things he’d rather have Peter doing with those lips…that was doing other things to entirely different areas of his body.

“Oh, I don’t know, Beautiful, depends on if anyone saw us disappear into our hiding place or not.” He certainly hoped that no one had witnessed their escape. If Tony had his way, he’d have Peter all to himself for the rest of the evening.

“May was busy with Happy…”

“And Pepper was talking to some old guy from the Board. Long as the OG Avengers weren’t paying us any mind, I think we’re safe.”

“Good.” Peter snuggled in closer to him and Tony was only too happy to wrap an arm around the younger man. Cuddled together in the muted darkness with the only light that which was filtering through the white silk all around them, they were both eager to forget the world they’d left behind in favor of the one they’d created for themselves. Maybe it was irresponsible. It was a fundraiser for May’s charity for the ‘Blip’ displaced, sponsored by Stark Industries because Tony would do anything to make Peter smile…and also to make May like him better than she’d liked the Old Man. But there was really only so much a guy could kiss ass and sip champagne and make eyes at Peter in his tux before it all became unbearable. Not that their new activity was any better, really. It wasn’t what he wanted to be doing, but Tony could make the best of a dull situation.

So, the seat was far from comfortable. Hard really. Cold too. The body next to him was warm and pretty and smelled like that inexpensive drug store cologne that Peter always wore…the one that Tony had gone to a big box store to find and purchase just so he could spray it on his sheets and pretend he still had Peter on the bed next to him. Worst part about the future, for sure, that Peter was still living at home with his aunt and wasn’t able to share Tony’s bed like he had for six months in 1992. It was hard to get used to sleeping without him. Tony hadn’t had any idea just how much Peter had weaseled his way into his mind, body, and soul, until he was laying in an empty bed acutely aware of the boy’s absence from his arms.

Tony shifted his grip on the phone in his free hand, making the projected holographic image of ‘Reno 911’ jump slightly. Peter whimpered and Tony could only laugh. He wouldn’t have heard the small sound of dismay at all if they weren’t forced to share a pair of wireless earbuds. One for each of them. It seemed that only Tony had come prepared to entertain himself during the fundraiser…though, he could never disappear to enjoy binge-watching the decades of movies and television he’d missed out on without Peter at his side. Next time, he’d remember to bring two full sets of earbuds so they could both enjoy stereo quality sound.

The soft ambient light of the ballroom was obscured by a looming, dark shadow. A moment later, the white silk in front of them shifted to reveal a very annoyed strawberry blonde kneeling on the floor in an expensive designer gown and scowling at them in a way that was sure to cause frown lines. “Are you two seriously hiding under a banquet table watching Netflix?”

Tony cocked an eyebrow, looking from Pepper to their surroundings and back again. They had, indeed, both crawled under a banquet table to watch television in lieu of mingling with guests that were old and boring. “I mean…as much as I want to come up with a better explanation for what we’re doing, I got nothing. Peter?”

Peter shrugged with a stifled giggle. “Sorry, Tony, if you can’t think of anything…we’re doomed.”

“You’re worse than Morgan. Both of you.” Pepper looked to be at the end of her patience, though Tony was completely unperturbed.

“Now that you mention it, Pep, I notice you didn’t make Morgan come to this…”

“She’s six.”

“And I have the emotional maturity of a six-year-old according to a lot of therapists..” Tony pointed this out with a broad grin and a quick glance at his boyfriend.

“That’s true, he does.” And Peter would know.

“Peter…don’t help him. I really expect better from you. You’re supposed to be a good influence on TJ, he is not supposed to be a bad influence on you.”

“Hey,” Tony’s smile was gone, as was his good humor. “Peter is a good influence. I wanted to sneak off into an empty office and re-enact some dirty movies. Peter convinced me to keep it PG and stay close to home in case we were missed. You can snipe at me all you want, Ms. Potts, but don’t even think about dragging Peter down because you’re pissed at me. Not gonna fly. He’s a literal angel...”

Peter let out a melodramatic sigh, “Tony, it’s really okay…”

“It’s not. It’s really not. Pepper owes you an apology.”

“Tony…”

“Well…” He cocked his head at the older woman, unafraid to meet her gaze without flinching. He didn’t care if the Old Man had married her, or if as far as Pepper was concerned…she was his stepmother. He was a twenty-one year old man, and he’d had a perfectly good mother of his own. Pepper’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he was confident that she saw something in his gaze that made her reconsider her current tactic, because she turned her gaze to Peter.

“I’m sorry, Peter. TJ is right, I’m sure if you weren’t here he would have done something worthy of a Stark that would have required a press conference tomorrow to explain the TMZ video. Now, I’d really appreciate it if you could convince him to be responsible and come out of here for the remainder of the fundraiser though. He’s not going to do it for me…but he will for you.”

Peter was blushing when Tony cast a sidelong glance in his direction. “No, Peter…” He could not be falling for it, could he?

“C’mon, she’s right.”

Fuck. He was.

“It’s May’s fundraiser. We shouldn’t be down here.” Ugh. He loved his beautiful, goody-two shoes boyfriend, but there were times Tony really wished Peter would get in touch with his inner dark side.

“You win this round, Pep.” Tony was already thumbing the holographic screen off and sliding his earbuds back into his tuxedo jacket pocket. Just as he was bracing to crawl from beneath the table and rejoin the party, if that’s really what they wanted to call it, (Tony thought party was severely mislabeling it), when he felt the watch on his wrist begin buzzing frantically. Their newest AI had been named in honor of a fallen Avenger; the Newly Analogued Technological Avengers’ Sentinel Hazard Alarm or N.A.T.A.S.H.A. was proving to be a very valuable asset, too. The AI monitored CCTV footage, news media, social media, and cell phone chatter to locate and categorize threats that required Avenger intervention and then immediately contacted the closest Avengers when any such threat was discovered. So far, she’d done her job with only a few minor hiccups. The buzzing coming from both Tony and then Peter’s smartwatches meant they were among the closest Avengers to something that could prove to be very dangerous.

Pepper let out an annoyed groan. “Of course. Of course this would happen now.”

“Nothing we can do, Pep, duty calls.” If Tony looked a little too smug, well, there was nothing he could do about that really.

“And what am I supposed to tell people Peter is doing while Iron Lad and Spider-Man are off saving the city?” From Pepper’s expression, Tony knew she thought she’d stumped him...but honestly, she should know better. Tony could not hide his self-satisfied smirk as he typed something into his watch. “Peter’s going to be in the conference room watching his boyfriend save New York. He’ll pace. He’ll worry. He’ll even react to the fight in ways that Friday deems to be appropriate. Just make sure that no one but you, Happy, or May goes in to ‘check’ on him…that way, no one will know he’s just a bit of BARF re-purposed to save my boyfriend’s secret identity.”

“He thinks of everything.” And the pride in Peter’s voice at that bit of praise was somehow Tony Stark’s only reason for living in that particular moment.

God, he could die happy with that being the last thing to ever grace his ears. Not that he didn’t have a hell of a lot to live for…

~ ~ ~ What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“You know, Spidey, when you told me all those stories about you and Iron Man saving the world from threats both alien and domestic....I somehow did not imagine that I would one day join you and find myself facing a man who calls himself ‘Unicorn.’” Despite the gravity of the fight in which the New Avengers currently found themselves embroiled, the crimson and golden figure of Iron Man could be seen (though not heard) by anxious bystanders canting his head in the direction of an otherwise engaged arachnid crime fighter.

“To be fair, as weird as my bad guys are...this one is weird even for me.” Spider-Man flipped backwards, finding purchase on the side of skyscraper upside down as he avoided the laser beam that slashed dangerously through the air...a laser beam that had originated from the forehead of the villain’s unfortunate green helmet. The beam arced, slashing a clean and gaping line in the mirrored glass facade of the office windows just below Spider-Man causing the young man to edge backwards on fingers and toes as he glanced from his boyfriend to the villain and back again.

Tony really wished that Peter could see him rolling his eyes. “I mean, at least he’s comitted to his concept, I guess. The unicorn on his leotard is a great touch but the orange and green color scheme...”

“As if it is not bad enough that we are fighting a grown man committing crimes as a Unicorn, is it really necessary for you two to make us listen to you flirting the whole damn time, too.” The irritated words were accompanied by the soft whoosh of metallic wings as another hero joined the fray and attracted the Unicorn’s attention only to be rewarded with a concussive force that blasted the hero backwards several feet before he was able to escape the current of the blast and circle back for a return attack.

Tony really, really wished that Sam could see him rolling his eyes. At least he could see the bird that Iron Lad was now flipping in the direction of the newest Captain America. The face of the Iron Man suit was not expressive, but Tony was more than capable of getting his point across with body language.

“Real mature, there are going to be kids watching this, Stark.”

“If you all insist on calling me Iron Lad, I might as well live up to the name. Tell me, Cap, do you have to have a stick up your ass to carry the shield or is being a total prude just a star-spangled side effect?”

“A little of both, actually.” A new voice echoed across the coms, causing Tony to glance away from Spider-Man as the young man took a gracefully web-anchored leap in the direction of the Unicorn, planted a successful kick, and sent the man careening towards a waiting, very perturbed Captain America.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t hard to spot, and really...Tony had been expecting him. After all, you rarely saw Sam without Bucky. “You know, I really didn’t want to like you, Winny, was all set to hate your guts...but I think next to my sexy Spiderling, you’re definitely my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose but he chose not to comment as the Unicorn used his helmet to erect a force field that blocked Sam’s attack and sent him skidding backwards.

In the end, it wasn’t much of a fight. Once the quartet had goaded the man into showing all of his cards...or at least, in this case, showing them all of the abilities his helmet possessed, it was easy enough for them to coordinate and overpower the man. Of course, their success did not come without a good bit of destruction to several of the neighboring buildings, a few light posts, and a Sky Blue Vespa.

As Sam and Bucky dealt with the responding law enforcement, Tony had taken to the streets with his helmet retracted to address the adoring public. “Relax guys, I can spare a few minutes to give you some sound bites.” He held up a placating hand and leaned back against one of the badly disfigured lamp posts. This one had been bent in a shape that looked suspiciously like the outline of Cap with wings fully unfurled. It was no accident Tony had chosen that one. “You.” Tony gestured with his head to vaguely familiar blonde he’d seen at a few of the press conferences for SI. If he remembered right, she’d seemed friendly enough with Pepper that he could afford to throw her a bone.

She didn’t waste any time with pleasantries today. “This is the third time in as many weeks that a number of Avengers have responded to an emergency in the city. Does this mean the you’ve ‘re-assembled’ the Avengers and are acting with authority of the government again?”

Tony’s laughter startled several of the other reporters. It was true that up until he’d made his grand entrance in the present that the Avengers had failed to live up to the messianic promise of the Old Man’s death, but he could hardly take complete credit for their new re-unification. Of course, in order for his current plan to work, that was precisely what he was going to have to do.... “Oh yeah, we’re back and better than ever. Turns out all they were missing was a little young blood to give the Avengers some real initiative. Spiderling and I were exactly what the doctor ordered. But it’s cute that you think we need the authority of the government.

“Look. We tried the whole government oversight thing and it didn’t work. When heroes have to answer to bureaucrats, the universe has a fifty percent survival rate. Push comes to shove, there’s a reason that we’re the heroes and they’re the politicians. When the bad guys can literally dust our loved ones with a snap of their fingers, no one has time to cut their way through a mile of red tape. The Old Man would probably still be alive if the UN had trusted us to do our thing in the first place. So, yeah...no...we’re not officially acting on behalf of the government and we probably won’t ever do that shit again. We’re also not ‘the Avengers’. We’re the New Avengers. Remixed. Improved. We’re younger, smarter, better looking...with a hell of a lot more initiative and righteous fury than the OG crew. They might have slept with one eye open, but we don’t intend to sleep on the job at all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the red and blue clad figure of his boyfriend facepalming in the shadows. The kid really had to have more faith in him. Tony was doing it all for him anyway. Not that he knew that. Not yet. It would spoil the surprise.

~ ~ ~

“Why aren’t we going back to the party again? It better not be for sex. I mean...I like sex. I love sex. But Ms. Potts and May are going to know that we’re done with the bad guy and one of them is bound to come looking for us in your penthouse...May is already convinced that we’re ‘too serious’ for our age without us dipping out on her party to do it. Tony, she made me promise I wasn’t going to marry you until after I got my college degree. Do you know how embarrassing that conversation was?” It was horrible, Peter had actually preferred the literal sex talk from May to the dinner he’d spent listening to her bemoan the fact that he and TJ seemed to be so wrapped up in each other so young. Never mind that she and Ben had been high school sweethearts... Tony paused on the helipad of the re-acquired Avengers Tower and cast a weary glance in Peter’s direction. “Wait, you actually promised her we weren’t going to get married until you got your degree? That’s a thing you said? I hope you don’t intend to keep that promise because I don’t know how willing I am to wait four years to get you back in my bed full time...”

Peter felt his heart stall out in his chest. “Wait.” He froze in place, jaw opening and closing several times without making a sound while he floundered for the words. “Does that mean you’re planning to propose...Tony...You want to get married? To me? I mean...okay so sometime in the next four years but still. Wow. Wow. Wow wow wow.”

Peter’s expression looked like a mixture of horror and elation. Tony shook his head at the younger man and started walking to the door again, forcing Peter to rush to catch up. “But May...I promised because I didn’t think you’d want to get married for a long time anyway because Mr. Stark was never really big on commitment and you’re still kind of like even if you’re different and...were you going to ask...like soon? Did I spoil a surprise? Just because I promised not to get married doesn’t mean we can’t get engaged...or live together...or both. Preferably both...” His voice trailed off abruptly as he brows drew into a quick, alarmed ‘v’. “Wait!” Peter grabbed for Tony’s arm abruptly before he opened the roof access door. “There’s something wrong...”

“There’s nothing wrong, Beautiful. At least...nothing I didn’t see coming even before your impressive Peter Tingle went off. Relax. We have a guest. He probably thinks he’s surprising us...but I’ve been goading the son of a bitch into a private meeting for the last month. About damn time he took the bait.”

“Who...”

“Come with me, you’ll see.” Tony rested a hand on Peter’s lower back, gently pushing him through the door and towards the elevator to the penthouse. Although he was concerned, Peter trusted his boyfriend implicitly.

The moment the elevator doors opened, it was easy for Peter to ascertain what he’d meant. The comments about ‘initiative’ and the government and the things about ‘one eye’. He was trying to piss of Nick Fury, and apparently he succeeded because the former head of S.H.I.E.L.D. was sitting on Tony’s sofa with a bottle of Scotch sitting on the table in front of him. His feet were kicked up on the coffee table and he looked far too comfortable for an intruder.

“Glad to see you’re making yourself at home, Fury.”

“Since you’re AI watchdog didn’t stop me at the front door, I assumed I was welcome.” He didn’t look up from his tumblr of scotch, instead swishing it around the glass idly before emptying it and reaching out for the bottle to refill it.

“True enough, if I didn’t want you to be here...you wouldn’t be.” Tony guided Peter around the coffee table, gesturing for him to take a seat in a large overstuffed chair while Tony himself perched languidly on the arm. “I won’t insult you by pretending that I don’t know why you’re here.”

“And I won’t pretend that I didn’t know those insults you’ve been letting fly in your little press bites aren’t intentional. If you wanted to talk, you could have just reached out.”

“I don’t like to do things the easy way, Fury. Never have.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

Peter looked back and forth between the two men, one eye narrowed questioningly, lips thinned out in concentration. What was going on here?

“There’s a little something we need to know that only you can help us with. I thought we had a better chance of getting you alone over the New Avengers than the Parkers.”

Peter let out a little gasp of surprise, swiveling in his seat to look at Tony in disbelief. This was about his parents? Tony had gone to all of this trouble for Peter, to help him solve the mystery of what had happened to them. If Peter hadn’t already been head over heals in love with the man, that would have surely done him in.

Fury did not appear to be quite so touched, not if the scowl he was shooting Tony was any indication. “I was afraid of that. Sadly, Stark, you’ve wasted your time. I don’t know now anything about...”

“I call bullshit.” Tony had risen from his seat in one fluid movement, confiscating the bottle of scotch from within Fury’s reach and invading the man’s personal space all at the same time. “I’ve seen the personnel reports, Fury. You recruited Richard Parker. No way you don’t know what happened to a guy you brought into your agency. You’re a prick, but you’re not an irresponsible one.”

Fury let out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat forward on the couch, his forearms resting on his knees. “The information in classified. Way beyond your clearance.”

“Not gonna fly, Blackbeard. Peter’s got all the security clearance you’ll ever need because he’s their god damn son. And me? I’m the man he loves, the man who will do literally anything to make him happy. I’m not taking no for an answer here and you know it.”

“Knowing may not make it better, Stark...”

“With all due respect, Mr. Fury, Sir, I think...I think that should be my decision, shouldn’t it?” Peter reached out to take Tony’s free hand and tug him back to the chair as he met Fury’s gaze with more bravado than he felt.

“And I want to know. I need to know, Sir.”

Fury stared at the kid for a long time, his drawn expression relaxing into a grimace as he rolled his eye and shook his head. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though, Kid.

“You know your parents were Agents. Damn good ones, too. Mary Parker was the best scientist we had on board at the time. Hand picked by Howard Stark right out of college. We still use some of her inventions and her breakthroughs have saved more Agents’ lives than I can count. Richard...he was a field Agent and a damn fine one at that. Fearless. He ran into fights that would have terrified most. Honorable, too. He was a good man, just a ridiculously good man. If the Super Soldier program had continued beyond Cap, I have no doubt that Richard Parker would have been offered a dose. He was just that kind of guy.”

Peter felt Tony give his hand a squeeze. Through a veil of gathering tears, Peter glanced over at his boyfriend and could only blush over the intensity of emotion he saw in those deep brown eyes. “Wow, Pete, reminds me of someone...”

“Shut up,” Peter’s cheeks burst into an embarrassing flame of crimson as he tore his gaze away from Tony to once again focus on Fury. “Go on.”

“There was an incident at a lab in upstate New York. One owned by Oscorp.”

“Norman fucking Osborn...” Fury continued to speak over Tony’s angry growl.

“Anyway, we sent our best scientist. And where Mary Parker went, Richard followed. The event was...it was bad. Worse than we expected. Norman Osborn had been playing with dangerous forces. There was talk of Multi-Verses and gateways and the shit we saw in that lab...gave me nightmares for years. We tried to close the gateway but...we couldn’t and the stuff coming through was...it was bad. We tried to evacuate everyone before we sealed the place but Mary and Richard refused to leave until the very last minute because they thought they could still get the gateway to close.”

“You gotta understand, Kid, it’s not S.H.I.E.L.D.’s proudest moment. If I could have done anything I would have but I wasn’t in charge then and...they sealed the place with them inside.”

Peter didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just let the words reverberate inside his skull for the longest time. It was several long minutes before he finally felt Tony stroking the back of his hand and the meaning of Fury’s words finally settled into his conscious mind. “So...what you’re saying is that they could still be alive?”

Fury’s nostrils flared. “No, no that’s not...”

“But they could be. Best scientist in Shield and a top Agent and a gateway to a Multi-verse. They’re lost but they’re not dead. We just...we just have to find them. Tony...we just have to find them.” He snatched up Tony’s hand in both of his own, staring up at him hopefully. “Mr. Stark invented Time Travel to get me back from Thanos, so you can definitely invent Multi-dimensional travel to get back my parents, right? Right?”

Tony nodded slowly, bringing Peter’s hands to his lips to kiss. “Baby, I’d do anything for you, you know that. If you want to cross the Multi-Verse to find your parents, that’s what we’ll do...”

Peter was crying now, fat tears streaming for his eyes as he nodded repeatedly, utterly convinced that he and Tony were going to be able to do this. They’d accomplished much worse.

“You ever pay for those handcuffs you borrowed from S.H.I.E.L.D., Parker?” Fury’s question brought Peter screeching back into the present with a choking gasp. He couldn’t possibly mean... “Wha...Bu...But you weren’t supposed to remember, Mr. Fury.”

“Funny thing about the Infinity Stones, I guess. They did a damn good job of erasing my memory in 1992, but when they brought me back after the Blip...they didn’t make sure those memories were still gone. I remember everything about you and the Boy Wonder. I’ve seen some pretty crazy shit in my time, too, so my only other question is for Stark. Just what the fuck are you? You’re not a Skrull. So what? Life Model Decoy? Clone? AI? Did Stark save his brain in a computer so he’d never die? One thing I know is you sure as hell aren’t his kid Stark.”

Tony just gave a nonchalant shrug, once more rising from his seat, hands now stuffed into his pockets as he paced the living room. “Oh, you’re right there. I’m Tony Stark but so was the Old Man. It’s complicated, Fury. And if you weren’t trying to distract us and change the subject, I’d take the time to explain it to you. But, since I can tell that Peter is a little too close to something you had no intentions of telling us...I think I’m just going to leave it at that and instead I’m going to ask you what they fuck you’re hiding. See...I know it’s not proof that the Parkers are dead. If it was, you’d produce it and that would be that. Peter would give up. You’d go home, we’d go back to our party...but you’re trying so hard to get us onto another subject that it has to be the opposite. You have proof that Mary and Richard Parker are alive and you don’t want us to know about it...but here’s the thing, Fury. I meant what I said to my sexy little spider. I’ll do anything for him. There’s no firewall, no encryption in this world strong enough to keep me out...not when I’ve set my mind on hacking it, not when I’m willing to create a whole damn AI whose sole job is to hack into ever piece of electronic intelligence in the god damn world and find me that one piece of information about the Parkers that you don’t want me to know. It’d be a lot easier if you just told me, Fury, but if you want me to do it the hard way I sure as fuck will...and I’ll do irreparable damage to your networks in the process.”

“Are you threatening me, Stark?”

“I mean, I thought I was being really fucking obvious about it but fine, you want me to spell it out for you, Fury. Tell us what you know about the Parkers, all of it, or I’ll make it my personal mission to destroy any alphabet agency you can dream up to replace S.H.I.E.L.D. now and for the rest of my young life because we’re the fucking heroes, the ones who save the god damn world day in and day out. Peter asks for nothing out of it. Nothing. All he wants is to know what happened to his parents and you fucking owe him that you one-eyed, self righteous, superhero wannabe. You knew the Old Man, so you know that I’m not bluffing. Spill it or get the fuck out of my house.”

Tony Stark had never looked so resplendently sexy to Peter a day in his life. The teenager really wanted to rip off that tuxedo and drag him into the bedroom to test their endurance for the rest of the night based on that speech alone, but his desires were quickly squelched by Nick Fury’s next words.

“We’ve been picking up a distress beacon emanating from the old Oscorp laboratory facility. We think it’s coming from the open gateway. It...appears to be Mary and Richard Parker...but they’re not radioing us for rescue, Stark. They’re radioing us to tells us to close the gateway...because something very bad is coming...”

#starker

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lethe626 · 5 years

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Hikaru no Go needs help

Mmmmmmmmokay! I think this is what the kids would call being “back on my bullshit”... which is something I’ve always wanted to say, actually! Dreams really do come true!

I’m aware that this series was translated and released way way back in the day when people were just getting used to the idea of reading manga right-to-left instead of flipping it and not having dub names and all that. It kind of feeds into my overall point.

Hikaru no Go needs to be re-translated and re-released.

It’s an amazing series and it deserves our best.

I won’t go into the way the anime and manga both decided to use every character’s first name instead of the names they were actually called by other characters. Or how confusing that is.

Or how the episodes that are on Hulu (and by extension the ViZ website) have some serious video quality issues that are always distracting and occasionally even make the subtitles hard to read.

Or how godawful the dub is...

What I want to talk about today is the official translation of the manga.

[HIKARU NO GO SPOILERS, PLEASE DON’T SPOIL YOURSELVES ON THIS 20-SOMETHING YEAR OLD SERIES. I’M SERIOUS. YOU WILL FEEL ONLY REGRET.]

When I first read Hikaru no Go, I’d never seen a manga raw, let alone read one. All I had to go on were the official translations (and scanlations, but those were and still are kind of a crapshoot). But even then, I felt like there were some places where things were just off. Moments that came across weird. Conversations that felt really different from the rest of the series and from the pages surrounding them. And they mostly came towards the end of the series, after the point where the anime ended.

I... Hikaru no Go is kind of... I’m not sure how to put it. It’s not a series one can easily consume over and over again. I think I’d probably get stress ulcers and die if I tried it. So I’ll admit that I haven’t read most of the manga raw. I only read pieces of the last few volumes. So all of my examples come from pretty late in the series. Maybe the beginning was fine. It did seem like they changed translators somewhere near the end of the middle of the series, based on the style of translation. (I guess I should probably look that up and find out for sure... Confirmed: It was Andy Nakatani up to volume 12 and Naoko Amemiya after that) But there were definitely issues that could stand to be addressed, even just in the parts that I read.

Anyway! Let’s get started!

First, they called Yashiro by the wrong name. Repeatedly. Which is an issue in itself. Please proofread your official-and-totally-for-profit scripts to make sure you’re using the right name, y’all. C’mon.

Secondly, there were conversations where they dropped entire chunks of people’s personalities or the emotions they were expressing. It was like they summarized the information that was shared, but had absolutely no regard for the way people said it or the emotion behind it.

Here’s one example. This conversation hurt in the original and was a dead-eyed nothing in the translation.

Hikaru-kun heard that Ko Yong-Ha was saying how Shuusaku was garbage and he took serious offense. He tried to get himself put in the top slot on the Hokuto Cup Team just to face off against the guy. And he got shot down.

So everybody goes to bed after that and he & Yashiro are sharing a room since they’re spending the night at Touya-kun’s house. And Yashiro, who is playing in the 3rd slot, starts asking Hikaru-kun questions about the Korean 3rd whom Hikaru-kun had beaten a while back when he was an insei.

But Hikaru-kun had something else on his mind, ignored the question, and responded thus...

ROMANIZED ORIGINAL TEXT Hikaru: Honinbou Shuusaku ga... moshi ikitetara Ko Yong-Ha nanka yatsukechau no ni... zettai makenee no ni...

MY SUGGESTION Hikaru: Honibou Shuusaku... would beat the pants off a loser like Ko Yong-Ha, if he was alive... There’s no way he’d lose, if he was here...

OFFICIAL TRANSLATION Hikaru: Honibou Shuusaku. If he was alive, he'd whip Ko Yong-Ha's butt. No way he'd lose.

It’s a case of the information inside being correct, because that IS what he said, but those “no ni”s convey an emotion that we completely lose in the official translation. Because, YES, he’s saying that... uhh... Shuusaku... would kick Ko Yong-Ha’s butt 100%, but the main point of what Hikaru-kun is saying is that... he’s not here to do it.

The thing that’s bothering him isn’t that Ko Yong-Ha said what he said so much as that Sai isn’t here to prove him wrong. Even though he could’ve beaten that jerk with his eyes closed. That’s what those “no ni”s were for. And we lost them. We lost all of that.

And there are a lot of examples just like that. Pieces of personality that we dropped. They basically took all the sympathetic traits out of Ko Yong-Ha with the way they translated his dialogue. Messed up Kurata-sensei’s quirkiness.

It’s important to translate the information correctly. That’s obvious. But you have to be careful not to lose the subtext or the idiosyncratic ways that people phrase things. Because those are very important, too. Equally important.

[Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there was a part really early that could probably use an editor. Kaga stubbed out a cigarette on Tsutsui-san’s board. They changed it to him sticking gum on it in the anime and the manga... started by saying it was a cigarette and then said he “put his gum out” on the board. Which... I mean, it might have happened in the original. I didn’t read that part raw, but... somebody should do something about it.]

Thirdly, and this is the thing that actually prompted me to read it raw, there’s a conversation near the end that felt so weird and seemed so out of left field that I found myself wondering, “What the heck did they actually say? Is this for real?!”

Yang Hai and Touya-sensei were watching Hikaru-kun play a match against the aforementioned Ko Yong-Ha and were having a conversation about the stuff Yong-Ha had said about Honinbou Shuusaku and what it might’ve been like if Shuusaku’s ghost had somehow come around and learned the modern state of the game.

And that them in mind of one player in particular. One online-only player, screenname: s a i.

They tossed the idea around for a bit, all in hypotheticals. What if s a i really was the ghost of Shuusaku? Why might he have come back now? How awesome would it have been to see the best modern player in the world against one of the historical greats?

And then Hikaru-kun’s game ended and so did the conversation. And Touya-sensei looked the game over and mused to himself about Hikaru-kun’s progress as a player.

ORIGINAL Touya-sensei: 進藤君と私は同じなのかもしれない saiの強さを追っている

ROMANIZED ORIGINAL Touya-sensei: Shindou-kun to watashi wa onaji nano kamo shirenai. s a i no tsuyosa wo otteiru.

MY SUGGESTION Touya-sensei: I can’t help but wonder if Shindou-kun and I are in the same boat… …chasing s a i’s strength.

A perfectly natural thing to wonder, given the way things happened and his experiences up to that point. He was on a personal journey to improve his game by playing people from all over the world so he could come back and have his promised rematch with s a i someday when he thought he was strong enough to win. And he knows that Hikaru-kun knows s a i because he set up the match between them in the first place. It feels like Hikaru no Go, right?

Now brace yourselves. This is how the official release translated it.

OFFICIAL TRANSLATION Touya-sensei: All right, Sai... ...say what you have to say.

--That’s not what he said...! That’s not even close to what he said...!

Please. Someone. Tell me you see the story implications of WHATEVER the eff that was. Did they just rewrite the ending to the series?

Touya-sensei played against some guy with the screenname “s a i” online. He never met Fujiwara-no-Sai. Never heard of him. He’s definitely not IN CONTACT WITH HIM right now. Which seems to be what they’re implying.

What did I just read??

I understand that translating fiction is an art. And I’ll grant that this calls back to an earlier point in their translation of the conversation with Yang Hai where they wondered what Shuusaku’s Ghost might be trying to tell them by coming back. So the translation at least has that going for it.

But even so. What is this?

I mean, the entire conversation was really weirdly translated with Yang Hai, who never talked like this before, saying things like, “Allow me to fancy a little further...” which was jarring enough. But like... ??????????????????

In conclusion, please re-translate and re-release the manga and update the subtitles on the anime so that they use the names people are actually saying when they talk to each other. Also fix the video quality. I will buy the entire thing again. Do not underestimate my passion.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#Hikaru no Go #viz manga #shonen jump #thanks for coming to my TED talk #this definitely counts as a critique

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shesawriter39049 · 5 years

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|FAMILY TIES| M| MAFIA AU| 4

2K SNEAK PEEK (Full things looking like it will be between 10-11k)

GENRE:SMUT/ ANGST

AU SUMMARY : A powerful alliance made up of of 4 families spanning over a decade, is suddenly turned on its head when one family has a new leader after an unexpected death. Well let’s just say he’s not down to follow the somewhat civilized rules your families have inforced. Sooo now, it’s game on…

WARNINGS: Very,very breif mentions of somone OD’ing and breif mentions of sex work! Just so ya can’t say I didin’t warn ya!

LOCATION : 40 Sudbury St, Boston, MA

TIME: 2:07 PM

“Don’t look too excited to see me…” A coy smile tugged on the corners of sheriff Morales lips as closed the door walking over to take a seat in front of Taehyung.

Facial expression still reading the same amount of inconvenience, annoyance,exhaustion, unamusement, lack of interest, shall I continue?

“You litterally arrested me, after I just hopped off a 15 hour flight, outside of Leo’s viewing, yes...Monti I’m fucking thrilled to be here…” The level of crass that danced throughout his voice earned a chuckle from the elder.

“It’s not like I took you away in cuffs I just simply asked if we could talk down at the station, you know you didn't have to tell me yes..” There was an underlying condescending demeanor that laid within his voice.

Taehyung’s eyes instnatly rolled to the back of his head as he huffed out a exaggerated sigh “Yeah because I’d totally prefer the alternative which would be you on my door at 1am while I’m in the middle of having sex. Yeah no, I’m good on that, I’d rather just ride down here, in that gaudy ass ford and talk ...” Reclining slightly in his chair as, lacing his fingers together to cradle behind his neck.

“Oh for fucks sake, I’m sorry my work car isn't boujee enough to go with your Gucci…” Tone snarky as every as he gestured to Tae’s baby pink, slim fit, Italian cotton dress shirt.

Earning an unamused brow raise from the younger “Actually this is one of my more modest pieces it’s Hugo but continue..” A smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he continued pushing the officers buttons. Clearly the two of them were very comfortable with each other by now, weather that’s a good or bad thing is currently up for debate.

“Oh my bad Fugo…” Sheriff Morales rolled his eyes not even aware of the miss pronunciation triggering a low chuckle from Taehyung.

“Hugo…” he countered almost sign-song like, always one to have the last word and at that point Morales was over it.

“Listen kid, I don’t care about your overpriced Easter Sunday shirt! I care about the two 18 year- old boys that have turned up dead within barley 72 hours!”

Taehyung’s brow furrowed in confusion as he ran his fingers through his hair, actually deciding to stop being a little shit and listen.

“I don’t know if you’re aware , or if you were already out jet setting while buying more Gucci, and Hugo” Making sure to put emphasis on the pronunciation of “Hugo” since Taehyung corrected him moment’s prior.. “But almost 3 days ago, we found him…”

Raising his Ipad to show a picture of a person Taehyung didn’t even remotely recognize, earning no type of physical reaction. Which is what Morales was secretly checking for, but taehyung knew that already, trying to catch him off guard to see if the faces would trigger any emotions. Only in all honesty this one really didn't!

“He was found dead in the back of car on the side of the highway, a really nice one actually...Mercedes AMG, completely doped out, he appears to have OD. There were some needles,and a combination of other drugs in addition to some cash left in the car ...”

Okay, now Taehyung was really confused, that it definitely was NOT the kid from a couple nights ago. Dropping his neck, squinting, adjusting the angle of his head slightly as he continued investigating the picture. Almost as if he was trying to see if the face would change the more looked at it but no, that just wasn’t him!

After a few seconds, of observing Taehyung’s body language and lack of response, he moved onto the next picture .Keeping the device facing him until he was ready for Tae’s reaction..

“Around 11am today….we found, him…” Flipping the Ipad around to show the second picture and thank god Taehyung was a pro when it came to his poker face , because THAT’S the boy he recognized..gazing straight ahead, almost aiming through the paper at this point.

“Channel 2 don’t even know about this yet-”

He heard Taehyung clear his throat as he re-adjusted in his seat “So, why am I here, why am I getting the breaking exclusive!?Not like I’m some damn reporter reporter running around in penny loafers.” Keeping the same dry snarky tone, not wanting to show any inflated emotions in response to the second image.

“No smart ass your not...if you’d shut up and let me continue maybe will get to why your here yeah!?” Brow arched at the implied question, whilst tae didn't even verbally respond, just flagging his hand gesturing for him to continue.

“ANYWAYS,it appears the two of them are, well were kinda sorta friends, but this kid, the druggie if you will, is pretty well known around that area as such. His name is Jeff, he’s 18 and has been in and out of rehab more times than anyone can count. The boy on the right..”

Cringing internally he never wanted to know the boys name...he just didn't, almost a second away from internally screaming so he didn’t have to put a name to the face!

“Chritstian, 18, foster kid….he was found in the back bathroom of a packie he works at down in the Dot-”

“Again, no disrespect but why. Am. I. Here!? I’m tired, I have a migrane and I’m hungry please get to the point.” The aggervation was dripping from his tongue at this point, way past exhausted and disgusted to listen to some long drawn out story.Even though after the past 50 some odd hours he’d just spent in China all he really want’s is to go home and crawl in bed with you!

Rolling his eyes at Teahyung’s lack of patience before continuing the story.

“This packies a little shady, actually a lot shady, everything from drug deals to sex work has been rumored to happen in the storage room. The only cameras they have outside, angled in front of the back alley entrance. There low quality, probably intentionally but the quality was atleast good enough for us to see this…”

Pulling up a video on his ipad, propping it on it’s stand for the two of them to watch together. Around 1:30Am they can see Christian, who phsycially backed into the alley, get out of the Mercades heading into the store. Gazing at the screen as Morales speeds up the tape a good 10 or so minutes. Only to find Jeff walk up to the same door, due to the time, the packie was technically closed, it even seems Christian willingly let him in.

Just as Taehyung was about to make a snarky comment about how this has nothing to do with him, you can see the tail end of a car parked at the end of the alley. It’s unclear if Jeff actually got out of the car or not, but just the placement alone at this time of nigh is hella suspect.

Zoomining in slightly on the car in question ...even through the pixelation, there’s a little custom badge by the back fender.

The realization has the loudest cackle ripping from Taehyung's throat, while Morales jerks back in his seat not even sure how to process current display unfolding before his eyes. The combination of jet lag and just utter disbelif has Taehyung’ combusting until his face is damn near the same color as his shirt, and tears are threatening the corners of his eyes.

��Ah, shit, that’s funny…” Leaning up to bracing his weight on his arm as he cradled the side of his face between his middle finger and thumb. A smug smirk tugging on the corners of his cheeks as he gazed back in Morales direction.

~~~~A GOOD 72-ISH HOURS PRIOR~~~~

(Picks up where part 3 ends)

You found yourself almost caressing the back of his head the more the reporter talked, apparently it was some random woman who found him. She said she was just driving home from work around 5am, she was a nurse and the light was left on, out of habit she just felt the need to see if everything was okay.

[Woman on the new’s being interview ]

“The position of his head, and the way his jaw laxed, could just appear as he was sleeping to the naked eye. But I’m an ER nurse have been for almost 15 years I recognize the symptoms right away. I tried to revive him prior to calling 911, even against my better judgment ,but he had been out for at least an hour, it was no use…”

[Reporter]

“The police are still trying to put two and two together as it really doesn't make sense, there was cash in the car, as well as the car itself is a mystery. We have finally identified the young man in the car, his family as also been contacted-”

Right as she was about to say his name, and ask if anyone knew anything to please contact the police he shot up, almost bolting for the door. Almost as if he knew the boys name it would seem all too real. Little did you know it’s because Taehyung puropusly never asked for his name, he’s not stupid is men knew, they even had a pciture of his ID. But Tae felt like this boy deserved to have something for him, and him only...so his name was never spoken.

You contemplated back and forth for a couple moments before ultimately decided to go check on him.

The sound of your heels echoed through the hallway of the “Employees only” area..trying to figure out where he could be “I’m over here..” The bass in his voice rumbled off the walls , almost startling you, not expecting for him to actually reach out to you.

You found him resting against the wall hands in the pocket of his jack, gazing up at the ceiling

“ The boys did a full z30, and went over it with a black light..not that it even matters now.” Voice trailing off slightly as he brought his attention down to his boots, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

“They actually ended up taking the car to some park,I guess they decided to change locations after I knocked the mother fucker out. Opting to not sterilize an entire car on his property,while he tends to his dislocated dorsum. “ A slight smirk moved up his face as he gazed over at you “So if you're thinking I’m worried about me..I’m not..the plate was switched, garmin removed, and the cars not even registered.I’m just….” Shaking his head in slight disbelief as he runs over the past 24 hours in his head. “I don’t think he really even know how fucked up and dangerous this all really is, especially when you barely know what you're doin’ to begin with. He’s a walking death wish and he’s gonna fuck around and have it granted by someone that coudle been his ally..”

Even though his tone was hushed you could still feel the anger radiating off his body, raking his fingers through his hair, sinking back into the wall. “Come’ere, I know you didn't come out here to listen to me bitch from a far…” Signaling for you with his fingers, trying to hide the smile that was tugging up your face as you swayed in his direction. Opting to give him his space, not in the mood to get your face cracked, emotions far too fragile for that right now. You’ll end up shooting his indecisive ass, at this point.

Once you were in arms reached he pulled you into his frame, a slight squeal leaving your throat from how quickly he grabbed you

One hand resting on the hinge of your jaw the other one your waist , palm soothing up the small of your back. “How are you feelin’?” The question threw you off a little you found your eyes fluttering away from his and he noticed instantly. Tilting your head until you had no choice but to look at him. The emphasises on the word “you” let you know he was well aware that your always the one checking on him ..asking how he’s feeling. Now it’s his turn to do the same, I mean sure a good 17 years a litter but at least it’s a start right!?

Letting a deep sigh leave your body before responding “I’m angry, confused, and a little scared if I’m being honest but-”

Cutting you off immediately , shaking his head, a scof leaving his body in response “Over my dead body, will anything ever happen to you, so you can scratch that shit off your list of issues real quick..” He wasn’t asking , he was telling you how this was going to go and his tone left zero room for debate.

Tilting your head back slightly, blowing out a slow breath , you could feel your eyes burning as you kept fluttering them. Attempting to cut off the tears desperately trying to run down your face, funny thing is, even though you cried eariler today. That’s not a common trait for you no matter how upset you get, your not the most intune with your emotions either if we're being honest. You didn’t open up easily and hated, crying in front of people more than anything, you were just as much as a working progress as Taehyung.

The phrase “over my dead body…”was used very frequently, typically over minor issues, even jokingly for most. But it would always hold a deeper, darker meaning in your heart, the last person to say that to you was your mother. Used in the same context as Kim Taehyung and she meant it, wholeheartedly! You found yourself trying to pull away, not wanting to let him see you fall apart, because you knew you were going to. The more you tugged the tighter his grip became, “Tae please. Let. Me. Go…” You wouldn't look at him, staring up at the light fixture to your right, tone extremely dry, almost passive. The grip you held on his forearms got even tighter as you waited in silence,almost clinging to him.

He wasn’t going to fight you on this, if you wanted out..here ya go, the last squeez on your waist wasn’t possessive. Almost comforting as if he was letting you know if you wanted to come back he’d be right here. Tentatively loosening the grip he healed around your waist, letting you pull away from him, almost losing your balance in the process. Not realizing how much you were leaning on him despite trying to pull away all at the same time.

Yet you didn't move, the grip you held on his arms never faltered, dropping your gaze down to your feet, as he gently took you back into his arms. Bringing your hips flush to his, I guess you never realized he eased you the same way you did him. The feeling of your chest rising and falling against his as you coxed yourself out of crying, a single tear managing to slip out of your right eye before you could stop it. Turning your head, brushing it onto your shoulder hastily, your grip tightened as both eyes started to betray you simultaneously. Even though you refused to look back at him, he could feel your stomach tensing as you tried to slightly choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face..

Not forcing you to look at him, respecting your privacy in that aspect bringing his hands up to rub lightly circles into your back as he nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck. A side of Kim Taehyung that few would ever get to see, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck, cradling the back of his head in your hands. “I’m not going anywhere…” the words brushed against your skin, funny how he automatically knew what triggered this without you even having to say anything. You didn't respond, only squeezing him a little tighter before pulling back, almost aggressive whipping your face before racking your fingers through your hair. A sheepish smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you finally made eye contact with him.

Neither of you said anything as you stepped a little closer, soothing your hand down his chest, over his stomach slowly. Suddenly feeling almost uncomfortably open and vulnerable in front of a man that’s been inside you more times that you can count. His eyes felt like they were burning straight through you as he gazed back in your direction. You couldn’t help but let your hand trickle down his zipper, trailing your fingers up and down his clothed length earning a hiss as he gripped your wrist.

“You know your thighs can’t handle another round from me right now, you need to fuckin chill before I have you bent over the bathroom counter.”

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE, OR I guess...that’s all she posted lol ! Hopefully you guys are excited for part 4 !!! Lemme know!

Love you guys as always,

Rocki

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