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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years

Text

Forbidden Love - 2 - | Tom Holland x Male!Reader

Words: 9758

Warning: Smut

Thoughts far beyond the room, carried away by the pitch-black darkness stretching far into the starry night. Hunched onto the isle counter of the kitchen, gazing onto something that wasn't there. Absentmindedly swirling the alcoholic contents through your glass. With a sigh and sip of your drink, you snap out of it and return to your spot on the couch. Whatever you tried, your thoughts were only on one thing. Tom. You couldn’t shake it. You catch yourself falling back into old, bad habits. Nail-biting. This boy did so much more with you then you thought, emotionally and mentally. Yet your mind gathered dark clouds at the thought of the silences that were going to fall in-between the conversation. That is if he was ever going to show up…

It's been too long for your conscience to make sense of anything. The ticking of the clock drove you further down the path of doubt and worry. It couldn't have been. Your feet once again drag you to the other rooms. From the living room to the bar, into the adjacent room. A dark, spacious room with enough seating for any sports team, poles running from the ceiling to the floor, and various racks of alcohol spaced along the wall. But no one there to enjoy it. Only you and your damned nerves playing a part on you. A vast, luxurious hotel room for stars like you was a curse, high above the rest of the world. Living in a bubble of unprecedented wealth and fame. You didn't know what you were doing there. Gazing mindlessly at a row of bottles of alcohol. Stepping outside on the balcony, cooling you down for a moment. But only momentarily. Only for your mind to remind you, that you wouldn't be able to hear him arrive from here. You try to push it back. But soon, your feet scurried their way back to the living room. Taking a peek through the tiny spyhole in the door, glancing down the hall.

Nothing.

Just luxury and silence. Legs stretched out before you, you hang back in the sofa again. Absent-minded rubbing your forehead. Almost with a sense of lost hope. Staring through the large windows over the city at night. No sounds. Just lights. You tip the last bit of your drink down your throat. The alcohol burning a way down your throat. An involuntary hiss escapes in response. With a tap of your finger on your phone, you illuminate the screen.

Nothing.

Why wasn't he here? Did you play your hand? Where you too pushy? Did something go wrong in the club?

The questions keep circling in your mind. Recollecting every word you said to him. Weighing them careful against each other. As your overthinking mind went in overdrive. You can't help it. But if there's one thing that soothes your nerves and brings peace to your mind. It's playing your guitar. A simple tune. Gracing the strings in a calming fashion. Slow and steady, you play your mind free. Nothing unusual but-

The sound of a knock. Your eyes lock on the door instantaneously. A rush of heat shoots through your body. Jolting upwards. Stumbling over your own feet, you rush towards the sound. Halting just before the door, careful not to crash into it. For all you know, it could be someone from the hotel itself. So caught up in your own thoughts. Another knock follows. Every knock increasing your hammering heartbeat against your ribcage. Focus man. Focus.

That sense of relief. When you open the door, all hope returns. Followed by sheer joy. And more nerves. “Tom.” You hear yourself bring a bit too much excitement through your voice. “Hey…”

"(Y/N)" Tom said, his voice loaded with happiness, and with such a genuinely sweet smile, just the right touch of shyness. Just like that, Tom reminded you of all those years back. The aura of joy and vibrant happiness that hangs around him. That smile, contagious on the first sight. His eyes capture you from the very first glance. Difficult to let go, and pleasant to lose yourself in.

“Thanks for having me.” He beams, opening up his arms towards you. It’s unexpected. Partially because you felt slightly on edge. Nervous. But it sure is welcome. You lean into him, as his arms reach around you. Patting each other on the back. It had a certain energy, a feel to it you embraced. Nostalgia, familiarity. But it also carried something more to it. A vibrant warmth rising and turning into sexual tension as Tom’s muscled arms held you. Not only his touch making you all warm and fuzzy. But also your points of contact along his body with your arms. The feel of his muscled frame. No denying in that. Tom had grown, matured. Became manlier. And you could see that. For once, you could feel it. As you both let go, you share a moment of eye contact. Eyeing you with the same kind of joy that stirred up in you.

"Thank you for coming." Both holding back a moment. For the first time, you're finally able to take in his way of dressing. A perfectly tailored suit with a soft jacket against the wind. Returning the smile. "May I-?" Moving closer to him, offering to take off his coat. Revealing his broad shoulders under a buttoned-down white shirt. Your nostrils were teased by his earthy cologne, a delightful odor that was worthy of Tom’s standard as a gentleman.

You share a moment of eye contact as you glance back at him while hanging up his coat. His hands tucked into this black suit pants, looking over his shoulder back to you. You both feel caught at the same time. That rush of heat tickles on your senses. Returning your gazes to whatever you were staring at. "I hope I wasn't interrupting something." His smile broadening on his face. "Heard you playing for a bit." Eyeing the guitar, you let slip to the floor once you heard his knocking.

“No, No. Not at all.” Feeling the flutters rise in your system. “I was… waiting for you.” You confess with a slight blush rising to your cheeks. “Helps me calm my nerves.” Tom followed you along as you led him further inwards. You were afraid of the tension, the unease of the situation. Your mind still occupied by the hug. And it’s sexual tension that came with it. Yet it felt right. Tom somehow made you feel comfortable around him. His way of talking, the way he carried himself.

“Really?” His smile stretching further across his face. “Well, I sure wouldn’t mind if you continued.” He said. “Sounded absolutely brilliant.” Feeling a slightly caught off guard by his genuine sweetness, you nod and suppress your ever stretching smile. His personality as a whole was so infectious. So kind and endearing. Full of life.

“T-This looks amazing.” Looking about the place with wonder. “You usually stay in swanky hotels like this?”

“Most of the time.”

“I must be doing something wrong.” He chuckles to himself. “This is a world apart from my trailer.”

“Well, perhaps you could think about a career change?” You tease him. “I mean, you handled yourself pretty well in that lip sync battle. Might be something for you in there.”

"Oh my god, that's literally going to be the only thing I will be remembered for." Shaking his head. "I mean, was it that good?"

“It really was, Tom. I loved it.” You wholeheartedly confess. The images flashing before for your very eyes. Burned into your memory. “Very much so… For one, your choreography was brilliant. And I think with your voice and that history in dance, you could definitely make it. God, I sound like a panel judge from television.”

"No, please!" He laughs. "Do go on! That’s a big compliment coming from you.”

“Well, if you hang up your Spider-Man suit, you got something to fall back onto.” You pat him on the shoulder.

“I’ll drop you a call once I’m there.”

From the adjacent cupboard, you bring a glass, lining it up with yours. A somewhat uneasy silence present in the room. Pouring the liquor into the glasses without even asking him. You're being lured in as you walk your way towards him. His brown eyes captivating you, reeling you in. "Your friends know you're here?"

“I’m a terrible liar, so…” Pressing his lips together, jaw clenched, and eyes fluttered. Shaking his head softly. Tom sure had perfected the look of that innocent puppy, being accused of tearing the toilet paper to shreds. “They had a very good idea where I was heading.”

"Well, I thought our little talk was quite discreet." Getting him here felt like a victory for you. But standing in front of him, it still felt different, even after all these years. There was a distance between you two. As if you were still treading on thin ice. Not sure where you both were taking the conversation. Yet you knew what you had discussed earlier that night. And somehow that was bound to be brought up. And at the same time, that fire burning inside you. A craving. “For the nerves.” Ringing the glasses together. “Cheers.”

“Not to them…“ He chuckled before eyeing the contents of his glass. “Gin….” Taking a good sip as he lets the alcohol do the rest. “Good choice.”

“How was the trip anyway?”

"That was awesome! I was amazed at how well everything was put up. Super discreet and sneaky. I felt like James Bond for a moment, slipping through those backdoors and such." Taking a gentle sip from his drink. And as you gaze at him. You begin to notice the blushes on his cheeks. They're small but… noticeable. Cute almost. Tom had changed in all those years. Despite his journey, he had regained that youthful look. The wrinkles at his eyes as he laughed. That smile. His enthusiasm. "You, eh… used that secret passage before?" He asks while scratching his throat after his first sip of liquor—a slight tremble to his voice.

You chuckle slightly at his question. Eyeing the floor for a moment, as you scratch your forehead. "It's… been used many times." You smile and return your gaze up at him. "But not once by me."

"Good. Good." He nods, noticing a sense of relief in his voice. "Hotel provides it?"

“Yup. Curtesy for the famous and the rich. We gotta lot to cover up these days.”

“With all the media these days, you gotta be careful.”

“I haven’t seen it mentioned on Instagram or anything, so you’re safe.”

“Couldn’t find anything about you either.” Sharing his screen with you. A small lump in your throat formed as you say all the different tags and searches Tom had thrown onto the internet. All involving your name. The thought of him searching for information about you. It was flattering. Your eyes widen, plastered to the screen. Tom’s search tab on Instagram, the moment it loaded. It was filled with pictures and edits from you. You desperately try to suppress your grin. At the same time, that immediate rush of heat coursing through your system. “See.” Looking back at you over his shoulder. “Nothing.” Scrolling past countless pages of your pictures. Before putting his phone away with that same face of innocence. You try to suppress the thoughts racing through your mind. That suppressed grin was inevitable. You just had to smile.

“What’s so funny?” He chuckles softly. Hanging back against a table, arms and legs crossed. Smiling at you, waiting for you to gather some sense.

“I was… I … couldn’t stop going down memory lane.” It wasn't a complete lie. Tom was clever. But not with tech. Never has and never will be. It made him so much more wholesome. So human.

"I had the same on my way here!" He adds on with explosive enthusiasm. It's relaxing to listen to Tom, recollection memories, and stories from back then. Like an old couple rethinking their old days. It brought back so many good things. Reconnected the two of you in many ways. "That was one heck of a time."

“And we managed to keep it a secret.” Hinting at the sexuality issue. “We managed.” You could twist and turn around the subject, but it is inevitable to avoid. You were both here for a reason.

"Personally, it wasn't easy, I have to say." Biting the insides of his cheek with a gaze occupied elsewhere. Contemplating his choices. Hearing him sigh a little. Swallowing the lump forming in his throat. For a moment, you hesitate if you perhaps crossed a line. That moment of silence as he pondered, kept the silence going. But as he returned his gaze towards you, you’re met with big brown eyes begging. “It gets lonely.”

“I get it.” You nod. Drowning into this powerful gaze. “Luckily, our careers tend to need most of our attention."

“Our careers are important. Absolutely. But...” He sighed, voice heavy with sympathy. “Don’t you feel that emptiness, that loneliness? Late at night in your bed. Waking up to an empty apartment. Dinner alone. I got my mates over once in a while. But that feeling, for me, it's just getting worse each year."

"With a busy life and all, you tend to lose sight of your own needs." You say with an unintended sadness. Yet you completely agree with Tom. You shared that feeling—that experience. Being on the move many days of the week, not a single place felt like home. Life isn’t bad. It absolutely isn’t, far from it. Things are going well for you. Each year is better than the last. And money wasn’t a concern. But there are things in life that shouldn’t be bought with money. And your love life grew further away then you realized. The higher you build your barriers from the truth. You try to shield your eyes from reality. Yet something inside is so strong. It hungered. “I know that feeling… all too well.”

It craved—more than ever.

“Have you dated anyone?” A hint of insecurity rang in his voice. His posture was stiff, pausing for a moment, staring hard into your eyes. “Y-You know… with the rumors and all that." There was a certain unease to his way of saying—a hint of concern regarding what you would answer.

"I haven't…" Shaking your head. "No…" You could notice the sense of relief going through him. The way his shoulders loosened, seating himself more comfortable on the couch. That gentle curve on his lips slowly reappearing. "And you?" You ask, but receiving a look from Tom, you knew all too well from back in the day. "Don't give me that look, Tom."

“C’mon! I mean, people are literally lined up for you." He said with a laugh. "In front of stadiums etc. Not to mention the screaming ones in the front row."

"Oh! Speak for yourself, mister handsome. You're praised everywhere, and by everyone. And right so…"

"Mate!" He laughed, tossing a cushion your way. "The same goes for you!" Both of you waiting for each other to collect their thoughts. Pondering about what to spoil and tease each other with next.

“I’ve missed this.” You openheartedly confess, downing your drink in one go. Feeling it impossible to retain your smile. Spending time with Tom was just like the old days. You met when he was younger, shared many things, and clicked on multiple occasions. Turning into a friendship for years to remember. But eventually, time pulls people apart. Tom became busy with his acting role in Eliot. While you were taking the first few steps into the singing business. Taking not long to be discovered and climbing the ladder as the years progressed.

In that earlier time, of growing up, and preparing for adulthood. Started with being simple 'outsiders' during those school years. It brought you together. Sharing many hours together after school. Getting to know his family. Finding solemn and peace, quiet, comfort, and acceptance in each other’s presence. The things you enjoyed doing. Together. That resulted in years of fun trips and memories that you will always cherish. In the further years of growing up, relationships and their sexuality came in to play. A road of discovery. For both of you.

You always had been honest with each other. Tom knew you like the back of your hand. Recognized when you felt down or struggled to stand up for yourself. The same went for Tom. You knew precisely when Tom held back. He always was a kind and loving soul. Too kind for this world. And knew that Tom had difficulty saying 'no'. His weaknesses, but also admirable qualities. That level of trust and feeling of unwavering loyalty and friendship caused both of you to question the value. Misjudges things. Feel different things.

Feelings. On that road of discovery, we all begin to learn new things about ourselves. Give things a place in our lives. Our values and morale are formed—the first steps towards adulthood. But the one grew up faster than the other. Certain events and comments not helping. And so, you slowly began to lose sight of each other. Speaking less and less. Going to different colleges. Eventually losing numbers. And the ways to connect. But never the thought of each other.

"We should have done this much earlier." His sparkling eyes not letting you go. Without thinking twice, the words had spilled from your mouth. You avert your eyes away, sucking on your teeth, trying to contain your grin. "I've really missed this. You know… Us. Like this."

“Your right.” He nods with a big ass grin. “And your smile says it all.” Throwing the entire contents of his glass down his throat again. “Just like old time.” Releasing a hiss as the alcohol burned its way down. “Now we’re even.” Putting his glass aside.

“Alcohol sure did bring us together.” Thinking about his somewhat awkward ramble from earlier tonight.

"And closer." Reaching for the bottle, ready to pour you another. That hinting and a playful smirk on his face. Eyeing for your reaction. "Another?"

“I don’t mind.” You quip without a second thought.

“Which one?” He asks with a challenging tone to his voice.

“Yes.” The grin stretching further along your face. The sexual tension was thicker than ever. You could feel it in the air. It was only a matter who’d initiate first. Tom, for sure, was playing along, as you watch him pour another. Handing you the glass, but holding onto it for a bit longer than necessary. Brushing fingers on the glass. Forcing eye contact. Deepening it. As if he was determined to find your goal or reasoning in your eyes. All the while, that seductive smile captivating you. It's almost magic. "So… Have you dated anyone?" Bringing back the burning question that lingered in your mind.

“No… No... I haven’t.” He said, sipping his drink while sinking back into the couch. The way he smiled, drawing his thin lips tight. Keeping eye contact the whole time while silence filled the gap in the conversation. Taking a comfortable position on the couch. But you can’t help but stare. It’s so satisfying. Your eyes are drawn to his shirt. The way it wraps around him. The way it tenses, the fabric stretching. And that first button barely holding on. Teasing you. His pause was long and thoughtful. At first, you thought he had was mustering his courage to find the right words.

"Why, Tom?" You continue to prod into his charming offensive.

“I think it's the same reason as you." You could feel his gaze burning into yours. Making your heart beat faster and faster. "I still care about you (Y/N)." The way his voice carried your name was more than tantalizing. It provoked you. Played with you. "I can't deny it. And I won't." Raking his fingers through his curls. That movement alone, played in slow motion for you, watching his biceps stretch the fabric to its limit. It's hypnotizing. "Not anymore…" Meanwhile, his words burn into your mind. Feeling the heat rise in your system. Despite the alcohol in your system, you begin to feel the nerves taking over. The flashes of skin that exposed once he reseats himself on the edge of the sofa. Your eyes are glued to him. With a flick of his wrist, his fingers reach for the strap of his watch. Carefully sliding it out through the buckle, removing the watch from his wrist. Putting it down in front of him on the table. "I feel… that we… share that thought.” Before returning his gaze towards you, looking past his shoulder. That glint in his eyes. Awaiting your reaction. “Or does silence imply consent…" His voice has a cocky edge to it, yet subtle and with a playful charm. Leaving you simply nodding with a growing smirk.

“Good…" He said, looking pleased. "Then you leave me with one burning question." Turning in his spot. His eyes devoured you as he watched your every move. "Regret..." He said while crooking his head ever so slightly. Squinting his eyes to sharpen his focus on you. Ever so determined to catch any wrinkle on your skin, every beading trickle of sweat, every twitch in your eye, any change in posture, as he awaited your reaction. He wanted to know. He demanded to know. "Do you have regrets about the things you didn't do?" His voice hypnotizing. Raising himself up onto his feet, straightening himself, before slowly stalking his way towards you. "Speaking from our past, that is.” You could see the glint in his eye. That grin spreading across his face. Closing the distance. Inching closer and closer. His fingers reach for the first button of his white shirt. Releasing the tension on the fabric as it pops open, revealing more and more skin. He knew what he was doing. And you were more than fine with it. You let the scene play before you as you feel your breathing quicken. You heart racing. And heat rising.

"They say rejection is far worse than regret." You grin, returning your gaze from his exposed skin. "Does that sound familiar?" Noticing he was mere inches away from you. Cornering you on that tight spot.

One hand reaches beside you. As he hovers closer to you. “It does…” He breathes against your lips. "Yet, rejection never ever crossed my mind..." He smirks. That slight tilt to his head, awaiting the careful caress of your lips on his. The closer they came, the softer they appeared. The deeper the cravings became. “I figured the saying was the other way around.”

Tom frame hangs dangerously close to you above the couch. Both hands clinging to the backrest, hovering inches above you. He glances down at you for a moment. Your heart races faster and faster. He raises his right hand, caressing your cheek, and slowly slid down your face, lingering on the chin for a moment. You reach around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "I know it is." You whisper, pushing yourself forward, lips parted, ready to lock into his.

“Doesn’t answer my question…” He pulls back from your approaching lips. Leaving your drawing a shuddering breath instead. Chapping your dry lips with your tongue. "-darling…" His voice low and raspy, teasing you. Neither of you says a word. You stare at each other for half a second or so. Drawn to each other. The little air between the two of you thick with tension. Lust. Passion. Desire.

Tom’s intense gaze forces the words from your dry and croaked throat. “I…” Tom’s lips part, and inch closer as you begin to utter the words. You knew the answer from the start. His hands closing in on you. Bodies brushing against one and another.”…-regret.”

Tom locks his soft, warm lips with yours. Pulling him into this slow passionate kiss. Your lips sensually dance against each other, while your tongues meet in between. Moaning softly into the kiss. The anticipation of being together in more than words, thoughts, dreams, and wishes, it electrifies every nerve in your body. Intoxicates. Warms you. Brings you to life like you never felt before.

His hands rove across your body with such intensity, prying the clothing loose from your body. As he breaks his lips away from yours. But continuing kissing the side of your neck. You feel a sudden shiver shoots across your spine, as his warm wet tongue connects with your skin. Sensually caressing the area around your neck. Down onto your collarbone and fumbling with the first buttons of your shirt. The excitement and ecstasy building up.

Your hands grasping onto his long brown curls. Returning the favor on his neck. Your body squished between the couch and his masculine body. Experiencing every curve and edge of his body against yours. It’s extremely arousing. You can’t help but grind against his force pushing down. The outlines of his muscles pushing down onto you. Through the fabric, you feel his erect cock pressed against yours. Both gasping a little as you share a glance at each other for a brief moment. Lust consuming his gaze. Without looking, you open the next button of his shirt. Your hands shake as they try to open the next.

Now slowly revealing his muscled frame. Your stomach's in ropes. Followed by a nervous flutter. Sighing dreamily as Tom has worked himself onto yours. You pull his naked torso against yours, his warm flesh pressing against yours. You violently kiss his lips as your hands slide down his back. Starting from his shoulder, down his back in a way, you free him of his shirt. Your hands ending up at his pants. Desperate to feel the roundings of his ass cheeks. Prying your fingers underneath the cloth, reaching for that fluid, round skin of his ass. They feel firm, tight, and incredibly satisfying to caress.

But Tom takes over. Pushing your body back and deeper into the couch. Losing your grasp on his ass. Ripping the shirt from your body with both hands. As you lay there, held down by both his hands on your shoulders. Tom starts trailing kisses running from your collarbone, down your chest. An ecstatic thrill pulses through your body at the feel of his lips upon your naked skin. You let out a low moan. Numbed by the sensations of his lips gracing and praising your wanting skin. You've been touch starved for years. Now groaning in pleasure. As he continues down further and further. With your eyes closed, you feel exactly where he was. Sweat breaks out all over your body as you feel the immediate thought of him inching his way down with each grace of his lips. Your fingers intertwined in his curls helps him spur on. As he moves to play with your nipple, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. Flicking gently at the hardened skin. His hands gliding along to your hips. With a strong pull, your pants slide off, and your member springs up from its captivity.

Without hesitation, he bends forward, both hands holding it in place. A wave of pleasures warms you, seeing him sliding his mouth over the head. It’s ticklish for a moment. A feeling that makes you jump a little on the spot. Rocking your body. But that subsides as quickly as pleasure takes over your senses.

You can't help but grunt as he works in your length. The pressure is strange for a moment. The suction is breathtakingly satisfying. Mind-boggling. Tom taking you in deeper and further. The touch of his lips on the veiny skin of your shaft. Keeping eye-contact as he does. It's so warm and so incredibly soft. The tender the touch of his tongue on your tip, made you gasp even harder. Lashing at the slit. It's beyond this world, the way he circles his tongue. Playing with your sensitive skin. It's something you never experienced as heavenly as before. The slow laps, licks, and careful sucks make you shudder and moan to the smallest change. Rolling your head back, your hips bucking upwards. You groan uncontrollably, feeling your entire body shudder from the sensation. Clenching buttocks and trembling legs. Trying to shove your length further into his mouth. But he keeps control, pinning your hips down. As he slurps and wets your member with such passion, it's impossible not to cum already.

In response, he digs his nails into your stomach, raking it towards your pelvis. Forcing you to watch him work. Releasing your pulsing, rock hard member from his warm and welcoming lips. “You look so good… under my touch.” He smiles, sensually teasing you with his tongue on your shaft. “You’re going to bust for me?” Bringing his lips to the underside of your cock.

The sight of it leaves you disconnected from your body and brain. Your fingers tremble, toes curling up and throat running dry. With small kisses, he starts nuzzling your shaft. And with one hand, stroking your cockhead. You can't help but feel the pulses coursing through your cock. All your blood directed to one place. Twisting and turning his hand along the ridges of the head. Still incredibly slicked from his saliva. His grasp is firm, yet releasing the tension just at the right moment, sliding along the sensitive skin. The ridges are hard by the pounding of your blood. Craving more and faster rubbing.

Tom is just focused on that one thing. Your moans. Finding the right spot. Caressing the skin in a way you could never do yourself. You never felt yourself. Nothing you did yourself would ever come close to this. “Do you want me…” He groans, licking the drops of pre-cum from your slit with his soft and warm tongue. “…-to make you cum?” It’s sensational the way your body seeps fluids from your cock. Tom’s tongue tenderly lashing at the streams of pre-cum.

“T-Tom…” You groan deep and hard. Feeling an imminent release coming up. Taking over your senses. But Tom continues to tease. Rubbing the frenulum with his thumb as he peppers kisses all over, expect your cock. You try to pull him upwards, feeling yourself close to blowing your load. "P-…Please…"

He continues kissing your belly, slowly working up. Paying no attention to your pleas. Rubbing himself against you, feeling his member rubbing against your thigh. Sliding further upwards, all nicely slicked. Creating satisfying friction of warm flesh and wetness. Latching one arm around his neck, the other on the pair of cocks. You help the incredibly satisfying grind increase pace. "I want you close to me." You moan to him, pulling him against you with your one arm. Tom doesn't linger long, closing both his arms around your neck. Both your chest together, grinding his hip into your tightened grip. Both gasping for air in the kiss.

“If you keep going like this…” He moans, looking up at you, heaving on your chest. Continuing to grind against you. “I’m…. I’m gonna blow first.”

"You're such a hot mess, baby." Releasing the hold on the pair of pulsating cocks, you dig your hands into his ass cheeks. "I'll take that load off you." You say with a grin on your face. A smile flickered on his face in response. Desperate to spill his load. The same going for you. But you wanted your turn at teasing as well. With all your force, you pull his ass cheeks towards you, lying flat on the couch. The entirety of his frame sliding across your sweaty body. Pushing the air from your lungs for a moment. His member meeting your face up close.

Tom's sigh on its own could make you burst as a whole. With a graceful lick and suckle on his balls, you force eye contact. Working your tongue up the shaft. Looking past his length, the beautiful curves of his abs, pecs, and collarbone grace your view. Watching his pleading expression as you continue. Tom's eye squint, while sucking his lower lip between his teeth, groaning with a deep and passionate volume. One hand on his length, you begin to slide your lips over his cockhead. It's large. It's firm. Wet. And incredibly smooth. You lips pop past the curves of his cockhead, onto the shaft. Your tongue meeting the head. Feeling the length twitch in your mouth as soon as your tongue slides further onto his shaft. The leaking drops of pre-cum smear across your tongue as you push further. Hitting the back of your throat. You stifle your gag reflex. Adjusting your mouth to his size. Tom's heavy moan followed up by shudder as he rolled his hips. An overwhelming experience. Your tongue wetting his shaft. Feeling the edges and ridges of his cock in your mouth made you even harder. Dripping from your own slit. After a few thrust into your mouth, you can already feel the momentum building. Stretching in your mouth. Shuddering movements. You would give him encouraging words, but your mouth was occupied. Filled with every inch of him. Slathering the entirety of his cock in your mouth.

To help his movement, you had your hands kneading into his ass cheeks. Pleasing white bums that cupped your hand perfectly. You slowly pried apart the cheeks. And with your fingers, you reach for his hole. Circling the tight flesh. Tom's moans increased as you begin pushing lightly against the resistance. Tom stops immediately. "B-Baby, please…" Groaning hard and long under your touch. His body quivers and shakes. And as you seek eye contact. You see him gasping, mouth wide open. His head hanging between his arms holding onto the couch. Trembling. Panting for air. "Ooh… s-s-shit!" Each push against his flesh, forcing an incredibly sexy moan from him.

That feel of his flesh weakening under your pressure. Accepting your finger, slowly, you begin pushing. Rubbing into his warm contorting flesh. Gripping around your finger tightly. Searching for that one spot. While caressing his cock with your tongue. Adding another finger made his knees weak. His whole body shuddering on top of yours. The anticipation building up in him. Pushing his cock further into your mouth and deeper down your throat. All the while, as his flesh softened, his hole loosening under your touch.

Your fingers drill deep and in motion with your sucking. It doesn't take long for his moans to turn short and shallow. "J-Just... like that!" He whimpers, leaning in towards you. The sudden shift of his cock in your mouth made you gag. Forcing it deeper down your throat. All swollen and wet. Dripping from your lips. You press your fingers deeper into him. As you feel him pushing into you. Plain right, fucking your mouth, down into your throat.

The moment you hit the spot is instantly noticeable. You feel the wetness dripping from his slit. The taste on your tongue. "That's it!" He cries out. Short, shallow thrust followed by a tortured growl. "Oh, my God." His whole body trembling. "Right there!" Continuing to shove his cock down your throat. "Keep doing that!" Following into your motion. Rutting his hip into you, short and shockingly. Waves of cum flooded your mouth. His dick pulsed on your lips. Feeling every vein contract and release wave after wave. Each thrust of your finger down his hole, surged the next. Your name cursed under his panting breath, as your struggle to gulp it all down. Trying to remember to breathe. Load after load gushed down your throat. Until a ragged, shuddering breath gave was the only thing you heard.

Releasing his still hard member from your mouth, you give yourself a breather. Gazing up from underneath, past his cock and heaving chest. You see that smirk on his face. Sharing a giggle as he helps you pull yourself up. "I'm so sorry." Kissing you gently on the lips, massaging your shoulders with both hands. "I let myself go there." Softly giggling.

"It’s alright.” You reassure him with a few kisses. “You can do anything, darling." Imitating his English accent.

"You shitface!" He chuckled as you take in his fluttered cheeks and a big smile. "I just hope I didn't harm that pretty voice of yours." Coming face to face with him again.

"That'd be quite a story." Planting your lips on his. "But, don't you worry… I can take it." Biting his lower lip sensually. Continuing to play with each other. "At this point, I wanna do it all.”

“Well, the night is long.” Licking the few drops of wetness running from your lips and cheek. “And there’s more after the sunrise.”

"That sounds so cheesy." You giggle softly as you let him pepper kisses along your cheek and down your ear.

"I’m helping you write a new song." Beginning to grind his ass cheeks against your length, while keeping a watchful eye on you. Sliding it up and down the crack of his ass.

"Shit… Tom." Running your hands down his figure. Captivated by his presence, up close, and all personal. "I can't fucking think straight." Kissing his collarbone and down to his pecs. The moans and groans he makes as you suckle on his nipple, flicking the skin with your tongue. Feeling it harden by your touch. His fingers clenching on your hair as you continue to suckle. Tom had a beautiful physique. And you soon found out he loved nothing more than being your kisses down your body. Completely overtaken by your praise of his body.

“I want you, baby.” He begs, trying to get your attention by squeezing your dick between his ass cheeks. “Every inch of you...” While you try to suckle on his exposed sweating skin. Every inch of him was pure heaven.

With one hand, you slick your member, ready to go. Keeping your lips on his collarbone. Tom moaned and moaned by your touch. Giving you an incredible boost in confidence. Digging the other into his lovely curved, round ass cheeks, the other onto your tip, guiding yourself to his hole. "I got this, baby." He groans. "I wanna feel it..." Taking your cock in his fingers.

All nervous and sweating, Tom pulls your head up, forcing his lips on yours again. Releasing a slow groan into the kiss. His fingers tremble of anticipation on your skin. Slowly guiding your cock to his hole. "I…" Nothing more follows. Your senses wholly overwhelmed. "...I'm lost…"

Lowering himself onto you, angling his pelvis just right, feeling his hole widen up, accepting your tip. Slowly pushing down on your cock. His lips quiver against yours, gasping for air. As you continue to push into him. Gravity doing the rest. The simulations grunt you both release by the sudden pleasure shakes your bodies. Unable to keep the kiss going. Leaning your foreheads against each other. Drowning in his captivating eyes. "This time…" He groans while drawing short breaths "-…I'll make you cum." His ass clamps down hard. Enveloping every inch of you tightly. Feeling his entire body shudder, goosebumps shooting across his skin. "I… promise, baby."

Tom was tight. Incredibly tight. "Fu-...uuuck…!" He growls, his face contorting in one of pain. But you were wrong. As his flesh convulses around your cock. The moment you slide in, he felt like you accepted him. But now, his skin convulsed around you. Squeezing you tight. "This… is… amazing." He keeps moaning. Burying his head in the crook of your neck, as the words escaped him in a ragged whisper. His continuous moans almost send you over the edge. "I…" He cursed under his breath. "I… can't move." He groans as you try to move.

Placing your hands on his ass cheeks, you help him get into the flow. Overwhelmed by his feelings, it takes you quite a bit of strength to get him moving. Slowly grinding his insides, his flesh starting to accept your rod with each thrust. Stretching him. Filling him. Pleasuring him.

Rolling his hips on your rod. Slow but sensual. The heat and smoothness driving you insane. Unable to find words. You stammer a few words as you help him ride you. But the words of Tom that make you stop for a moment. "You're gonna make me burst again, baby." Whispering into your ear. "Shit..." Moaning as he glances down onto his cock. Standing close to you. “Please… I’m…” He stammers before seating himself back up. “Im... getting… close...” You feel yourself harden inside him. The touch of your fingers makes him gasp in relief. It’s surreal for a moment. Feeling it so rigid in your hand. The way it’s warm and wet skin pulses in your hand. Each slow stroke you make, turning him more into a panting mess.

It's slow and sensual. Passionate. The grinding of his body against yours. The motion. The friction. Everything fell in the right place. His toned body riding your hard and eager cock. Tensing muscles of his rippled body. The moonlight casting a glow on all his hills and valleys, ripples and curves of his frame. It's just like a movie. Glistening in sweat. Like a song. A symphony of love and lust. Embed in your memory for eternity. His hands caressing your cheeks, while his lips close in on yours. Eyes locked. Release was imminent. Faster than you expected. A build-up of years. Finally there. It's all you ever wanted. "Just like that…" His words trailed off into oblivion as his eyes closed shut.

His hands shudder on your skin. Groaning vividly as he struggled to regain his focus. For a moment, he lost control. Groaning uncontrollably hard. Your fingers firmly wrapped around his length. Inching him closer and closer to his orgasm with each stroke. Massaging every ridge and vein on his pulsing cock. Focusing each stroke on the ridges of his head. Letting them ripple through your fingers through a tight grip. His moans were sexier then you imagined even in your dreams—all by your doing.

All it takes is looking him into his eyes. And the cum shot out in ropes. White strings off pure pleasure. One after another. His encouraging words made you speed up, making him shoot far and wide. It’s an incredible sight to see. Tom just cums and cums, spilling onto your hands and stomach. Praising you. Begging you for more. And as each shot launched into the air, his hole clenched around your cock. It synched up so perfectly. It turned you on immensely. Passing on the climax.

Jolts of energy, building up, searching for a release. A rupture of energy. Emotions. Spilling from you. Warm and wet. Gushing his insides, wave after wave. Your body locked in ecstasy and numbness. The grasp of your fingers fading on his flesh, curling your toes. Gasping for breath. Loss of words. Bliss.

Forever had you dreamed of this moment. Longed for it. That smile of his. The soft caress of his fingers on your skin. His moan. Long and deep. Groaning after your pulsing orgasm. Taking it all in.

“You’re a dream come true.” Cupping his cheeks. Connecting with his lips. This was meant to be. His body grinding against yours. Begging for more. Desires you beforehand only dreamed off. Now all surfaced. His masculine body thriving on top of you. Glistening with sweat. A hard rock cock, standing in-between you. Your eyes are drawn to it.

Tom cleared his throat, allowing a dry croak to escape his drawn, trembling lips. “I want this to last forever.” Moaning into the kiss. “Never... stop.” His arms wrap around your neck. Those rippling muscles in his arms were strong. Holding you in a tight hold. His torso grinding against you. It’s perfect. You can hear the harmony. It’s all true what they once sang. Love is all.

“Tom… I...” Getting kissed by him again. Unable to finish your sentence. With even more passion. Aggression almost. Fiercely exploring each other with your fingers. So few thoughts raced through your mind. Only Tom. Just the two of you.

Imposing a finger between your lips, breaking up the kiss, he tries to keep your lips sealed. Allowing you to draw much-needed air into your lungs. Watching him gather himself as well. Piece his words together. "If we're going to say it…" He whispers, kissing you down your jawline while trying to hold you flat to the couch. "I want to be the first." Engaging your lips again. You can't help but giggle into the kiss. Fighting for control. And Tom was strong. Teasing you as you struggle to get a hold of him. Not only distracted by his person up close, but also by your naked bodies thrashing. Eventually rolling both off the couch. After a shared giggle and a laugh, you continue to roll around on the carpet. Your flesh on his. Loving every inch of him. Worshipping. Fingers digging deep into each other's skin.

Eventually, you submit, rolling onto your back. Partially on purpose, but also out of curiosity. You take a moment to look at him. Your eyes run down his body, lingering over his straining chest muscles, broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and rolling abs. From his pelvis loomed his cock. Shining from the wetness, yet still hard, thick, and swollen. Completely ready for you. The anticipation made your heart race like never before.

"Prove it to me…" You ordered him. "I want you to show me your love." Not a moment of hesitation wasn't there. That sparkle in his captivating brown eyes. A continuous flow of love. Tom takes both your legs and spreads them apart. Inching himself closer to you. The way his eyes devour you sends a shiver through your whole body. Hooking one leg over his shoulder, he slides his shaft between your cheeks. Rubbing and teasing your hole. The touch of his hard tip on your tight flesh alone makes you whimper. He carefully watched your reaction. If he didn't stop already, you would bust right there. You couldn't help it—dizzy with anticipation. You watch Tom wet a finger with saliva. Spreading your cheeks apart with his fingers, inserting one into your flesh. You can't help but throw your head back. Tom wasn't gentle. He knew you wanted it. Your body craved it at this point. In one push, he forced his finger up there. "You like that, babe?" Adding another finger. Your whole body contorted around his movement. But Tom held you down. He leaned onto your chest, peppering kisses along your sweating skin.

A gasp of relief, emptiness, and desires sounded from your mouth. Tom's fingers had left an unrelenting desire to be filled by him. Your flesh had accepted such movements after a few thrusts, your body enjoying the slow teasing thrusts from his fingers. Leaving you in nothing more than a panting mess. Desperate. "Tom… Fuck me…" You exhale sharply. "Please…"

You watch attentively as he sucks his fingers clean. Stroking the length of his cock. To what avail you don't know. It was hard already. One hand on your raised leg, the other on his cock. He slowly sinks himself into you. That moment of when he pushed against your flesh. The resistance. Your body strained momentarily as it stretched the flesh—resistance fading. And the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and bliss fall over you. You can't help but close your eyes and roll back your head. And you let that incredible feeling wash over you. As he slides in slowly, inch by inch. Forcing a numbness in your pelvis, radiating up into your body. Steadying your breathing as your hole seems to widen even further before clenching on him again. You didn't realize you where groaning until Tom overshadowed your sound. Before you realize it, he's sheathed all the way into you. Tom's loud breathing indicating otherwise. Barely holding on, as he balances himself on one hand beside you. Involuntary clenching your hole around him even more. "God…You're so tight." He pants heavily, feeling his breath on your skin.

It didn’t hurt. Not one bit. Just the feeling of having Tom so deep inside you makes you feel fuzzy and warm. Horny to a point you never experienced. Tom slowly starts to his roll his hips into you. Slow and passionate. All you feel is the cock hitting your insides again and again. And the strength ebbing away in your legs. This was the best feeling you could ever imagine. “C'mon, stay with me.” He whispers. Noticing your body going limb by the pleasure of his penetration.

The continuous grinding on your insides was more than heavenly. Each push of his cock, the flesh pounding against yours. The ridges of his cock rubbing your insides were so incredibly satisfying. You can't help but grin at his comment. "Tom...." You manage to moan out. "... I'm…"

The sensations building up are immense. You're driven close to the edge several times by the penetration of Tom's cock. Something so fantastic and otherworldly, it made your mind go blank. He slows his movement and locks lips again. Murmuring to you. "You're really into me..."

Tom’s comment didn’t register in your mind. The only thought was having him rut faster into you. "You're… You’re gonna make me burst..." You pant heavily. "I'm so… fucking close..." Groaning from pleasure. "Go faster, T-Tom!"

"Shoot it for me, love." He whispers to you in a soft voice. He starts rolling his hips again. You buck your hips upward, feeling him reach deeper. The sound of bare naked flesh slapping against one another drove you closer and closer. "Blow your load." He groans in your ear. "C'mon… Look at me." Tom was as expressive with his words as with his actions.

You open your eyes to his flexed body muscles arching forward. Kissing you immediately as you begin to massage your shaft. Before abruptly breaking away. Leaving you wanting more. Instead, he holds on your thighs and begins to push deeper into you. His grip firm, yet careful and pleasing to the touch. Intensifying the moment. You arch upwards at Tom's sudden deep thrust. Pushing the air out of your lungs. Making your toes curl. Gasping for air. It felt as if his tip had touched your dick. Far and deep inside you. That warm fuzzy feeling now boiling up. Followed by a sweet explosive release. You cry out as a fountain of cum shoot from you. At the first sight of cum, Tom thrusts deeper again, pushing against the spot once more. Then, pulling your pelvis flush against his body. Penetrating you deep and rough. Again and again. Coating his stomach with your cum. "That's it, baby!" He exhales with you unload your cream. "Give it to me!" Your vision begins to cloud with dark hues and stars. As you balls churn load after load. His hand helping you drain the very last drop onto you. The other hand rubbing the wetness down his six-pack.

"K-Keep going… Tom." You moan slowly, regaining your senses. Enjoying his constant rubbing inside you. So warm and satisfying. You can't feel your legs. Only his cock sliding in and out. The rigid of his cockhead rubbing all the right places. And even after that explosive release, your erection doesn't fade away.

“I’m gonna bust all over you.” Clasping his hands to your sides. Picking up the pace again. Slamming his pelvis against yours. You grip both your legs and pull them towards you. Giving Tom a better angle to penetrate. He starts to gain momentum. Thrusting harder and deeper. While you whimper uncontrollably. Squirming from pleasure trapped under his rough pounding body. You just want him to pound you again and again.

He grunts while his movement became jagged and irregular. The words caught in his throat several times. Drowning in each other eyes. “I love you (Y/N).”

Throwing your arms around his neck, you pull him towards you. Whispering his name. Praising him. Feeling him grow incredibly large inside you. Stretching you. Moaning into his ear. And he doesn't need more. He jolts upward from your grasp. Your legs falling back. Tom grabs his cock with one hand as he pulls out. Followed by a shallow grunt that announced his orgasm. He manages to stay on his knees for a bare moment. In amazement and lust, you gaze upon this cock, ready to burst. Drips of wetness leaking from the tip. But as soon as the sensations take over his body, he topples over. Resting on one arm, hovering several inches above your heaving body. The other stroking his length with an intensity you never have seen before.

You take a moment, just as he is about to burst. You force your cock under it. Grasping both of them together with your hands. And take over. Tom cries out as his eyes widen. Both rubbing the cock with the same intensity. The touch of your cock against his, and his balls touching your flesh made him cum immediate. Your load boils up in an instant.

From both the slits, a shower of cum jets forward. And as it releases, Tom cries out loudly. Calling out your name. Growling. Groaning from release. Large strings of wetness spill onto your chest. Each stroke releasing another. More and more. Coating you in wetness. Literally dripping everywhere down your body.

"Y-You're everything." Tom gasped after he recovered his breath. His lips caressing the side of your neck. Sucking the skin between his teeth. Making sure to leave a mark. His cock semi-hard rubbing against yours. You can't help but feel numb and paralyzed by the touch on your skin. His tongue sensually licking the wetness from your skin. While grinding against you. "I love you." His lips finding yours again. "I love you so much…"

"Damn… Tom." Slinging your arms around his neck. Pulling him closer to you. The wetness spilling from one body onto the other. "You came three times." Feeling his hardening length grow against your thigh. "And you're not done, I feel." You chuckle with a blush.

"You turn me on incredibly." He smiles. "That's no secret." Pressing small kisses on your collarbone, up towards your lips. "But I plan to even that score… tonight." Biting his lower lip. "If you allow me to that is…" Roaming his fingers along your skin. His mind occupied on all the ways he could.

“I’m might pass out before we reach the bed.” You smile as you feel him harder again. As you two cuddle within each other's embrace. Slow, soft kisses followed by muffled moans, and fingers tracing the outlines of sweating, shuddering, and drained frames.

"Let's do it everywhere except for the bed." While searching for your cock with his other hand. Throwing one leg over, taking a seat on you. Rubbing the wetness and sweat down the crack of his ass. Teasing you with his hole. "Fill me up again." He growls, pushing down on your cock while spreading his legs. "I can't get enough of it." He shudders and groans as you begin to stretch him up again. Gasping as your sensitive skin was pleasured again. "And so do you, I see."

And so the night goes on. Time isn't of the essence. It's the realization that hits you. Love was always closer than you ever thought. Friends seem more than just friends. Fate sure had its saying in this. Tom was it all. From the start, you had been dreaming him into your life. And now it's finally there. Lying there beside each other.

The way it meant to be. After all those years. Keeping up a facade. Creating a life behind illusions. Hiding behind a mask, pretending to be someone that you're not. But people expect you to be. What people want you to be.

Hiding the truth. It's easy to hide at first. And it's comforting. Showing that other you. Living the easy life. Not confronting your daemons. But eventually, it starts gnawing at you. Your conscience chipping at that sense of security. Afraid the real you might show through the cracks. That people find the real you. It's terrifying. It's haunting. You found ways to put aside your needs. But deep down, there's always a longing. And to satisfy that feeling. You need someone. You have to be the real version of you. And that version is with Tom. Where it needed to be.

“There’s someone at the door.” Tom whispers softly beside you. “Wake up, darling.” His soft hands straddle across your back. Squeezing your ass cheeks in the process. Hearing him giggle to himself.

"Probably breakfast..." Rubbing the sleepers from your eyes. Releasing a long drawn yawn as your eyes adapt to the light coming through the curtains. Illuminating Tom's handsome features beside you. Your hand on an expedition under the blankets, looking for some of that skin of Tom.

“You hungry?” Tom rolling into your arms. His fingers tracing along your bare naked body.

"Not yet." Reeling him in for a morning kiss. You both couldn't stop smiling. "But, I do want something else."

“Oh, you bet.” He chuckles while his fingers trace further down. “But first… have I…” Tom stifling a groan and a laugh, struggling to keep talking as he moves onto you. “...-told... you?” While fighting over the position who spoons who. “-…how much…”

“I love you…?” Finishing his sentence with a laugh. Before pushing Tom on his back, and continue to go down on him. Receiving a chuckling laugh from him as he tries to intervene your ticklish touches. Peppering kisses all over his body. Hearing a click of a phone camera. “Are you going to post that?” You mumble in-between praising his body with your lips. “Because there’s nothing I want more.”

“Good.” He smiles as you take a rest on his chest. While Tom rakes through your hair ever so lightly. Watching him scroll through his camera roll. Filled with pictures of you. “I want to world to know.” Pressing a kiss on your forehead as picks the best one. Confidence and pride in his voice.

You halt him, leaning over and grabbing your own phone. “Promise me one thing.” Taking a selfie. “We shut down our phones after.”

“And then I’m so going to do you.” He grins.

“That depends... on who posts their pictures first.”

A/N: I hope this has been worth the wait.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x male reader #tom holland x male!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #tom holland male reader #tom holland male!reader #male!reader #male reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine #male reader smut #Smut

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

Text

Wrought Iron Machine (Final Part)

It hasn’t taken long at all for the headlines to announce her vocal struggles and declining health, to have them plastered for everyone to see. Even if she wants to she can’t say anything on her own behalf. She reads another headline; ‘Has the Fire Been Put Out: Fire Of Agni Frontwoman Loses Voice.’

Azula sits in an emergency room back in the Fire Nation, they still don’t have the equipment to correct the worsened cyst. For the time they only monitor her vitals and pain-levels. She doesn’t think much about the pain though. Her head is preoccupied by the image of her father’s complacent look of satisfaction. By the realization that she had made a fool of herself at the world’s most extravagant and esteemed music competition. By the thought that she will never talk, much less, sing again.

She doesn’t know which matter concerns her the most, she supposes that they are all interconnected. Even if she does recover, after unleashing such an Agni-awful, ear-piercing sound on stage she can’t imagine that she’ll be getting another invite to Southern Air Sounds. Her musical career is over. Her only option is to wander back to her father and hope that she can win him over with her firebending talents. She can’t beg him for another chance if she can’t speak.

There is a pressure behind her eyes and she wants to let it out. But crying will only do more damage to her delicate vocal cords. The doctor warns as much. So she tries her best to choke back her embarrassment and grief.

She truly hopes that she won’t hear from her father anytime soon, she can’t take it. Zuko takes a seat next to her and squeezes her hand. She appreciates his company and the gesture, but it is little condolences. Just as little as TyLee’s tight hugs and loving kisses. Mai tries to assure her that the crowd was kind. “They weren’t saying anything bad about you, you know? After the show everyone was just asking if you were okay.”

“They were really worried.” Zuko adds.

“Someone told me to give this to you!” TyLee smiles. She hands her a stuffed fire ferret and a get well soon card. Azula takes them without a sound, she barely looks up. She isn’t sure who is rubbing her back but she thinks that it is either Zuko or TyLee.

“Do you…” she rasps but it is broken and painful so she ceases trying to vocalize her question.

“Here.” Mai pushes her a pad of papers. She pushes it back, opting to spell her question in the air with fire. If she can’t speak she may as well make it look cool. With her fire she asks if they’ve been barred from attending S.A.S in the future. It is easier to simply use the acronym so that is what she does.

“I don’t think so. We were doing amazing up until…” Mai trails off.

“They said that they admired our creativity and ability to improvise.” Zuko points out.

‘No thanks to me.’ She spells out.

“Creativity!” TyLee points out. “They liked your idea to have an instrumental number. None of the other bands did that.”

It is only a sliver of reassurance. At least she hasn’t completely messed up. She stares at her hands. She just wants her voice back.

The pain finally begins setting in, it rips at her throat bringing tears to her eyes.

Zuko’s back rubs increase.

“Are you alright, Azula?” TyLee asks, her eyes sympathetic.

She only has it in her to spell out, “hurts.” She curls herself up

.oOo.

The temples are stunning, more stunning than Kuvira remembers. They have added some decorative chandeliers. She feels blessed that they have invited her to stay. She and the rest of her band have been invited to a dinner with the three bands that performed after hers. An unexpected but every bit as welcomed victory surprise.

She triple checks her hair and attire. She has her hair in another neat and tight braided bun and has applied a touch of makeup to her face. “How is this, Baatar?”

“I already told you that you look amazing.” He replies, “can we just have dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m getting hungry and I hear that the wine is fantastic.” Ghazan remarks, putting his arm around Ming.

“You’re always hungry.” P’Li remarks.

“Correct.” He winks.

Kuvira adds a comb hair clip to her outfit and checks the mirror for a fourth time. She wants to leave a good impression if she is going to be dining with musical legends. Baatar takes her hand and pulls her away from the mirror. “I think that that’s perfect.”

“You say that about everything I wear.” Kuvira points out.

“Because everything you wear is perfect.”

“Ugg.” P’Li grumbles. “Definitely didn’t miss that.”

Kuvira unfolds a cloth map and leads her band down the hall. Baatar links his arm with hers. They wander for some time, stopping on one occasion to see the Southern Air hall of fame. It is organized by category from jazz to pop and folk to metal. Kuvira scans the category reserved for the musical legends, it is surreal to see an image of their band among them. It is from their performance three days prior.

“Now Ming, don’t touch anything.” Ghazan says.

“Ha. Funny man.” She mutters.

As they chatter, Kuvira wanders further down the hall viewing the metal category and finding a second image of Wrought Iron Machine. Still it is dream-like to see it hanging there in a frame of swirling gold. The rest of her band comes to catch up with her. She comes to the last category, a seemingly new sub category. There is only a single photograph in the section for bands with the most unique concepts.

She wonders if they are even aware being as they were forced to depart so soon.

Baatar nudges her, “we’re going to be late.”

Kuvira picks up her pace and soon she is standing before a set of almost absurdly long double doors. The insignia of the air nomads is carved at the center of both of them. Kuvira takes a breath and smooths a few wrinkles out of her outfit. Baatar rubs her shoulders encouragingly.

She heaves the doors open and makes her way to the empty chairs reserved for she and her band. “Welcome.” Greets Karou. The frontman of Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz sits at the head of the table, their dinner and competition host.

It is somewhat hard to maintain composure, the result of some residual teenage crush that never had a chance to fully extinguish.

“Thank you.” Baatar fills in for her. “We’re honored to be guests here.”

Karou shakes their hands each in turn. “And I’d like to personally congratulate you for joining us in the hall of fame and for the baby. Perhapst the child will share your musical talents.”

Kuvira smiles. “Thank you. I hope the same.” Even if the child has other interests she makes a very special point to let them flourish. “Though she may take up Baatar’s fascination with machines.”

Another woman speaks, Xing-Bora from Tears of Yue. “I think we should also congratulate the two of you for saving your marriage and the band.”

“It’s a wonder you all pulled through so close to the competition.” Remarks Chong. “What was that about anyways?”

His own wife nudges him. “Apologies, he still has is countryside manners.”

P’Li scoffs, “we’ll forgive him if you all forgive Ghazan for being a human disaster.”

“It’s a long story.” Kuvira cuts in before they can start a secondhand embarrassment inducing round of bickering. “To put it simply, even though I let him name the band,” Kuvira sneaks in, “he felt as though he didn’t get enough creative freedom.”

Baatar rubs the back of his head. “A man needs to show his brilliance every now and again.”

Conversation breaks off momentarily as appetizers are passed around. Kuvira resumes the chatter with a simple. “It was a pleasure to see you perform.” An understatement.

“And a pleasure to listen to your band as well.” Karou returns cheerfully. “I was hoping that you would be willing to perform during our next competition.” He pauses. “Of course, you won’t be able to perform as a contestant. Instead you will be performing with us during the esteemed after-competition show.”

“We certainly plan on it.” Kuvira replies. Though she isn’t entirely certain what ten years will bring. How their child will impact their band. She decides to take things as they come and hope for the best.

“It will be hard to top this decade’s contest.” Chong notes.

“It was certainly eventful.” Xing-Bora remarks. “It’s a shame about Fire of Agni…”

“How is the girl?” Chong’s wife asks.

“If the headlines are to be trusted, she’s due for surgery sometime within the month.” Karou replies.

“I hope that it works.” Chong’s wife says softly.

“Yes,” Kuvira adds. “She…” she isn’t sure if she should use past or present tense. She feels optimistic. “She has a very unique talent, I don’t think that I’ve heard a voice like hers.” Again, her heart pangs for the girl.

“I thought that your band didn’t like theirs.”

“It was a phase.” P’Li waves her hand dismissively. “We needed someone to shit talk so we wouldn’t shit talk each other.”

“We did it anyways.” Ghazan shrugged.

“No less, the kids have talent.” Karou speaks. “I would love to see them back next time around. They have it in them to win if Azula makes a full recovery. They have it in them to win even if she only recovers partially.”

Their discussion dies down again as the main course is set before them. Kuvira takes the opportunity to gaze at the other tables; like their own two others are lined with golden tablecloths. They host other past winners of Southern Air Sounds. The ones lined in silver host the second placers and the honorable mentions. And a bunch of others tables a reserved for audience members and bands that had paid to have seating. She sees four empty spots at the silver tables. Karou follows her gaze. “We figured that it would be respectful to have a spot open for them even if they can’t fill them.”

Kuvira nods.

The rest of their dinner is mundane. She inquires some about the bands and styles that have influenced Wan Shi Tong’s Waltz and Ghazan makes a few off-color remarks as the beer gets to him. Ming really only speaks to ask why her ice cream is topped with two cherries while everyone else only has one. It is more laid back than she has anticipated. And it goes by much faster. It seems as though they have barely finished desert when guests start heading for the door.

Karou turns to her and hands her an envelope. “Your prize money and an invite to our next competition.”

Kuvira will have to split the prize money when she gets a chance.

“If you run into Fire of Agni before they receive their letter, do tell them that they have been invited.”

“I can hand them their letter personally.”

.oOo.

The surgery leaves her terribly anxious. They say that it can ruin her voice. All the same she wonders if it even matters, she has already done that herself. She does wish, though, that they hadn’t told her of the possibility of something going wrong enough to kill her. On the other hand, she no longer knows if she is entirely opposed to that.

She faintly thinks that she is being overly dramatic. If nothing else she still has TyLee. She still has Zuko and Mai.

The three have worked so hard to uplift her spirits. To remind her not to bother with her father. To remind her that she still has a spot in the band. They don’t tell her how, they leave her to remind herself that she can still play the guitar. That she can still organize the band and design their sets and write their lyrics.

She repeats the reminders to herself as TyLee pulls her into her arms. She doesn’t particularly want to be held at the moment, she has received enough pity and babying, but she doesn’t resist either. TyLee holds her tightly, it is almost too brief because a nurse comes to beckon her forward.

Azula listens to them explain the procedure to her, cringing inwardly at some of the descriptors. After a certain point she wonders if she even wants to know. She decides that she does, she wants to know exactly what to expect.

Not long after, she finds herself drifting into a drug induced sleep.

She wakes up groggy. She opens her mouth to speak but is immediately scolded. It takes her mind a moment to catch back up with her. The words die on her lips. She sits herself upright, they let her do so but it leaves her feeling dizzy so she goes to lay back down. Zuko holds her up as TyLee props a pillow up for her. She scans the room for Mai and finds the girl leaning against the wall as quietly as ever.

Doctor Fing-Sho reappears, taking a seat next to her bed. “I have a few instructions for you.”

Azula nods.

“Obviously I advise that you talk as little as possible for the first two weeks, perhaps three. When you do speak, be brief. Don’t yell or try to sing.” He pauses and she nods her understanding again. “Your voice will sound very hoarse. This can last up to eight weeks. We can start vocal therapy during week three. I know I said you can begin talking more after two weeks, but I would like to play on the safe side. You are very lucky that we were able to fix the damage you’ve done.”

Azula subtly gnaws the inside of her cheek.

“With that said, I recommend that you find yourself a vocal trainer who specializes in musical techniques.”

Azula nods once more.

“Finally, you have a visitor.” Fing-Sho smiles.

Azula knits her brows and then the panic sets in. Rather quickly she spells with fire, that she doesn’t want to see her father.

“It’s not your father.” The doctor replies.

Using her fire she vocalizes her approval and Fing-Sho beckons her visitor into the room. Azula tries to hide a scowl when she sees the face of the woman who she’d handed her victory over to. Kuvira makes herself as comfortable as she can in a hospital chair. She rests one hand on the arm rest and her other on her belly. “I hope you don’t mind me coming by.”

Azula absolutely does, but she doesn’t use her fire to depict as much.

“I actually came by to give you something.” She holds an envelope out.

Azula reaches for it and her brows knit again at the sight of the seal.

“There was an after party of sorts. I spoke to Karou, he says that he hopes to see you at the next competition.

Azula’s face softens, the woman is doing a good job of breaking the ice whether she wants to admit it or not.

“He believes that you will do well even if you don’t make a full recovery, I don’t know if that makes things any better.”

This time she does let the woman know that it does not.

Kuvira gives a small laugh. “I didn’t think so. Not much made me feel better when Fing-Sho worked with me…”

Azula tilts her head so Kuvira elaborates.

“Awhile back...a long while, Wrought Iron Machine tried to do something like your first album. I don’t have the vocal type you do. I messed my voice up rather quickly trying to force something that I wasn’t good at.” She shrugs.

“Why are you here?” Zuko asks. “Your band hates ours.”

Kuvira shrugs a second time. “We don’t hate your band. We just...got a little competitive.”

How diplomatic, Azula thinks to herself.

“We were falling out of the limelight and you were in it.”

She is the jealous type.

“You’ve created a sound that no one has heard before and...we wanted to do that for ourselves.” She pauses. “A success by the way.”

“Well congratulations.” Mai grumbles, “it’s our turn to be on the bottom.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Kuvira replies. “I meant that your creation was a success. You have a spot in the Southern Air Sounds hall of fame for it.”

“We do?” TyLee smiles.

“Yes, you do.” She turns back to Zuko. “To answer your question; I’m here to make amends.”

Azula frowns. She has very little interest in the woman, she is condescending and self-righteous. She folds her arms over her chest and glowers at Kuvira. The woman looks terribly unfazed. Azula supposes that she isn’t all that intimidating in a hospital gown and without her voice.

“You remind me of myself. You have reckless ambition. A drive to make it to the top.” She pauses again. “I’ve only ever seen that kind of determination when it’s all or nothing.” Again she halts. “Mine comes from spite I suppose. My parents thought that my dreams were foolish so they dumped me on the side of the road for trying to pursue them. I was hoping that my appearance in Southern Air Sounds...” She breaks off. “I just thought that they would show up. For some reason I expected them to. I don’t think that they even know who I am anymore.”

Azula wishes that the woman hadn’t shared because now there is a sort of connection, now she feels inclined to hear the woman out. Zuko speaks first. “I don’t know if you heard about it but Azula and I didn’t leave home willingly either.

Kuvira nods empathetically. “I had a feeling. I know what an abandoned child looks like…”

She remains quiet in thought for a long while. “That’s also why I’m here. I have another offer for you.”

.oOo.

The house is quiet. Quiet and empty. She and Baatar haven’t quite gotten around to moving all of their furniture in. P’Li, Ghazan, and Ming-Hua have taken to exploring their new neighborhood. Kuvira herself decides to stay home and try to tidy the place up a bit, plan out how she’d like to lay out their furniture. She looks over Baatar’s ideas, deciding that they are probably good enough. The man in question is away as well, somewhere between his childhood home and their new one, driving a large satomobile full of their possessions. She would love to help but they are down to the heaviest of their belongings and she has already received a good scolding from her doctor against heavy lifting.

Eventually she resigns to that she is six months along and needs to take it easy. She supposes it isn’t so bad, she hasn’t left him totally alone. He has help from his brothers and from Zuko. Most comfortingly, he has Lin’s assistance. Kuvira is half convinced that the very reason so much progress has been made in their move because of Lin alone.

Azula wanders into the nearly barren room, Kuvira didn’t hear her come in and wonders how long she has been there. She doesn’t talk much and Kuvira, at first, assumed that the girl was still weary of hurting her voice further. But she has come to find that the firebender is simply a quieter person. When she does speak it is typically soft-spoken. The kind of soothing timbre Kuvira had been expecting and not expecting all at once. Looking at her, it makes perfect sense but after hearing only her music for so long it is hard to imagine her speaking so softly.

“How was therapy.”

“It was…” she thinks for a moment, “it went better than last time.” There is still a hoarser undertone to her voice, but the raspiness is becoming less pronounced as the healing process continues.

Kuvira has cup of tea ready. It is still steaming when she pours it for the girl. “Here, drink.”

Azula takes the cup in her hands. “Uncle makes better tea.”

The girl has a bit of a difficult temperament, Kuvira has learned to brush off her more prickly moods. She no longer takes the more off-handed commentary to heart.

“It’s not the taste that matters, it’s the effect.” Raava knows that the girl has fought her on this many a times. Kuvira stands by her opinion; as long as the tea can help soothe the girl’s throat, it is serving its purpose.

Azula routinely argues that Kuvira should learn to make better tea if she is going to make her drink it every other day.

“Have a seat.” Kuvira offers only to have the firebender decline.

“I like standing.” She sips at the tea, just once before holding it over a small fire in her palm.

“I’ve never seen firebending like that.”

“It’s actually quite common for firebenders to heat their tea like this.”

Kuvira rolls her eyes, feeling a faint hint of amusement. “I’ve never seen someone use blue fire.”

Azula gives a prideful smile. “Good. I like to think that it is something only I can do.”

The remark is the loudest Kuvira has heard from the girl since adopting her. She wonders if the firebender’s voice had always been this soft or if it is the product of her injury. She tries to recall one of Fire Of Agni’s interviews. Before she can truly reach a decision her thoughts are cut off by a very loud and very cheerful, “Oh Azula! You’re home!” Kuvira watches the other girl throw her arms around Azula who returns the gesture by awkwardly patting her girlfriend’s head.

“It’s good to see you too, Ty.”

Kuvira finds it hard to resist making an inquiry. “Was her voice always this quiet?”

TyLee thinks for a moment. “Hmmm. Sort of. She used to talk a little louder, but not that much.”

“You need more tea.” Kuvira declares, needing an excuse to be on her feet.

“You need to get out of the house.” Azula shoots back.

The girl isn’t entirely wrong. But her tone of voice comes with a touch of sass. Kuvira supposes that it will do her well to get used to it. Her baby will be a teen eventually. Raising--though she uses the term loosely--the former princess, her brother, and friends has been an interesting feat to say the least. She doesn’t know how Suyin has managed to raise all of her children and Kuvira herself.

“I suppose that I will when Baatar gets home.” Kuvira says at last.

“What are you going to name it?” TyLee changes the subject.

Before she can give her answer Azula grumbles, “you better not name it after Karou.”

“We had two names in mind.” Kuvira replies. “Setsuko and Kotone.”

“Setsuko.” Azula casts her vote and TyLee nods in agreement.

Azula hands Kuvira her cup. “I don’t know what you want me to do with this.”

“Whatever my servants used to do with them.” Azula shrugs.

“I’m not your servant. I’m your mother.” It is still somewhat strange to say.

Frowning, Azula hands the cup to TyLee who flounces over to the sink and washes it. Kuvira rolls her eyes. One of these days she will have to get the girl to do her own dishes.

It would seem as though TyLee doesn’t share any of the awkward feelings. “Are you coming to or show tonight, mom? It’s our first one since S.A.S.”

“I’ll be there.” She replies.

“Good because it’s going to be my first time singing that many songs. And Azula has been really working hard on learning to play the guitar.”

“I thought that you already knew how to play it.”

“I put more focus into singing.” Azula shrugs. “But if I can’t do that, I might as well make myself known for play the guitar better than everyone else.”

So that is why Ghazan has been strumming his bass so intensely. She wonders if it is truly possible that her fiance is in an unspoken competition with a teenager. It begins to dawn on Kuivra that she has created a very bizzare family for herself. She supposes that she likes it this way, it keeps her occupied.

.oOo.

The past few months leave the former princess wondering why she had gone out of her way to create scandals and article material. Headlines seem to be coming left and right these days. The headlines have long since made note of Kuvira adopting four fire children with speculations ranging from simple observations to theories that they are about to form one large band.

The chatter of that had only just died down when Azula’s former rival found herself to be the subject of a new brand of talk with a slew of invasive journalists trying to get the first shot of the woman’s newborn. A seperate news article reported P’Li landing a good punch on one of the particularly eager ones.

For herself, Azula’s voice and the state of it are in constant discussion. The latest article unveils her plans to begin singing again. For the time it will be reserved for the recording studio only and depending on how that goes, she will be singing on stage when they tour alongside Wrought Iron Machine.

She is reluctant to thank Kuvira. Albeit a bit overbearing, the woman has gone out of her way to pass down a few of the vocal technique and warm ups she has learned. With the woman occupied by her baby girl, Azula almost misses having her lingering in the studio with her. But she has TyLee for company. Soon she will have Zuko and Mai as well. They are late again because Zuko refuses to leave without his beanie. Maybe if her brother kept his room more organized, he wouldn’t run into such a struggle. Perhaps she can get Kuvira to nag the boy. Such is another area of common ground; they both wish that one of their bandmates could tidy up a bit.

All in all, she is growing used to and fond of referring to the metalbender as her mother. She is closer to her than she had been with her real mother. And the woman, though prone to being somewhat of a hardass is kinder than her own father ever was. She is nearly at a point where she doesn’t miss her real parents at all. But if Kuvira is anything to go by, the disappointment never truly leaves.

Azula uses the spare time to get her new lyrics in order and her equipment adjusted. Her line of thinking switches. She is somewhat nervous to be back in the studio. Doctor Fing-Sho insists that her vocal cords are mostly healed, that the therapy is doing them very well. Yet there is still a faint tingle at the back of her mind that she can tear them apart again.

Screaming is still off of the table, at least for the time being. She is allowed a line or two of harsh vocals but it is advised that she doesn’t perform a set with them every single night. For now she will leave Zuko with that job and take up the gentler vocals.

No matter how solid her plan is she still feels vaguely insecure. The change is so subtle but she still finds that she can’t speak as loudly as before and there is still a very slight rasp to her voice that is going to take some getting used to.

Perhaps it will make her stand out. It isn’t a vocal quality many others have. TyLee speculates as much anyhow.

Finally the door opens. But it is not Zuko who enters.

Kuvira leans in the doorway Setsuko in one arm and a tea set in the other. Azula admires the woman’s creativity, she uses a metal platter, bending it to keep the porcelain on it from falling.

“I wrote a letter to the Jasmine Dragon a while back.” She says as she sets the tea set down. She brushes her fingers over the baby’s cheek. “You better like it this time.”

“Thank you.” Azula picks up the cup. It is heated to a satisfactory degree, things are off to a good start.

Baatar appears in the doorway. “Suyin says that she can watch Setsuko while we reccord tomorrow.”

“Thank Raava.” Kuvira mutters. She hands the baby over to the man.

Azula notes that the woman definitely looks worn. Her hair is some straggly and she is still wearing pajama bottoms. Baatar slips his free arm around the woman’s waist.

“What are you going to do today?” Azula asks.

“While Baatar watches Setsuko, I was going to take P’Li to visit Zaheer in prison.”

Azula krinkles her brows. “Seriously.”

Kuvira nods.

“Have a grand time.”

Kuvira laughs. “If you need anything just call Baatar.”

Azula nods. As Kuvira and Baatar leave, Mai, TyLee, and Zuko make their appearance. “It’s about time. I was about to start on my solo album.”

Zuko bumps her shoulder. “Good to have you back, Azula.”

It is nice to be in the studio again.

#Avatar #Legend Of Korra #Kuvira #Azula #Baatar Jr #Zuko #P'Li #TyLee #Ming-Hua #Mai #Ghazan #Fanfiction

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iloveshippingkitty · 6 years

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Russian Roulette - A WKM Missing Scene Fanfic

Summary: The Colonel and the Detective aren’t the only ones who play Russian Roulette when the drinks start flowing. And someone’s calling it a double or nothing. So what are the stakes?

(as implied by the game it is a heavy fic - warnings in the read more for those who require and I can assure you it’s not like warning - immediate subject underneath - partially cos that’s shoddy tension building and/or world building - - The fic starts at the ‘-’)

Warnings: Death, Violent Death, Blood, Guns, Possession - Murder or Suicide? Or Both?, Russian Roulette, Acting against will?

Do Not Read If You Are Easily Disturbed or Triggered by Any Of These. I wouldn’t blame you so from here on out proceed at own caution.

The Colonel looked about the room. It was wonderful, just as it had always been. God, did he need a drink. The waiter – the nervous bumblebee that he was – rushed straight up to offer him a drink. He was very thankful and mumbled his thanks as he grabbed two glasses and drank one immediately and set it back down on the silver plate. He really wasn’t sure why he had come, it wasn’t like everything could be fixed with Markiplier. While the Colonel used his alias to be closer, Markiplier did it to distance, although after everything that had happened maybe the Colonel didn’t blame him for that at least. His eyes caught Damien and he remembered exactly why he had come.

Damien had so been looking forward to it. He had begged the Colonel to accept the invite as soon as Celine had let slip that he had received one. It had completely isolated Damien to be without his two truest friends and had come to a truce regarding him a while before. For who was he to step in the way of the wants of his sister. So both agreed to treat Damien the same but avoid the subject of each other. It had done greatness for Damien and he had become The Mayor. While The Colonel and Markiplier fought the one thing that they agreed upon was that was a role he was designed for. He was a peacekeeper – a kind, honest, respected and respectable man. Many towns wouldn’t have needed that, this town however needed nothing more.

The Mayor shot him a smile. How he liked calling him that. His brother-in-law, The Mayor.

He watched Markiplier give the speech and downed his drink during the end. He didn’t really want to listen to Mark’s inane ramblings when he looked and sounded so ‘la-di-dah’. Fame had got to Mark and it was what had drove Celine from him – if he could only see it. He sneaked around to the kitchen and quickly lifted a bottle of bubbly from there. The chef was quick to notice it but had let it slip for ‘Old Times Sake’. He took sips straight from the bottle. Ah, that was a lot better. Mark encouraged them to get wasted.

At one point the attorney looked at Mark’s drink and back at Mark as the Colonel noted.

“I’ve had more than a few myself, young friend. Dutch courage don’t you know. I will be drinking much more presently once you have all caught up.” He replied with an elegance he always put on at parties. The Colonel rolled his eyes and took a large swig from the bottle in his hand. Mark in response only smiled and raised his glass before grabbing an hors d'oeuvre and eating it. The district attorney gave a smile that seemed genuine and for once The Colonel remembered he was here for amends by himself and for whatever reason Mark had invited him. Tonight was an outreaching hand and The Colonel was determined to grab it. He had been in the army long enough to know a foolish decision and ignoring the man he had grown up on an important night of his life was one such foolish decision. Instead with a genuine half smile and nodded at the attorney and Mark both. Both seem pleased by this.

The room seemed to spin and time seemed to zoom past as he got more drunk and in the blink of an eye they were in a betting room with a poker table. They had been keen players all 3 of them in their youth and was the only practice they had brought with them through time, although they all played separately now. Some things just hadn’t been the same without the trio. He drank away the pain that ebbed into that thought and picked up his cards and prepared for everyone to take their turn.

With almost a full bottle down – when did that happen? He swore he had half… With almost a full bottle down he realised it had been a while he drank at this pace, the house was the weird thing it always was and this detective was exceedingly good at cards. Which was ironic because he didn’t consider him an exceedingly good detective. One more thing, that the district attorney definitely did not have as high a tolerance as them. It seemed sober they may be good at cards but still feeling awkward about the whole situation he had resolved to leave with the dawn and head back to his beautiful wife and throw himself at her mercy for being away for so long. She’d probably laugh, he hoped so, he loved that laugh. He had been distracted so had been surprised when Mark went all in. He held in the urge to give him a stern talking to and resolved to fold and go to the toilets. He didn’t remember going or in fact coming back but knew he had been inside the toilets as he got back. In his short change the district attorney, with help from the butler was currently winning. They looked like they were enjoying themselves and he liked that but the smug look made him want to wipe the floor with them. He would do just that.

Between endless drinks and merging games he had begun to win, lose and was nearly on equal turf again. Such began the keg stand, the beer pong, the drunk card games and importantly Russian Roulette. His favourite game. For a long time after the war he would play with anyone that came along. The detective downed his shot and insisted, the room blurred and for once everything made sense whether he questioned it or not which meant he really must be incredibly drunk. Off it span and a shot fired, blank. He knew it was blank before the trigger came fully back, he just knew. Then he aimed at himself and did the same, it was very quick and he practically giggled as he heard the trigger. Damien threw a card at him and pointedly rolled his eyes, “Oi, you. Take it outside if we’re playing extreme sports.”

Time passed on like a spinning roulette wheel and sometime around 1 am the DA had a shot and hit the floor like a tonne of bricks. Though barely standing himself Damien insisted on helping them to bed then joining one more game and heading to his own room, almost tripping down the hall. The chef took his leave at night to go have drinks with old George and bring him his dinner and the butler took the time while their attention was elsewhere to head off himself to bed before they harassed him more. After almost half an hour the detective insisted on going to find the butler but both Markiplier and The Colonel found him asleep on the stairs on the second floor barely 10 steps away from his own designated room. They both grabbed him and - like they did when they were kids with whoever out the trio fell asleep first – flung him onto the bed. It wasn’t until now that The Colonel noted that for the last while he had actually been getting on with Markiplier. It was almost like old times. However, with how absolutely plastered he was he barely took notice. Markiplier however was as well-bred sophisticated as he was earlier in the night. The Colonel almost mentioned it but if he was going to be honest with himself he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“What now, Markiplier?” He slurred.

“I have some brandy old George used to have. The one we used to try and nick as kids. Want some, Colonel?”

“That’s what my friends call me. It’s Mr Barnhum to anyone else.” He mumbled but nodded all the same.

They headed downstairs and Mark had a hold of his elbow as The Colonel swayed. He replied, “This night is to even the score, the playing field if you will. We’re about to crack open the one thing we never got away with as kids, I hope you’ll find it in you to let the bridge begin to build with being called Colonel.”

“Fine, Markiplier.” He chuckled dryly, “Markiplier and Colonel now.. How we’ve grown.”

Markiplier’s laugh seemed genuine but something had been off about him for a while now. He’d been too stubborn at first and now he barely had the sobriety to stand solitary. The house blurred around them and he saw the stone wall of the stairs to the cellar as he got down. It had a funny habit of happening that, The Colonel chuckled at it and Markiplier gave him a questioning look to which The Colonel only laughed harder. They sat on the table and began sipping the strong brandy.

After half an hour or half a day, The Colonel wasn’t sure or didn’t care Mark suggested a game. The bottle was surprisingly full for 2 people drinking it but The Colonel didn’t notice and didn’t question.

“What?””

“A game to put all this behind us. It’d be so cool, come on, Colonel. Go on.”

“Fine, you’re playing to my humour, old boy, so I’ll humour you. What game?”

“Russain Roulette. Just like you and the detective played.” Markiplier seemed positively giddy, not taking the bottle this time.

In response, The Colonel laughed. A great hearty laugh then sipped another bit of brandy, “No. Dear boy, no.”

“Why?”

“For one, how are we to trust that the game isn’t rigged?”

“Rigged?”

“Yeah, Markiplier. How are you to trust me and how am I to trust you, not to make sure that the bullets going straight for that barrel?” He laughed again.

“Get this. For mine, you spin, then I spin. So then the person whose turn it is, can be sure they haven’t been cheated and they can be watched by the other player to assure they aren’t cheating… Foolproof.” He smiled, victoriously.

“Bully! The downside there is I won’t do it.” The Colonel rolled his eyes and took a sip again.

“Come on, we used to be brothers in arms Colonel. We grew together, we owe each other something but there’s a lot of anger. This way we get it out.”

He made a point… maybe. Maybe he had drunk too much…

“What are the rules then? How is this to make amends? What are the playing stakes?”

“Rules are spin each and immediate shot. One each and never again. This is the only of George’s brandy I ever bought so it should be fair the game is played only once too. Consider the odds as double or nothing. Double means one of us will be dead and the other a killer and must make amends with the family for everything they couldn’t for each other. Nothing means that everything, I mean everything, must be forgiven. Everything from our past must be erased if the shot is empty.”

There had been a lot behind them. Both sounded like intense things and truth be told The Colonel often felt guilty for falling for his foster-sibling’s spouse and the other things he had done so while he had his own anger from their years just after they had been brothers-in-arms he didn’t have to feel so crap about himself. This was an escape though. In one shot either him and Markiplier would be on level ground again or it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. Markiplier would do the same and the trio could be together. He didn’t think about Markiplier’s shot. Anyone with a higher understanding of the mansion would have known that he didn’t think of it because the house didn’t want him to think of that. After a few more sips each he agreed. The deep, intense want to be forgiven by the boy he grew up with and to find the will to do the same on the flip of a game was too hard to pass up.

Colonel put down his gun on the table and they sat at either end, in their seats, finally.

The gun and the brandy sat in the middle of the table and Markiplier added a penny to the middle line.

“Flip?”

It was Colonel first. He took a good swig as he watched Markiplier place it in and spin it in and locked it in. They swapped the gun and the brandy and Colonel span it and locked it in and placed it straight to his head. Forgiveness or not his problem anymore his mind repeated any more. For once he couldn’t figure it out. He always had a feeling before he shot but now, gun to his temple… he couldn’t be sure. He clicked the safety off his revolver.

If it was the only barrel with a shot in he wouldn’t have a chance to say it later, “Mark.”

He gave a curt nod and pretended not to notice the importance addressing Mark by his name implied as his finger pressed on the trigger. A quiet click responded. Empty. Nothing. Mark however had the reaction he did when The Colonel first played it; ready for a heart attack. He took the barrel out and gave it a spin once again, locked it in and handed it to Mark who kept the bottle one last time to give a long gulp and a sigh before handing it over. Maybe had the Colonel been sober or Damien been there, maybe someone would have realised that that had been the first real drink, real swallow of liquid that night. Then again maybe not. He brought out the barrel and gave it a look a spin and as The Colonel drank, stopped it and locked it in. The Colonel put the drink down as Mark brought the gun up.

For the first time since suggesting it or in the whole night or even in fact… for the first time in a long time – Mark looked hesitant. He took the safety off.

“William.”

His word was barely a breath and there was something there that showed the Mark he was before. The one they were actually friends with, the one Celine had fallen for. Something had been wrong and different with Mark for longer than anyone had noticed. His voice for the first time that night, was his own.

William knew it as he looked at him and his eyes for a moment coloured red and blue. Just a moment but he saw it. He was sure. As sure as he was that the moment the eyes coloured the old Mark was gone again and as sure as he was that that round was loaded. The new Mark smirked.

It was effectively sobering.

Many things happened in the 2 seconds that lasted an eternity. A voice in William’s brain shouted that Mark was too far gone, whatever had changed him forever now. At the same time he stood and clambered over the table to push the gun out the way. The bottle broke. The colour of red and blue took over Mark momentarily. William pushed the gun… just not far enough. The shot rang in his ears. The smirk plastered permanently on Mark’s face. Blood was everywhere. The body slumped and William tried to scream. It must have been the shock because the scream stuck in his throat as if to strangle him. He hadn’t done this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. It was either him or reconciliation. Why hadn’t he thought of Mark? Now he had lost his brother-in-arms and the game. One was dead, one a killer. That’s what was said. His hand had been on Mark’s, from the handle to the trigger as he had pushed it back. He killed Mark. What was there to do now?

It felt like a nightmare and The Colonel wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t. What to do now was to clean the body and the gun, put him to bed and hope it was the nightmare it seemed.

As he finished cleaning he heard a voice in his head like Mark’s. Like new Mark’s.

“You nearly made me miss, nitwit.”

The laughter that ruptured from The Colonel was unstable and he turned back to pick him up and take him to bed. He’d barely took a few steps in the dark before he was at Mark’s bed. He placed him down and stood over him a moment before walking. Walking was good. He needed a walk. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Not for a long, long time. William wondered as he walked if you could go an eternity without sleep and just what it would do to you.

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buckyhoneyno · 6 years

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Beautiful Ignorance Pt.7

Steve Rodgers x Stark!Reader

In which Steve meets a girl that he believes could be the one, only to find out she’s Tony Starks daughter.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3223

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Masterlist

Charlie walked to the front door of the tower which was open quickly by Happy who gave her one of his rare smiles. Princess stood patently next to her on her leash.

“Miss Charlotte,” Happy greeted he but was given a swift hug. “Princess,” He said to the dog giving her a soft pat.

“Hi Happy,” she said back with a grin. “You here to take me to my dad?”

“Yes ma’am,” nodding she followed him to the elevator and watched as he swiped his key card before they finally started moving up to one of the upper levels. “Your father is very happy that you’re here, and I think it would be good for him if you decided to say,”

“Did he tell you to say that?” Charlie questioned with a raised brow.

“…Yes,” Happy said knowing that she would catch him if he chose to lie. “But it doesn’t mean that I don’t agree with it. He worries about you Charlotte,”

“He’s the one flying around in an iron suit fighting bad guys, shouldn’t I be the one worrying,”

“He’s your father it’s his job to worry about you,”

The elevator came to a stop and let the three of them out being greeted by her father who stood in front of it.

“There’s my girl,” Tony said with a grin opening his arms for her to launch herself in them. She did swiftly while he spun her softly. She was a daddy’s girl through and through no matter what. Her mother was absent most her life and only ever used her for money and fame. It put quite the damper on their relationship.

“Hi Daddy,” She said with a big smile.

“And you brought my furry grandchild,” Tony wasn’t partial to pets but the large dog had found a place in his heart. Leaning down he pet the dog behind the ear before looking back up at Charlotte.

“You ready to meet Dr. Banner?”

“Yes! I want to ask him some questions concerning my research on gamma radiation,”

“Well I’m sure he will be more than happy to answer them,” the pair walked into the lab to find Bruce looking over some papers that had started to accumulate on his desk. Looking up he took notice to the girl. He had seen pictures of Tony’s daughter before but they truly did not do her beauty justice. She hadn’t talked yet but he could only assume she would be just like her father.

“Charlotte, Dr. Bruce Banner,” Tony introduced them watching as his daughter looked to be trying to not lose her cool in front of one of her science idols.

“Hi,” she said shyly. “I’m a huge fan of your work Dr. Banner it’s an honor to meet you. I actually wrote my doctoral thesis over your study of gamma radiation when I was at Harvard,”

“Did the thesis also include the Hulk in it?” Bruce asked curiously.

“Nope, why?” She stated with a tilt of her head.

“Just curious,” he said shrugging before turning to Tony.

“So, what’s on the agenda,”

“Agenda, psh who said anything about an agenda,” Tony said with a wave of his hand while Charlotte and Bruce shared a look. Tony broke under their gaze. “Fine maybe there is an agenda,”

“So, what’s up first,”

“First, I will let your geek out in here for a while and then we will be moving to my lab so that you can see all my suits and then at the end I have a surprise for you,”

“oooh a surprise, what kind of surprise,”

“One that you will hopefully like,”

The three continued to discuss every science question that had been burning on Charlottes mind. Bruce was incredible impressed with her vast knowledge and how she easily kept up with both him and Tony.

Charlotte excused herself for a moment to go let princess out, refusing to make anyone else do it.

“She’s a genius,” Bruce stated when she made it out the door. “Not just in science but even when you started talking engineering or computers she was right there with us,”

“Did you expect less from my child?” Tony said with a cocky tone.

“Well no, but I didn’t expect her to also be so humble. I was honestly expecting well...”

“Me?” Tony stated earning a sheepish nod from his science bro. “Yes, so do most people but thankfully Charlotte is her own amazing person. Kid spent a year in Africa teaching kids how to read, donates every cent she makes from modeling to help with boys and girls club, god don’t even get me started on her charity work because the list is too long. The crazy thing though is that she doesn’t think she does enough. Always trying to find new ways to help people. She doesn’t realize how amazing she is,”

“And were sure she’s your kid?” Bruce joked earning a laugh from Tony.

“Yep got the paternity test to prove it too,” Bruce raised a brow at that. “Her mother is a gold-digging bitch who convinced me she was on birth control so I could bare back it, three months later I’m hit with the news and I demanded a test to make sure. Obviously came back positive. After that I had a crash course in being a single dad when she ditched out after the birth with a fat check,” Tony said bitterly.

“And where is she now,”

“Sweden where she is actually from,” Charlotte stated catching the two men off guard. “She still comes around every now and then demanding money for this or that. Give it a few months till she finds out I live here and she will be at the door step demanding child support money,”

“But your 25,” Bruce said confused.

“You’re moving in!” Her father questioned excitedly at the same time.

“Exactly so it’s really pointless to ask for money, and yes, I decided it a couple days ago but I like to keep you on your toes old man,” The smile on Tony’s face was contagious as he wrapped her up in his arms.

“This is perfect, we can hang out in the lab together, fix up my suits…” Tony began to ramble as they walked out of the lab, him leading her by her shoulders. Shooting a quick good bye over her shoulder to Bruce she let her father pull her to his own lab. Princess let out a whine when they passed a random hall way and pulled on her leash trying to go that way.

“Princess no baby,” Charlotte said confused, she never acted like this. Letting out one more whine she let herself be pulled down the hall but still seemed curious about what was actually there. Charlie chose to ignore her odd behavior and chalked it up to being in a new place.

“So, what was that surprise you had for me?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out,” Tony said with a large grin, excitement spreading through him. Taking a turn past his own lab he got to a door at the very end of the hall.

“Every person on the team gets their own place,”

“I’m not an Avenger,” Charlie stated with a shake of her head.

“No but you are my daughter which makes you part of this team anyways,” Tony said sassily as he opened the door ushering her in.

Charlie froze as she entered the room. It was the lab of her dreams.

The floors and ceiling were all marble, painting covering the walls with beautiful bright colors. Tables for her to work on her designs sat on the side with large boards next to them. A wall of dummies was set aside for her to use to make the uniforms that she designed.

One side of the room was dedicated to weapons testing which was another one of her specialty’s.

A squeal left her lips when she noticed that piece of equipment in the corner.

“Your got me a rocket launcher!” she shouted happily. “Oh my god its pink too!” Jumping up and down she turned to give her father a hug. “Thank you, Daddy! I love it!”

“I’m glad,” Tony had to contain his comments, happy that he got the designs for her lab right. He wanted nothing but the best for his daughter. Seeing as she was going to be heading the new designs for all the avenger’s suits, and weapons. Next week she would be meeting with each of the members to get an idea of what they wanted to happen to their new uniform.

A knock of the door caught both of the Starks attention.

“Come in,” Tony said loudly enough so whoever was outside would hear. A red head walked in catching Charlottes attention.

“ah Charlotte, this is Natasha Romanoff. Also known as the Black Widow,” The two woman stepped forward while Charlotte stuck her hand out, Nat took it and shook it. They kept direct eye contact sizing the other up.

“Heard you can chock a dude out with your thighs,” Charlotte said with a little smirk that made it obvious that she was Tony’s daughter.

“I can,”

“Wicked feminist,” She praised with a little laugh making the normally cold widow give a small smile.

“So, you’ll be doing the designs for our suits, right?” Natasha said as she took a seat on one of the tables while Charlie grabbed one of the white boards that she used to draw out her ideas.

“Yep, want to know yours out now?” The blonde asked while raising brow. “If you’re not busy for the next couple of hours,”

“Sure, I got time,”

“Well I will leave you two alone, have fun princess,” Tony said giving her a kiss on the forehead before leaving the two women alone.

“So, Natasha I think I’ll start with pulling up your current suit and you can tell me what you like and dislike about it. We can then move to what weapons you want integrated in the suit,”

“I thought you only did suit design,” the spy said with a tilt of her head.

“Mh that would be what my father wants people to believe, I design half the weapons that you all receive from him,” she stated as she pulled up a hologram of the widow suit.

“So, if you make the weapons does that mean you know how to use them,” a small smirk covered Charlies face as she looked back over her shoulder at Natasha.

“I know a bit,” the way the words came out led Nat to believe that she knew a lot more than just a bit. She decided to push that to the back of her mind as the two began to dissect her suit.

A couple hours passed as the finishing touched were added to the new design.

“This is going to be awesome,” Charlie said excitedly as she spun the hologram that was now finished. Natasha stood next to her and nodded. She wouldn’t admit it but she actually had fun with the younger Stark. She was refreshing to be around, she lacked fear and the usual intimidation that most people had around her. She could easily see why Steve was so caught up in the blonde. She was extremely smart but didn’t rub it in your face, she was humble and seemed genuinely kind. To top it off the girl had a sense of humor that could kill. Natasha couldn’t remember the last time she had a girlfriend that she could laugh with. To think of it now she didn’t know if she actually has ever had a girl to be friends with.

Natasha decided that maybe this Stark wasn’t so bad after all for Steve.

“So, when do you think it will be done? A couple months?” Natasha asked as she looked at the now extremely detailed suit. The new weapons on it were some she had never seen before nor imagined.

Charlotte let out a little giggle as she looked at the red head.

“More like a couple weeks tops,” she said nonchalantly making Natasha’s eyes widen. “I work quickly when the project is exciting,” was her explanation before she turned towards the door noticing that it was being opened.

“Hello ladies,” Tony said as he entered with Princess in tow. He had come in half way through their section and collected the dog to feed her and let her out. He wouldn’t admit it aloud but he thought of the dog as his furry grandchild. The new indoor play area being an example of how he spoiled the pooch. “how’s it going?”

“Great, we are actually all finished,” Charlie answered as Princess pulled on the leash trying to get out of the room and investigate the smell that she had become familiar with in the last few days. “What is up with her?” Charlotte thought aloud while taking the leash off her father.

“She has been sniffing around the tower the whole time I had her, I think she wants to explore,” Tony stated. “She doesn’t have to be on a leash here Char, she can walk around freely. She’s a good dog,”

“I’ll let her off her leash next time, I kind of want to introduce her to everyone so that she knows that none of them are a danger. She’s a trained attack dog still,”

“Wait she’s an attack dog?” Natasha said finally speaking up.

“Course, though she doesn’t act like it.”

“Someone refuses to walk around with a body guard so I got her Princess,” Tony said giving his daughter a playful glare. Just because he didn’t have a body guard for his daughter didn’t mean that he didn’t keep tabs on her at all times. She was his only family and he'd be damned if he let anything happen to his little girl.

“I’m independent,” Charlotte said with a flip of her hair. “Besides with the amount of weans I keep on me at all times makes me believe that no one’s taking me down without a nasty fight,” she winked as her father who only cringed at the thought of his daughter having to fight anyone. “Plus, I’m a hell of a lot stronger then I look,” the way she said it caught Natasha’s attention.

“what do you mean by that?” the spy questioned making both Starks tense.

“Nothing,” Charlie said with a shrug but seemed to have a staring contest with her father.

“I trust her Charlotte, if you want to tell her you can,” was all Tony said as he got uncharacteristiclly quiet.

The blonde turned and eyed Natasha before making her decision.

“Only about four people know about this,” Charlotte said slowly. “I kind of got into some chemicals that I shouldn’t have when I was about 18. I wanted to see if mixing them would make a reaction, which it did,” She paused for a moment as she thought of how to explain what she did.

“The chemicals exploded and got all over me, though it didn’t hurt. The lab itself was on fire everywhere but I wasn’t burnt at all. Whatever the chemical turned into was all glowing and seemed radioactive so I had Jarvis run a scan but everything seemed to be safe. After that I didn’t think anything was wrong at the time so I went took a shower and then went to bed.”

“So, the chemicals didn’t cause anything?” Natasha’s said confused.

“Oh no I never said that,” she said with a smirk. “I just said it didn’t hurt. Whatever the mixture was it made me enhanced. I’m stronger and faster then I should be. My hearing and sight is perfect.”

“You are skipping the best part,” Tony interrupted earning him a glare from his daughter.

“I was getting there,” she sassed him back. “The real change is harder to explain so I might as well just show you,”

Natasha’s studied her waiting to see what she would do.

Charlie placed on hand in front of her palm up. In an instant, a small ball of fire danced around her hand.

“Holy shit,” She whispered. “You can create fire?”

“Create it, control it, be completely resist to it,” Charlotte said putting her whole focus in the small ball of fire while tossing it between her hands like a toy.

“That’s amazing. How have you kept this from everyone? I mean it didn’t take long for Tony to come out as Iron Man to everyone,”

“It was for her safety. Just like no one in the world knows that she can make the weapons that she can,” Tony butted in. “If people knew what she could do then she would be in more danger then she already is as my daughter,”

Natasha nodded in understandingly. “But what about now that she is moving into the tower? You don’t think people will be suspicious?”

“Don’t worry about that, I think it’s about time I stopped trying to hide what I can do. At least around here I can be myself,”

“Well your secret is safe with me,” Natasha’s finally said getting a smile from Charlotte.

“Thanks Nat,”

“No problem,”

Three floors up Steve sat looking at his phone trying to decide if it was ok to text Charlie to see how she was doing or if that was to over bear. He didn’t know how dating worked in this decade.

Deciding that maybe for once he would give Tony a chance and ask him for advice.

“Jarvis where is Tony?”

“He is currently leaving the labs now, would you like for me to contact him, Captain Rogers?”

“Just ask him if he could meet me in the common room whenever he was free,”

“Of course, sir,”

Tony walked back to the elevator with Charlotte ready to escort her out of the building when Jarvis caught his attention.

“Sir, the Captain would like for you to meet him in the common room when you are available,”

“Did he say what for?” Tony questioned.

“No sir,” Nodding he walked into the elevator and pressed the lobby button.

“So, did you have fun today?” Tony asked with a grin that Charlotte matched quickly.

“Ya actually I did, the lab is amazing and Natasha is super cool. I think I’m growing on her,” she joked.

“You’re a Stark, of course you are. Besides who could resist you with those big green eyes,” he said fondly kissing her forehead when they stepped out of the elevator.

“How did I get so lucky with a daughter like you,”

“Give yourself some credit Dad, you did raise me,”

“I did, didn’t I,” He said with a smirk. “my best creation,”

Rolling her eyes, she gave him a look before hugging him.

“I’ll see you on Thursday for the party,” She said when she released him. “Love you,”

“Love you too kiddo,” he said while waving watching as she walked out the doors and down the street.

“Now to see what Rogers wants,” he thought aloud while walking back into the elevator.

``````````````````````

Hope yall enjoyed.

let me know what you thought.

also how do you think Tony will react when he finds out Charlie is dating Cap?

Let me know if you want to be tagged too!

Tag list:

@marvellogang @liamssmiler @pieceofried @areuforreal @tbetz0341 @all-fandomthings @fear-the-reaper115 @markusstraya @pounchy @imagine-inc @navarroshavonne @frobert20 @buckyisloved @emmm14 @theapologies @thedaydreamerrrr @spoiledtunaprincess @pbandj14 @gonnadiereading @arabellaaurorabarnes @baileythepenguin @jade-cheshire3303

#captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #marvel masterlist #Avengers #avengers series #avengers masterlist #tony stark

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klatukattdreams · 6 years

Text

Vaughn/August reverse bang

My fic for @pastelyanpan fabulous drawing for the @borderlandsbigbang reverse bang!

“Uh, boss? You got an echo message.”

“Thanks, Sam,” said Vaughn, still focused on his rewiring project. “Who’s it from? Rhys? Sasha?”

“Someone named August.”

Vaughn looked up into Sam’s nervous face. Sam was one of the older generation of Hyperions who functioned better in a corporate setting and hadn’t adjusted well to life planet-side, so she had gotten the job of assistant. Vaughn thought her nervousness was a holdover from former bosses and their misplaced anger, but there was more to it.

“Yeah, it wasn’t in code or anything and it addresses you directly and it was sent over a wide band so it is really suspicious—” Sam was rambling and Vaughn put up a hand to stop her.

“Just play me the message.”

The speaker in Sam’s hand screeched with static before a familiar voice resolved itself. “…know you’re out there Vaughn, I know where you hide out, but this time you need to come to me. It’s August, by the way, and I got in some stupid trouble. I’m only asking for a place to stay. I know you hate me as much as I hate you but,” August’s voice suddenly became labored, “if you save this fake I’ll owe you one. Hell, I’ll owe you ten million. I’m at Howe’s Pit. You better come find me before anyone ELSE can.”

“It is strangely straightforward,” Sam commented.

“No no, there is one little code in there, meant just for me.” Vaughn kept talking but only to himself. “Which means it’s not a trap. Howe’s Pit is pretty close so he could have just come straight here which he only wouldn’t do if he was being tracked and didn’t want them following, then he contacted me because he knows I’m the only person with empathy on this planet – arrgh! Why me?” He looked back at Sam. “When did we receive this?”

“About five minutes ago.”

Vaughn sighed. “Then I’d better suit up quick if I’m gonna rescue this guy.”

Howe’s Pit was named for two reasons: because it was a pit stop for fixing and modifying any shitty vehicle you could scrape up, and also it was located in a large, deep crater. The high walls gave excellent protection from Pandora’s harsh climate as well as low visibility for the native predators. There were even a few buildings, though most of the crater was open, aside from canopies, to accommodate the ever shifting piles of car parts and equipment.

Vaughn had been to this place before and his team’s heavily modded car zig-zagged through the assembly without incident. It was a generally safe town as the population was more obsessed with cars than money. Glancing around he could see a few shrines to Scooter, the famed mechanic, who Fiona and Rhys had talked about with great feeling.

If August was injured, which was more than likely, he wouldn’t be out here in the grease, he’d be in one of the two buildings, probably one where he could get privacy and a drink. They parked outside a building marked simply BAR and Vaughn hopped down.

“Sweet rig you got there. Looking for more upgrades?” This salesman had appeared out of nowhere and loomed over Vaughn in a manner that was friendly, for now. Almost everyone on this planet was taller than Vaughn and he gave his usual comeback of the Silent Staredown, which would not have menacing except for the expressionless helmet that covered Vaughn’s face specifically for this purpose. “Okay, okay, I get it, but if you ever are looking come find Eugene, that’s me.”

Vaughn shrugged a shoulder and two of his crew followed him inside. He got his sights on who looked like they were running the place and hoped his voice modulator wouldn’t fail.

“I’m looking for August.”

“That guy?” The owner jerked his head to the side. “Bathroom. That way. Do me a favor and take the corpse with you. I got enough to clean up. This isn’t a bandit camp.”

Vaughn nodded and signaled that the other two should go wait by the car. He headed down the hall cautiously hoping the August wouldn’t shoot him first. Easing the door open with his foot he saw August quickly raise a gun from his slumped position against the sink. Slowly Vaughn raised his empty hand and formed it into the shape of a finger gun.

August relaxed. “I knew you would find me, nerd.” He tried to laugh but instead doubled over in pain.

Vaughn closed the door and took off his helmet. “What happened to you?” He helped August up to a seated position on the toilet and sat next to him on the edge of the tub. August’s midsection was poorly wrapped with bandages, probably self-applied, and while this room wasn’t the cleanest it was better than a lot of places for cleaning out wounds.

“A couple bastards wanted my organs, all because of a stupid bet.” August threw a couple more bloody rags in the sink in an attempt to clean up. “They tried to cut me open like a pair of freeking psychos. I thought this was supposed to be a calm town.” He groaned in pain again.

“Have you had any medical training?” Vaughn sighed. “Here, let me try and fix up your wound because that whole thing looks like a mess.”

“Ooh, you got a healing kit you can just stab in me?”

“No, but I do have an old school first aid kit.” Vaughn slid the slender pack out from its holster in his vest. “You may have missed it last time you were there, but the Children of Helios don’t have a lot of money.”

“Fine, sorry. Do what you gotta do.”

Vaughn opened the pack, slipped on some gloves and started working on cutting away the mass of blood-soaked bandages. “What happened to you? You had a pretty good thing going last time we met.”

“Yeah, well, after Vallory— after my mom died the gang split apart into different factions, as what normally happens here on Pandora, and all alliances went out the window. I thought I’d be all right. I had my bar and my business, but some of the old crew thought they could run it better and kicked me out of my own place. They could have done worse— ow! What the hell was that?”

“I’m sterilizing it. I need you to hold still for this next part.” Vaughn pulled out a tube of what was basically thick glue.

“Dang, when did you become a fancy frontier doctor?”

“College.”

“What?”

“Well… you know Rhys. Back in college he really tried to do the tough guy thing. He came back to the dorm beat up and bleeding more times than I can count. So, I got good at patching him up.”

“Heh, sounds like true love.”

“Yeah, well, it was only one sided,” Vaughn said bluntly.

“Huh. You gay for the guy?”

“Rhys is my best friend, and I learned a long time ago it was never going to be anything more than that.”

“That’s rough, especially since he treats you more like a lackey than a friend.”

Vaughn stopped, not expecting empathy from a guy like August. “Well, yeah, he does tend to do his own thing…” He didn’t want to think about Rhys and instead focused on smoothing down the medical tape on the abdomen of this rugged, muscular bandit.

“Okay!” Vaughn pulled away suddenly and started quickly packing up the first aid kit. “I saved your life like you asked. You can pay me back next time, whenever the hell that will be.”

“Vaughn wait,” August’s voice was pleading, “take me with you. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“August, I’m running a new kind of city. Believe me when I say there is no place for someone like you there.”

“Oh because you know me so well? You sure you don’t want to get to know me a little better?” August stood up slowly, partially because of his injury, partially to show off his well-maintained body.

“Are you seriously flirting with me right now?”

“Hey, I don’t have anything else to bargain with.” He gave a subtle shrug and Vaughn could tell exactly what he was doing.

“Urrg, why do I keep picking up strays?” Vaughn buried his face in his hands for a couple seconds before looking up. “Okay. But only because you look pathetic right now, AND you have to do exactly what I say.”

As Vaughn strapped the first aid kit back into his vest August collected his few items that he owned.

“Okay, we’re gonna walk you out of here like a prisoner. Tie your shirt around your head.”

“What? No! Why would that even be an option?”

“I don’t want anyone seeing your face,” said Vaughn sternly. “Look, you’re gonna have to trust me, okay?”

August grumbled but did as he was told. Vaughn put on his helmet and carefully grabbed August’s arms, pulling them behind his back. August barely flinched at the touch and played a good captive as Vaughn marched him out the front and into the back of his car. They sped off quickly and easily out of the crater and back to their secret hideout while Vaughn pondered what to do with this new asset.

"Can you get this thing off my head now?"

"Oh yeah, sure." Vaughn untied the makeshift bag and August squeezed back into his shirt, somewhat painfully in the cramped vehicle.

"So, you taking me on board? Making me part of the commune?"

" I haven't decided yet. By the way, can I see your Echo?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." Vaughn through the communication device straight out the window.

"What'd you do that for!"

"Technically, you are a prisoner, and we are really touchy about outside tech. That's how we stay hidden."

August folded his arms but was not nearly as grumpy as Vaughn suspected he would be.

Back at camp Vaughn hustled August back to his office before too many people could see the newcomer and start to worry.

Unfortunately, waiting for Vaughn was the most worrisome person he could have run into.

"Oh good, you're back." Sam had a stack of papers with her. "I was worried -- IS THAT A BANDIT?"

"Yes and no." Vaughn had given up hope of keeping this on the down low. "For now he is a friend."

"More like boyfriend." August draped his arm over Vaughn's shoulders and stared at Sam with a slightly menacing smile. Sam looked appropriately aghast.

Vaughn kept his voice calm. "Sam, could you excuse us for a moment." Once his assistant was gone he drew in a deep breath for a very short question: "Why?"

"I gotta establish a foothold somehow, since this place don't run on money or violence. She looked like the type to spread rumors and since these people worship you I should be a juicy piece of gossip."

"First of all, they don't worship me, they worship Rhys. I'm more of an administrative... leader... person-- and SECOND of all, you are a lying, manipulative bastard!"

“Yep. That’s how I survive. Since I am already seriously indebted to you I need at least one little bargaining chip.”

“So this is how it’s gonna be?”

“Well, this is how it starts. Who knows how our relationship will progress from here.”

Vaughn had to stop and switch gears. “You are flirting with me again, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I got nothing to lose and no one to impress except this little cult of yours.”

“It’s not a cult— Look. It’s not going to happen. I could never trust you enough to have a ‘relationship’ of any kind except hostage.”

August opened his mouth to object and then closed it.

“I have all the power here which means I also have all the responsibility, so while I try to find someplace for you to fit could you please just keep your mouth shut and not create any new problems for me? Please?”

“Whatever you say, boss.” August managed to hide his smirk. Authority looked good on Vaughn, really good.

#borderlands #Tales from the Borderlands #vaughn #august #vaughn/august #implied vaugh/rhys

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weekendwarriorblog · 4 years

Text

The Weekend Warrior - BLOODSHOT, THE HUNT, I STILL BELIEVE and more!

Since this is gonna be a pretty busy weekend with four … oops, make that three wide releases, I’m just gonna get right into it, and discuss last weekend’s movies down below. Cool?

Of the three new releases, it’s likely that all three of them will make somewhere between $10 and 20 million, although I could see a couple of them ending up on the lower side of that number. All of them have some intriguing pluses and minuses.

Up until last weekend, the STXfilms family action-comedy MY SPY, starring former WWE wrestler (and soon-to-be WWE Hall of Fame inductee) David Bautista, was being dumped on this weekend after being delayed numerous times. This past Saturday it was moved again… to April 17, so one less movie to write about this week… yay!

First up is the very first movie based on a Valiant Comics character as BLOODSHOT (Sony) comes to theaters with none other than Vin Diesel playing soldier Roy Garrison, who has been brought back to life using power-enhancing nanotech that turns him into an assassin for the RST Corporation, led by Guy Pearce.

Directed by David Wilson, co-founder of Blur Studios with Deadpooldirector Tim Miller, the movie also stars Eiza Gonzalez (Baby Driver), Sam Heughan from Outlander, and Toby Kebbell from lots of stuff, including the “Planet of the Apes” movies (he performance-captured the villainous Koba), and yes, Kebbell was also Victor Doom in the most recent Fantastic Four movie.

This is one of the weekend’s more interesting offerings, firstly because it’s the second comic book movie of the year (if you don’t include Sonic the Hedgehog), but because as I said above, this is the first movie based on a Valiant Comics property. Valiant was founded by former Marvel Editor-in-Chief Jim Shooter in 1989, beginning by reviving and updating a number of popular Gold Key characters like Magnus, Robot Fighterand Solar, Man of the Atom. Bloodshot was created in 1992 by Valiant co-founder Bob Layton along with Kevin Van Hook and artist Don Perlin, and the character became quite popular while going through several incarnations. It wasn’t until 2005 when a group of entrepeneurs, including Dinesh Shamdasani, bought the rights to the Valiant properties where things started moving forward with a relaunch of Valiant Comics in 2012 as well as development on a number of movies including BloodshotGetting Vin Diesel on board helped move the project forward as Diesel had revived popularity due to returning to the Fast and Furious franchise.

Obviously, the success of Bloodshot relies entirely on Diesel and his popularity, although his movies outside the “Fast and Furious” ones haven’t exactly made big waves. Sure, he’s had a few other franchises like the Riddick character originated in 2000’s Pitch Black with director David Twohy, but the 2013 Riddick only made $42 million, just a little more than the first movie. There’s also the Xander Cage character Diesel created for 2002’s xXx, just a year after the original The Fast and the Furious.

Diesel’s return to that character in 2017 with xXx: The Return of Xander Cage did just slightly better than Riddick four years earlier. The point is that Diesel just hasn’t been able to sell other characters which brings us to 2015’s The Last Witch Hunter, an attempt by Diesel to introduce a new character to his fans, and that opened with just $10.8 million.

Granted, I’m not sure that there are that many Bloodshot and Valiant fans compared to the comics from Warners and DC, and even with Neal Moritz’s production company (which just had a hit with that aforementioned Sonic movie) behind Bloodshot, I’m not sure it will get fans excited, especially with its more cerebral take on superheroics.

I’d like to be more excited about the movie, but opening this weekend against The Hunt (see below) and Blumhouse’s The Invisible Man still doing decent business, I just don’t see this opening north of $15 million. Hopefully I’m wrong, as I would truly like to see more Valiant movies.

My Review of Bloodshot

The movie that might offer the biggest competition for Bloodshot and possibly could sideline it and maybe even beat it this weekend is THE HUNT, the latest film from Blumhouse’s deal with Universal. The movie was originally supposed to be released last September but was delayed due to the controversial content. On the surface, The Hunt, directed by Craig Zobel (Compliance) is about a group of rich people that are hunting a group of “deplorables,” an interesting premise written by Damon Lindelof and Nick Cuse (son of Lost co-creator Carlton Cuse), who have found success together with HBO’s The Leftovers and Watchmen.

The movie stars Betty Gilpin from Netflix’s "Glow,” Ike Barinholtz from various comedies and even Glen Howerton from “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” It also stars Emma Roberts, who has done a lot of genre stuff, and two-time Oscar winner Hilary Swank, who hasn’t. It’s definitely an interesting cast but like many horror movies, this one is more about its premise and whether it interests moviegoers.

The problem I see in The Hunt is that it’s so political in terms of being a battle between liberals and conservatives that might just be too on point with what people get from watching CNN or other 24-hours news cycles, so why would they want to see this brought into their entertainment? Barinholtz should definitely know this as his politically-tinged directorial debut The Oath, which only made $401,000 a few years back despite an attempt by distributor Roadside Attractions to open it wider than the 300 theaters it got.

The Hunt may have the advantage of opening on Friday the 13thwhere many moviegoers like going to see horror movies, but why would they go see this over Blumhouse’s other offering, The Invisible Man, which has been much better received?

We’ll see how the reviews go – you can read mine below--but the fact this was delayed and then put into this weekend less than a month back didn’t give Universal much time to market it, and the best they’ve been able to do is try to build on the controversy. In any other instance, I could see this making $15 million or more, but because of the circumstances that surround this movie’s tougher sell, it will probably make somewhere between $10 and 12 million.

Mini-Review: To say that it’s difficult to talk about The Hunt without potentially spoiling everything that makes it such a surprising and clever premise would be a huge understatement. What writers Damon Lindelof and Nick Cuse have done along with director Craig Zobel (Compliance) is an amazing twist on Richard Connell’s “The Most Dangerous Game” pulled writhing and screaming into the country’s current political climate. That last bit might decide who loves and who absolutely loathes this movie, but there’s no question that everyone will have an opinion, either good or bad, with few able to be outright indifferent about the movie.

The basic premise, if you hadn’t heard or seen any marketing, is that a group of very wealthy people have kidnapped a group of people with plans to hunt them down. Before we get to the hunted, we see texts between a few of the hunters talking about “the hunt,” “the manor” and their upcoming (seemingly annual) plans. We then meet few of them in person on a private jet to “the manor” before we meet the “contestants,” a group of a dozen individuals seemingly from disparate backgrounds, many of whom are quickly picked off in exceedingly gory ways.

The key player on the side of the hunted is Betty (“Glow”) Gilpin’s Crystal, a Southern woman seemingly with a military background who seems to be up to the task of fighting back more than some of the others in the group.

That’s all I’m gonna say about the general plot and premise because where The Hunt excels is in the number of twists it throws at the viewer. That’s actually something I realized that I liked about Blumhouse’s Fantasy Island on a recent rewatch in that it seems like a simple enough premise but there are enough twists and surprises that it keeps you guessing, and that’s the same with The Hunt.

The thing about The Hunt is that I don’t see it so much as horror but as violent political satire because the fact that the hunters and hunted come from opposite sides of the political aisle and there is no clear “side,” so to speak. In that sense, it reminds me a bit of Ike Barinholtz’s own directorial debut The Oathwhere it’s snarky and sardonic humor though in this case with more action and violence. The hunters are extremely left-leaning liberals always trying to be conscientious to social justice and equality… but also wantonly killing people, so no heroes there. And the hunted aren’t politically correct and are labelled as “deplorables” although even the most liberal viewer might find themselves rooting for them.

What’s interesting is that this premise is shared somewhat by the recent Brazilian drama Bacurau, but I generally like how The Hunt handles things, more because I somewhat thought I knew what to expect going in with the latter and only partially was correct.

While Gilpin is fantastic throughout, it’s when she finally confronts Hilary Swank in the film’s big climax where you realize that the filmmakers were building up to something quite amazing. Unfortunately, few of the other actors get enough screen time to please any of their fans.

There’s no question that The Hunt won’t be for everyone, and I wish I could discuss it at further length in terms of which parts might click with viewers and which might lose them completely. Either way, it’s worth a look just by how daring it is for a studio film in these times when everyone is on edge, ready to be outraged about anything and everything.

Rating: 7/10

The third offering this weekend, which stands a good chance at doing even better than the other two movies above is the faith-based drama I STILL BELIEVE (Lionsgate), which stars the popular K.J. Apa from the CW show Riverdaleand Britt Robertson, who is just a great up and coming actor who actually starred opposite George Clooney in another Lindelof-penned movie, Disney’s Tomorrowland. Robertson also starred in the attempted young adult sci-fi romance The Space Between Us a few years back before shifting to television, including Netflix’s Girlboss.

The movie is based on the real-life story of country singer Jeremy Camp (played by Apa), who built his career around Christian music and the faith he relied upon after his young wife (played by Robertson) was diagnosed with cancer. Camp won five gospel awards and received a number of music nominations but his title song “I Still Believe” from his 2004 debut album was popular enough that it got the attention of the filmmaking Erwin Brothers, Andrew and Jon, who had a bit hit with I Can Only Imagine, which grossed an astounding $83 million after a $17.1 million opening in March 2018. Their earlier film Woodlawn didn’t do as well, making just $14.3 million total, but clearly, Lionsgate are full behind the filmmakers behind their 2018 faith-based hit and hoping I Still Believe can bring in the same sized audience.

Not really being in tune with the Christian audiences, it’s hard for me to judge how the marketing is being received, as I personally haven’t seen a single commercial, but I have to imagine the popularity of Camp and Apa as the lead on Riverdale should be enough for the movie to bring in $13 to 15 million or maybe even more for a strong second place. The movie will screen for regional critics outside New York and L.A. since those blue state cities are clearly filled with agnostic heathens who won’t give the movie a chance, but I’m not sure reviews will make much difference either way.

Onward shouldn’t have a problem holding onto a lead in the top 10 with over $20 million despite the weaker than expected opening, and Ben Affleck’s The Way Back should hold on decently but still end up pushed out of the top 5 by new movies. We’ll have to see how either of them fare in the long run especially with next week’s A Quiet Place Part 2. There’s also the matter of the panic around the country about the corona virus, so we’ll see if that’s still in effect. Otherwise, I Still Believehas the strongest chances at besting both Bloodshotand The Hunt, which will likely be cannibalizing each other’s business.

This week’s Top 10 should look something like this…

1. Onward (Disney-Pixar) - $24.5 million -38%

2. I Still Believe (Lionsgate) - $13 million N/A (down $1 million)*

3. Bloodshot (Sony) - $12.5 million N/A (down $1.5 million)*

4. The Hunt (Universal) - $10.5 million N/A (down .5 million)*

5. The Invisible Man (Universal) - $8.5 million -44%

6. The Way Back (Warner Bros.) - $5.2 million -37%

7. Sonic the Hedgehog (Paramount) - $4.3 million -44%

8. The Call of the Wild (20th Century) - $4 million -41%

9. Emma. (Focus Features) - $2.9 million -40%

10. Bad Boys for Life (Sony) - $2 million -35%

*UPDATE: We’re clearly in new and strange times with the few week’s movies being postponed, delayed and maybe some eventually cancelled, but we saw that this weekend as many of the new movies lost theater counts from the estimates earlier in the week with Bloodshot not even getting 3,000 theaters. And expect it to get worse when theaters start shutting down which may even happen this weekend

LIMITED RELEASES

Due to a last minute scheduling change, this week’s “FEATURED FILM” is now going to Eliza Hittman’s fantastic drama NEVER RARELY SOMETIMES ALWAYS (Focus Features), a smaller indie that might have a difficult to remember title, but it’s a title you’ll never mess up after seeing it in context in the film. It stars young newcomers Sidney Flanigan and Talia Ryder, as Autumn and her cousin Skylar, who travel from Pennsylvania into New York City when the former gets an unwanted pregnancy and has to get an abortion away from her judgmental community. This really was a riveting film with a very simple premise that’s driven by the performances of the two young actors. It reminded me of two other indies, Lodge Kerrigan’s 2004 film Keane, starring Damian Lewis and Abigail Breslin, which also takes place at the Port Authority where much of NRSA takes place, and Julia Loktev’s Day Night Day Night, which similarly follows the journey of a teen girl who is sent into Times Square as a suicide bomber. Like I said, it begins as a very simple tale but watching the two young girls having to deal with being in New York with no money really makes it quite a heartbreaking journey to watch. HIttman finds a way to tell this story sans pathos and the drama always comes from a real place.

Sally Potter returns with her new movie THE ROADS NOT TAKEN (Bleecker Street), a character drama starring Javier Bardem and Elle Fanning as father and daughter, Fanning playing Molly, a young woman who needs to check in on her father Leo, who is suffering from some form of Alzheimer’s or dementia – it’s never made clear what is going on with him – but it leaves him speechless with limited mobility and therefore a difficult person to manage for Molly. As we watch her trying to bring him to routine dentist and eye doctor visits, the film flashes back to Leo’s past with his early love Dolores, played by Salma Hayek, and later in life. I have to be honest that I’m not 100% sure I understood what was going on since as with much of Potter’s work, its very arty, relying less on narrative or storytelling than mood and tone, but I did love Bardem and Fanning’s performance, and there’s a small appearance by Laura Linney as Molly’s mother that’s also great. So yeah, apparently, this is the year that I not only begin to appreciate Kelly Reichardt (with her current film First Cow) but also Sally Potter. I was particularly impressed with the film’s score and only realized with this film that Potter always does the music for her films.

Inside the Rain (Act 13/Killer Films) is a really interesting feature directorial debut from Aaron Fisher, in which he plays college film student Benjamin Glass, who suffers from ADHD, OCD and borderline personality disorders and is also bipolar, referring to himself as “recklessly extravagant.” When his illnesses lead to a possible drug overdose, the dean of the college decides to give Ben the boot, but he decides to use his filmmaking skills to make a film to fight the dean’s decision. Along the way, he meets a sex worker (Ellen Toland) who he convinces to be in his movie although he starts developing a crush on her. What’s interesting about Fisher’s film is that a lot of it is based on personal stories since he himself suffers from personality disorder and is bipolar, but he decided to use his talents to inform others on what it’s like to dealing with these issues, getting the likes of Rosie Perez and Eric Roberts to be a part of the cast. I’m not sure this movie will be for everyone, but I think it’s quite a brave effort by Fisher which I hope people will check out. It opens at New York’s Village East on Friday and in L.A. on March 20 and other citieson March 27. (For the sake of transparency, I helped with some of the publicity work on this film.)

Opening in select theaters this Friday and then streaming on Hulu next Friday is Jason Orley’s Big Time Adolescence (NEON), starring Pete Davidson from “Saturday Night Live” and Griffin Gluck, the latter playing 16-year-old Mo, a mostly innocent guy who is trying to navigate high school with the guidance of his best friend and college drop-out Zeke (Davidson). When Zeke starts teaching Mo untraditional life lessons about dating, partying and drug dealing, causing Mo’s father (Jon Cryer) to realize he needs to step in. The movie premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Famke Janssen star in Danis Tanovic’s thriller The Postcard Killings (RLJE Films), based on James Patterson and Liza Marklund’s best-selling novel with Morgan playing New York Detective Jacob Kanon, whose daughter and son-in-law are killed in London. As Jacob starts learning about a series of journalist murders in Europe, each one preceded by a postcard, he goes after the killer to get justice for his daughter. As with most RLJE films, it will get a limited theatrical release and be On Demand and digital.

Australian actor Rachel Griffiths makes her directorial debut with Ride Like a Girl (Saban Films/Paramount), based on the true story of the first female horse jockey to win the 2015 Melbourne Cup, Michelle Payne, as played by the wonderful Teresa Palmer. Sam Neill plays Michelle’s father Paddy who supports her when she decides to leave school as a teenager to become a jockey, overcoming tragedy and a nearly fatal fall along the way. The movie will open in select theaters (including New York’s Village East) as well as On Demand and Digital this Friday.

Cindy Meehl’s The Dog Doc (a somewhat self-explanatory title there?) will open at New York’s Quad Cinema this Friday and at the Laemmle Royalin L.A. next Friday, March 20. It takes a look at veterinarian Dr. Marty Goldstein whose practice at the Smith Ridge Veterinary Center where he treats animals using holistic care.

Meanwhile Adam Bolt’s doc Human Nature (Greenwich), opening in New York and L.A., deals with the breakthrough and controversial medical process known as CRISPR which looks at how DNA can be changed from before birth to avoid diseases and even be used to “design our children.” The film talks to the scientists behind CRISPR and how it will change our relationship with nature and evolution. (Note: The Village East Cinema has a lot of amazing guests talking about the movie and its implications over the next week, including the one and only Dan Rather!)

Last up is Philip Harder’s Tuscaloosa (Cinedigm), based on the Southern novel by W. Glasgow Phillips, which takes place in Alabama, 1972 with Devon Bostick playing Billy, a young man who falls for a patient at his father’s mental asylum (played by Natalia Dyer from “Stranger Things”). At the same time, Billy’s best friend becomes involved in the civil rights movement against Tuscaloosa’s power elite. Having premiered at the Nashville Film Festival last Fall, this hits select theaters, VOD and Digital HD this Friday.

REPERTORY

Besides the usual repertory theater offerings in New York and L.A. (listed below), select AMC theaters will be screening the horror classic The Exorcist on Friday night as part of the “She Is Risen” lead-up to A24’s upcoming horror film Saint Maud. This will continue over the next few Fridays until an advance preview of Saint Maud on Wednesday, April 1.

METROGRAPH (NYC):

Let’s see what’s going on at my favorite local NY theater. Well, first of all, the Metrograph will be screening Satoshi Kon’s fantastic 2003 film Tokyo Godfathers over the weekend and probably into next week. (Saturday afternoon will be the only English-dubbed screening of the movie with an intro by voice actor Shakina Nayfack!) This Friday night will be a screening of Michael Mann’s 1992 movie Last of the Mohicans, starring the great Daniel Day-Lewis, as part of its “Academy at Metrograph” series.This weekend’s “Late Nites at Metrograph“ is John Waters’ Cry Baby (1990), starring Johnny Depp, while “Metrograph Matinees” will present James Neilson’ sci-fi satire Moon Pilot (1962).

ALAMO DRAFTHOUSE BROOKLYN (NYC)

Tonight’s “Weird Wednesday” is the 1985 action film Swords of Heaven (already sold out, sorry!) Next Monday is the latest in the Alamo’s “Remakes and Hot Takes” series with Eddie Murphy’s 1996 film The Nutty Professor. A day later, my pal Ted Geoghegan is showing another esoteric offering for “Terror Tuesday,” with 1990’s Death Spa, and the Alamo is also doing a “The Departed St. Patrick’s Day Dinner” also as part of the “Remakes and Hot Takes” series but this one with a special St. Patrick’s Day menu. Next week’s “Weird Wednesday” is the 1985 aerobics movie Perfect, starring John Travolta and Jamie Lee Curtis.

Over in L.A., the Alamo Drafthouse Downtown L.A.will screen Bobcat Goldthwait’s 2011 movie God Bless America as the “Weird Wednesday” tonight with Joe Lynch and Adam Green filming an episode of their “The Movie Crypt” podcast after the screening. (Sadly, it’s already sold out.) Thursday’s screening of Michael Mann’s 2006 Miami Vice movie is also sold out, unfortunately. Saturday’s “Champagne Cinema” is the comedy classic Bridesmaids. Sunday’s “Remakes and Hot Takes” is the 1996 The Birdcage (two shows sold out!) and then later that night, John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982) gets two screenings, one which is sold out. Monday evening is a “Billy Madison Quote-along” which should be fun, while L.A. does its own “The Departed St. Patrick’s Day Dinner” Tuesday and its “Terror Tuesday” is 1962’s Carnival of Soulswith the wonderful Alicia Malone from Turner Classic Movies. Next week’s “Weird Wednesday” is two screenings of 1994’s Tammy and the T-Rexwith Paul Scheer at the 9pm screening.

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Weds’ “Afternoon Classic” matinee is Clint Eastwood’s The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976), while the Weds/Thurs cross-dressing double feature is La Cage Aux Folles (1978) and Blake Edwards’ Victor/Victoria (1982). This Friday’s “Freaky Friday” is appropriatelyJason X (2001)with screenwriter Todd Farmer in person. Friday and Saturday night, there’s an awesome double feature of Edgar Wright’s Hot Fuzz(2007) with Benny Chan’s 1996 Hong Kong film Big Bullet. Saturday night’s midnight is the Malcolm McDowell debut, O, Lucky Man! (1973) while the Kiddee Matinee continues the Harry Potter run with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1. Saturday and Sunday also sees this month’s “Cartoon Club” offerings. The Sunday/Monday double feature is two movies starring Barbara Stanwyk, The Two Mrs. Carrolls (1947) and The Bitter Tea of General Yen (1932). Monday’s matinee is New Jack City, starring Wesley Snipes. The Tuesday night Grindhouse double feature is the action movies Zebra Force (1976) and Bare Knuckles (1977).

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

“Noir City: Hollywood” continues through the week with The Long Haul(1957) and Black Gravel (1961) on Wednesday, The Naked City (1948) and Hardly a Criminal (1949)on Thursday, and then the double feature of Gun Crazy (1950) and Pale Flower (1964) on Friday. The “End of History: The Cinema of Lav Diaz” continues Sat. with 2014’s From What Is Before, and “Noir City: Hollywood” has an all-day five film marathon all in 35mm with 1947’s Out of the Past, The Guiltyand High Tide, and The Prowlerand Try and Get Mefrom 1951. Sunday’s matinee double feature as part of “Noir City: Hollywood” is Portrait of Jennie (1948) and Girl with Hyacinths (1950) and then that night is The Spiritualist (1948) and In the Palm of Your Hand (1949). In other words, if you’re a fan of film noir and you live in L.A. and you’re not spending at least a few hours at the Egyptian this week, then I’m not sure what to tell ya.

AERO (LA):

Greg Proops Film Club presents Akira Kurosawa’s 1963 film High and Lowon Weds. night, and then Thursday’s matinee (free to members!) is Truffaut’s The 400 Blows. The “Woman Film Editors: An Assembly” series begins on Thursday with Paul Thomas nderson’s Punch Drunk Love (2002) and Barry Jenkins’ Oscar Best Picture Schmoonlight(2016). The series continues Friday with a double feature of George Lucas’ American Graffiti (1973) and Francis Ford Coppola’s The Outsiders (1983), while the Saturday double feature is Soderbergh’s Out of Sight and Tarantino’s Jackie Brown with Michael Keaton playing the same character in both of them! Sunday is a special DCP screening of Cecil B. Demille’s nearly four-hour The Ten Commandments (1956)!

FILM FORUM (NYC):

The series “The Women Behind Hitchcock” continues with Hitchcock’s 1950 film Stage Fright and the Joan Harrison-written 1944 film Dark Waters on Wednesday, as well as Young and Innocent and The Passing of the Third Floor Back, plus a lot more through the weekend. Honestly, the best thing to do is click on the title link above for the full schedule. This weekend’s “Film Forum Jr.” is the Marx Brothers film Go West from 1940.

MOMA (NYC):

This week’s Modern Matinees: CicelyTysonscreenings are 1981’s Bustin’ Looseon Weds, Tyler Perry’s 2006 movie Madea’s Family Reunionon Thursday and 1974’s The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittmanon Friday. In Character: Daniel Craig

Continues this week with Matthew Vaughn’s 2004 Layer Cake on Weds, Sam Mendes’ The Road to Perdition (2002) and Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011) on Thursday, Roger Michell’s Enduring Love (2004) on Saturday, as well as the 2012 Bond film Skyfall (also directed by Mendes) and then Spielberg’s Munich on Sunday.

FILM AT LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

This week begins the series “Mapping Bacurau” with movies that influenced the filmmakers of the Brazilian film Bacurau. The films include Paul Morrissey’s 1974 film Blood for Dracula, Carlos Diegues 1980 film Bye Bye Brazil, Sergio Corbucci’s 1970 film Compañeros, Sergio Leone’s Duck, You Sucker! (1972) and more that will extend over the next two weeks.

NITEHAWK CINEMA (NYC):

At Williamsburgthe Friday midnight movie is Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter from 1984 and then the Saturday matinee is the 1982 sci-fi classic Tron. Also Saturday afternoon, the “Uncaged” series continues with 1992’s Honeymoon in Vegas. For St. Patrick’s Day on Tuesday, Prospect Park will be playing the 1993 horror film Leprechaun.

IFC CENTER (NYC)

In preparation for the release of Hirokazu Kore-Eda’s French film The Truthnext week, IFC Center is doing a one-week retrospective called “Family Portraits: The Films of Hirokazu Kore-Eda” beginning with After Life andMaborosion Thursday, Shopliftersand Like Father, Like Sonon Friday and more through the weekend, including a sneak preview of The Truthon Saturday night. Weekend Classics: Luis Buñuelis taking another week off, but Waverly Midnights: Hindsight is 2020s will screen 2000’s Mission to Mars and Late Night Favorites: Winter 2020also takes the weekend off.

ANTHOLOGY FILM ARCHIVES (NYC)

At the East Village’s primary rep theater, the current “1995: The Year the Internet Broke” continues through Thursday with single screenings of Kathryn Bigelow’s Strange Days (Weds), and Johnny Mnemonic andGhost in the Shell(the original Anime) on Thursday. Neil Jordan’s Breakfast on Plutoalso screens again on Thursday.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

“See It Big! Outer Space” continues on Saturday with a screening of Andrzej Żuławski’s 1988 movie On the Silver Globe followed by a Masterclass with cinematographer Andrzej Jaroszewicz.

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

Cane River continues through Thursday, although at this writing, there doesn’t seem to be any repertory stuff this weekend.

BAM CINEMATEK (NYC):

Charlie Chaplin’s 1936 film Modern Times will screen on Sunday afternoon as part of BAM’s “BAMkids Movie Matinees.”

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

A few more recent Nicolas Cage movies will play this week, last year’s Mandy on Wednesday and the more recent Color Out of Space on Thursday.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART (LA):

The Friday midnight movie is the 1990 horror sequel Child’s Play 2.

STREAMING AND CABLE

There is new stuff on Netflix this week but nothing I really know much about: the first season of Norwegian anthology series “Bloodride,” the third season of something called “Elite,” although I’m kind of interested in Liz Garbus’ Lost Girls, starring Amy Ryan. You know what? Other than getting the trailer in January, I have heard absolutely nothing about this movie, so I guess if Netflix doesn’t want their movies covered, that’s just fine by me.

Premiering on Disney+ this Friday is Star Girl, the new romantic drama directed by Julia Hart (last year’s Fast Color), starring Grace VanderWaal as Stargirl Caraway, a colorful new girl at school that captures the interest of Graham Verchere’s Leo Borlock. That’s about all I know about it.

Next week, it’s John Krasinski’s horror sequel A Quiet Place: Part 2!

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or send me a note on Twitter. I love hearing from readers!

#TheHunt Bloodshot Movies Reviews IStillBelieve NeverRarelySometimesAlways

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junker-town · 4 years

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Super Bowl 54 is Andy Reid’s chance to change his narrative

Mark J. Rebilas-USA TODAY Sports

Andy Reid is the winningest coach in the NFL without a Super Bowl win.

The Kansas City Chiefs have a chance to win their first Super Bowl since 1969 when they face the San Francisco 49ers in Super Bowl LIV. But this is perhaps an even bigger game for Kansas City head coach Andy Reid. The NFL mainstay has never won a Super Bowl as a head coach.

Reid’s coaching career started in 1982 as a graduate assistant at BYU. After various stops in the collegiate ranks, Reid made his way to the NFL in 1992 when he joined Green Bay’s staff. He spent time coaching the offensive line, tight ends, and quarterbacks. While he was with the franchise, the Packers won Super Bowl XXXI.

Shortly after that, Reid was hired as a head coach and hasn’t looked back. First, he was with the Eagles from 1999-2012 and appeared in Super Bowl XXXIX. He’s now been with the Chiefs since 2013 and is set to make his second Super Bowl appearance as a head coach.

Reid is one of the NFL’s most successful head coaches, despite never winning a championship.

In 20 years as a head coach, Reid has a 207-138 record during the regular season, which is the most wins ever for a head coach who hasn’t won a Super Bowl. Though his playoff record is just 14-14, he has the sixth-most postseason wins among NFL head coaches and has probably already earned a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Known for his innovation with offensive schemes, Reid was one of the first coaches to blend what’s now known as RPO (run-pass option) — now run, at least partially, by just about every team in the league — with his West Coast-style of offense.

His coaching tree is one of the most impressive in the NFL, too. Some of Reid’s former assistants — including head coaches John Harbaugh (Ravens), Doug Pederson (Eagles), and Ron Rivera (then with the Panthers) — have all made it to the Super Bowl. Pederson and Harbaugh have both have Super Bowl rings. Other former assistants who are now head coaches include Matt Nagy (Bears) and Sean McDermott (Bills).

Reid has also coached the likes of Brett Favre, Michael Vick, and Donovan McNabb, and he helped quarterback Patrick Mahomes win the NFL’s MVP Award last season.

He’s had success everywhere he’s coached. He won 130 games with the Eagles, who appeared in 19 playoff games during his tenure. He led them to a Super Bowl in 2004, and left Philadelphia as the Eagles’ all-time winningest coach. Since getting hired by the Chiefs in 2013, the team has had a winning record each season. Reid has compiled a 77-35 record in Kansas City so far.

Wins and losses aside, Reid has the respect of players and coaches around the league.

It’s clear that many people in the NFL are rooting for Reid to get his first Super Bowl title. His Kansas City players have been talking a lot recently about winning a championship for their head coach.

Mahomes said that he might even be happier for Reid winning a Super Bowl than he would be for himself. Tight end Travis Kelce added that helping Reid get the monkey off his back is an extra incentive for the team.

“I love Coach Reid,” Kelce said also via Arrowhead Pride. “He is definitely a part of the motivation. We are sick of hearing what the media says about him and how he can’t get the big one done.”

Chiefs offensive tackle Eric Fisher, who was Reid’s first draft pick when he arrived in Kansas City in 2013, wants Reid to win one as badly as anyone.

“I want to win Coach Reid a Super Bowl more than anything,” Fisher said via The Athletic. “That guy deserves a Super Bowl. He’s worked and worked and worked and dedicated his life to this. Coach Reid needs a Super Bowl. We’ve got to get that for him.”

Safety Tyrann Mathieu, who’s only in his first season with the Chiefs, also couldn’t say enough good things about Reid.

“I’m so happy for Coach Reid,” Mathieu told NFL.com. “I say it all the time, but you think about his coaching tree. You think about all of the guys that he’s made into head coaches. A lot of guys that he’s really given opportunities to, especially minorities. You think about the players that have come up under him and their Hall of Fame-caliber. I think he’s a great coach and he’s all about his players and the team. Most importantly, he allows us to be ourselves.”

Former players sang Reid’s praises after the Chiefs’ AFC championship, too. McNabb congratulated his former coach on Twitter for reaching the Super Bowl:

So happy for the guy. Best I ever had as a coach. That’s my coach congratulations Andy Reid.. pic.twitter.com/CZ4GPk4WZv

— Donovan McNabb (@donovanjmcnabb) January 19, 2020

Both Jeremy Maclin — who played under Reid as a receiver with the Eagles and Chiefs — and former Eagles running back Brian Westbrook chimed in:

Man I’m happy for guys, Big Red and #ChiefsKingdom !

— Jeremy Maclin (@jmac___19) January 19, 2020

Congrats to Andy Reid and the @Chiefs on making it to the SuperBowl!!! #BIGRED

— Brian Westbrook (@36westbrook) January 19, 2020

Retired NFL offensive lineman, and SB Nation’s own, Geoff Schwartz was happy for Reid, as well:

Who doesn’t love Andy Reid. He’s the best y’all.

— Geoff Schwartz (@geoffschwartz) January 19, 2020

It’s not just his current or former players, however. People around the league, like Eagles center Jason Kelce and even Titans head coach Mike Vrabel, want to see Reid claim the Lombardi Trophy:

People around the league love Andy Reid. Seeing him win a Super Bowl, really the only thing he hasn't done, would mean the world to them. pic.twitter.com/thix7bAZgw

— James Palmer (@JamesPalmerTV) January 20, 2020

Reid doesn’t need a Super Bowl win to earn the respect of the league; he already has that. However, it would mean he could put an end to the talk of his teams not showing up when it matters.

A Super Bowl victory for Reid can help change the perception that he can’t win in big games.

Reid won a lot in Philly, but he led the Eagles to just one Super Bowl appearance: a 24-21 loss to the Patriots in the 2004 season. Reid went 10-9 in playoff games when he was in Philadelphia, but he finished just 1-4 in conference championship games.

Since Reid’s hiring in Kansas City, he’s 4-5 in playoff games. All of those losses came by a seven points or fewer.

His first postseason appearance with the Chiefs was particularly memorable for all the wrong reasons. In January 2014, his team blew a 28-point lead in a 45-44 loss to Indianapolis. It was the second-biggest playoff comeback in NFL history and also included Colts quarterback Andrew Luck scoring on a fumble recovery TD:

Happy Birthday to @Colts quarterback, Andrew Luck Who remembers his fumble recovery touchdown back in 2014? pic.twitter.com/tN9yxf46ND

— NFL UK (@NFLUK) September 12, 2017

Four years later, the Chiefs surrendered an 18-point lead to lose to Tennessee by one point. In another bit of misfortune for Reid, Titans quarterback Marcus Mariota accidentally threw a touchdown pass to himself.

Last season, a big reason Kansas City came up short in the AFC title game was because of the NFL’s overtime rules (and Dee Ford going offside). The Patriots won the coin toss and scored a touchdown, so Mahomes and the Chiefs didn’t even have a chance to try to counter.

Those losses can’t all be chalked up to bad luck, though. Reid shares some of the blame. In the past, Reid has faced criticisms for his clock management, most glaringly two in the playoffs.

During his Eagles’ Super Bowl appearance against New England, Philadelphia had a chance to take a 14-7 halftime lead, but Reid opted to run out the clock instead, making it 7-7 at the half. Down 24-14 with 8:40 left, Reid’s offense lacked the urgency to score quickly, and the Eagles lost by a field goal.

Something similar happened when the Chiefs played the Patriots in January 2016. In the divisional matchup, the Chiefs were trailing 27-13 with 6:29 remaining. They would score on a 16-play drive, but it took a more than five minutes and they never got the ball back. Kansas City lost 27-20.

So far this postseason, Reid has already done a good job of changing that narrative. The Chiefs overcame a 24-0 deficit against the Texans to win 51-31. Kansas City fell in an early 17-7 hole against the Titans but quickly came back. In the process, the Chiefs made history:

According to @EliasSports, the Chiefs are the 1st team in NFL history with multiple games in one postseason in which they trailed by 10+ in the first half, and took the lead at some point thereafter in the first half. pic.twitter.com/M0BxRxAOAt

— ESPN Stats & Info (@ESPNStatsInfo) January 19, 2020

Despite a few dumb mistakes against the Titans that could’ve threatened the outcome of the game, none of them cost the Chiefs a trip to Super Bowl. That’s another sign that the tide could be turning for Reid.

It’s no secret that Reid is an excellent head coach, but he’s still chasing that first elusive Super Bowl win.

Reid deserves a lot of credit for what he’s done this season. The Chiefs finished 12-4, with victories over the Ravens and Patriots in the regular season. He also guided the team to a 2-1 record when it was without Mahomes, who dislocated his kneecap, for 2.5 games.

Heading into the Super Bowl, Kansas City has won eight games in a row, the NFL’s longest current win streak. Mahomes has resumed his MVP form; in two playoff games, he has scored nine touchdowns with no turnovers, and he’s dazzled with his arms and legs.

So far, the stars are aligning for Reid to win a Super Bowl. But the Chiefs still have to get past the 49ers to do that. For Reid, he wants to win for his players, not for himself.

“We need to win this for the guys, for the team,” Reid said, according to Peter King. “It can’t be about one guy. It’s got to be for everybody.”

Even if Reid doesn’t want to make it about himself, his story is a big part of Super Bowl 54. And if the Chiefs win, he can finally complete his coaching legacy with the one thing it’s been missing.

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aion-rsa · 6 years

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Halloween Comics: The Weird History of Michael Myers on the Page

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Like many horror icons, the dead-eyed Michael Myers of Halloween fame has also dabbled in stabbing people on the comic book page.

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Feature Gavin Jasper

Halloween

Oct 14, 2018

Horror Movies

31 Days of Horror

Michael Myers is the understated horror icon, for better or worse. He’s the architect of the whole slasher genre and while John Carpenter's Halloween is an undisputed classic, he doesn’t stand out as much as his fellow supernatural murderers. He’s the less-exciting Jason Voorhees, even if he came first and had his shit figured out by the first movie (as opposed to Jason’s three).

I guess Michael stands out less because he was never part of anything excessively dumb. Oh yeah, he had a bunch of lesser sequels that culminated in being beat up by Busta Rhymes and there’s that Halloween III fiasco, but he never fell into the pop culture trap of other '80s and '90s boogeymen. He didn’t show up on Arsenio Hall’s show or appear in a Fat Boys music video, for starters.

By the time we did get a silly Michael Myers moment, it was his goofy cameo in Rob Zombie’s Haunted World of El Superbeasto in 2009, merely a month or so after the last actual Halloween movie.

Since Michael was rarely as outlandish as his cinematic brethren, it made sense that it took so long for him to finally make his comic book debut. Freddy showed up in the late '80s, while Jason showed up in the early '90s, and Michael arrived in the year 2000. By this point, Halloween H20 had already come and gone, so the movie series was nearly dead already.

Released by Chaos Comics, Halloween #1 was written by Phil Nutman and Daniel Farrands with art by David Brewer. It follows Tommy Doyle, the boy confronted by Myers in the first movie who later went on to beat him down a bunch with a pipe years later in Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers. In other words, our hero in this story is Paul Rudd.

He’s mostly here to frame the issue, which is about Michael Myers’ beginnings. Tommy is obsessed with making a name off of Michael’s reign of terror and gets his hands on Dr. Sam Loomis’ old diary. From there, he reads about young Michael’s time in the mental institution, seeing as Loomis goes from wanting to help the mentally-distant boy to realizing that he’s evil incarnate.

Watch Halloween Movies on Amazon Prime

It’s done surprisingly well. These kinds of prequel stories are always a touchy concept because they can easily go wrong. If Michael is 100% evil, then it’s a boring and meaningless story. If he’s created from his environment, you run the risk of humanizing him too much and making him look like less of a threat. Here, Nutman and Farrands blur the line and ask the question, “Could Loomis have saved him?”

Loomis mentions the other young inmates, all older than Michael. Coincidentally, that kid Blair is neither referenced or shown other than this intro. Weird. Especially because this flashback story doesn’t outright spell it out that Michael is behind all the murder and mutilation. Sure, Loomis believes he’s behind it and we know he’s a bad egg, but they could have easily tied Blair into it and made it a red herring thing.

Otherwise, the story is about Michael being put in an unwinnable situation where his roommates are not exactly a good crowd to be stuck with. But, just like Rorschach in Watchmen, they discover that they’re the ones stuck in there with him.

Once the issue comes close to running out of pages, we get a scene of Michael attacking Tommy. Since Tommy has enough plot armor, he is able to defeat Michael in a moment reminiscent of the ending of the first movie.

Months later, we get Halloween II: The Blackest Eyes with Phil Nutman and Mickey Yablans writing and Jerry Beck drawing. It picks up where the previous story left off with Tommy deciding to end Michael Myers once and for all.

This story isn’t so hot for the most part, partially because they spend a lot of time going into the whole cult backstory. The stuff about curses and druids always weighed down the Halloween franchise in the eyes of many. Luckily, there’s enough Michael action to make up for it, where he stalks Tommy, the sheriff, and the grown-up versions of the kids that bullied Tommy in the first movie, who are now hell-bent on burning down the abandoned Myers house.

Several months after that, we’re given Halloween III: The Devil’s Eyes by Phil Nutman and Justiniano. It begins with Tommy locked up in an asylum, mainly as a cover-up for all that druid crap that went down in the previous issue. He escapes and teams up with Lindsey Wallace, the other kid being babysat in the original movie.

Since this comic is released late 2001 and Halloween H20 came out a couple years earlier, they finally talk about the elephant in the room: Michael Myers is totally supposed to be dead, right? Like, Laurie Strode chopped his head off. Sure, Myers can heal from a lot of stuff, but the movies at least give us the illusion that there’s some kind of limit to it. He’s not like Jason, who can cartoonishly return from absolutely anything.

Even Halloween: Resurrection went with a different out, saying that Laurie killed the wrong guy. That movie wouldn’t be out for over half a year compared to this comic, so that raises questions. Are they going to go with that same explanation? Can Michael Myers come back from decapitation? Is there someone else under the mask? Hell, is it that Blair kid somehow?

further reading: Halloween (2018) Review

It’s a strong finale to the Chaos Comics trilogy, though it does get a laugh out of me for Nutman just crossing his arms and going, “Yeah, I know this doesn’t fit into the movies. Screw it.”

Though it turns out there’s a reason for that. Daniel Farrands, writer of Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers, was at one point asked to pitch a follow-up to Halloween H20. The studio didn’t go with his pitch and instead, he just told Phil Nutman about his ideas and there we go.

Man, why can’t we get a comic based on Peter Jackson’s unused Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Lover screenplay? I’d read the hell out of that.

After the Chaos Comics stuff, there was only one voice of Halloween comics. Stefan Hutchinson wrote about all of Michael Myers’ exploits from 2003 to the end of 2008. For a Halloween convention, he made Halloween: One Good Scare, featuring muddy art by Peter Fielding.

It’s a good one-shot, all things considered. It follows the never-before-mentioned son of Dr. Sam Loomis, who followed his father’s footsteps and works at the sanitarium. Things get interesting for him when Lindsey Wallace has herself committed, insisting that Michael Myers is still alive and now he’s after her. This comic comes out post-Resurrection, so it asks the question of what Michael even wants anymore now that he’s succeeded in wiping out his family.

It’s a necessarily dire story that could have probably used a bit more of Michael in action, but succeeds in the end by rolling out some grade-A dread with a cliffhanger that’s never followed up on and doesn’t need to be.

In 2006, Hutchinson teamed up with Marcus Smith for the one-shot Halloween: Autopsis, released by Paranormal Pictures. It tells the story of Carter, a young photographer obsessed with images that “show the truth” because his father was a projectionist who died while Carter was watching Night of the Living Dead and that totally ruined movies and pictures for him.

...I don’t really get it either.

Short version is that he’s obsessed with photos of Michael’s victims.

The stuff with Carter isn’t so great, but the comic is redeemed by his stalking of Dr. Sam Loomis. See, it’s worth noting that Hutchinson’s comic world takes place in a continuity where only the first movie, first sequel, H20, and Resurrection happened. All the nonsense from parts four-through-six are off the table. That means that Loomis’ hastily-edited stinger death in Curse of Michael Myers didn’t happen.

further reading: Halloween - A Legacy Unmasked

As Carter spies on Loomis regularly, he feels pity for him. As he puts it, Loomis is no arch-rival of Michael Myers. He’s just another victim, living a sad existence where he knows his failure has lead to countless deaths.

Carter’s search for Michael leads to the obvious fate and we’re told that the story will continue in Halloween: Sam. Sam would be released as a PDF in 2008 on the now-defunct Halloweenmovies.com site.

Again, Marcus Smith is on art duties, but the story is mostly prose. It tells the story of the Halloween movies from Loomis’ point of view, ending prior to Halloween H20. It ultimately shows the final days of Loomis, who has grown so weary from his investment in Michael to the point of suffering a heart attack.

Michael appears before him for one last confrontation where Loomis is too tired and weak to fight for his life, but is able to at least get into Michael’s head a little bit and point out how empty a being he is. According to Loomis, Michael’s first kill was his peak and no matter how brutally he murders anyone else, it will never capture the same magic. It's the closest thing to taking a loss that Michael does in the entire Hutchinson run and even then, not really.

In 2008, Hutchinson would do a handful of Halloween comics for Devil’s Due Publishing. The main one is a four-issue miniseries called Halloween: Nightdance, featuring art by Tim Seeley. Rather than bringing in characters from the various movies, it starts anew with a fresh set of characters. The best I can compare it to is the six-issue Friday the 13th comic Wildstorm released. It feels refreshing because it takes its time.

The one-shots and two-parters speed through everything a bit too much at times. Here, we actually get to know our victims and the tension is allowed to build.

Our protagonist is Lisa, a teenager who was locked in a cellar by Michael, along with a little boy named Daniel she was babysitting at the time. They were freed by a search party days later. Although Lisa doesn’t get to see Daniel anymore, he still sends her crude cartoon drawings every day. Things take a dark turn when these drawings become disturbing, like showing Lisa naked and covered in blood.

As you can guess, the unstoppable man in the William Shatner mask is looking to finish the job.

It builds on the modus operandi that Hutchinson introduced in One Good Scare. Michael Myers isn’t 100% about simply showing up and killing everyone in sight. Well, for the less-important people, sure, but what he really likes is confronting his prey, leaving them alive, and then coming back after their fear has ripened.

Next is Halloween: 30 Years of Terror, a double-sized one-shot featuring five short stories. They mostly feel a bit half-baked. “Trick or Treat,” drawn by Danijel Zezelj, is about the old couple who Tommy Doyle and Lindsey Wallace run to during the end of the first movie. While leading to some cool imagery, it ends just as quickly as it begins.

Jim Daly’s “POV” shows Michael murdering a beauty queen for kicks, mainly because that kill has been referenced in other Hutchinson Halloween stories. It’s not really a story. Just a sequence with a gimmick.

Brett Weldele’s “Visiting Hours” is about a girl who has been haunted by young Michael’s gaze for decades and awaits in the sanitarium for him to one day kill her because she’s too crippled by fear to do anything else with her life.

“Tommy and the Boogeyman,” drawn by Jeffrey Zornow and Lee Ferguson, is a weird one. It shows what Tommy Doyle’s up to in this continuity where Paul Rudd’s performance never happened. Part of the short story is a comic-within-the-comic about a cross between the Crypt Keeper and a tarantula, who acts as a more charismatic slasher villain.

Then we see that Tommy is apparently...Joe Quesada? Huh. Anyway, he draws Michael Myers comics.

Then there’s “Repetition Compulsion” with more great Tim Seeley art. It’s another Dr. Loomis thing, once again showing off how Michael is one step ahead of him at all times.

The final Halloween comic is Halloween: The First Death of Laurie Strode with art by Jeff Zornow. The three issue miniseries is supposed to be the link between the end of Halloween II and Laurie’s status quo as of Halloween H20, with Loomis faking a car accident and allowing Michael to believe she’s dead.

It’s a pretty weak comic, all in all, although I love the quick shout-out to Halloween III.

The second issue ends with Laurie watching in horror as Michael kills Jimmy, one of the survivors from Halloween II. That’s all she wrote because Halloween: The First Death of Laurie Strode #3 was never released. There was also hype for a miniseries called Halloween: The Mark of Thorn, co-written by Jeff Katz and meant to be released in 2009, but that got deep-sixed too.

Just as well, really. Hutchinson had nothing left to say. I’ll give him credit, he was able to build a continuity and use his different stories to fill in the blanks, but First Death of Laurie Strode shows the big flaw in his world. He’s too in love with Michael Myers and cares too little about everyone else.

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Laurie comes off as too much of a mopey victim to want to follow. Dr. Loomis is a pathetic loser, constantly railed on for being a failure. Nearly everyone is murdered horribly. And Michael? He’s practically Batman.

And not the good Batman. I mean the hacky, overly-competent Batman who is 100 steps ahead of everyone and never gets punched.

One thing I’ve noticed about reading all the Freddy and Jason comics is that the writers are too into the villains to the point that protagonists aren’t allowed to survive. People survive the movies all the time, but in comics, they have to die violently to tie up these imaginary loose ends. The difference is, Freddy and Jason eat shit all the time, even in these comics where they always win. They’re overpowered, so they’re allowed to get knocked down because it's only temporary.

Hutchinson’s Michael Myers doesn’t get knocked down. Outside of bringing up the explosion at the end of Halloween II, he refuses to ever show anyone getting the drop on Michael ever. The dude is nigh-unkillable. It's okay to let him get hit with a wrench or a car every now and then. He can take it.

At least that initial Halloween comic from Chaos let Tommy outfight him. Yeah, Michael gets back up and wanders off, but we at least get to see someone fight back. It’s rather nice.

So yeah, the Halloween comics have their moments, but they usually try to play it safe too much. Sure, the curse stuff from the middle movies fell on its face, but at least they were trying something creative. Mix it up, man.

I will say this. Despite the comics taking place after the events of Halloween: Resurrection, Michael still never, at any point, chooses to seek out a rematch against Busta Rhymes. Hutchinson’s Michael Myers truly is a smart guy. He knows when he’s beat.

“Trick or treat, motherfucker!”

Gavin Jasper should probably start writing next year's History of Evil Dead Comics article right now because that thing’s going to be ten volumes long. Follow him on Twitter!

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2018 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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silveryinkystar · 6 years

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What if...

I was thinking a bit about this the other day and had an idea concerning Prisoner of Azkaban - what would happen if Sirius was found trying to break into Gryffindor Tower on Halowe’en eve?

So far, this is what I came up with:

Remus goes to the Great Hall for the Entrance Feast but passes the Gryffindor common room corridor and hears someone shouting – his senses are heightened because it was the full moon the day before (there was a full moon on October 30, 1993, I checked)

He thinks it’s a pair of latecomers fighting and carries on until he hears screaming that can only be the Fat Lady’s portrait

He runs to the portrait hole and finds someone puling a knife on her, and shouts at the attacker, but something about the other man seems familiar

He suddenly recognises the voice and calls, “Sirius?”

Sirius turns around, just as startled as Remus.

“What are you doing here?”

“I – I’m a teacher here.”

Sirius nods and starts to say something but Remus raises his wand. “Don’t.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“You were Secret Keeper!”

“No,” Sirius says calmly. “I switched.”

Remus falters then. “Peter?”

Sirius nods. “The Weasley boy’s rat – that’s him.”

“Ron’s rat? But – no. It can’t be.”

Sirius gives him the newspaper cutting. “Got this from Fudge in July. One of his toes is missing.”

“He didn’t cut it off?”

“Right after he blasted the street apart.”

Remus’ eyes are wide, but it’s clear that he believes Sirius. “Just one thing – I heard firsthand reports say that you were standing there, laughing at the chaos. Padfoot, you were innocent – why would you do such a thing?”

Sirius looks sheepish. “He hit me with a tickling charm. I never saw it coming.”

Remus can’t help it – he starts laughing. “A tickling charm? Really?”

The Fat Lady interrupts them. “Are you going to stay here all day? I’ve had seven years of this to deal with before; you’ve got your own office now, Remus, if you want to catch up.”

Remus nods. “You know where the office is, I suppose?”

“I can guess.”

Remus goes to Dumbledore, who summons Fudge and asks for a fair trial by Veritaserum. Sirius agrees to this.

After the evidence is established, they call in Harry and explain that Sirius was actually innocent all the while, and certainly not after him.

Fudge asks to see the rat, and Harry obliges, after getting Ron’s permission.

They try to force him to transform, but he escapes somehow.

But it’s sure that he was Pettigrew.

Sirius cuts his hair after a lot of nagging on Remus’ part

He stays in the school because the Dementors were still at Hogwarts – now protecting him as well and everyone else from Peter

Sirius gets himself registered as an Animagus (“It’s not like Voldemort won’t find out when Wormtail tells him, Moony,”).

He watched Harry’s Quidditch match

The Dementors swarm him, and he reacts quickly, stopping Harry from getting severely injured as he falls

He too is badly shaken, and agrees to go to the Hospital Wing with Harry

Madam Pomfrey manages to get him to eat some chocolate (“Still haven’t changed, have you, Black?”)

The Dementors are then removed immediately because the Ministry was convinced that Peter wouldn’t come running back to Hogwarts to kill Harry

Harry still got anti-Dementor classes because he wanted to be able to fight them off if he ever needed to

Sirius replaces his broken broom with a Firebolt and buys Ron an owl to replace Scabbers

He gets a place down in Hogsmeade so that Remus and Harry and literally anyone else except Snape can visit

It’s Christmas, Ron and Hermione sign up to go home, and Harry asks if he can live with Sirius over the winter because he is a special case in Hogwarts (sacred enchantment, blah blah blah)

Dumbledore hesitates then says yes, that Harry can do so but has to stay at least temporarily with the Dursleys over the summers

Harry is disappointed and Sirius points out that though he isn’t related to Harry by blood, the godfather-godson bond still exists

Dumbledore decided that it might be better for Harry to remain in contact with the Wizarding World now that an active supporter of Voldemort is on the lose

For Christmas Sirius gives Harry the mirror he and James used to use when they were in school

Without all the added stress of the Dementors, Hagrid wins the appeal with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius’ help

Buckbeak survives, much to Malfoy’s chagrin

Sometime immediately after the exams, Snape reveals to the students that Remus is a werewolf

No one wants him to go, not even many of the Slytherins, though the pure-bloods are a bit spooked by this information

Sirius personally arrives at Hogwarts and punches Snape in the face

Remus decides that though the students want him to continue, parents would have something to say about his condition and resigns

He takes up a few jobs but none of them are really to his taste and he agrees to move in with Sirius so that they both can take care of Harry

Sirius learns how to make Wolfsbane Potion for Remus from a few of his old friends

They all go for the Quidditch World Cup and all that stuff with the Dark Mark happens, and they immediately send the children to safety while taking care of the Death Eaters

Sirius decides to apply for the DADA post and gets the position

He gets to keep a closer eye on Harry, which is always a bonus

But he’s never partial to his godson (maybe to the Gryffindors in general, but not just to Harry)

When Harry is chosen second Hogwarts champion, both of them have words with Dumbledore and Crouch Sr.

(Also I’d like to mention that in this story it isn’t possible for Crouch Jr. to be a part of the GoF storyline so please accept Igor Karkaroff, the man who was behind all the stuff that happened to Harry in the first tournament)

Aaand Crouch Sr. insists that Harry has to participate

So Harry participates

The difference is that Ron still talks to Harry because he and Sirius both say that he didn’t put his name in the Goblet

As Sirius pointed out, Harry needed neither fame nor riches, and Harry pointed out that he would rather have a quiet life than risk himself to be known as the Champion of the Triwizard Tournament

It’s not until Hermione says that Harry has enough in his life without this over his head that Ron understands this and gets over his jealousy, though

Sirius does not teach the students about Unforgivable Curses with demonstrations, rather he gives them the theory behind the spells and how to resist he Imperius Curse (“Why can’t we resist the other two?” “Well, one’s a torture spell and the other one kills you, so there’s really no hope unless you get in before your opponent uses these but I have to teach you all this anyway”)

He teaches them other spells that should have been taught to them at the Duelling Club in year 2

Also slipping in a few out-of-syllabus spells to help them that he assures he will not include in the exam

He also tutors Harry privately sometimes

Ron tells Harry directly about the dragons

Harry writes to Remus often, and Remus now has a job in Hogsmeade where the owner doesn’t mind that he takes a few days off every month – he works in a bookstore much like Flourish and Blotts.

Sirius visits every day, walking with Professor McGonagall since she also lives in Hogsmeade

Remus is much happier now that he has a more secure job

Sirius doesn’t question Remus’ decision to move out, as long as they’re still neighbours

Fred and George come up to Sirius and give him the Marauder’s Map

Because Harry told them that he was Padfoot (not that he had a choice, they overheard Harry, Ron and Hermione talking about James, Sirius, Remus and Peter)

Sirius smiles and thanks them, and also gives them a few pointers on how to make another one of their own, if they wanted to

After Harry returns from the maze, Remus joins him and Sirius as they all discuss the day’s events

Remus says that he’s willing to go undercover and start recruiting others for the Order

Sirius finishes his teaching year and resigns too, fulfilling the jinx yet again

Dumbledore agrees reluctantly that it would be safer for him to stay with Sirius this year as well, and the upcoming years

The Weasleys and Hermione come over on Harry’s birthday and stay in Hogsmeade till school starts

No Dementors attack them that summer

Umbridge, however, is still sent to teach DADA

Sirius and Remus are still doing undercover missions for the Order

Remus hasn’t resigned from the job yet, though, so Sirius does some of his shifts and doesn’t mind – they can always contact each other easily and Harry if they needed to

Harry and Sirius carry around the mirrors at all times and talk to each other at least three times a day

They know that messages are being intercepted so they don’t send many letters to each other, if they do they’re usually about Harry’s studies, or some tips to help Harry with something he finds difficult

The DA is formed because Umbridge is terrible and they want to learn more spells

Harry tries and fails to learn Occlumency (Sirius teaches him)

Harry is banned from Hogsmeade trips after the interview he gave for the Quibbler

But he still gets to play Quidditch

When he gets the vision of Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, he panics because of what happened to Mr. Weasley

Ron and Hermione point out that he could talk to him through the mirror

Sirius responds from his house and Harry doesn’t go to the Department of Mysteries

Voldemort attempts a break-in and fails due to security measures, and is seen by the Ministry

An alert is sent out and Umbridge is sacked

The DA is disbanded, but Harry learns a few spells from the Half-Blood Prince’s book

Maybe they’re helpful (like muffliato) or maybe they’re not (like levicorpus)

However, he goes to Sirius and asks about the spells, and Sirius forbis him from practicing all of them (“I’ll compile a list, if you like, Harry!”)

When Dumbledore and Harry return to Hogwarts Sirius calls them over and says that the Dark Mark had appeared over the school, and that he had only stayed there for this reason

He gives them brooms and they fly to Hogwarts, where Dumbledore falls off the Astronomy Tower as he had intended

After the battle in the hospital wing Sirius is the one to tell Remus to get a move on and ask Tonks out

Remus’ protests are simply ignored (“You like her, and she likes you. Why aren’t you doing something about it?” “It’s not that simple, Sirius.” “Sometimes it is.”)

When Remus and Tonks get married he is best man

After Bill and Fleur’s wedding they go into hiding in Grimauld Place

Sirius is, once again, Secret Keeper

Harry, Ron and Hermione stay with them and plan their Ministry break-in

Everything goes smoothly till Teddy is born and Harry is named godfather

After this they break into the Ministry and get the locket

They rescue Mr. Ollivander and Griphook and Luna from the basement of Malfoy Manor

Then they decide to break into Gringotts with Griphook’s help

They steal the cup and lose the sword

They next time they see Sirius is on May 2nd, 1998

Remus and Tonks survive, and so do Sirius and Fred, thanks to Remus’ quick wandwork

Harry goes to the Forest after taking a look at Snape’s memories and the arc goes on more or less the same until Voldemort dies for the final time

Also, he only sees his parents from the Resurrection Stone

Harry’s kids are named Arthur James, Lily Luna and Oberon Hunter

HINNY’S FIRST CHILD IS NAMED AFTER BOTH THEIR FATHERS BECAUSE SIRIUS ISN’T DEAD YET AND WON’T BE FOR A LONG TIME

Lily’s name is perfect and I don’t want to change it

ALBUS SEVERUS WHO? SIRIUS IS NAMING HARRY’S LAST CHILD AND YOU KNOW THAT HE’LL FOLLOW THE TRADITION AND NAME HIM AFTER SOME STAR (Oberon Hunter, after two constellations)

#harry potter #hp fic #just a small idea I had #sirius black #remus lupin #sil speaks

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medproish · 6 years

Link

The dominos fell Thursday, Friday and Saturday … and the league pecking order jumbled up on Wednesday.

Drama played out in slow motion as we all awaited the announcement of the first pick of the 2018 NFL Draft. Yet, after Baker Mayfield and his Daisy Dukes (SEE: Favre replica draft pic) went there, Day 1 seemed to fly by. With that and the corresponding mayhem on the second day, teams’ fortunes this year were seemingly altered. Of course, we will all learn together. Although “winning the draft” doesn’t necessarily equate to winning on the filed … today.

Take, for example, the Cardinalsmoving up to select Josh Rosen. As I wrote on Saturday, I thought that was a smart move. Yet, chances are Rosen won’t play much early this season. Not with Sam Bradford being a former top overall pick himself, healthy and owning an eight-year head start on the rookie. So as you digest my latest Power Rankings below, remember that while a team might have enjoyed a prolific draft haul and grabbed the best players available for the future, those that filled needs for Week 1 profited here.

Best draft-related tweet this weekend:

And my favorite story of my career when signing an undrafted player: I once told a player we would sign him for a $500 bonus. His response: âI only have about $100 now, but I can get you the rest next week.â âNo,â I answered, âWe pay you.” Good luck to all the undrafteds…

â Andrew Brandt (@AndrewBrandt) April 28, 2018

Best draft of all time:

Seven @ProFootballHOF players selected. Including… three quarterbacks. ??

The 1983 @NFLDraft class was the BEST in @nflhistory. (via @HarrisonNFL) #tbtpic.twitter.com/Lao17ekoKh

â NFL (@NFL) April 26, 2018

As for the league some 35 years later, you’ll see how all its member clubs stack up below. As per usual, your thoughts are welcome. A few might end up in the “Power Rankings Show” on Wednesday. Send along … @HarrisonNFL is the welcoming committee.

Let the dissension commence!

PROGRAMMING NOTE: For more in-depth analysis on the updated league pecking order, tune in to NFL Network on Wednesday at 8 p.m. ET for a post-draft edition of the “NFL Power Rankings” show. Want to add YOUR voice? Provide your thoughts at the bottom of this page or tweet @HarrisonNFL, and your comments could be featured on air.

NOTE: The arrows in the lineup below reflect changes from our post-free agency Power Rankings.

EAGLES

Ah, who needs to lift a finger in the draft when you’re sippin’ wine and enjoying some brie? Or a greasy, dripping cheesesteak. Anyone seen the end of “Trading Places”? Well, not only should the Eagles be enjoying their status as the reigning champs, but they didn’t need to panic this past weekend. Thought it smart to trade out of the first round and pick up extra picks, because they didn’t have a second-rounder (well worth the loss, considering it was partially responsible for bringing Carson Wentz to Philadelphia) heading into the draft. General manager Howie Roseman used the second-rounder acquired in the Day 1 trade (No. 52 overall) to maneuver into the 49th overall spot (via a swap with the Colts), where he nabbed TE Dallas Goedert — whom Philly can team with Zach Ertz — one slot before that TE-needy team in Dallas could land him. Also value the pick of CB Avonte Maddox (Round 4, No. 125), who should help when it comes to replacing free-agent departure Patrick Robinson. Can’t wait until Philadelphia plays No. 2 below in Week 15.

RAMS

Too high? No way. The Rams did nothing but make their football team better this offseason. They fortified the defense, a group that steadily improved last season, with the additions of veterans Aqib Talib, Marcus Peters and — since we last completed this exercise — Ndamukong Suh. Suh might not have dominated in Miami, but he was far from a bust. Putting him next to Aaron Donald was like parking a 1978 Trans Am with gold trim next to the blue-and-white ’69 GTO you’ve had sitting in your driveway earning Defensive Player of the Year honors. Trade acquisition Brandin Cooks doesn’t exactly “replace” Sammy Watkins at receiver. Different players. Doesn’t matter. This offense is gonna rake.

PATRIOTS

Small drop for the Patriots, given the stellar offseason the Rams have enjoyed, which included acquiring Brandin Cooks from New England. The Pats probably feel they’ll be fine without Cooks, given the returns of Julian Edelman and the seemingly forgotten Malcolm Mitchell. That said, much applause for Day 3 pick Braxton Berrios (No. 210), who could morph from sixth-round afterthought into someone who’s catching a key third-and-6 later this year. The selection of RB Sony Michel (Round 1, No. 31) was almost enough to keep the Patriots at the second spot in the rankings, even with the losses of Nate Solder, Danny Amendola and Cooks. Michel adds a dynamic element close to the ground in Foxborough.

JAGUARS

Ignore the tiny fall. The Rams‘ jump nudged the Patriots and Jags one spot down. Although it’s surprising that more league observers aren’t talking about Jacksonville eschewing quarterback until the tail end of the sixth round, when Tanner Lee was selected (No. 203). Faith in Blake Bortles is riding high, apparently — which is fine, provided he can progress off his performance in the playoffs (versus the Steelers and Patriots … not the Bills). Setting aside the question mark that is always brought up with these guys, the Jaguars enjoyed what looks to be a fine draft haul. With DT Taven Bryan (Round 1, No. 29) now on board, that Jacksonville defensive-line rotation will be able to mix it up with any O-line in the league.

VIKINGS

The top 10 is stacked with contenders, which should make 2018 darned fun — and the Vikings are right in the mix. They helped themselves immensely by drafting Mike Hughes out of Central Florida at No. 31 overall. Key to this draft is how (and how quickly) second-round pick Brian O’Neill (No. 62) pans out. The tackle, who used to be a tight end, must improve his strength enough to handle the Mike Danielses of the world. In mere-mortal-I-used-to-work-at-Circuit-City terms, that’s like going from a Bowflex to benching 350 on the reg. Even if he’s slow to develop, this Vikings team is ready to win it all now. It will be nice to see Terence Newman in uniform again this year. He’s enjoyed a heckuva career, and he’s coming back for a 16th season. How many corners can play until they’re 39 years old? (He’ll turn 40 in September.) That’s around the time most of us are buying Mini Coopers because of our mini mid-life crises.

SAINTS

It seemed a bit expensive to pay what the Saints did to move up to No. 14 (including a 2019 first-rounder) and draft Marcus Davenport from Texas-San Antonio. I’m sure Davenport is being asked annoying, persistent questions like, “What do you think of how much New Orleans gave up to go get you?” and “How does it make you feel?” and “How many times did you visit the Alamo?” You know, stuff like that. I didn’t downgrade the Saints‘ class in my draft omnibus Saturday, even though New Orleans mortgaged draft capital to obtain Davenport, because I think GM Mickey Loomis and Sean Payton are making plays to win this year and the next, while Drew Brees is still upright.

FALCONS

The Falcons only made themselves better in the draft, with a bit of good fortune landing at their feet. Not sure too many draftniks anticipated receiver Calvin Ridley falling to Atlanta at No. 26 overall. Maybe wideout wasn’t the Falcons‘ most major need — or much of a need at all — but he did fit the “BPA” model. How imposing does that Falcons attack look now, with Matt Ryan at quarterback, running backs Devonta Freeman and Tevin Coleman, and Julio Jones, Mohamed Sanu and Ridley outside? Yikes.

History: Twenty years ago, the Vikings had Cris Carter and Jake Reed at wide receiver. Carter was on his way to a Hall of Fame career. Reed was coming off four straight 1,000-yard seasons. So what did they do? They took a dynamic wideout who fell to them at 21. Enjoy.

STEELERS

Small drop for the Steelers, with the trade of receiver Martavis Bryantto the Raiders. Save the nastygrams — I am totally aware that Pittsburgh grabbed Oklahoma State wideout James Washington in the second round (No. 60 overall). That doesn’t mean he’ll be Bryant 2.0 this year. We’ll see. That’s one of the tougher positions at which to make the transition from college to pro football. Thought drafting Washington’s quarterback at OSU was smart, but Mason Rudolph (Round 3, No. 76) won’t necessarily help the Steelers this year. It will be interesting to see if Marcus Allenreverses field … wait, wrong Marcus Allen. It will be interesting to see if Marcus Allen (Round 5, No. 148) gets on the field as, essentially, a nickel linebacker this year.

PACKERS

Thought about sliding the Packers up, as the drafting of two top-flight prospects at corner ( Jaire Alexander, Round 1, No. 18; and Josh Jackson, Round 2, No. 45) instantly makes this team better. The issue for Green Bay right now is whether the roster has enough pass-catching talent to go against those CBs in practice. What’s behind Davante Adams and the oft-banged up Randall Cobb? Geronimo Allison? Ty Montgomery … sort of? Another matter at hand is the pass rush, where Clay Matthews returns for Year 10 and, once again, teams with the on-again, off-again Nick Perry. Perry is like Season 3 of the original “Star Trek.” One episode would be sweet, with a Romulan commander trying to seduce Spock; the next episode, Abraham Lincoln would make an appearance in space. No, really. You get the point.

PANTHERS

Loved the Panthers‘ draft. While other team hauls were equal, Carolina’s freshman class could contribute right away, whether we’re talking about WR D.J. Moore (Round 1, No. 24), CB Rashaan Gaulden (Round 3, No. 85) or TE Ian Thomas (Round 4, No. 101). The latter could step in and play right away with Greg Olsen. Pretty awesome to think about for Cam Newton. The instant help on offense is a shot of 5-hour Energy for a pass attack that often lacked much starch in the collar.

CHARGERS

The Chargers hit a home run — er, scored a goal on a corner kick — with the Derwin James selection in the first round. Who knows why that guy fell all the way to the 17th slot? Edge rusher Uchenna Nwosu (Round 2, No. 48) felt like a need pick as opposed to the BPA. But the Bolts were looking to tighten up their defense up the middle, which is precisely why they took DT Justin Jones in the third (No. 84). The drop here is indicative of Carolina’s surge. The Chargers might be hosting a playoff game on the soccer pitch this season.

TEXANS

The Texans‘ personnel department was probably playing “Magic: The Gathering” or “Duck Hunt” on Thursday, as this group didn’t own a first-round pick (think they’re still fine with where that draft choice went) or a second-rounder (they are definitely happy what that choice afforded them). Yet, Houston brass managed to make as good a third-round selection as any team with safety Justin Reid (No. 68). He could start right away. Fellow third-round pick Martinas Rankin (No. 80) can play multiple spots on the offensive line, which means he can also contribute almost immediately. Houston should challenge Jacksonville’s hold on the AFC South right out of the gate.

TITANS

Very quietly, the Titans seemed to have garnered themselves a solid draft class, even if it was a bit on the smaller side (four picks). At least, that’s the word on the street. They hit defense hard, picking up Alabama ‘backer Rashaan Evans on Day 1 (No. 22), then Boston College edge rusher Harold Landry (Round 2, No. 41) on Day 2 and Arizona safety Dane Cruikshank (Round 5, No. 152) on Day 3. I know a Dane. He’s the first man I’ve ever known who wore Oakleys with the string thingie attached. Speaking of Oakleys, this Nashville team shouldn’t just look tough, like Eric Church’s “Chief” CD cover. Along with the Texans, they should compete with the Jags for the AFC South.

RAVENS

Ozzie Newsome’s swan song running personnel for the franchise produced a solid draft.Lamar Jackson was the moneymaker, so to speak, but taking TE Hayden Hurst seven spots ahead of the dynamic quarterback alleviates a team need now. Baltimore managed to draft talented players and fill needs without reaching throughout most of the draft, which is what all teams are aiming to do. If Alex Collins is the real deal at running back, the Ravens will be back in the playoffs. By the way, if you didn’t see Baltimore’s final pick of the 2018 NFL Draft, watch it here.

49ERS

Some of the fervor over the 49ers has been reduced to a simmer over the last few weeks. Most of the draft analysts out on the Interwebs — a group that, at last count, totaled either 17,386 or 17,387 — did not feel that taking tackle Mike McGlinchey ninth overall was the right move. The Reuben Foster situation is a huge concern, as he had been considered a cornerstone of this team’s football future. In Dante Pettis (Round 2, No. 44), the Niners are getting not only a speedy receiver, but a bargain, when you consider the return game. Maybe he can be Dante Hall? One can dream.

Side note: I went to a ton of Texas Rangers games in 1991. Saw Nolan Ryan pitch. Watched Ruben Sierra jack a few from both sides of the plate. And I witnessed Pettis’ dad, Gary, run down fly balls you thought no human being — much less any center fielder — could get to. Pretty cool.

LIONS

As I wrote on Saturday (and yes, I am now going to rip off my own work, kind of like the band “Boston”), nobody cares about the Lions‘ pick, even when they’re on the clock. It’s really strange, man. Does anyone realize that Detroit is one of the oldest franchises in the league? The organization has won four championships, although it has admittedly been a minute. Or, a million. Still, the Lions have pieced together 18 wins over the last two years. Success on the field (in both the regular season and the playoffs) could ride on Kerryon Johnson (Round 2, No. 43), who will become the latest Detroit tailback to try to turn around a woeful ground game. “Carry On Wayward Son” was a great Boston song. Wait, that just sounded like them. It was actually Kansas. Glad we covered that ground.

CHIEFS

The Chiefs are a strange team to evaluate for 2018. Kansas City fortified many of its leaks in both free agency and the draft. With Kareem Hunt, Tyreek Hill, Travis Kelce and now Sammy Watkins in town, the offense is more loaded than it was for most of Alex Smith‘s Chiefs run. The question mark is Smith’s successor, Patrick Mahomes, who, for all intents and purposes, is a redshirt freshman. Andy Reid and staff saw him every day in practice. They must think he’s ready. The departure of ex-offensive coordinator Matt Nagy could hurt, though. The key to this draft: Whether DT Breeland Speaks (Round 2, No. 46) and NT Derrick Nnadi (Round 3, No. 75) are worth the pricethe organization paid to get them. Remember, the Chiefsalready surrendered a hefty sum to snag Mahomes in last year’s draft. Fourth-rounder Armani Watts (No. 124) might start at safety this year.

SEAHAWKS

Overshadowing what many deemed a subpar draft for Seattle was the selection of Shaquem Griffin early in the fifth round (No. 141). The speedy Griffin learned how to be an impact player despite having one hand. You could tell draft analysts didn’t want to question whether that would hamper Griffin too much in the pro game. My brief and limited impression of the new Seahawk is that he doesn’t need anyone feeling sorry for him or tiptoeing around his circumstances. He was, after all, named American Athletic Conference Defensive Player of the Year. Another pick I liked: Day 3 find Michael Dickson (Round 5, No. 149), a punter out of Texas. With kickoffs nearly legislated out of the game, winning in the punting game becomes more important. Dickson was a smart choice.

RAIDERS

Yuck. That’s how the masses outside of Oakland — though not the silver-and-black faithful — felt about the Raiders‘ draft. Odd that Oakland’s best pick might have arrived in the fifth round. DT Maurice Hurst (No. 140) was evaluated as a first-round talent, but he’s considered a “medical” because, he said, of EKG irregularities. If you’ve never had an EKG, they attach a bunch of stickers to your body and watch your rhythms. It feels like something straight out of that scene in “The Empire Strikes Back” when Luke is thawed out. Also out of the future: OT Kolton Miller (Round 1, No. 15) being the right pick, and not one pundits point to when Oakland goes 7-9 this season. Look, here’s the deal: The Raiders took a lot of draft risks. Was pulling Jon Gruden out of a self-imposed nine-year exile a risk? Isn’t pro football itself a risk? Teams aren’t building for eight years out. They are building to win over the next three. Gruden is filling his team with vets and high upside for that purpose. And here’s the fun part: We’ll all find out whether it works together.

BILLS

The Bills‘ slow lurch downward since the loss to the Jaguars in the Wild Card Round is not indicative of panic-worthy events. Rather, it’s a reflection of how strong the team is right now. So, Bills Mafia, if you loved the Josh Allen choice, don’t get angry. Because that pick doesn’t do much to help the team in Week 1 of the 2018 season. He has an uphill curve ahead of him, although there are plenty of people who enjoy exaggerating that curve. Allen should be accelerating it. AJ McCarron is also a bit of an unknown, but he has flashed potential. Tremaine Edmunds (Round 1, No. 16) should get on the field rather quickly. By the way: That guy turned 20 on Wednesday. TWENTY. I was driving a Mitsubishi Mighty Max with no power steering and working at Bank One at 20. (Yeah, that place is defunct.)

BUCCANEERS

The Bucs aren’t going to be anybody’s pushover this season. GM Jason Licht took the additional picks he received from trading with the Bills (so Buffalo could get Josh Allen) to build a soft pillow for Jameis Winston to land on. No, not by drafting offensive linemen. Rather, Licht augmented the support system elsewhere for a quarterback who too often has to do too much, namely by strengthening the defense and adding a running back. Ronald Jones (Round 2, No. 38) should help immediately, especially since it’s slightly easier to transition from college to the pros at that position. Licht and Co. hit the secondary hard with M.J. Stewart (Round 2, No. 53) and Carlton Davis (Round 2, No. 63). Vita Vea (Round 1, No. 12) is massive in the middle. He’s a tree stump. You can’t pull him out of there with a Jeep winch. So if anyone ever tells you Allen is a bust, look at all these great plays he’s gonna provide … in Tampa Bay.

REDSKINS

The Redskins went all 1942-ish in this year’s draft, attempting to assemble a stronghold against the run and create a running game. First-round pick Da’Ron Payne (No. 13) was part of the former effort. Derrius Guice was drafted in the second round (No. 59) to provide the latter. Ditto Geron Christian (Round 3, No. 74), an offensive lineman out of Louisville. Two rounds later, Washington took another defensive tackle ( Tim Settle, Round 5, No. 163). Then came Alabama linebacker Shaun Dion Hamilton (Round 6, No. 197). Makes sense, with Ezekiel Elliott, Saquon Barkley and the Eagles‘ third-ranked running attack all in the NFC East.

Trivia: Why was the Redskins‘ championship win in 1942 so important to the members of that team? (@HarrisonNFL. Hard to cheat on this one!)

BEARS

Spoke to a producer at NFL Network who is a Chicago sports honk. Usually, his takes are bad, like, Ryne Sandberg is the greatest second baseman ever and The Bears can win 10 games THIS year … But I kind of agree with the opinion he gave me the other day: namely, that GM Ryan Pace and crew produced a fine draft haul. “For the first time in years, Bears fans are jazzed after the draft.” They should be. Pace hit the defense and passing game hard, especially trading up to acquire WR Anthony Miller (Round 2, No. 51). That guy is going to work his tail off, and even if he’s a WR3, he’ll be the best third wide receiver Chicago has had since Bobby Engram or Tom Waddle.

GIANTS

Big Blue could be back, sooner rather than later. In terms of winning right away, the Giantshad themselves a draft. As penned in my post-draft omnibus on Saturday, the only issue with their rookie class was passing up on a quarterback early. (Developmental QB Kyle Lauletta was a Day 3 pick.) Which was less an indication that Eli Manning will struggle and more a commentary that when teams hit on a quarterback early, they save immense salary-cap capital for years. It’s like “Battleship” — hit your opponent’s PT boat on the first try, and you’re dancing on his head for hours. Also consider that New York might not be in the position again to snag a promising passer so high for awhile. Still, with the talented group of rookies the Giants grabbed, including Saquon Barkley with the second overall choice, many fans are suggesting that New York could go at least .500 if not contend for a playoff spot, especially in a division that is not so strong (minus the Eagles, of course). On another note: A gaggle of teams could’ve used G Will Hernandez (Round 2, No. 34).

BRONCOS

Another team that enjoyed a fine draft … which also explains why the Broncos did not race up the rankings. Denver joined the Bears and Giants in putting together rookie classes that can bring about more success in 2018. DE Bradley Chubb (Round 1, No. 5) and WR Courtland Sutton (Round 2, No. 40) were great picks. What if RB Royce Freeman (Round 3, No. 71) continues to improve from the injuries he had two years ago? My colleague Chad Reuter suggested as much in his “War and Peace”-length draft grades piece for NFL.com a few days ago. Tell you what: If Case Keenum pans out, this group will be duking it out for the AFC West. Taking the Chargers right now.

Trivia: The Broncos and Chargers have only made the playoffs during the same season three times, which is remarkable, given that they both fired up their respective franchises in 1960. The last two occasions were 2013 and 2004. Which year did the Broncos and Chargers first reach the postseason together, and who was Denver’s quarterback that year? (@HarrisonNFL)

CARDINALS

All the chatter about the Cardinals‘ draft weekend centered on Josh Rosen (Round 1, No. 10) and, of course, his attitude. There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance, genuine frustration and petulance and, lastly, passing ability versus quarterbacking ability. Rosen is straddling that line in the public view, but if leadership is at the core of the last trait, then knowing you have to earn respect is surely part of it. Rosen had no reason to be ticked that nine players went before him in the draft. That’s ridiculous. Yet, if I were an owner or head coach, I would be glad my future franchise QB was that pissed off. Some folks perform well angry, myself included. Now leave me alone.

BENGALS

Similar to the Lions, nobody seems to care or pay attention to what the Bengals do in the draft. Call it Marvin Lewis fatigue. Or always-bounced-in-the-first-round fatigue. Even if Cincy makes it to the postseason, no one has any confidence that the Bengals will accomplish anything once there, which translates into less interest in their drafts every year. Of course, Cincinnati has stayed home from the playoffs over the last two Januarys, but that could change. Trade acquisition Cordy Glenn and rookie Billy Price (Round 1, No. 21) should bolster the weak spot of the team — the offensive line — right away. The front seven got stronger with the addition of DE Sam Hubbard from Ohio State (Round 3, No. 77) and LB Malik Jefferson out of Texas (Round 3, No. 78). And my editor of these here Power Rankings, Gennaro Filice, told me on the cellular phone what a find RB Mark Walton (Round 4, No. 112) was/is. More than anything, Cincy needs the pass-catching triumvirate of A.J. Green, John Ross and Tyler Eifert to stay healthy. Have you been injured in an accident? Call the offices of Green, Ross and Eifert. They understand. They get hurt a lot, too.

JETS

Darnoldmania. Now that we got that out of the way, how’d ya feel about the rest of the Jets‘ draft? Fantastic? Decent? Baggage claim? Fort Hays State doesn’t exactly send multiple guys to the pros every year, but the fine university might have provided the Jets with their next Jason Ferguson or, if they’re really lucky, Joe Klecko in DT Nathan Shepherd (Round 3, No. 72). Trading forHenry Anderson should also reinforce Todd Bowles’ defensive line. Here’s the real question: Will the Jets get a player in tight end Chris Herndon (Round 4, No. 107)? Seriously, when’s the last time this organization had a tight end who played up to his draft potential? They’ve busted here more times than Miranda Lambert’s been busted cheating. (Sorry; she’s just been in my news feed non-stop.) I’m gonna go with Mickey Shuler on the TE query. (Third round, 1978.)

DOLPHINS

The Dolphins start over with more questions than answers, but certainly much upside to the 2018 season. Back is QB Ryan Tannehill, with a new tight end in second-round pick Mike Gesicki (No. 42). Listening to the NFL channel on Sirius XM Radio in the weeks leading up to the draft, I heard Gesicki’s name every day. Will he fare better than Jordan Cameron and Julius Thomas? Minkah Fitzpatrick (Round 1, No. 11) should team with Reshad Jones at some point to form a premier set of safeties. Following Ndamukong Suh‘s departure, the defense as a whole will have a new feel, especially with the arrival ofRobert Quinn from the Rams. Frank Gore might be 55, but he complements Kenyan Drake well. Danny Amendola is now on board. Adam Gase’s team has a bit of an uphill journey, but there is a solid nucleus, in theory, here.

BROWNS

You’re either on the Baker Mayfield train or not, it seems. Which is fine, but if you didn’t like the Brett Favre draft-day replica pic — complete with giant cordless phone, jorts and a pimp hat in the background — you’re not of this Earth. In case you missed it, Alonzo Highsmith (former Oilers RB Alonzo Highsmith) detailed why Cleveland took Mayfield No. 1 overall against all odds in a rare show of front-office clarity. CB Denzel Ward (No. 4 overall) should start. Guard Austin Corbett (Round 2, No. 33) can, too. Then there’s former Georgia standout Nick Chubb (Round 2, No. 35), who could relegate free-agent signee Carlos Hyde to the pine. Put another way: This is a whole new Browns team with an infusion of energy. It’s on Hue Jackson now. As for not moving the Browns higher? They need to win.

COLTS

Trying to write about the Colts without mentioning Andrew Luck is nearly impossible. See? Already failed. GM Chris Ballard and the personnel department deserve much credit for a job well done in Dallas. Quenton Nelson (Round 1, No. 6), by all accounts, was a home-run pick. He will play Day 1 at guard. OLB Darius Leonard (Round 2, No. 36) was a double off the wall. He might be starting before the preseason is over. Not sure where guard Braden Smith (Round 2, No. 37) will play, as Indy is now situated at guard with the underrated Jack Mewhort and Nelson lining up there. But I like where the Colts‘ heads are at: Protect the man whose name will not be mentioned.

Follow Elliot Harrison on Twitter @HarrisonNFL.

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ricardosousalemos · 7 years

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DMX: It's Dark and Hell is Hot

Earl Simmons suffered a lonely and abusive childhood where as a troubled kid he would sometimes wander the streets and befriend stray dogs. Uprooted from his native Baltimore at a young age, the Yonkers transplant did several stints in New York’s Children’s Village group home, where he first started fiddling with drum machines and beatboxing as a means of escape. He segued from DJing to rapping as a young adult, taking the name DMX from the drum machine he used. The young rapper made a name for himself on New York’s battle circuit with a commanding voice and overwhelming tenacity. Aggressiveness would become his calling card as an MC, a defense mechanism held over from when the days when armed robbery helped him survive on the streets. His battles to live and cope both in and outside of rap would lead to 1998’s It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot, his haunting debut, a tragically clear-eyed criminal manifesto that dared to greet damnation with defiance and a psalm.

Rocking a skull-embroidered hat, DMX the Great appeared in The Source’s Unsigned Hype column in January 1991, garnering comparisons to LL Cool J, PMD, and Hit Squad’s K-Solo (whom DMX had met in prison). The earliest DMX demos were tedious, without the defining presence he’d grow into. But it was in the ring that he truly built his rep, making an indelible mark on the underground scene with heavily rhythmic flows and a battler’s bluntness. When he traded bars with Jay Z in a cramped Bronx pool hall in the late ’90s, head bobbing violently, cigarette in hand, he proved himself to be a raw, almost boorish alternative to Hov’s shifty slick talk. The energy in the room clearly favored X’s style. Jay would later ask industry maneuverer mutual friend Irv Gotti, “You think he’s better than me?” to which Gotti replied, ‘If you look in the hood, there’s less niggas like you and more niggas like him.”

The Unsigned Hype column was known for producing deals. True to form, DMX signed to Columbia Records imprint Ruffhouse in 1992 and immediately cut a promotional single called “The Born Loser.” The track introduced his depressive tone, an ominous and confessional space that would later bring life to his most discomforting scenes. But true to its title, it failed to generate any buzz or airplay, and his overbooked label let him off the hook. (DMX claimed he was under-promoted because of groups like Kris Kross and Cypress Hill.) A few years later, Puff Daddy, head of the burgeoning Bad Boy Records, took interest in X and fellow Yonkers corner boys the LOX, but in the end chose to sign the latter over the former, deciding that X had no commercial prospects. “One thing I respect about Puff, at least he told me to my face what he felt,” DMX told “Drink Champs.” “‘His voice is too rough, he’s not marketable.’” DMX returned to the underground scene, emerging on LL Cool J’s 1997 album Phenomenon with a verse on the now infamous posse cut “4, 3, 2, 1.” Buzzing once more, he followed Gotti to Def Jam.

When Gotti pushed for Def Jam to sign DMX in his first meeting, he got laughed out of the room. “I remember when I left the office, [A&R executive] Tina Davis said, ‘if DMX don’t sell, your ass is fired,” Gotti remembered in an interview with Complex. He didn’t seem to fit with the rap moment. This was a year dominated by Puff Daddy and Bad Boy, who landed six of the seven highest-charting rap songs, delivered a huge critical and commercial success in Harlem World, and won Best Rap Album at the Grammys for the 7x-Platinum album No Way Out (famously and controversially defeating Wu-Tang Clan’s Wu-Tang Forever). Putting money behind DMX would run counter to Bad Boy’s “shiny suit” era of glam rap.

But X brought Def Jam executive Lyor Cohen up to Yonkers for an early Ruff Ryder session and convinced him to sign the MC. At the time, DMX’s mouth was wired shut because of an altercation he’d had with some guys he was accused of stealing from. In an interview with DJ Vlad, Ja Rule remembered the ferocity through which he ripped through the wiring: “He had got into a fight or somebody got jumped... and he was rhyming with the fuckin’ wires in his mouth. Crazy shit. Like the shit about to pop. I was like ‘Okay, I like this dude.’” When they left, Cohen turned to Gotti and proclaimed, “We got the pick of the litter.”

Through his connections at Bad Boy (namely, his friends the LOX and Ma$e), DMX began working on his debut album with a producer from Harlem named Dame Grease, a fellow Yonkers product named P.K. (or P. Killer Trackz), and Grease’s unknown protege from the Bronx, Swizz Beatz. Under direction from Irv and Lyor, Grease, P.K., and X worked up a single called “Get at Me Dog” in ’97, and released it in February of ’98. It functioned as an abrasive prelude, but was at least partially aimed at X’s longtime rival K-Solo. They brought the song to Hot 97 DJ Funkmaster Flex, who aired it and added it to the first volume of his Big Dawgs mixtape. It soon took off, peaking at No. 39 on the Billboard Hot 100 that May. Gotti remembers the video as the turning point: “We back to the hood, and X is the leader of this revolution.” Filmed at New York’s Tunnel nightclub, packed, sweaty, and shot in black and white, X’s crusade is articulated in its opening seconds: “Let’s take it back to the streets, motherfuckers!”

“Get at Me Dog” set the stage for It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot, which explores the furthest depths of the human experience. But there is no more fitting introduction to the album than the Swizz Beatz-produced “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem,” a confrontational, fang-bearing mark of ferocity. The song functions much like a warning shot: Cross this threshold at your own peril. “It’s about to get ugly/Fuck it dog, I’m hungry,” he snaps. The song was a defining moment for both DMX and Swizz Beatz, but it almost didn’t happen. Swizz made the song in Atlanta when he was just a DJ and then moved back to New York to join the Ruff Ryders. DMX didn’t like the song initially, claiming it was some “rock’n’roll track” and he needed some hip-hop shit: “I’m not doing that. It’s not hood enough,” he told the producer. But Swizz and other members of the Ruff Ryders team pushed him to make the record, and it became the theme song of a movement.

It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot was not only the springboard for the Ruff Ryders campaign—launching the careers of Swizz Beatz, Eve, Cassidy, and Jin—it was the catalyst for a greater shift on the New York rap scene and beyond. It was a reset button for street rap, setting the stage for runs from 50 Cent and G-Unit and Cam’ron’s Diplomats crew. “Hittin’ niggas with gashes to the head/Straight to the white meat but the street stays red/Girls gave me head for free cause they see/Who I’ma be, by like 2003,” X rapped on the intro. It didn’t even take that long.

Like Dante’s Inferno, DMX’s It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot is a fiendish epic that explores the nature of sin, highlighting acts of violence, wrath, greed, treachery, and lust. The album exposes an internal struggle waged between a man and his demons—a man searching for one light in an all-consuming darkness. He has a talk with god (“The Convo”), but the devil is constantly whispering in his ear and wearing him down. He’s unsure whether his rhyme skills are the product of a contract with the devil (“I sold my soul to the devil, and the price was cheap”) or the generosity of a loving creator. It’s this duality that makes up one of the most gripping psychological studies in all of rap lore: What happens when a God-fearing man makes the devil his ally?

The centerpiece is “Damien,” a winding back-and-forth saga between X and his Hadean accomplice. The album builds to this moment, where X is seduced by his greatest admirer. In the throes of his own greed and pain, DMX embraces wickedness as a fair price for freedom from destitution. By the end, the song becomes a parable about the dangers of giving into desire when Damien coerces X into crimes he doesn’t want to commit: “Either do it or give me your right hand, that’s what you said,” he threatens. “I see now, ain’t nothing but trouble ahead.” Traces of “Damien” can be heard throughout the “Lucy” thread on Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly, which also examines the points where fame and sin meet. (Kendrick has cited It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot as a major influence.) But “Damien” is even more tightly wound, the relationship more clearly articulated and its energy more affecting. The dynamic “Damien” is a microcosm of It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot, which is either in constant motion or disclosing ongoing conversations—whether internal, interpersonal (“How’s It Goin’ Down”), or divine (“Prayer”).

It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot debuted atop the Billboard 200 in May and was certified platinum by June. DMX quickly released his sophomore album, Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood, in December of ’98, and it was double platinum by January. In between the two, he starred in Hype Williams’ directorial debut, Belly, alongside Nas, and the film almost immediately became a cult hit among rap fans. So in a grand total of eight months, DMX became the biggest rapper on the planet. His moment was so colossal that in 1999 Jay Z boycotted the Grammy ceremony (the year he won Best Rap Album for Vol. 2… Hard Knock Life) because DMX was not nominated.

“That was the year DMX took over the world,” Nas remembered in a 2013 interview with Pitchfork. Already a star on New York’s rap scene, the Queens rapper was standing in close proximity when the DMX atom bomb dropped. “There was a guy who worked on Belly with me and DMX who’d heard the record, and every day he would try to tell me how incredible this music that was about to come out was,” Nas recalled. “I tried to get a description, like, ‘What do you mean?’ And he just couldn’t say anything. He just kept saying, ‘It moves your soul.’ He did not lie.”

Nearly 20 years later, there is still no album like it. So many of the songs on It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot document violent crimes and the flood of emotions they induce. They move swiftly, jerking around corners and through alleyways, simulating a rising heart rate and a racing mind. His peers were shooting stills, but X was dealing in savage action sequences (“ATF”) and the shadows they cast (“Let Me Fly,” “X-Is Coming”). Everything about the music—from the harshness of his voice, to the murkiness of his beats, to the bruising nature of his flows—was in service of a supreme hardness. In ‘98, the biggest MCs on the New York scene were narrators using radically different sounds to tell their stories. Busta erupted with pure energy. Big Pun enchanted with an effortless fluidity. As Wu-Tang swarmed, Tribe was in the midst of their love movement. Black Star were a conscious voice for hood theorists. Jay Z brought business acumen to the drug trade. All were reporting live, sharing their powerful perspectives from different city blocks.

But DMX wasn’t a rapper in the trenches; he was a messiah in the gutter, painting a portrait of a community laid desolate by corruption, and the sociopaths its conditions were breeding. He was the voice of the street corners and the graveyards, telling stories of the lost and the damned. From on high, he demanded empathy for man, who were cold to murder and unapologetic for their crimes because he knew it’s hard to be good in a world this broken. “There’s a difference between doing wrong and being wrong, and that ain’t right,” he says on “Let Me Fly.” He breaks the moral compass, then drags you into the abyss.

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junker-town · 7 years

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Matthew Centrowitz might be the best American miler ever

He’s running for the American record at the 2017 world championships. But first, he needs to check his Twitter timeline.

For once, Matthew Centrowitz didn't know what to do when he crossed the finish line.

He had copied a LeBron James celebration after winning the U.S. title in the 1,500 meters in 2015 and dabbed like Cam Newton after winning an indoor mile in 3:54.02 last year in Charlotte. But after finishing first to become the first American to win Olympic gold in the 1,500 meters since 1908, a stunned Centrowitz could only extend his arms and hold his palms up to the sky as if to ask, “Did that just happen?”

Centrowitz won silver at the 2011 world championships and bronze in 2013, but a win in Rio seemed out of the question going up against Kenya’s Asbel Kiprop, one of the best metric milers of all time. Centrowitz controlled the race from the gun, however, and blitzed through a last lap of 50.6 seconds as his family and close friends celebrated by yelling and attempting to crowd surf in the stands.

One week after the race of his life, Centrowitz was still in disbelief. If he could break the American record in the 1,500 or the mile, he told me then, he would have claim to the title of greatest American miler of all time.

“There’s definitely been a lot of talk about me getting the American record in the 1,500 before my career is over,” Centrowitz says. “At least for my mindset, that would kind of put the nail in the coffin.”

One year later, his gold medal tour hasn’t been the record-breaking celebration he hoped it would be. Injuries and other setbacks have turned the year into a tour of so-so races. He nearly didn’t run the U.S. Championships because of injury. He did just enough to qualify for the world championships, where he’ll compete in London in the 1.500-meter event beginning on Aug. 10. There, he will have a chance to redeem what can be best described as a hangover of a season.

Centrowitz is on borrowed time if he is going to set records, inching over to the wrong side of his prime at 27. As the glow of his Olympic gold fades, his mission to become the greatest American miler is ongoing, but losing steam.

Photo by Matthias Hangst/Getty Images

With less than three weeks until the 2017 U.S. Track and Field Championships, Centrowitz wasn’t supposed to be in Las Vegas. Like the rest of the top runners in the country, he should have been on the track. But a slight tear in his right adductor — one of his many setbacks in 2017 — left Centrowitz dejected.

Centrowitz dyed his hair blonde and bought a one-way ticket to Las Vegas. His season, he decided, was over.

The members of Centrowitz’s inner circle — his father, coaches, friends, and training partners — don’t stop him from reaching NBA levels of pettiness on social media, like when he calls out a Twitter troll for running a “pedestrian” 4:46 mile. They don’t mind his finish-line antics. They do, however, hold him accountable, and they weren’t going to let him wallow away in Vegas.

Centrowitz arrived in Vegas on a Saturday. His coach, agent, and some family members called him on Sunday to convince him he could still race at the national championships. He flew back to Portland on Monday and received a platelet-rich plasma injection to help his adductor that day.

Centrowitz is very close with his family. His dad, Matt Centrowitz, was a 1976 Olympian and made the Olympic team in 1980 when the U.S. boycotted the Moscow Games. His mother, Beverly Bannister-Centrowitz, is in the Hunter College Athletics Hall of Fame for track. His older sister, Lauren, was an All-American runner at Stanford.

“All my kids were great runners,” Matt says, “but Matthew took it much more seriously.”

Matt recalls how his son had a penchant for history at a young age. Matt ran with Steve Prefontaine at the University of Oregon and used to tell his son stories about the legendary runner. Centrowitz studied all of the sport’s greats.

At some point in the weeks following his gold medal race, he told his son: “You’re the best American miler ever.”

Jim Ryun above all. Ryun was the first high school runner to break four minutes in the mile, an Olympic silver medalist, and a world record holder with a 3:51 mile. He was, and still is, Centrowitz’s favorite. “For him to run those times in the 1960s and ‘70s,” Centrowitz says, “it’s just incredible.” He pored over Ryun’s In Quest of Gold, his dad calling it his bible.

Centrowitz still geeks out when he talks about his heroes. “I think my favorite part of winning gold,” he says, “was just kind of seeing all the legends of the event, the mile—guys like Jim Ryun, Sebastian Coe, Hicham el Guerrouj — and seeing how excited they were for me. These are guys I’ve looked up to and still look up to, and for them to give me any kind of credit, is just humbling and honoring. It’s honestly surreal.”

Centrowitz started building his legacy as a 21-year-old at his dad’s alma mater, Oregon, winning a bronze medal in the 1,500 at the 2011 world championships. He turned pro the following year, joining the Nike Oregon Project under coach Alberto Salazar. He missed out on a medal at the 2012 London Olympics by 0.04 seconds. He made up for that heartbreak and then some in Rio, leading nearly wire to wire in a slowly paced race to win a shocking gold.

After that race, Coe, the British runner who won the 1,500 at the 1980 and 1984 Olympics, presented Centrowitz with his gold medal. “Welcome to the club,” Coe said. Centrowitz’s father went even further. At some point in the weeks following his gold medal race, he told his son: “You’re the best American miler ever.”

Two weeks before the 2017 U.S. Championships in Sacramento, however, the gold medalist was struggling after his return from Vegas. “I couldn’t break 33 [seconds] for 200 meters,” Centrowitz says of his first workout after his injection. He kept at it, and ran a 1,000-meter time trial five days later. The result, a 2:21, wasn’t his best (Centrowitz has run 2:16.67), but it was progress.

Less than a week later, he hopped on a plane to Sacramento and ran a preliminary race that he says “shook off the rust.” Two days later, he finished second in the final to qualify for the world championships.

“Did you see the Andy Bayer one?” Centrowitz asks me over the phone from St. Moritz, Switzerland, where he was training at altitude throughout July. In quick, excitable bursts, he’s talking about another Twitter beef.

He laughs them all off, like the 20-year-old college student who tweeted a month before the Olympics that he’d get a tattoo of Centrowitz’s face if he medaled in Rio. Centrowitz called him out on it. A tattoo of Centrowitz holding the American flag now covers the student’s left shoulder blade.

Photo by Christian Petersen/Getty Images

Centrowitz’s finish-line celebrations, which he likens to end-zone dances, are ripped from other sports. He’s partial to the LeBron celebration in which he mock-fired a pistol into the sky before reloading and holstering it. Centrowitz jokingly modeled it in front of training partners in the weight room while watching 2015 NBA Finals highlights before unleashing it on the track. Despite knowing the dab had already lived a life in full, Centrowitz honored Cam Newton at an indoor meet in Charlotte.

Like those NBA and NFL superstars, Centrowitz is a different athlete from his peers.

The best basketball and football athletes do things that mere mortals can't dream of, whereas almost everyone in the world can run. In track, fans want to know what elite athletes are doing so that they can apply it to their own training. Because of this, many runners, like 2016 Olympian Brenda Martinez, have staid public personas, tweeting out workouts and pictures of their runs. Others, like American 10k record holder Galen Rupp, are almost absent from social media, like NBA players who “go dark” in the playoffs.

The thought of Ryun imitating Joe Namath or talking trash in the 1960s seems absurd. Centrowitz, however, enjoys trolling.

Even Centrowitz’s gait has flash. It appears smooth, and powerful, and effortless even as he’s running a 3:50 mile pace. His stride eats up the track when he breaks into his finishing sprint, like James turning on the jets for a chase-down block.

“The moves he makes in races are almost violent,” Johnny Gregorek, Centrowitz’s teammate in the 1,500 in London, said after the Olympic Trials last year. “They are so sudden and decisive.”

Photo by Christian Petersen/Getty Images

Like James and Newton, Centrowitz isn’t for everyone, and he’s not immune from controversy. Training with the Nike Oregon Project comes with its own set of headaches. While it is considered one of the best training groups in the world, it is also dogged by drug allegations. A BBC and ProPublica report in 2013 alleged that Salazar was leading a win-at-all-costs training regimen that included the use of performance-enhancing drugs. The group is under USADA investigation, and the FBI is reportedly involved.

Salazar adamantly denied the accusations on multiple occasions. Centrowitz, too, has continually denied taking performance-enhancing drugs. Centrowitz was the most drug-tested U.S. track athlete in 2016, with 17 out-of-competition tests, and has never failed one.

Centrowitz doesn’t let drug tests or online haters faze him. He seems to thrive off doubt and loves talking back — especially when he can back it up.

“Same as Kevin Durant after the Warriors won the title,” Centrowitz says. “As long as you’re taking care of business then you can have some fun.”

Photo by Patrick Smith/Getty Images

Centrowitz tries to be humble about his legacy, but he agrees that he is close to being considered the American GOAT — he just can’t put himself above his idol Ryun just yet without a record.

When it comes to hardware, no one matches up with Centrowitz. Other than Mel Sheppard (1908) and James Lightbody (1904), he’s the only U.S. runner with Olympic gold in the 1,500. In fact, since 1952 only Ryun (1972) and Leonel Manzano (2012) have won medals.

His times, however, aren’t quite the stuff of legend. His 3:30.40 in the 1,500 makes him the third-fastest American of all time at the distance. In the mile, Centrowitz’s 3:50.53 makes him the ninth-best.

Faster runners include Alan Webb, the American record holder in the mile at 3:46.91, and Bernard Lagat, the Kenyan-born American who won the 1,500 and 5,000 at the 2007 world championships and has the American record in the 1,500 at 3:29.3. Steve Scott had the American record before Webb and ran a world record 136 sub-4:00 miles. Sydney Maree had the 1,500 record before Lagat.

Ryun, meanwhile, has a resume that’s hard to match: He held the world record in the mile for almost 10 years. Dr. Michael Joyner is an expert in human performance at the Mayo Clinic — back in 1991, he predicted that a human could run 1:57:58 in the marathon, long before Kenya’s Eliud Kipchoge ran 2:00:25 in a controlled, Nike-sponsored race in May — thinks Ryun’s 3:51.3 world record in 1966 was one of the most impressive runs of all time.

At 27, Centrowitz is about to leave what many consider his prime. A 2011 French study concluded that athletes start to see physical declines at age 26. Centrowitz hasn’t set a personal best in the 1,500 since 2015, or the mile since 2014. The American mile record has been broken 16 times by seven different runners since 1955, and the average age of the runner on each record-breaking run was 23 years and 243 days. Only two of the seven — Jim Beatty and Jim Grelle — were 27 years or older when they set the record.

This isn’t to say Centrowitz is washed up. Thanks to better training, injury prevention, and earning opportunities (athletes were amateurs in the 1950s and ‘60s), more and more runners are extending their careers. Lagat, for example, won U.S. Olympic Trials at 5,000 meters last year as a 39-year-old and set the current 1,500 record in 2005 when he was 30.

But age isn’t the only factor. Racing for time is a different beast than racing for place. Tactical races like the Olympic finals are all about positioning and strategy.

Centrowitz’s gold medal time in Rio was more than 20 seconds off Lagat’s record, for example. He won in large part because he is a savvy racer. With about 450 meters to go, Ayanleh Souleiman briefly took the lead from Centrowitz, but only for an instant. Almost immediately, Centrowitz slithered by Souleiman on the inside, brushing him with his elbow. If Centrowitz hadn’t responded so quickly, he could have been swallowed up by the pack. Instead, he was clear of the field and had the inside track for the final 400 meters.

Most record-breaking races occur when the runners are in a single file, with pacemakers leading the way for the first half of the race or more. Instead of worrying about timing a finishing sprint or getting tripped up by an opponent, runners can focus on efficiency.

Comparing records to medals is a little like comparing rings to stats. If you’re an NBA fan, would you rather have Russell and his 11 rings or Wilt Chamberlain and his preposterous numbers? It’s a difficult question. Until Centrowitz has numbers on his side, his legacy will be the subject of similar debate.

Photo by Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

The morning after the night in Rio that changed everything for Centrowitz — after NBC cameras caught his family’s bombastic celebration in the stands, after the blur of the victory lap and the medal ceremony, after decompressing with those closest to him at a small restaurant in the early hours of the next morning — he woke up early to his father asking if he was awake. They had to get to a morning show on NBC.

“Yeah, Dad,” he said. “What’s up?”

“My son, Olympic champion,” Matt said. “I still can’t believe this is real.”

“Me neither, Dad,” Matthew said with a grin as he pulled the gold medal out from under his pillow.

It was one of the few moments of calm for Centrowitz in the immediate aftermath of his gold medal run. He spent the next few weeks answering media requests and making appearances with his new piece of hardware. Almost one year later, he is still answering questions about the gold medal — the price of being an Olympic champion. His dad published a book called Like Father, Like Son, and Centrowitz has become a headliner at races where he used to be an also-ran.

Centrowitz believes he’s handling the extra pressure. His attitude hasn’t changed. The hardware hasn’t altered his off-track or post-race antics, even if the circumstances are different.

One thing remains the same 11 months after the Rio win: There is still a sense of disbelief. Centrowitz says he and his dad still talk about the race, citing that moment with about 450 meters to go as the turning point in a career-defining race.

They also talk about his legacy and what else he can do on the track and the American record. Not that they need to. Centrowitz is getting older, and breaking records is hard. By winning gold the way he did, Centrowitz did plenty to get the world talking.

“Is Michael Jordan better than LeBron?” Centrowitz says. “You’re gonna have that talk for the rest of our lives. I won’t be able to race Jim Ryun or Alan Webb — at everyone’s peak especially. I think it’s entertaining to talk about it.”

To be considered among the best ever isn’t easy. Centrowitz knows his history, and he knows he has a place in it. Staring down the American record, he is exactly where he wants to be.

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