#(Its so refreshing to hear this kind of view as Alternative)
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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24
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Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo
Words: 7,356
Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.
Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.
Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.
I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!
I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.
Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake
A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.
Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.
If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.
Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.
Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.
He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.
Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.
He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.
“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”
“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”
Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.
Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”
“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”
“I did warn you.”
“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”
“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”
“The Mareco?”
“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”
Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”
“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”
“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”
“About what?”
“About how you developed a problem with authority.”
“What’s your excuse then?”
“What can I say? I was led astray.”
It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.
“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”
“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”
“Maybe you were my exception too.”
A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.
"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”
Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”
By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.
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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.
Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.
As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.
The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.
“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”
“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”
“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”
She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.
Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.
“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”
“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”
“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”
Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.
“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”
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It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.
The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.
Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.
“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.
“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”
“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”
Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.
They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.
“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.
Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”
“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”
Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”
“He’s not the only one.”
Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.
“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.
“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.
“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”
Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.
Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.
Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.
“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.
“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.
“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.
“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.
“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”
“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”
“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”
Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”
Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.
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Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.
Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.
“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.
At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”
Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.
“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”
“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”
Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.
Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.
Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.
As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home.
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Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.
“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.
“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”
“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”
Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.
“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.
“You had a good teacher.”
“So did you.”
“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”
“Like our Christmas tamales.”
“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”
“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”
Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.
“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.
“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”
“What?”
“You must’ve heard the arguments?”
“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”
“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”
“That’s what it was about?”
“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”
“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”
“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”
“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.
Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.
“How did you know?”
“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”
Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.
“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”
“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”
Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”
Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.
“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.
“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.
“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.
“He does.”
“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”
Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.
“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”
“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”
“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”
“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”
“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”
Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.
“So, you were there a whole year?”
“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”
“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”
“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.
“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”
Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”
“Does it?”
“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”
Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”
“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”
“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”
“It was killing you.”
“I know.”
“And Papá would have told you the same.”
A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”
“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”
“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”
But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.
“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”
“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”
Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.
He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.
“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”
“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”
“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”
“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”
“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”
“You never said anything.”
Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”
Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”
It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”
“I don’t just mean the ambush.”
“I know,” she said briskly.
But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.
“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”
“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”
“Are you mad?”
“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”
An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.
“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”
“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”
“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”
“We will, I promise.”
“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”
“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”
“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”
“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.
Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”
“How did –?”
She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”
Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.
“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”
“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”
“Something like that.”
Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.
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Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.
That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.
A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.
“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.
“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”
“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.
“Fuck you.”
Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.
Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”
“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.
“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.
“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”
“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”
“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."
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It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.
The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.
“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”
“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.
“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.
“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”
Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.
“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”
“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”
Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.
She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”
Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”
“Guest’s choice.”
He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.
That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.
“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”
“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”
Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”
“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”
“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”
“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”
“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”
“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.
“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”
“Again, I’m not surprised.”
“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”
The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.
“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”
“He thought it was his duty."
“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.
“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.
Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”
“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”
Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.
“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”
“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.
“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”
Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”
“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”
“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”
“Maybe.”
“Drink up.”
Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”
Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”
Javier gasped. “There are?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”
“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."
“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”
“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”
“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.
She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)
“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”
“A fair demand.”
“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”
“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.
His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”
For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.
But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”
Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.
But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.
Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.
“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”
Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.
“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”
He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.
“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged.”
“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”
At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”
“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.
She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”
#Narcos fic#Narcos#Javier Peña#Horacio Carrillo#Carrillo#Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo#Pedro Pascal#Maurice Compte#Narcos fanfic#Narcos fanfiction#Narcos fan fic#My Fan Fic#My Narcos Fic
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You'll need a boutonniere. Actress Kathryn Harrold is 66.
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Best Part of Me - Chapter 2
Warnings: very light smut
Tagging: @thunderintheshadows, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y
It's shortly before midnight when she joins him outside; just beyond the back fence and gate that he and Ovi had built to keep the kids -or at least attempt to- contained when outside on their own. Their property is private and secluded; just the kind of quiet, and security they'd been craving. Fifteen acres with its own stretch of private beach, a vast area of woodlands to the left, just beyond the guest house that Ovi and Chloe share, and their closest neighbour two hundred yards away.
In Colorado their 'thing' had been to end the evening out on the porch swing; it was often their only chance to actually carry on a proper conversation without being constantly interrupted by the kids. When they could temporarily stop being parents and just be Tyler and Esme. The therapist had been adamant about it; that they both realize their roles in each others lives far extended raising a family together. That they needed to get back to staying connected beyond the realms of parenthood; important that the connection was not just physical, but emotional as well. At first Tyler had thought it was all a load shit; both what the therapist had said and needing to see one in the first place. That the change of pace and scenery would be more than enough to not only keep the connection between them and make it stronger. Not realizing until they had started sitting down to talk to someone just how fractured things actually were. He'd always thought that things were fine; that they'd gotten past the toughest and darkest spots and that they were nowhere near disintegrating and that if their problems ever got that bad, they'd be able to get through it on their own.
Once they actually started concentrating on things -the way they fought and the intensity in which they did, the horrible things that were said to one another- it became apparent that there was a lot repairing that needed to be done. It wouldn't been easy or a short fix, but at least it could be put back together.
The sand is soft beneath her feet; cool and refreshing as it slips between her toes. The beach itself is relatively unspoiled and remarkably preserved; the old owners never using it, preferring to just enjoy the views of the ocean and the remarkable sunsets. Their road itself hasn't seen children in in over thirty years, and shortly after they'd move in they would routinely find notes and small presents for the kids in their mailbox from residents further down. About how nice it was to them see them out on their bikes or chasing one another, how great it was to hear their shouts and their laughter.
Mac lays beside Tyler on a blanket on the beach, raising his head to watch her as she approaches; giving small whimpering noises -his happy sounds, as the vet calls them-, tail beginning to sway back and forth. He's grown like weed; not even full size yet but massive and strong. But despite the mail man's fear of him, he's surprisingly docile. Growing up with four kids that constantly love on you and never you leave you alone and always sneak you treats will do it. And he's loyal and fiercely intelligent; always sensing when one of his people may need a little bit extra attention. Tyler's arm rests along Mac's back, hand slowly stroking the shepherd's impossibly large ears and scratching the scruff of his neck.
“You need to move,” Esme says, and points to a spot on the sand. “You're in my spot you stinky, hairy beast.”
Her husband doesn't move his forearm from over his eyes. “Are you talking to me or the dog?”
“You're not that stinky,” she playfully retorts, and then once more points to the sand. “Mac, seriously. Move. I know he's your person, but he's my person too and you have to share him.”
All it takes from Tyler is a ruffle of the fur and a “Move, mate” and the dog obliges; sauntering over to his master's other side, the curling up in the sand, making sure that least one of his paws is in contact with Tyler's body.
“Worst behaved dog ever,” Esme grumbles, and sinks down onto the blanket, lying on her side and tucking herself under her husband's arm when he immediately wraps it around her. His hand coming to rest on her shoulder as she places hers on his stomach and rest her head on his chest. It's soothing. The sound and smell of the ocean, the warmth of his body and how solid it is against her, the scent that clings to him; mixture of cologne, laundry detergent, and sweat. It's familiar, but remarkably him.
“Kids asleep?” he asks, and she nods.
“Every last one,” she replies with a content sigh.
It doesn't happen often; the three older ones falling asleep fairly early and easily, while Declan and Addie spend hours alternating who needs the most attention.
Her hand continues to rub his stomach; she likes the extra weight he carries there now. His body thicker than it was before. Even more muscular and powerful. And she rests her chin on his shoulder and looks up at him, his forearm still over his eyes.
“Tired?” he asks, his palm slowly moving over her shoulder and down her arm, then travelling back up again.
“When am I not tired? Do you and Ovi work tomorrow?”
“Just a few odd jobs. I shouldn't be home too late.”
It had been an easy decision; getting back into doing home renos and general repairs. They don't particularly need the money, a large chunk of the five million left even after buying the house, all the furnishings, and doing repairs and upgrades. But he enjoys working with his hands; the finished results giving him a sense of accomplishment. It keeps him busy and his mind focused on the task at hand, and having Ovi with him meant he could let the kid handle any personal contact with clients and Tyler himself could avoid actually having to interact with people.
Her hand slips under the front of his shirt, finger lightly drawing a circle around his navel, and she feels him shudder against her when she runs a fingertip along the waist band of jeans.
He clears his throat noisily. “Do you mind?”
“No, actually I don't,” she grins, one finger dipping underneath the denim, then slowly moving along his skin.
“Well you should,” Tyler grabs a hold of her wrist, pulling her hand out of his pants and then entwining their fingers together. “Stop.”
“Like you're not enjoying it.”
“That's the problem. I am enjoying it.”
“It's been three months,” she laments.
Sighing, he nods.
“Three months, fifteen days and thirteen hours,” she clarifies, and he opens his eyes and looks down at her. “What?” she shrugs. “You're not keeping track?”
He grins. “I may or may not have it in my calendar on my phone.”
She laughs at that, then buries her face in his neck; lips pressing a series of soft, feathery kisses on his jaw line, just under his beard.
“Would you stop...” he uses the side of his head to push her away, and shifts uncomfortably against the sand. “....knock it off.”
“You don't miss it?” she refuses to be deterred, her free had coming up to comb through his hair as her lips find the side of his neck, the tip of her tongue trailing over the scar left behind from Dhaka.
“Of course I miss it. I miss it a fuck of a lot, but...stop...seriously...stop...”
“That's a first for you. I didn't think you knew that word.”
“You need to just calm yourself down and leave me alone,” he grumbles.
“My hormones are insane,” she pouts. “Like off the charts insane. And it's been three and a half months and I miss you.”
“How can you miss me? I'm right here. Every day.”
“No, I mean I miss you.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “You mean in the biblical sense?”
She giggles. “Exactly. What you don't miss me?”
“Of course I do. We just...” the frustration finally gets the better of him and he shoves her over onto her side, then grabs a hold of both of her wrists in one hand before lying down behind her. “...it's too soon.”
“It's been two weeks since she was born.”
“Which is way too soon,” he insists, and pressing a kiss to the back of her head, groaning when she slides closer to him, so that her ass pressed right against his crotch. “Really? Are you serious right now?”
“I think I know my body.”
“Well so does the doctor and he says it's too soon. So...” he has to pull his hips back so no more contact can be made. “...fuck off, already.”
“You're grumpy.”
“I'm not grumpy. I'm horny. And sexually frustrated. And you know damn well what you're doing right now and you need to stop.”
“There's other things we can do,” she reminds him.
“Yeah and I won't be able to stop at just the other things. So please,” he tightens his hold on her wrists and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Stop. Be nice to me.”
“I was going to be very nice to you, But fine...” she dramatically huffs. “...if you want to have to keep studying alone.”
“I think I can handle another two or three weeks of 'studying alone'. That's nothing compared to three fucking months. You going to be good?”
“If you insist.”
“I do,” he says, and kisses her cheek. “Unfortunately.”
He releases his hold on her wrists, lacing their fingers together once again pressing their joined hands against her; eyes closed, face buried in her hair.
****
“I heard you met the hot teacher today,” she comments.
“She's about twenty years older than me but if you think she's hot...”
“You damn well know that's not who I was talking about. I mean Millie's teacher. The little blond thing with big boobs.”
“I didn't even notice.”
“Oh please. You're a guy.”
“I'm a guy that's not interested in meeting other women. So...”
“Your daughter said she was all 'touchy feely' with daddy.”
“She was not all touchy feely. She tried to touch my arm. And give me her phone number.”
Esme scowls at him over her shoulder. “Excuse me, what?”
“To talk about your daughter,” Tyler clarifies. “Because your daughter has a mouth on her.”
“Maybe because she takes after you.”
He snorts.
“She is all you and you know it. I am not taking the blame for her mouth. She is all attitude. Your attitude. She even has the same facial expressions as you. So I am not being held responsible for her being a smart ass. You can deal with that. You can give her shit.”
“I already did. I told her not to be so much like her mother,” he laughs as she attempts to elbow him in the stomach, then lifts his head and kisses the corner of her mouth.
“Millie says the teacher likes you. And that she's going to ask you out on a date.”
“Yeah? Good for her. I like you. So she's shit out of luck.”
“Six years and we're still at the like stage?” she teases. “I thought we'd at least be at infatuation by now.”
He grins. “We are way past infatuation, baby.”
“Do you think she's cute?”
“Who?
She huffs dramatically. “Millie's teacher. Do you think she's cute?”
“I think you're cute.”
“That's not what I asked.”
“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I wasn't paying attention. I'm not looking to pick up so why would I?”
“You must have noticed if she was cute or not.”
“Baby...” he sighs. “...I'm not looking at other women. I'm perfectly happy with the one I have.”
“So you've never thought about it? Hooking up with someone else?”
“Have you?”
“We're not talking about me. I have no reason to want to find someone to hook up with. Maybe you do. It's been three months.”
“Three and half but who's keeping track?”
“And in that whole time you've never thought about it?”
“Esme, I don't want to fight. I just want to lie here and hold you and talk. Normal talk. Not the talking that leads to a fight. It's too late and I'm too tired. I have never, ever thought about that. Not once in the last six and a bit years. Cheat on my wife because she's pregnant and can't put out? I do know how to jerk off, you know.”
“You said a long time ago it wasn't the same,” she points out.
“It isn't. But that doesn't mean I want to fuck someone else. There's only you. There's only been you since we met. And it's only going to be you for the rest of my life. So stop...” he kisses her temple. “...don't turn this into a thing.”
“I swear if that teacher asks you out on a date...”
“No one is asking anyone out on a date. Your daughter is super paranoid. And she has a fucking mouth on her.”
“Then watch your fucking language around her,” Esme retorts, and they both laugh. After several minutes she rolls over to face him; forehead resting against his, a hand coming out to push through his hair. “You okay?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“That was a big step for you today. Huge, actually. You haven't been able to anything like that in two months. Especially going into town with that many of the kids with you? At least not without an anxiety attack. Everything went okay?”
“Everything was fine.” He doesn't tell her about the hyper-vigilance being in overdrive; noticing every little sound, every little movement out of the corner of his eye. It hasn't been that bad in a couple of months. Whether he's learned how to control it or if it's actually getting better, he doesn't know. But being that alert and that agitated at the park had not been a good sign.
“I'm proud of you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I know how hard you're trying. I also know how hard it is for you to go out of your comfort zone like that. And that you it somehow makes you weak; that you have the issues you do.”
He nods in agreement.
“You are far from being a weak man, Tyler. You are anything but weak. Don't let your brain tell you otherwise, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees, giving a small, unconvincing smile.
“You're brave whether you see yourself that way or not. You fight against your own mind every second of every day. And you win every time. If that's not brave, I don't know what it is.”
He lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her; long and soft, closed mouth open closed mouth. Then chuckles when she attempts to push her lower body against his, his hand falling to her hip to prevent it from happening. “You told me you'd be good.”
“Then stop being so good at making me want to do bad things,” she responds, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. They're silent for several minutes; listening to the sound of the ocean, feeling each others warm breath against their faces. And he once more places his forehead against hers, a hand on the small of her back.
“What are you thinking about?” Esme asks. “And don't say nothing because your throat always gets tight and you get those creases in your forehead.”
“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Stuff that you don't need to worry about.”
“I hate to break it to you, but your stuff became my stuff when you decided you wanted to get married. So it's technically our stuff now.”
“We're not supposed to talk about the kids when we're having 'us time' remember?”
“I don't think we're expected to totally stop talking about them. That's impossible. We have five of them. One is bound to come up in conversation. And I actually brought Millie up first when I mentioned the hot teacher, so that means you get to mention at least one kind now. It's only fair.”
He grins. “You have weird rules.”
“You expect anything less than weird? Buddy, are you new here? Our house is full of weird.”
He can't argue with that.
“It's about Tyler isn't it.” It's a statement, not a question, and he gives a nod of confirmation. “If we could just get in to see the doctor or find another taking new patients....”
“Maybe the one in Sydney isn't a bad idea,” he suggests.
“You're the one who said it was too far to go,” she reminds him. “And neither of us like the fact that she's pro school and pro pushing medication.”
“I do not want to drug my kid up. He's five.”
“But that's what they're suggesting,” she fidgets with the chain around his neck as she talks. “Or what this doctor told them we should do.”
“He's five,” Tyler stresses. “He's a little boy.:
“I know, but...”
“He's a little boy,” he firmly repeats. “And I'm not letting them turn him into a fucking zombie.”
“I don't know what more we can do without outside help,” she frets. “We've tried taking certain things out of his diet, we've given him supplements, we've given him punishments and choice rewards for good behaviour. So until we get to see who we want...”
“He is not going on medication. We already talked about this. You know how I feel. He's a little boy. My little boy. He's my son.”
“He's my son too,” she gently reminds him. “And you're not the only going through this, remember? We're supposed to be in this together. It's not supposed to divide us.”
“There has to be something else we can try. Even if it means taking him to that doctor in Sydney. Just to see what they say.”
“They're going to say put him on meds.”
Tyler sighs.
“I know you're mad, but...”
“I'm not mad. I'm frustrated. Millie and Tanner are doing fine. They're not having issues. They're doing better here than they were in Colorado.”
“Well, Tyler's different. He feels things differently. He always has. Tanner may be the sensitive one, but Tyler's the intense one. And he's been that way since he was a baby. A lot of emotions inside that little head and body of his. He just doesn't know how to deal with them. Who does that remind you of?”
He stares at her pointedly.
“Don't even try to pin this on me. Millie and Tyler are the ones that are exactly like you. Millie just isn't as intense as you two.”
“He told me today that he hates his brain,” emotions chokes at him as he speaks. It's heartbreaking; to her that your kid thinks they're broken and needs someone to fix them. “That he hates how it works. That is doesn't work right.”
She gives a small, sympathetic smile and lays a hand on the side of his face; thumb running across his lips, knuckles brushing against his beard.
“He asked me if I would fix it. Fix him. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when I can't even fix my myself.?”
“He's not broken, Tyler. And neither are you.”
“What he's like this because of me? What if I passed something along? Like some kind of fucked up gene?”
“That's not how it works. That's not how any of this worlds. You didn't start having issues until you were an adult and started doing the job. It's everything you've done and everything you've seen. It's because you almost died. You didn't pass something down to him.”
“I hate this. For him. That he's going through this and we have no goddamn clue how to help him.”
“It's not that we're not trying...”
“Maybe we're not trying hard enough. There has to be other things out there, yeah? Things we can up on and...”
“Tyler, we have four other kids,” Esme reminds him. “They need us too. And we have a baby. A brand new one. And she needs us...both of us...even more. We've done everything we can for now. And don't even suggest pulling him from school because I can deal with that. Not with Declan and a newborn. There is no way I cope with that. And I already know you won't be able to handle it, so get that thought out of your head.”
“We can hire someone.”
“To do what? We don't even know what's going on with him. We need to find someone that can figure all of that out. You know we can't take on anything else. You need be out there keeping yourself busy and I've got a toddler and a baby to look after.”
“So we call the people in Sydney and take him there. It's something at least. At least someone can look at him and tell us what the fuck is going on. Because this is bullshit. Not knowing how to help him. It's bullshit and it sucks. He's a little boy.”
“If that's what you want to do, we'll do it. If you think Sydney is the best option...”
“It's the only option. Right now at least. I don't want this dragging on and him ending up like me. Because I'm fucked up. I don't want that for him.”
“Okay...first of all...” she shoves him over onto his back, then straddles his waist. “...you are not fucked up. You have some issues, yes. But you're working on them. That's all that matters. Second, I love you. And I'm tired of you shit talking yourself all the time. You're brave and you're strong...”
Tyler rolls his eyes.
Scowling, she takes his face in her hands. “ You are brave and you're strong and so is your son. You're both going to be okay. And you can't convince me otherwise.”
Grinning, he lays his hands on her eyes. “And you call me stubborn?”
“You are honestly the most hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass I've ever met. But...” she runs her hands up and down his chest. It's been six years yet she still hasn't tired of the way he feels; all hard muscle and sheer power. “...you're my hard headed, insufferable pain in the ass. You're stuck with me. Sorry.”
“I can think of worse people to be stuck with.”
“I bet the hot blond teacher isn't one of those people,” she snidely remarks, and then shrieks when he abruptly sits up, wraps an arm around her waist and flips her over onto her back; a hand behind his head to avoid it striking the sand.
“Fuck the hot teacher.”
“That's exactly what she wants. I mean, I can't say I blame her. That's pretty much all I wanted when I first met you too, so...”
“So now the truth comes out,” he teases, as he kneels between her splayed thighs, and leans over her, hands on either side of her head, bearing his weight on outstretched arms. “Six years later.”
“Six years and two months, actually. But yes. Yes, it's the truth. I totally would have let you take advantage of me the same day we met. In that crappy little shack of yours. I no longer feel shame in admitting that.”
“You should have just told me then. I would have been game.”
“Oh right!” she laughs. “Hey strange Australian with the nice hair and even nicer eyes, let's fuck,”
“I see absolutely nothing wrong with that,” he grins.
“You would have thought I was a slut. And that would have made working together extremely awkward.”
“Why? We were fucking in Dhaka anyway. Wouldn't have made a difference if we fucked before that.”
“You might have decided you didn't want to do it again.”
“Yeah....right...” he chuckles. “...that totally would have happened. I would have definitely been able to stop at just one time.”
His words make her think of G; that last conversation they'd had in the forest while waiting for Tyler to reach the extraction point with Ovi. Shortly before everything had just turned to pure and utter shit. How he'd playfully teased her about knowing exactly what had been going on in that hotel room for five days; that any single, red blooded male would have jumped on a situation like that and taken advantage of it. And how'd he turned towards her; his face and his tone suddenly so serious.
“He's not going to be able to let you go, you know.”
She hadn't thought much about it at the time. Things were still so new and they still had a long road ahead of them when it came to actually getting to know each other outside of sex. No one know how awful things would go; they all thought they had so much time left. She and Tyler would travel together and see if there was the chance of something real developing; if there were feelings that extended past pure, animalistic lust. And G would return to his wife and they'd start the family they so desperately wanted.
And then everything changed. In the blink of an eye. G never made it out of that forest. At least not alive. And she'd end up spending the next few months practically living at the hospital; getting to know her future husband in the midst of all of the pain and the surgeries and the therapies. And maybe, in a way, things were better because of it. Because they'd started things off in the darkest and most worrisome of places. It couldn't get much worse than the immediate aftermath of Dhaka. Not by a long shot.
“What's a matter?” Tyler asks, when she squeezes her eyes shut.
“I was just thinking about something,” she opens her eyes and gives a reassuring smile. “About someone actually. G.”
He frowns.
“Not like that! Just something he said. When we were in the forest. I haven't thought about it in over six years.”
“What was it about?”
“You, actually.”
He arches an eyebrow.
“It was all good, I swear. He was actually talking you up. Putting in a good word for you. And it must have worked. Because here we are.”
“Yeah...” he grins. “...here we are.”
He leans down to kiss her. Longer this time. Deeper. Not pulling away when he feels her tongue slip between his lips and press against his teeth; allowing his mouth to open and meeting her tongue with his. It's the most intense kiss they've shared in three and a half months; complications in the last trimester making things complicated and worrisome and forcing all thoughts -and need- of sex right out the window. And he feels one of her hands in his hair, the other slipping up the back of his t-shirt, needy fingers exploring his muscles. “You shouldn't kiss me like that,” he's breathless when he pulls away, and shivers when her nails slowly travel down his spine. “Or do that.”
“You kissed me first,” she argues. “So this is your fault.”
“Yeah but you're the one feeling me up,” he points out, back stiffening, teeth biting down on his bottom lip when those nails drift along the small of his back, just under the waist of his jeans.
“I can't help it. I can't help if if sexy lumberjacks turn me on.”
He chuckles at that, then buries his face in her neck with a frustrated groan. “I don't think it's just sexy lumberjacks.”
“You're right. It's just you in general. And by the feel of things...” she lifts her hips, so her body comes in contact with his crotch. “...you're kind of turned on too.”
“Kinda? There's no kinda in this.”
“There are other things,” she reminds him, as her fingertips -still under the waist of his jeans- slide around to his stomach. “We just can't have actual sex.”
“I told you. I won't be able to stop at just other things.”
“Get it together, Tyler. You're almost forty one. You're more than capable of stopping at the other stuff. Please?” her mouth is against his ear; breath warm against it. And his entire body shudders when she traces the outer edge with the tip of her tongue. “I just really miss you. And I really...really...really need you get me off.”
“You can't do it yourself? I've had to do it myself. For three months.”
“I could. But I want you to do it. Because I miss you and you're so good at. So very, very, very good. Please?” her teeth scrape against his earlobe. “Pretty please?”
“Esme....you know this is a bad idea...”
“How can something that feels this good be a bad idea? We're not having sex. We're just making each other feel good. Wouldn't you rather me do it for a change? Instead of having to do it for yourself?”
“I would actually,” he admits.
“Then...” her lips are on his neck now; kissing, sucking, biting. “...what the hell's your issue?”
“No issue. I just...fuck...” he groans, when her tongue finds that scar on the side of his neck. “...maybe we should go inside.”
“Let's stay here. I can actually make noise out here.”
He grins, then reaches for the ties on the front of her pants. “Very good point.”
Her eyes close and she gives a long, content sigh when his palm comes in contact with her pussy, and he finds her hot and wet; her entire body shuddering when he presses the tip of his index fingers against her clit. She won't last long. He can hear it in her ragged breathing, feel it in the way her entire body tenses, and how her greedy, frantic fingers pop open the button on his jeans. And he groans against her neck at even the simplest of touch; painfully hard and leaking precum, hips jerking against her hand when her thumb brushes over the engorged tip.
It's like being a teenager again; frantically making out, hoping to get off before being caught, lasting just as long. Only a handful of minutes before she's demanding that he kiss her as the orgasm hits, all noise muffled by his mouth against hers. And when her hand tightens around him and picks up pace, he's coming as well, face buried in her neck as he issues a long drawn out “Fuck”.
Neither of them moves of speaks for what feels like hours, and eventually Tyler rolls over onto his back, a forearm over his eyes, his chest heaving. He'd missed it. Missed her. But it wasn't until now that he realized just how much.
She snuggles into him, an arm across his stomach, head on his chest. And he drops a kiss on the top of her head and softly strokes her back.
“Thank you,” she sighs, and then giggles, and he can't help but laugh.
“No. Thank you,” he says.
Another sigh, then raises her head long enough to place a kiss to his chin.
He pushes a hand through her hair, letting it fall to the space between her shoulders. “I love you.”
“So that's what it takes to get an 'I love you',” she teases.
The words come easily to him now, but the first eight months of marriage had been a struggle for him when it came to saying them. His first foray into being a husband hadn't ended well; he'd broken her with his decision to leave while their son was dying, but not before she'd broken him by cheating multiple times while he was stationed overseas. It had made falling in love difficult, but had made expressing it even more difficult. Now he says it all the time. Never missing the opportunity to tel her. And vice versa.
“I do you know,” he says. “Love you.”
“I know you do,” she rubs his stomach softly, smiled up at him. “I love you too.”
He kisses her temple, then tightens his hold on her. Wishing they could stay like that...lying on this beach...forever.
#tyler rake#tyler rake fan fic#tyler rake fan fiction#best part of me#extraction#Chris hemsworth character
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Arrietty: Back to (Incredible) Basics
I didn’t realize this until the opening credits played, but The Secret World of Arrietty (2010) makes four adaptations of written stories in a row from Studio Ghibli — Howl’s Moving Castle, Tales from Earthsea, and Ponyo being the other three. I’ll admit that Ponyo is a bit of a stretch, but Hayao Miyazaki has stated that his inspiration was Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tale, so I’m sticking with it.
Arrietty is an adaptation of Mary Norton’s widely beloved children’s novel, The Borrowers. While it was released as The Borrower Arrietty in Japan, the U.S. and UK releases were titled The Secret World of Arrietty and Arrietty, respectively; I can’t fathom why neither wanted to promote its association with a popular book, but here we are.
These four adaptations make for some interesting comparisons, to the extent that I wonder if there was some sort of strategy meeting held at Ghibli headquarters after Tales from Earthsea squirmed out into the world. That movie, and, to a lesser but still noticeable extent, Howl’s Moving Castle were both stuffed to the brim with mysteries, big ideas, and subplots, and they suffered for it. In contrast, Ponyo and Arrietty are simpler both narratively and thematically, but are astounding in their technical artistic achievements.
Arrietty tells the story of a family of Borrowers, tiny people who live under the floorboards and survive by “borrowing” what they need — such as a cube of sugar, basketball-sized to them — from the full-size humans who live above them. The main focus is on the family’s daughter, Arrietty, who is just old enough to join her father on his borrowing trips. Their comfortable but tenuous existence is disrupted by the arrival of Sean, a sickly young boy who’s been sent to live with his grandmother and her caretaker for some peace and quiet.
These two plot points — the Borrowers’ survival and Sean’s sickness — are really the only plot points of Arrietty. This and the fact that both of these stories are actually addressed and resolved is refreshing after the overcomplicated Howl’s Moving Castle and Tales from Earthsea.
Arrietty is a classic Ghibli protagonist — spirited, independent, and curious. Sean is also compelling; his melancholy brings to mind Princess Mononoke’s Prince Ashitaka and makes an engaging counterpoint to Arrietty’s enthusiasm and determination. The two are voiced by Bridget Mendler and David Henrie, whose resumés both largely consist of various Disney Channel shows. Fellow Disney Channel alumnus Moisés Arias (he was also, bizarrely, Bonzo in Ender’s Game) joins the cast as the fun-but-racistly-designed Spiller.
The adults of the cast pulled in a bit more star power — Arrietty’s parents, Pod and Homily, are voiced by Will Arnet and Amy Poehler. It’s easy to hear the Batman in Pod’s gravelly seriousness, but Arnet manages to infuse equal amounts of gravel and affection into Pod’s sparse dialogue. Poehler, meanwhile, gets some of the movie’s best dialogue as the anxious Homily; the character easily could’ve been obnoxious, but, as 6 seasons of Parks and Recreation can attest, Poehler is relentlessly charming and elevates each line she’s given.
There’s great characters and voice acting in Arrietty, but where the film really shines is in the presentation. Studio Ghibli uses the diminutive size of the protagonists as a chance to show off — throughout the movie, details of animation and sound design reinforce the tiny scale of the world we’re viewing.
Visually, these reminders come in two forms: the creative ways that the Borrowers re-purpose (downscale?) the things they borrow, and the details with which the animators pack each shot.
The Borrowers’ ingenuity is a lot of fun to look out for throughout the movie, from stamps as wall art to soda can pop-tabs used to hang soup ladles. I can’t say how many of these were thought up by the Ghibli team and how many are pulled from the novels, but either way, they point to a well-thought-out world and add a great deal of charm.
The animation details, despite everything, blow me away. I feel Studio Ghibli shouldn’t be able to surprise me anymore, but by scaling down the action, they created new opportunities to impress. The premise allows for details like the grain of the wood inside the walls, rough but worn smooth and shiny, or the way water clings together, pouring out of their tea kettle in bulbous fist-sized drops.
The sound design is similarly effective — a ticking clock can thunder across an entire room, and a giant hand can silence the rest of the world as it closes around a Borrower. It’s clear that the team behind this film saw the Borrower’s size as not just a premise, but a challenge, which they met amply.
There’s a YouTube channel called Every Frame a Painting, probably most famous for their “Marvel Symphonic Universe” video. I happen to think that particular video is pretty off-base, but I love the channel as a whole. I bring them up because of their “Edgar Wright - How to Do Visual Comedy” video. It’s a great video, which you should watch, but the thrust of it is that the humor in Edgar Wright’s comedies doesn’t rely solely on dialogue like in many other comedies. The video posits that, if all your humor comes from funny dialogue, you’re throwing away the visual aspect of the medium — why not tell the story in a novel, or a podcast, or a stage play?
This is a roundabout way of saying that Arrietty feels like a film that is truly firing on all cylinders. The premise, characters, animation, and sound design all reinforce one another; they feel deliberately interwoven in a way that few films do.
Like many Ghibli movies, in a thematic sense Arrietty didn’t exactly leave me satisfied, but that same dissatisfaction has kept me thinking about the movie weeks after seeing it. (Vague spoilers ->) Sean’s attempts to help the Borrowers largely leave them worse off than before; does that mean he should have done nothing? Or did he just need to be more thoughtful? Are the Borrowers at fault for being too suspicious? It’s hard to agree with that when there’s ample evidence supporting their behavior. (<- End spoilers) These kinds of questions mean that, even the movie lacks a certain catharsis, it inspires further thought in a way that a lot of entertainment doesn’t.
Up Next:
From Up on Poppy Hill! Goro takes a second stab at directing — let’s see if he learned his lesson from Tales from Earthsea, shall we?
Alternate Titles:
Arrietty: Ah, That’s Better
Now You’re Just Showing Off, Mr. Miyazaki
“Arrietty, Kids?” “Aye Aye, Captain!”
Stray Notes
The crow and bird fighting are a great The Cat Returns callback
”can I have some warm milk?” You go sneaky Sean, this kid rules
Has Mr. Ghibli ever seen a boy that wasn’t skin and bones?
*sees raccoon* haha sick Pom Poko reference
Wish I had a Lego Batman dad
And a Leslie Knope mom
DON’T RUN SEAN YOU’RE SICK
Why do they randomly emphasize the T sound in Arrietty sometimes (ARE-ee-eh-dy vs. AIR-ee-EH-tee)
Yooooo Spiller is tsundere AF
TOM HOLLAND voices Sean in the UK version??? And it was his first role in anything ever????
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Appreciation. | Xiaojun
Request: Can I request a one shot with Xiaojun (fluff/angst) please 😔💚
Author’s Note: Anon, honestly if you hate this (because I do) just know I’m sorry I tried :’))
Warnings: Couple of swear words, an argument although not too heated, English is my second language so errors are always possible.
Word Count: 2792
Genre: Angst, Fluff
I (desperately) hope you enjoy!
People say opposites attract.
They are right, in a sense. Xiaojun and you definitely were not the likeliest of people. Or the pair people would suspect to end up together. But you also were definitely not exact opposites of each other— nobody could be that with him. The guy was calm but had truly chaotic energy, a dreamer but also a doer, an optimist but also a pessimist; you name it, he was most probably also that.
Yet there was something about him that definitely did not have any alternatives to it, “it” being his ambition and love for work. It did not change and it probably would never do.
Xiaojun strives to make music and be involved in all its derivatives. It is how he was brought up. Music is the base of his whole life. He loses himself in it. There was no argument about it, nor were there any questions. How could there be any when his whole lifestyle was adapted to it?
There is great passion in what he does and you respected that, you truly did. But you also had your ambitions. Things that you had to adapt to, in order to succeed in them. These things did not necessarily fit to your boyfriend’s ambitions or schedules— they certainly did not have to. That you knew about, but you also thought that this was where the problems started.
In your view, relationships work by giving and receiving. Of course it must depend on fondness first to have any chance of working out, but if there has to be sacrifices to be made it should be on both sides. If there is affection and compassion they should be on both sides. And for these to occur there should be will to do it and recognition to appreciate it.
The problem was, you could not really sense that appreciation in him for quite some time.
When dates were planned, they were planned according to his schedule, unless you had a major thing to worry about. He would get to be the one deciding whether you two get to hang out or not. Even things like FaceTime or Skype calls would have to be organized so his schedule would be capable of fitting it in. And yes, his schedule was more often crazy busy than not, there was nothing to deny about that. But as the last minute “I’m sorry sweetheart, maybe another time?”s, “Something came up, we have to cancel.”s, “I think I’ll be late, what should we do?”s and their derivatives piled up, it started to feel like he was failing to see your sacrifices of your own cancelled plans and organizations you’d make in order to maybe spend more time with him.
And with more time, it started to feel like music was so deeply engraved in his bones and heart that maybe anyone or anything could never be the priority again, even for a short while.
But the other times— the times where you actually got to be with him— it would be a whole other story. Both of you got to see each other pretty often, but usually at absurd times in the middle of the day or late in the night and only for a short while. Still, Xiaojun would make you feel so loved when you two were together. Listening to you with all his attention, giving you all of his love and affection, hugging you, kissing you, playing songs for you. He serenaded you quite often, which would embarrass you both sometimes as it was such a romantic trope, too romantic even for him at some point. But you loved it, you loved being with him. You even loved the Skype calls at ungodly times of the night and the late night dinner dates of rushing to make anything to eat, but at least with some class so it would feel more like a date.
You loved everything and you were happy with him in those moments, but when you reflected on it, you just did not like how it was you that had to make it from one end of the spectrum to the other rather than just meeting in the middle with him. And meeting in the middle did not necessarily mean to cancel things just to be with you, just a bit of recognition and gratitude was enough.
For the longest time you keep it in and bottle it up because is he really at fault? But the frustration grows, and grows, and— well, grows until the feeling of neglection and the sacrifices going unrecognized just weighs heavier and heavier on your shoulders and in your stomach.
And one day, it all blows up.
You had come to the dorm that morning, because he would not have any plans or programs that he would have to attend to. It would have been the first full day in almost a month that both of you would get to have to yourselves and each other only. And you both loved to have breakfast, so it would have been the perfect start for what you hoped would feel like a day with no end to it.
That gets ruined pretty early on, though.
Xiaojun greets you at the door and hugs you before planting a kiss on your cheek. He appeared to be the only one awake— the only one out of his room at least. He accompanied you to the kitchen where you both started preparing the necessary ingredients for your favorite breakfast, and he spoke up first when you were cutting up some ingredients on the board. “I have some bad news,”
Something drops in your chest. You were used to this feeling normally. This time, though, it seemed to be a heavier drop. “Yeah?” The disappointment was already audible in your voice tone and Xiaojun recognized it. But he never let it get to him, so this time was no exception. “I have to go to the company, I think something was wrong with my recordings.”
There is a moment of quiet after that. Nobody says anything for a while, you just chop the ingredients and he goes to prepare the water after cleaning the other ingredients. He moves onto do some other things, you cannot really tell, but after a while he stops and from the corner of your eye you can tell he is leaning against the counter and looking at you.
Time must have lost its sense, because if they asked you it was only a few seconds that had passed when Xiaojun squeezed your arm a little and you stopped to look at him. This startle also made you realize the fact that your eyes were brimming with tears that burned with frustration. “I’m fine, it’s what you have to do.” A tear falls. Of course.
“Then why are you crying?” One thing about Xiaojun that genuinely pissed you off sometimes was hot he never got angry, or properly annoyed. Sometimes you wanted him to. Because he had this beautiful way with words and toning that acted like a master key for people’s hearts and minds, but because he was so incredibly patient you would never get to really hear him. Although magical, it laid like a curtain covering his essence. And again, it just felt like you were opening up when he was not.
“Because I’m used to it and I’m tired of being used to it,” You sniffle, properly turning to him with your body. “You could’ve told me sooner, you know. So I wouldn’t have had to cancel my plans?”
He is genuinely surprised. “You had plans?”
Your breath hitches in your throat at his confusion. The disappointment gets even bigger. “I told you when you called me about today. You said you were sure you had the day off.”
His brows furrow a little. “But this is not exactly an instance I can do something about.” And he was right. But frustration still ate away at you, and you felt the need to speak up about it just for once. “Yes, it’s not. But do you even realize how much I do for this to work out? I keep eliminating so much of my time—”
He is quick to answer. “So you want me to cancel work? I’m on a—”
“Tight schedule, yes. I get that you can’t do much about it.” He is not exactly getting riled up, but just a bit quick to get information out of you, which riles you up. “Then what’s the problem, exactly?”
And at that moment, you hate that he still does not know. You hate that he is so oblivious to it, because that just means he does not think about it at all. What truly breaks you is the slight hint of sass in his voice. Ever so slightly you sob, without the ability to help yourself to hold it dearly inside. That ends up being what truly worries him. “I just would like to get recognized for the amount of shit I pull from my ass just so I can get to see you when you have time. I know that you must be seeing yourself like, I don’t know, a makeshift saint because you try to fit seeing me into your packed schedule but hell, Xiaojun—“ You put a hand on your chest that so badly wants to heave with the untold struggles you had been going through. Now that they found the slightest escape, they wanted out. “I’m so behind on my things just so this can work. And then when this kind of thing happens— which you know is more often than not, and I don’t get a heads-up, it all goes to waste. My sacrifices for this relationship and my life outside this relationship goes to waste,” You have to stop for a moment to take a shaky breath. You try to look him in the eye, but realize you cannot, so you settle for just looking up at the ceiling. “You get to do music which is your life, I know, and to have a relationship. And in your point of view you’re absolutely incredible at it. But we’re young and reality is that you’re lucky enough to have settled with your way of living this early in life. I’m still trying to find something that works for me, but with taking so much time out so many times to travel and for the couple of hours I’ll only hopefully get to see you… Neither feels secure enough for me to say I’m doing something right. And to not at least get any appreciation for the risks I take, it’s heartbreaking. That’s the problem.”
The words leave a bad taste in your mouth, but it also feels refreshing to finally let the feelings out. So you wipe at your cheeks. To get rid of the negative remnants of whatever this was. And once everything is moderately dry, you take a look at him. He looks deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed all the way, a serious look in his eyes. “How come you never told me? I would have listened.”
“Maybe I need more than being heard this time.” A sigh makes its way out from deep in your chest with that suggestion.
And then, though everything feels bitter, you turn back to the counter to resume preparing your part of the breakfast. Because despite it all, you still want to spend some time with him before he leaves.
Things go back to how they were— quiet—when you turn back to the counter. He follows you and gets back to work as well, although a bit later, and you both cook in silence.
But all silence does is bring the thoughts back, and fuel new ones. Does this silence mean you are on bad terms with him now? Would it have been better to not say anything at all? Were you overreacting? Or rather, was he really not appreciative? What would it make him if he was not? And what would it make you if you were overreacting? What would it make you think of each other?
The thoughts race as you two cook and suddenly, your brain decides you are not done crying.
Why? You do not know. At least for certain. There was too much going on internally.
This time he does not say anything. Instead he hugs you from the back and places his chin on your shoulder. He is looking at you again, you can tell. You start laughing— not because anything is humorous, but because your nerves are all over the place. Your emotions are everything and then some with boosted frustration. Because nothing is settled. Because you stopped talking and so did he.
But then something happens.
He starts thanking you just as you apologize for what must be a very creepy behavior. And he starts thanking you for a lot of things. His voice is barely above a whisper, but affirmative.
Thank you for traveling through the city just to come see me. Thank you for staying up to talk with me. Thank you for waking up early to meet me. Thank you for running to catch me and kissing me when we part ways. Thank you for the times you flew out to make sure we get to see each other once before it becomes too long a while. Thank you for the times you cooked for me. Thank you for making time for me, even though everything feels uncertain to you. Thank you for being vulnerable with me. Thank you for being here today. Thank you for staying. Thank you for caring about me so much, sweetheart. Thank you for caring so much about this, and thank you for loving me. But please, don’t burden yourself alone anymore. Tell me your struggles sooner. And I promise to do better at seeing it, rather than watching it.
As much as you hate to say it, you wanted to hear these words. Had been expecting these words. Definitely not every single time— but sometimes it would be nice, and was in fact nice, to hear that your effort did not fall on deaf ears or blind eyes.
There is a rush of happiness and hope you cannot stop. Because he gets it now, instead of choosing to stay oblivious just to be able to hide in the comfort of silence and not have to deal with what he was told, which many people would have done.
You turn your head to kiss him when that hits you. He kisses you back. For shorter of a while than you would have liked. Then he moves (in your opinion way too quickly when there is a burning stove) to get a bowl and some cutlery out, getting breakfast straight out of the pot and blowing on it before picking some of it up to serve you. “Come on,” he says, holding the spoon close to your mouth. “There is nothing better than food fresh off the stove when you are upset.”
“I’m not upset anymore.” You claim, but he does not seem too keen on it as he shakes his head. “You still got some boo left over.”
That makes you snort. And it goes exactly like how you would expect a snort to go after a good cry. Thankfully he only laughs and hands you a tissue without much pester. He does stare at you, though, which is not much better. “What are you looking at? You made me snort after I cried, I think it’s quite basic maths what the outcome is when you add them up.”
“Mhm,” He pauses, hesitant. His confidence is low as he speaks. “If you want to hang out tonight, I’m all yours to have. The thing should last only a few hours, though I can jump over tourniquets if I have to.” Without waiting for a response, he starts getting cutlery out for himself, most probably to avoid eye contact. Knowing how he operates with conflict, you were sure he was tip-toeing through the topic.
“Oh God, please don’t,” You wipe your nose one last time. He fills his bowl with as much breakfast he put for you. “Those things are half as tall as you. Wouldn’t wanna see how that rolls out.”
And with that he drops the cutlery. He looks at you with something close to disappointment, and after giving it a few seconds, you both start hollering in laughter as you eat your breakfast.
Sure, he had a special way with speaking, but you would like to think resolution was something both of you were good at.
#nct imagines#nct scenarios#wayv imagines#xiaojun#xiao dejun#i did so bad#what is this#i just really hope its this bad because i read this 3129482 times#im struggling so much with my sentence structures because i just got done with a writers block#its been a while since ive written routinely#bear with me loves it will get better i promise#i was torn between using his real name and xiaojun#ended up using xiaojun simply because its so beautiful and i couldnt not use it#hope its ok
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Master plan
Request: Felix has to go on a mission and pan wants y/n to go with him, so when Felix wants to go to tell her, he accidentally walks in when she changes into her night clothes and he is instantly turned on but also embarrassed. Of course Y/N will react shocked and pushes him out but afterwards both start to think about each other a lot and and things will get less akward bc they are alone. Maybe they start making out and Felix takes her against a tree.
Pairing: Felix x reader
Warning: suggestive
*I'm making two part of this*
Night fell on the small, magical island, dotting the dark navy blue sky with bright, twinkling stars. Once again the notorious Pan was tucked away in his wooden tree house, researching, plotting, trying to come up with a master plan in order to become immortal. The king of Neverland grinned from ear to ear as his eyes shrinked to the size of slits, he finally had an answer to the question he had been asking himself for so long, how to freeze the hour glass.
Tightly gripped in his hands was the ancient pages of the oldest book in all the realms, squiggly black writing stared back at him, giving him all the knowledge he needed. Discarding the "true loves kiss" part, that seemed to be written out neatly in every book he had read so far, there was an alternative, another way. The heart of the truest believer, a person with a soul as pure as gold and a mind full of imagination, that was what he needed. To Pan's surprise there was a tea stained page dangling helplessly from the spine of the old book, deciding to take the poor thing out of its misery the boy wrapped his fingers around it before giving a light tug. It fell out with ease, flipping it over to reveal what was on the other side. Evergreen eyes dance over the page, taking in the features of the dark haired boy that seemed to be scribbled on it.
Cogs slowly started to turn in the leaders head, the only thing on the page was a drawing and a date, 15.8.01. He racked his brain for answers, what did this mean? And that's when it all clicked, the boys birthday was neatly written out under his portrait, now Pan knew who he was looking for and when he was born, perfect.
"Felix!" Pans voiced boomed through camp as he came flying out of his tree house at the speed of light, scaring off any animal or creature that dared to step foot near his domain while he searched for his second in command.
Silently, Felix stalked over to his boss, clutching his wooden club between his rough hands. Stormy blue eyes met emerald green ones as the leaders blonde counterpart towered over his body like a sky scraper.
“There’s something I need you to do for me.” A menacing smirk crawled onto the Kings lips, meanwhile the second in command awaited to hear what news his friend had to tell him.
“What is it?” The lost boys quite, low voice inquired.
As Pan explained his idea to him a sinister grin started to form on Felix’s pink lips, his messy blonde hair whipped about in the refreshing wind as his listened with interest.
“There’s just one thing.” The leader trailed off, “Y/n will need to come with you, she is more experienced when it comes to realms with no magic.”
The golden glow that painted Felix’s sharp features hid his blush well at the sound of your name, he was surprised that just the thought of their one and only lost girl could make him feel butterfly's. For a while the boy had contemplated over and over again what it was he truly felt for you, was it just some stupid little crush that would leave as quickly as it came, or was it something more? As the days stretched into months the lost boy came to the conclusion that he, in fact, liked you, a lot.
But alas, Felix had a reputation to uphold, not just for Pan’s sake, but for your sake too. Pan had always told the boys that love is weakness, and they were not weak, if Hook caught wind of Felix’s little crush, you were sure to be in danger.
"I'll go and let her know." The lost boy spoke in his usual monotone voice before making his way over to your tree house.
Silently, he climbed the rickety ladder, banging his knuckles against the wooden door before wrapping his fingers around the door knob, the cold metal sending an uncomfortable shiver through Felix's hand as he pushed the wooden slab open.
"Hey Y/n, Pan wants-" He froze in place as his sharp features turned as white as paper.
There you were, beautiful as ever and the most exposed Felix had ever seen you. Your flesh was on display whilst his eyes wondered over your body, drinking up the sight of your collarbone, boobs, stomach, all the way down to your lacy panties that clung to you ass nicely.
The boy would be lying if he said he wasn't hard right now, imagining all the things he could do to you. Smirking to himself he imagined what you would look like beneath him, the way you would cry out in pleasure because of his actions. Shaking his head, the lost boy snapped out of his trance, those thoughts were stored in the back of his mind, for now.
The lonely candle in the corner of the room illuminated your tiny cabin, casting everything in a burnt orange glow as it painted your skin. Your red cheeks had not been covered up by the candle light, instead the soft honey colour seemed to make your brick dusted face pop.
Desperately, you fumbled around the room, rushing to pick up the daisy coloured night gown which had fallen on the floor the minute the blonde, lost boy barged in.
"S-sorry! I-I didn't-" Felix tried his absolute hardest to tear his icy eyes away from your wonderful body, forcing himself to look away, yet somehow he always found his eyes floating back to you as you impatiently threw the dress on your exposed flesh.
"You can look now." Your quiet voice soured through the air before tunneling into his ears.
Turning to face you he couldn't help but picture what you looked like just mere seconds before.
Awkwardly shuffling, your eyes were glued to your feet, too embarrassed to meet the boys gaze, meanwhile he was struggling to keep his off you, as your finger nails trailed up and down your arm.
"So, anyways" Felix let out an awkward cough, "As I was saying, Pan wants you to come on a mission with me."
Your e/c eyes widened in shock at his words, your head snapped up meeting the second in commands gaze as if you were challenging him.
"He-he wants me to come with you?" You asked, almost sounding afraid, but Felix couldn't quite understand why.
"Um, yeah." He shrugged simply, "were leaving tomorrow, so pack up everything you need."
With that the second in command swiftly exited your humble abode, rushing out of the door before closing it quietly behind him.
Lurking in the dark part of Felix's mind the sound of your moans filled his ears, he wanted you so bad, but he couldn't have you. Suddenly he found himself becoming more and more excited for this trip of yours.
Morning came quicker than you would've liked, all night you had been shamefully pleasing yourself after that little run in with Pan's most trusted lost boy, which had left you all hot and bothered. The though of facing him made your stomach churn guilt-fully, was it wrong to think if him like that? You had been friends for years and you had came to terms with the fact that you liked him, but you had never done anything like that before.
"All packed to go?" Pan's haunting voice popped up out of no where, causing you to jump out of your skin.
Silently, you nodded as his best friend came into view, your once normal cheeks flashed red. The pair exchanged some parting words while the leader placed a forest green jelly bean into Felix's hand, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
"Its a magic bean." The two boy's laughed at your reaction, what do we need a magic bean for?
Without saying a word the lost boy dropped it on the floor, the ground started to swirl, all kinds of wonderful colours blended together as the wind violently whipped around us. Howling filled your ears as your hair was permanently stuck in front of your face.
"You ready?" The tall boy checked and you nodded in reply before jumping in.
Everything went black, you couldn't feel anything as your soul was plunged into darkness before your e/c eyes opened once again. You brain pounded against your skull, the sound of zooming cars filled you ears as your eyes snapped open, taking in your surroundings.
"Are we?" You asked the tall blonde boy who sat beside you.
"In your world, yes." He confirmed your suspicions.
"Pan has some... friends here, they can help us." A sinister tone masked his voice on the word 'friends' as you begin to grow worried, who exactly were these people?
With a screech of tires and an array of smoke, a cherry red convertible car halted before the tow of you, the harsh beam of the headlights made your head spin as your eyes adjusted to the light . Unfamiliar characters sat in the front seats, the taller of the two was driving. His glasses sat on his slightly crooked nose while his bronze coloured hair swooped across his chocolate eyes. The other was shorter, his brown eyes stared into your e/c ones intently as his short, dark brown hair whipped around in the air.
Without opening his tightly shut mouth, Felix climbed into the car, you awkwardly followed his lead, still not entirely sure why you were here.
Revving filled the air as you spun off down the road, instinctively holding onto the blonde boy next to you. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto him for dear life, if it weren't for the wind forcing his hair in his face you would've seen the light pink tint on his cheeks as your hand found his.
The feeling of your skin on his causing the boys to have a whirl wind of emotions. The only thought that consumed his mind was you, the way you looked when he had accidentally walked in your cabin without a second thought, and oh boy is Felix glad he made that mistake. All night and all day you were you were the only thing that played on his mind, it was no lie that the lost boy found you attractive, that much was evident from his boner, which he was unaware was sticking through his trousers, but his feelings for you went a little deeper than that. Yes, he wanted to touch and please you like no one else had done before, he wanted to tie you down and make you scream but he also wanted to make you smile and hear you melodic laugh. You didn't know it yet and Felix didn't know it ether, but you are each others worlds.
Thankfully that car ride was short and sweet, coming to a stop rather quickly as a grand house came into view. The Victorian styled building looked like it was a relic frozen in time, lush green vines scaled up the red bricked walls while white, laced trimming clung to the roof. Golden lights were switched on in almost every room, making the house feel like one gigantic doll house to play with until your hearts content.
The strange men stepped out of the car, not saying a word as their keys clicked together before opening the old door. Although the exterior of the house was looked ancient the interior was modern and sleek, not fitting in with the ear of the house at all.
"I'll take you to your room." The taller ones deep voice bounced off the walls.
"Room?" You inquired, suddenly you felt your face grow hot at the idea of shearing a room with the second in command, especially after last night.
Swiftly turning around on his heel the strangers honey coloured eyes sought out your e/c one, "Yes, room." He confirmed before rushing off up the stairs, you and Felix trying you best to keep up with the fast moving boy.
By the time the two of you traveled up to the top at such a fast pace you were out of breath, lightly panting as the wooden door of your room creaked open.
The room was small, but lovely, a large white window sat on the right hand wall, allowing the street light to flood into the room. A double bed sat along the back wall, little side table standing ether side of it while a large oak wood wardrobe was sat in the corner of the room. With a flick of a switch the room became flooded with soft honey coloured light, comfortably reminding you of your candles back in Neverland.
“I’ll leave you two it.” The tall man spoke, his monotone voice lingered in the air as he walked away, leaving you and Felix alone in the little room.
“I...I guess we should get some sleep.” The boy stated, his hot breath traveled down your neck, tickling the hairs as they stood tall and proud.
You found yourself speechless, no words managed to fall past your lips, slowly you raised your head, peering into the boys eyes before giving a slight nod.
His footstep echoed through the room as he went to close the curtains, but you found yourself stuck in place, unable to move but not sure why. e/c orbs were glued to Felix, the way he moved around the room before turning his back on you whilst he undid his cloak, letting it fall to the floor. Pink dust coated your cheeks as you watched him, but you still weren’t able to look away. Neck, he lifted his arms high above is head in an act to remove this shirt, his muscly back was slowly revealed to you as though his shirt there the curtain at a theater.
“It’s rude to stare.” The lost boy joked, while you jumped back, surprised, embarrassed and shocked, how did he know?
Turning to face you, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his bare chest no matter how hard you tried, “S-sorry, I... I didn’t mean-”
The second in command smiled to himself as you stumbled over your words, oh how the tables have turned, he thought.
“Relax.” He spoke, placing a hand on your shoulder, the slight contact made you melt under his touch whilst your body instantly relaxed, “Let’s just get some sleep.”
Still as hot as you had ever been you found yourself climbing into bed with the second in command before he turned out the lights, wrapping yourself up in the warm covers as if to make a mini barrier from him, but you would be a fool if you though that was going to stop him.
The feeling of his skin touching yours as he lay down lit a fire inside you, the blush on your cheeks got worse and worse as time went by.
“I need some covers too you know.” Felix chuckled.
Not a single word tumbled past your lips, not a single one, as you slyly moved over to the other side, allowing him access to the quilt. You didn’t realize how much room he had taken up until you felt his chest flush up against your back.
Turning around in the covers your eyes sought out his, peering deep into them. No words were exchanged as you looked into each others eyes, you felt his hand on your chin, bringing your face closer and closer to his.
You were stuck in a trance, a blissful daze as his lips met yours and you found yourself kissing back, you had wanted this for so long and so did he. You seemed to get lost in the kiss, not being able to pull yourself away.
In one smooth motion the second in command bought you on top of him, all the while never breaking the kiss that the two of you shared. The rest of the night was spent with the two of you between the sheets, clothes long since forgotten as you got lost in each others bodies.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I got it up! I'm sorry if you dont think it's as good as my stories usually are, the ending was a little rushed (sorry)!
I hope you enjoyed it! 🥰❤😍 xxxxx
@nevereverlandboys @lady-of-lies @lonesome-loser @celestial-neverland
#ouat fanfiction#ouat fic#ouat#ouat fan fic#ouat fan fiction#ouat ff#ouat felix#ouat felix imagine#felix ouat#felix x reader#felix imagines#felix fic#felix#neverland#lost boy#lost girl#december#5 days#christmas countdown#christmasy#christmas
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• • • STARTING LIVE!
02AUG2020 | 🐥 JINWOOK’S HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🥳 🥳
DURATION | 1:02:22
it’s a cute set, albeit typical for this kind of broadcast. the staff have provided jinwook with a fixed camera framing his mini birthday table, complete with multicolored balloons decorating the back wall. there’s a small tablet to monitor the stream and comment feed, which jinwook fiddles with as he waits. in retrospect, he thinks it would’ve been nicer to hold a more casual conversation with fans for his first solo live, but that might just be the nerves talking.
he fills the silence with music, his guitar in his lap. it’s an everyday sight, but jinwook realizes most fans won’t have heard him play much, so he takes care to warm up cleanly, and warm up his vocals too. he only alternates between a few simple chords, though. it’s the sort of background music he used to hear when he’d occasionally attend church services with eve. as jinwook plays he imagines an audience quietly filing in, taking their seats at his birthday party as they each receive the live notification. finally the staff motions for jinwook that the actual video is starting, and he rests the instrument in his lap, out of view for now.
“hello! i’m convex’s sunshine, jinwook.” the greeting is bright and familiar as he dips his head toward the camera. it’s unlikely that the viewers, who arrived so early from a notification, don’t know his name, but it can’t hurt to start off formally. “today is my birthday! yay!!” also evident from the title and the backdrop. jinwook gives himself a round of applause anyway. then he picks up a party hat from the table and slips the cone over his head. “tada~”
“since we can’t meet in person, i wanted to greet you all with a live today to celebrate.” there’s a pause as jinwook adjusts the thin elastic of the party hat. he takes a breath. “last year, hmm...” he taps a finger to his cheek as he thinks back. “oh, last year i made cupcakes! i was helping our team sphere on the mgas.. so i couldn’t meet consta that time, either.” jinwook hums in thought, suddenly a bit nostalgic about his time as a coach. he shakes his head. “so i’m excited to try this out now.”
“let’s see...” he says, quickly moving on, “is everyone settling in here alright?” he peers over the tablet and rests a finger over the chat to pause its scrolling speed. the amount of viewers is staggering and the number only keeps rising, but jinwook focuses on the individual users sending messages instead. it’s a relief to see the majority in his native language. “hello and hello and hello,” he says, reading off a string of usernames and greeting each one individually, “and thank you for coming, and thank you for coming, and thank you for coming~!”
when jinwook releases his finger from the screen, the chat jumps back to life, shifting too quickly to read. he frowns and tries to pause it again. it takes some concentration to read off the unusual username combinations, but he does his best.
💬 : happy bday 🥳 🥳 🥳
💬 : you look handsome!!!
💬 : happy birthday oppa~
💬 : thank you for being born 💖🎁🎁
💬 : bare faced jinwook is the best!
“ah, thank you~ hello!! thank you too~ thank you for being by my side! oh! this one...” jinwook is startled into a laugh at the last comment, bringing a hand over his mouth. when he drops his hand he shows his full face to the camera, grinning. “this is definitely not bare faced jinwook, but, still i appreciate you thinking so~”
as he tries to keep reading, he tilts his head and squints. many of the messages are just full of celebrating emoji or animated emotes. it’s less to parse, but more noise to sort through. “ah, so much emoji in chat, you all must’ve learned from me, huh...” he muses.
after another minute he leans back again, his nerves settled. well, jinwook’s never had much trouble even talking to himself, so it shouldn’t surprise him that speaking to a bustling chat window comes naturally, too.
💬 : did you have a good day so far?
“i’m happy today!” jinwook answers confidently. “my grandmother always wakes up early on sunday mornings, so i called her on the way to practice! and later tonight i’m going to video call with my family. actually i told my sister what time i was going live, so she might be listening too?” jinwook squints back down at the tablet and bites his lower lip. “ah, the chat is going way too fast to tell...”
💬 : where are the other members!!
“hmm, training?” jinwook grins. “i’m taking a break to talk for right now~ but we are all working very hard otherwise!” he shares another smile, proud of himself for not mentioning anything further - although if his eyes sparkle, he can’t be held responsible. “they might stop by at the end!”
“that reminds me!” jinwook reaches below the table for his bag, pulling out a fresh journal that jaehyun had gifted him in the morning. he holds it up for the camera, proudly showing off the nice foil accents and the fold-out attachment. “my roommate, haru, got me this really pretty notebook. it’s supposed to work as a real midi keyboard.” jinwook’s runs his fingers over the cover. “he has good timing since i am almost out of pages in my old notebook... i’m excited to use it.”
💬 : oppa’s hair is cool today!
“my hair, ah..” jinwook reaches absently to touch it, pleased. “it grew!” it’s worn longer than it was for pretty u era, freshly dyed and parted down the middle. he’s lucky he’s even allowed to have it showing for the live right now, since it’s a similar shade to his old cut. “i’m kind of happy, since it feels healthy recently...” he chuckles a little, the compliment leading him to another train of thought.
“speaking of cool, consta, did you guys see our call me baby special stage last week?” jinwook looks up to the camera and leans in, curious. “the concept was slightly darker for us, since unit black is so, you know... cool.” jinwook gestures vaguely but laughs at the understatement. it’s not a big enough word to describe some of the biggest superstars in the industry. “we have songs like rock but it’s different from convex‘s usual image, maybe,” he adds thoughtfully, knowing full well that their next comeback is inching in that direction. “do you think we suited it well?”
💬 : convex is cool too!
jinwook nods, pleased by the positive responses in the chat. “so it was okay, then?” he laughs a little because of course, they’re all biased fans and he asked for it on his birthday, but it’s still reaffirming. “mmm, it still felt a bit refreshing and funky like convex, too. so i think there can be a middle ground,” he says, as if simply imagining how things could evolve in the future. “something smooth like that stage?”
something smooth. jinwook’s thinking of crazy in love, specifically, but the title song itself is an even bigger departure from their pretty u sound and aesthetic. “ah..” he shakes his head with a sheepish grin, “i think i’m rambling a lot.” jinwook takes a dramatic deep breath and collects his thoughts.
then he shifts away from the tablet to pull up the guitar in his lap. “i wanted to answer a lot of messages, but i actually prepared a song for you, too.” he strums a bright chord for emphasis. “it’s nothing fancy but i thought consta would maybe enjoy something like this. so i don’t have to sing happy birthday to myself, or anything,” he jokes.
🎵 : heartz / minhee&luda — i’ll be there
“this is one of my favorite songs recently! i thought it would be nice for our fans, too.” it’d been an easy choice when jinwook was preparing for this stream. it’s a recent sphere release, plus he’s been listening to and singing the song since it came out, so he already knew most of the words. still, jinwook pulls up the lyrics on the tablet just in case. since he frames it as a fan song, there’s no need to change the gendered parts, although he doesn’t think he would have bothered, either way.
jinwook only slows the tempo and lowers the key slightly to fit his guitar and his voice. the song has a different energy with an acoustic guitar instead of the bouncy synths, but it’s just as sweet and upbeat. he takes his time, singing all the way through both verses and two choruses.
just before the bridge, jinwook trails off with a little smile. “ah, i just practiced up until here so far...” he keeps strumming idly as he leans over the tablet again. the comments flood with cheers that jinwook only can read some pieces of. it feels good, though, and jinwook feels confident about the vibe.
he watches several prying questions about heartz fly by in response, and carefully doesn’t acknowledge any of them. “of course i’ve been cheering for heartz,” is all he says. “i really liked around you and vivid also! and i’m excited for the next singles released this week, too.”
💬 : please a convex song next!!
“oh,” he says, “a convex song?” jinwook takes a break, first, to roll out his wrists. then he hums in thought, searching for something he could play on the spot. “do you remember this one?”
🎵 : convex — 20
he transitions into a familiar guitar intro. long-time fans might recognize it as the vocal unit song from convex’s debut album, but jinwook is pleased to introduce it to anyone else who’s unfamiliar. personally, he thinks it has held up pretty well over the past two years. “shh—” he mimics the sharp first line, then smiles as he continues strumming and begins to sing.
the song proves difficult to solo, and jinwook wishes he’d thought to prepare more material ahead of time. a medley could’ve been nice, but with all of the comeback preparations going on..... instead jinwook giggles as he trips over the lyrics, attempting the first verse’s backing and lead vocals both together. “hm..” he mumbles, glancing up at the camera. he casually redoes the section to make a decent recovery, and the chorus soars as intended.
“ah...” says jinwook wistfully after he eases to a stop, “i’ll have to come back to that one someday. that one is nice to sing to consta, too. i always liked the lyrics a lot. you’re my twenties~”
he taps his fingers against the body of the guitar and is reminded of the special day. “but today my twenties are officially half-over, aren’t they? wah... scary....”
twenty-five. he stares blankly toward the tablet, thinking he should follow up: then i’ll just spend the second half of my twenties with consta!
these days, though, it feels like an unfair promise to make.
💬 : like a gorilla like a gorilla!
his eye catches on one of the suggestions breezing down the chat window, and it interrupts his brooding with a burst of laughter. “gorilla? de:code’s gorilla?” he repeats. he tries a few chords but they’re not in the right key, and jinwook grins as he puts away his guitar on its stand. “i don’t know, that one would be an interesting acoustic cover.” he sings a little phrase of it anyway, a random adlib from the ending: “girl you make me feel~!”
“but!” he points a finger at the camera, not wanting his opinions to be twisted. “maybe one day i could cover their song beautiful, or i’m fine from predebut!”
💬 : what are you listening to recently?
“hmm... what is new?” jinwook absently adjusts his elastic party hat elastic and pulls out his phone. “i like lee hi’s holo! per_se have a nice summer album.. with o sole mio, and of course...” jinwook hits a pretty falsetto as he opens the music app: “this is how i feel about you, twilight~”
“it’s like twilight, yeah~” he flicks through his playlist and wonders if he should just share screenshots of the whole thing on fancafe. “ah, and eclipse’s comeback!” he adds. “look, isn’t the album cover pretty?” his screen is probably illegible, when he holds it up close to show the camera, but at least his enthusiasm is clear. “i like their night side the best, with that unique rock sound...” jinwook pauses, and reconsiders. “actually, navillera was totally my style, too.” he shakes his head and grins. “eclipse is definitely cool no matter what.”
💬 : it is already 4 in the morning here why 😭
english. jinwook has glazed over every message in foreign languages but he laughs at this one. he trips over a stilted reading of the comment, and quickly switches back to korean to answer. “i’m sorry ahh, next time i have to think of different timezones, right?” he tilts his head. “mm, it seems impossible to find a good time for everyone all around the world? but i’m happy you could visit with me for even a little bit. please make sure to rest well~” as an afterthought, he finishes in english: “and goodnight~”
💬 : can you show a rap verse?
“rapping?” jinwook’s eyes light up at the suggestion, and he laughs out loud. “can i tell a secret?” it’s not the right question to ask, judging by the staff’s reaction. but jinwook leans in sneakily, and continues despite their concerned looks. “we tried to switch parts for adore u once, so i learned seungcheol’s rap! that choi seungcheol,” he says with a grin, “has pretty good expressions on stage these days... his parts are fun! i like practicing his pretty u verse, too.”
he tells the story casually, although that part switch was not just boredom in the practice rooms, but an official planned anniversary release. that weekend in incheon is still a fond memory despite the disappointment of never getting to see the final edit.
he rolls his shoulders. “anyway, i don’t have the nice low voice for it, but there is a little melody to his parts a lot of the time...” jinwook postures up for full effect and puts on his best rapper expression. “how can you dazzle so much? you’re so pretty it’s—”
it’s probably for the best that he is interrupted by a loud knock and a rowdy chorus of happy birthday starting right outside the door.
➡️ : continued in part two...
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Suede in Ray Gun (US), issue 45, April 1997
The London Suede... English voodoo
Wherein we learn of the ecstacy of being Suede
By Michael Krugman
RG: It's refreshing to not hear the "We're going to tour America and everyone will love us" lip service that most English bands spew about making it here.
B: I'm just honest about it. In almost every other country in the world, we've had quite a lot of success, and it just hasn't happened in the States. Maybe it's something to do with the basic make up of the band that just grates with American music. Maybe it's the fact that we haven't had a successful tour there.
RG: That's true. All of the tours here were troubled in one way or another, what with Bernard's father passing away, or Richard having just stepped in. In many ways, we've never gotten to see the real Suede.
B: No, you haven't really, which is a shame, cos you missed out on something good. It's kind of down to us really, it's our problem. But I think that's pretty much true about a lot of English bands. They fuck up in the States. It's nothing I'm going to lose much sleep about at the moment, though.
A in-depth interview with a US alternative music magazine Ray Gun, conducted in November 1996. Full transcript from Suede Scrapbook (sent in by Elizabeth) under the cut. Scans including photographs by Donald Christie can be viewed here on the Richard Oakes Fans fb page.
It seems an eternity (in pop terms, at least) since Suede were declared the best new band in Britain, one week before the release of their first single. Since that time, so much has happened, both from without - the phenomenon that is Britpop - and, more importantly, from within. Suede v1 were a heavensent combo of genius guitarist and larger-than-life flashboy in Bernard Butler and Brett Anderson. Together they led Suede through two magic records, the eponymous debut and their daring masterwork, Dog Man Star. Then, as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone, split in a burst of still-not-clear acrimony.
Or so it seemed. When Butler bolted, Brett, bassist Mat Osman and drummer Simon Gilbert weren't yet ready to call it quits. They took the high risk of replacing the best guitarist of his generation with an untested 17-year-old with a gift for mimicry, both musical and physical. Young Richard Oakes had to put up with endless "Brett's Little Dick" jokes, even as he proved his abilities on the Dog Man Star tour, a surreal time on the road that saw the band come closer together as people than they ever had before. With the question of “what's the point?” still in the air, Suede went away again, this time to refigure out their purpose and place in the post-Oasis universe.
Two years later, they've finally returned, and, lo and behold, they're as special as ever. With Coming Up, Anderson & Co. have created a chrome and steel cityscape of broken hearts and souls, resplendent in youth and lust and the pursuit of Ecstacy. The sound is vintage Suede, glamtastic guitars swirling, though Oakes and new keyboardist Neil "The Lizard" Codling have substituted a more consise Pop! vibe for Butler's manic virtuosity. The record proves once and for all that Suede are still as vital and vibrant as ever.
Backstage at the Manchester Apollo, a distracted Anderson and Gilbert sit down to talk, their minds not on the inquiry but on the imminent first gig of a long tour. Once the conversation starts, Anderson, known to his bandmates as His Lordship, comes alive, the legendary haughty veneer replaced by a candidness and a big-chested pride that comes from knowing just how good his band Suede really are.
Ray Gun: I suppose we need to start with Bernard's departure. Is there a stock answer? Do we not talk about it at all?
Brett Anderson: I've got a sheet with the stock answer.
Simon Gilbert: There's not a lot too be said. That was three years ago.
Brett: It's ancient history. The only time we ever think about that whole episode is when people ask us in interviews. It's like this bizarre thing that was in the past.
RG: Well then, why don't we talk about Richard? How did he join up?
S: He actually wrote in when he heard Bernard had left the band. He actually wrote in to the fan club, sent in a tape. We heard it, thought it was amazing and got him in for an audition. By the first song - he played "Heroine" - it sort of clicked.
B: That whole period was pretty strange, cos we were touring an album where one of the members who had co-written it with me had pissed off. It was quite frustrating and quite difficult at times. Which I got through with a lot of good will and a lot of positivity, but it was quite hard work. A lot of people had sort of thought, "Awww, the band had collapsed." We had to tour the album. It's just what you've got to do when you're in a band. For one thing, I was really proud of the album. I thought it was a fucking great album, there's a lot of songs on it that I really wanted to play live. I spent seven months writing the fucking thing, and when you put that much work into it, I was living it night and day, you just want people to hear it.
RG: Dog Man Star fell between the cracks in a way. It was overwhelmed by the very public split between the band and Bernard, and more importantly, it is a remarkably adventurous second album that came out at the same time as Britpop began to get more and more generic. Do you feel it went over people's head?
B: Yes and no. Commercially, it did. It wasn't commercial for a couple of factors. Not just because of its musical obscurity or whatever, cos it wasn't that musically obscure-
RG: It was complex.
B: It was complex, yeah. It was a combination of that and losing the guitarist. A lot of people thought the band had split up. A lot of people had a lack of confidence in the band because of that. And it was unfounded because, you know, most people experience backlash because they've made a shitty record, or cos they're not very good anymore. In some senses, Dog Man Star is probably the best record we've ever made. So yeah, it went over some people's head, and it was a difficult record to sell, but I think it was quite a landmark record. I read various snippets of things and people talk about bands trying to make their Dog Man Star. The record has definitely got a character which can be translated to other people's records. It's got a very sort of serious, epic, complex sense, d'you know what I mean.
RG: No matter what tension was going on in the studio, it remains a very brave album, in that you were a relatively straightforward pop band and you made a record that the 14-year-old segment of the audience would invariably be baffled by.
B: That had always been the idea for Suede. We'd be pushing it all the time. We've always had a sense of adventure in the music. It's a very difficult thing for people to get their heads around, cos we tend to write in a very similar, what, when it comes to singles. Like, stylistically, there's not much difference between "Trash" and "The Drowners." They're heady, poppy...a rush. If someone just looked at our singles, they'd say, "Oh this band hadn't progressed at all." But if you listen to any of the albums, we always try to change stuff around. And making Dog Man Star just seemed like a natural progression from the first album. We wanted to do something that was really really out there. And that sort of spirit of adventure has been killed off by Britpop, in a way. I think the good thing about Britpop is that it readdressed songwriting, but I think the bad thing about it is that it promoted safeness in music. And at the time of Dog Man Star, we could've written an album of tracks like "The Drowners" and "Animal Nitrate", we just didn't want to. Cos, you know, you're given a power, you're given a platform, you might as well do something that'll fucking prick up their ears, d'you know what I mean.
RG: Suede were the band that kickstarted the Britpop thing, not unlike what Nirvana did in the US with alt-rock. That is, taking a previously indie sound to the charts. Do you feel responsible for all this?
B: Yeah, totally. If you look at all of this chronologically and historically, Suede were the first band to do that. The kind of things that are in early Suede songs, talking about specifically English culture, not sort of singing songs about, y'know, rockspeak, d'you know what I mean? Just sort of bad cliches. So, not speaking rockspeak, talking about specifically English culture, which we were definitely the first band to do. Before Suede, there was a real confusion about what being in a band was all about. I mean, we came on the scene, we were so specific about what we wanted to be. We wanted to be Suede. And all the other bands around were just without a clue, just a joke. There were all these awful bands that didn't know how to write songs. I don't want to slag a load of bands off cos they're a load of crap. Just these bands that couldn't play, couldn't write a song, had no focus about what being in a band was. And Suede came along, and that's why we stuck out like a sore thumb, cos we had a certain sense of style, which no one else had. I'm not talking about we bought our clothes from fucking Armani or whatever, but there was a sense of what we were. Which was something beyond crappy student hair and shorts.
RG: But then just as you released your masterpiece, you got lost in the wake of Blur, Oasis, etc.
B: Well, yeah, we did, because of the simple fact that we'd lost a member. It would have been a completely different story if he'd stayed in the band. At the time it was quite frustrating, but I think, looking back on it, it was the best thing that could've happened. Cos I don't think we are considered a Britpop band. The same way that you wouldn't call the Stone Roses a baggy band, even though they started it. They're kind of beyond it by doing it in the first place, d'you know what I mean?
RG: Did you feel a sense of competition in making Coming Up? A need to prove yourselves?
S: There's probably an element of that, but it wasn't something we consciously had.
B: One of our strengths is that we don't particularly get influenced by what's going on around us. Some people might say that's a failing, cos you're not taking stuff in. I think Suede have definitely always had their own sense of style, they always had their own direction. I think there was a definite desire to refocus what we're about, cos I think with Dog Man Star, it went very experimental, we went in all directions everywhere. What you want to do is bring it all back to the central thing, and refocus on what the essence of the band was.
RG: That's the thing about Coming Up. It's Suede distilled to down to it's very nature. There's no wanky bits on this record.
B: Yeah. It was really important just to cut out all the dead wood, not have anything that didn't work. I wanted to make the sort of album that would work the first time you listened to a band. You don't have to like Suede to get into it, d'you know what I mean? It would just work on its own terms.
RG: In a sense, it was your first album. For any number of reasons, this Suede is not the same Suede.
B: It wasn't 'til we started writing the album, and Neil came along really, and the second phase of Suede really took off. Cos then it was really a new band. It wasn't just like the same instruments and stuff like that. I did feel as though Neil and Richard sort of combined to take it into a completely new form. No one could say, "Oh, they're just trying to replace Bernard," or whatever, it was a completely new feel to the band.
RG: The record seems to be influenced by real things, by friends and family, by being a person and not a pop star.
B: Definitely. It wasn't something I did consciously, but I did definitely retreat from all that. I pretty much retreated from the pop star shit really. I just got completely disillusioned from it and didn't particularly feel like going to the Squirrel's after show or anything like that, d'you know what I mean?
RG: As the scene became more celebrity oriented, you were noticeably absent.
B: We have this image of being this band of blokes that are kind of like obsessed with our hair and like, the superficial side of it all, and there's nothing further from the truth. I'm just so disinterested in the Face side of being a pop star.
RG: You certainly know how to use it to your advantage, though.
B: Well, sticking it in front of a fucking camera, if your face is going to be on the cover of a magazine and 100,000 people are going to read it, you don't want to look like you're just woken up, do you?
RG: The characters on Coming Up are like a chronicle of the modern drug-taking lifestyle.
B: Virtually everyone in London, a huge section of the people I know, are just complete rave heads and complete weekenders. There's this whole culture, this weekender culture, where you work throughout the week and on the weekend they just go completely insane. They're just popping pills like there's no tomorrow. And there are a lot of those sort of people on the record, yeah.
RG: And yourself? You've got a reputation as someone who enjoys a bit of chemicals.
B: No more than anyone else, really. I've always had too much of a focus on what I'm doing to ever slip too much into it. I've always almost used drugs, in a way, rather than let them use me. I've used them, yeah, (A), to let off steam. Who doesn't? When you're thinking all day, you need to just be blank for a couple of hours. And (B), to sort of like stimulate your mind sometimes. But when you say something like that and people get the wrong end of the stick. You get headlines like "BRETT PROMOTES DRUGS TO WRITE." Which is absolute bollocks. I'd say quite the opposite. I'd say it actually deters you sometimes, it actually stops you from thinking. But, y'know, when you're taking drugs and fucking hammering yourself into the ground for 15 years, which I have been doing, you actually get a sense of how to use them. There's a total difference between some 16-year-old taking drugs, and taking fucking Ecstasy for 15 years now, d'you know what I mean? So I know exactly how my body reacts, I know exactly how my mind reacts, I know exactly how to use it rather than let it use me.
RG: To be honest about it. Too many people go, "Don't do drugs" or "Drugs are the greatest!" whether they mean it or not.
B: I'll tell you what. We're doing this interview for the States, and I think there's so much fucking dishonesty about drugs in the States. It's one thing that really pisses me off. It's fashionable to say that you used to do it and you don't do it anymore. It's fashionable to be in rehab. All you have to do is say you're in rehab and make the right sort of music and you've got a hit record. And it's got nothing to do with your music, it's got to do with this society of people who go to rehab. It's absolute utter fucking bollocks.
RG: It's the culture of apology, the idea of saying, "I'm better now."
B: Exactly. Especially when it's saying, "Oh, I'm a rock 'n' roll and cool because I used to do drugs. I'm not a complete square. But I've given them up now, so I'm a good guy." Why don't you be fucking honest about it and say what you do and what you don't do. It's a load of fucking lies. It's all over the world, but it's extremified in the States, cos, y'know, everything's extremified in the States.
RG: Seeing how you've been so honest on the subject, did Damon Albarn's much-quoted comments about you being some kind of junkie piss you off?
B: I just don't like people commenting on what I do. I'm willing to talk about anything, but when other people start passing judgement on me...
RG: I want to talk about the more common Suede images, things like electricity and diesel and the sea and so forth.
B: There's a definite language that I like to make my own. I like to use words - not repetitively, I've never overused a word or phrase. The most used one is like, "hired car," which I've used about three times. I quite like establishing your own kind of language, and almost like, putting a copyright on your language, so when someone comes along and uses a word like that, then you can go, "Ah, that's one of my words," d'you know what I mean?
RG: So if someone writes about, say, the motorway...
B: Then I'll slam them into court and sue their asses. Seriously, that's why as a lyricist I have a style, like I have as a singer. I think lyrically speaking, words are generally pretty barren at the moment, and I think it's important to have a bit of pride in what you do and take it seriously.
RG: The imagery you use creates a very vivid world, albeit one that is very modern and very cold.
B: I try to put a bit of warmth in it as well. I don't see the world as this pointlessly bleak experience. There's a lot of optimism I have for life. Living in London is really exciting every day. I like to write about things that have got a timelessness, that's quite important to me. I don't like writing about things that are just of the moment. I tend to choose things like electricity or something like that, specific things that are part of the modern age, the modern age being something that happened about 96 years ago and that'll carry on for another hundred.
RG: Is there are Suede tribute band like say, No Way Sis?
B: Yes, actually, in Canada. They're called Snide. They come from London, Ontario and they do Suede and the Sex Pistols, so that's really cool. That's the only one I know, though I think there's a couple in Australia as well.
RG: Does the singer try to look like you? That's always the funniest part of those bands.
B: Yeah, like a cross between me and Johnny Rotten, if there is such a thing.
RG: Do you really want to make it in the US? Do you care anymore?
B: Not really, no. To be absolutely totally honest. I've been over there three times, three big tours, worked really hard, and at the end of the day, maybe there's just something about Suede that just doesn't connect with the American mentality. If they like the record, then they like the record. Your role as a musician is kind of like being this conquerer, and I find that really unhealthy. Everyone's always talking about breaking territories like they're fucking Alexander the Great.
RG: It's refreshing to not hear the "We're going to tour America and everyone will love us" lip service that most English bands spew about making it here.
B: I'm just honest about it. In almost every other country in the world, we've had quite a lot of success, and it just hasn't happened in the States. Maybe it's something to do with the basic make up of the band that just grates with American music. Maybe it's the fact that we haven't had a successful tour there.
RG: That's true. All of the tours here were troubled in one way or another, what with Bernard's father passing away, or Richard having just stepped in. In many ways, we've never gotten to see the real Suede.
B: No, you haven't really, which is a shame, cos you missed out on something good. It's kind of down to us really, it's our problem. But I think that's pretty much true about a lot of English bands. They fuck up in the States. It's nothing I'm going to lose much sleep about at the moment, though.
RG: The thing with Suede is that you are pretty much a band of outsiders. In many ways, so are the kids that listen to you. Perhaps more so.
B: Totally. We do get a certain section of our audience that, you know, the Suede gigs they're coming to are the only times they've been out this year. They come in slippers, d'you know what I mean? Slippers and a dressing gown, rubbing their eyes like they just got out of bed. But yeah, we do attract a lot of people that are attracted to the band for unusual reasons, or are inspired by the band when they wouldn't be inspired by other people. It's not your run of the mill interchangeable "another band" kind of thing, and that's something I've always been determined not to be, "another band." It can sometimes be hard work, because you pretty much play on your own field, and you're pretty much cutting your own grass and making your own headway. It can be quite lonely, but it's a position we've always wanted.
#brett anderson#suede#this is genuinely a really interesting interview!#the london suede#coming up era#ray gun 1997#coming up month#happy CU-versary!
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August ‘20
Ruiner
Ruiner frames its action at an isometric tilt. There’s a lot of red; in the game’s interface, as the prominent colour of the neon lighting that adorns its stages, and in the blood that is frequently spilled. Its cyberpunk setting isn’t anything particularly new, but as a unifying aesthetic, the glitchy effects, and out-there personalities doing their best to cope in a dystopia do well to build a convincing and intriguing world. Stages are action packed and throb with electronic noise and big loud industrial bass hits, with the play being akin to an arena shooter; enemies surging at you in bite size, minute-at-a-time waves, with each of these closing out with a grading screen serving as the pat on the back to keep that dopamine rhythm pulsing. It’s a pretty hypnotic cocktail.
These stages evolve out of a singular hub city, and while it’s not particularly big, there’s just the right level of hubbub, and it has a lovely Hirusawa Susumu track acting as an excellent, melancholic mood-setter. Based on the size of its world and the the quick-fire action being split between a very small number of stages, it’s not surprising to say it’s fairly brief - I mean, how could it get so big? But what is important is that it’s plenty of fun and and has style by the bucketload. I got a good kick out of it.
Carrion
On one hand, a horror game where you play the horror is just the kind of flip on a genre that’s needed to freshen things up a bit. On the other, it’s one straight out of the spoof ‘Peter Molydeux’ playbook. What a carri-on.
... I’m sorry. After your initial escape from a lab, Carrion centres around a hub world, with individual stages then breaking off to allow for more specific themed stages. What you’re trying to do within these is to spread your big, goopy self around, where certain spots will act as save points but also count toward unlocking an alternative path back to the hub and opening up new routes in the process. What’s unique to this particular metroidvania take is that while there are new skills that open up new routes, your movement in general is uniquely freeform - point in a direction and off you go, free of any worries about platforming and the gravity that’d otherwise bind you. While it may not be the most precise movement given the size to which you grow - and boy does this become a point during some forms of combat - it does remain responsive, and quite fun to simply shamble about like a giant congealed blob of bloody, multi-toothed sinew-y mess. Everything scales up nicely on both sides of the fighting, with distraught pistol-equipped humans turning to shielded folks with flamethrowers, all the way up to drones and mechs that are just as mobile and / or deadly as yourself, even in spite of your own upgrades that allow for more ranged, varied, and sharper extremities. It’s not especially long, and is never so taxing as to demand too much expertise of you, but it is fun and importantly, quite unlike anything else out there.
Yoku’s Island Express
Pinball continues to feel like a lost art form to me, with the nuance of skilled play being more like a foreign language than another type of game you can easily pick up. Yoku, newly-appointed postmaster, is but a tiny little bug, and as such is indebted to these skills in his efforts to travel and clamber about an environment much larger than he. Flippers are casually littered about to shoot you from one area to the next, but there’s also plenty of sections you’re led to by the story that are small yet just detailed enough to play like a neatly sectioned off area of a complete table - complete with requirements for precise shots to move forward, and those inevitable moments where you have to sit back and watch as your ball falls with miserable, exacting precision between the flippers. Failure typically sets you back a few pickups, but given these are just as quickly re-earned, you’re never punished too hard - there’s certainly no three strikes and out mentality here. It’s a very friendly interpretation of pinball’s mechanics, and there’s a decent enough story layered on top, with its characters and art demonstrating enough pleasant charm that you can definitely see this being a great way to introduce pinball to a younger audience. That’s not to say it’s not enjoyable from an older player’s point of view - just that you know what’s being presented is a wisely palatable version of a classic hobby, rather than the arse-kicking ordeal you may be used to.
Rime
I am certain that Rime would love me to compare it to a certain Fumito Ueda PS2 game. There’s the ultra-minimal scene that’s set as a boy washes up on an island; a sparse, beautiful, somewhat Mediterranean set of landscapes, and with very few ways to interact with it all that don’t involve clambering over things or shouting out in wordless desperation. But as you’ll have noted, I haven’t found it in myself to justify using that game’s name here.
As much as I wanted to give this a chance, it often felt directionless, uninspired, and at worst, slow and tedious. The puzzles are derivative of any number of games I’ve played before, and the biggest danger is that you might assume as to their difficulty and over-engineer your approach, rather than not be able to tackle them. The platforming is simplistic and regularly drawn out with ledges, ledges, and more ledges to climb across and dangle from; even if you were to find a way to fall to your doom, as is tempting, it is unlikely to take you back much further than a few seconds. Crucially, there’s really very little to sink your teeth into on any front, and even when the game does finally start to weave some plot threads into the game’s canvas, it’s well into the latter half - long after I’d already racked my brains for any hint of an allegory that’d fit, and given up on expecting one. Sadly, to the point that the actual story felt like a cheap afterthought when it did finally start to unravel. This bounced off me much harder than I’d expected - I came away wishing it had forged a bit more of an identity and a purpose rather than just an aesthetic strung together with some weak elements of play.
If Found
As far as interactive elements in visual novel-type games go, If Found has a different approach to most. The story’s primarily told by means of a diary - one that’s full of witty observations, personal reflections and enigmatic sketches - that you actively erase as a means to push events along. The diary belongs to Kasio, a trans girl returning to their small Irish hometown after a stint away at university in the city; a return that’s not met in the warmest or most understanding fashion. As a mechanic, the erasure of this diary is loaded with meaning; peeling back layers of a scene often matches a more poignant set of observations, and the scrubbing of such personal details away offers a painful reflection on an identity being chipped away at. It’s very much a story about finding one’s self, about coming of age, and as it rides these highs and lows it does an excellent job in making you ride along these alongside the characters, and it does one hell of a job to make you think about the compassion that you both see and offer in the world outside. I’ll put my hands up and say that there are some elements of the story running in parallel to this main one that didn’t gel with me quite so well, but this is a minor footnote to an otherwise highly enjoyable play through. In a short space of time, Annapurna have done a great job in winning me over with their publishing choices - particularly in holding up the kinds of voices and ideas that fit these smaller titles so perfectly.
Double Kick Heroes
It’s a rhythm game. I like rhythm games! It’s about a zombie apocalypse. Oh no. It’s... a heavy metal rhythm game? Ok, maybe we can work with this.
After a trailer name dropping a bunch of familiar artists - Jinjer, Carpenter Brut, Gojira - what surprised me straight off was that none of these licensed artists featured in the game’s story mode. They’re all sectioned off in a separate menu, and while on the bright side they’ve each given a unique stage with a visual theming in keeping with the bands in question, it feels like a bit of a missed opportunity. Instead, all tracks throughout the story were composed by just one person, and with only a small handful of featured musicians being included to diversify things. It starts with more (arguably) palatable hard rock numbers, but goes up to and includes grindcore, death metal, black metal and the like, meaning that not only is it going to put a lot of folks off right away, but that it’s asking a heck of a lot for one composer to cover all of these sub-genres with the appropriate care. While it was refreshing to hear some types of music I’d normally not expect to hear in a game, some tracks inevitably grated, and while I enjoyed some others, I wasn’t ever bowled over too strongly either.
The story itself is fairly by the numbers. It sees an on-tour band fighting back against a zombie uprising, and has unsubtle references to any number of heavy artists, albums and songs shoe-horned in at every opportunity. It also bears the hallmarks of its dialogue being written by someone that has a very particular sense of humour which personally all fell very flat. While the team undoubtably do love music, the over-enthusiastic style rubbed me in a similarly uncomfortable fashion as Jack Black does regularly, with his half-comedian, half-musician schtick. The gameplay itself is based around the drum parts of its songs also corresponding to different weaponry on your car that holds the hordes back, and while this on its own can prove tricky, higher difficulties also mounts other expectations - like steering your vehicle, or alternating pedals to shoot different parts of the screen. Some of my frustration with all of this is likely my own fault for having chosen to play on the ‘Hard’ difficulty, but traditional wisdom feels a little bit lost when you can still get damaged when your combo meter is racked up well into triple digits.
In all, Double Kick Heroes presented some pretty unique gaming scenarios; like having to work out the best controller configuration to play blast beats with, or asking out loud “did I just hear the words ‘we are Genital Absolution’ coming from a Nintendo console?”, and it’s clearly a small team working on something they really care about. I respect that. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I was hoping, but I hope they’re proud of what they’ve created.
Manifold Garden
A puzzle game taking significant inspiration from the works of M.C. Escher is a pretty good starting point in my eyes. It being presented in a wonderful manner certainly doesn’t harm either; from the UI all the way into the game, it’s beautifully clean and defined, opting for delicate shading rather than messy textures, and with its intricate, recursive geometric patterns, you’ll likely find cause to stop and take stock on a regular basis.
One button looks after your basic interactions with the world (pushing, picking up, and so on), with your other crucial way of interacting with the world being the ability to approach a surface and then assign it as ‘the new down’ - spinning everything about an axis, planting your feet to it, and changing your perspective on everything. There’s a nice steady introduction of puzzle pieces as you ease your way in, but they all stem gracefully from these simple mechanics. That I - not the world’s greatest puzzle gamer - was able to enjoy this without every getting too stuck may hint at it perhaps not being as complex as some puzzle fiends might desire, however this amounted to me coming out the other side with great waves of satisfaction, and nought but positives to say. I would go so far as to say that it’s the most fun I’ve had playing a puzzle game in a long, long time, and to boot it’s also perhaps the game where I’ve used the screenshot button the most copiously. Wonderful stuff.
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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Sixty: Later in the Year ]
[ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ]
[ SasuHina ]
[ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ]
[ AO3 Link ]
Though Hinata would probably call Spring or Summer her favorite season - given the pleasant weather and the bountiful flowers she loves so much - she will admit that Autumn has a certain kind of...charm to it. The slow descent in temperatures from the scorch of Summer is refreshing in its own way. Of course, it also means kids returning to school, so not everyone is happy about the arrival of Fall. But overall...she finds plenty to like about it.
The shifting colors of the foliage are always beautiful. Though Hinata might prefer cooler colors when it comes to things like her wardrobe, or her workspace, there’s something so...cozy about the palette later in the year. It’s a sign the months are dipping back toward the sleep of Winter: harvest is over, the reaped rewards of a long Summer of work gathered up and stored away for the snowy months. It’s a time to celebrate a successful waxing of the seasons to their peak, and to prepare for the waning back into the cold.
Even the air seems to carry a certain...tinge to it. The smell of damp, fallen leaves...the plethora of baked goods and their spices as people look for warmer treats to ward away the chill. The breeze might have a slight nip to it, but that just means shifting to the thicker parts of her closet. Sweaters (and sweater dresses), leggings, boots, hats, scarves...all sorts of cute things to wear!
Yes, Autumn has its charm. Which is why - as Hinata lurks in her favorite haunt, a little coffee shop and bakery hybrid - she holds her cup of coffee in hands grateful for the heat, watching the season sweep through her little city with a soft smile. She’s spent the entire day up until this little break taking photographs of the shifting atmosphere. While she has a day job at a craft store chain, her real passion is photography...which she indulges in on her blog. She always sees a swell of traffic this time of year as others enjoy the season.
One would think her easily tired of it, given that her place of employment has been swamped with Fall decorations and themed wares for weeks before Summer was anywhere close to over. In fact, Autumn has scarcely begun, and she’s already seeing their Winter wares being put up on display. It’s a little disappointing how...overlooked it is between the hype that is Summer, and the end of the year. Beyond pumpkin spiced...everything, there isn’t much regard given to the season before it slips into Winter.
But, now is hardly the time to mull that over. She’s going to warm up, and then make the trek back to her apartment to get started on this week’s blog post. Already her mind slips into a daydream-like state, picturing the layout and how best to arrange her favorite shots.
Her thoughts are interrupted, however, as the door chimes nearby, her seat only a few feet from it along the large window that overlooks the sidewalk. Blinking, she turns to give the newcomer a glance, shy but curious.
She has to do a double take.
Is...is that…?
Her staring thankfully goes unnoticed, the figure too focused on reaching the counter and perusing the menu. Pale eyes try to see his face from this angle, not quite sure he is who she thinks he is. The woman behind the register greets him pleasantly, putting together his order with a hint of smalltalk she can’t hear from this distance. His body language is rather lax, a hip cocked with hands in his jacket pockets. Dark hair brushes the tops of his shoulders, the top half drawn up in a tail behind his head.
Once he gets his drink and snack, he turns to look for a place to sit, and she all but confirms it. That’s Sasuke! Sasuke Uchiha! She hasn’t seen him in...gosh, years. They went to school together nearly all twelve years, except for a stint while he moved away. But he’d returned before graduation, and then just...disappeared. No one had really heard from him after that, not even Naruto. He fell off the map, moved out of the city, and ghosted everyone.
What is he doing here?
Averting her gaze just enough to be subtle, Hinata watches him out of the corner of her eyes. It’s so...strange. He looks quite a bit different. He’d always been a rather lean, almost skinny kid in school, but...he’s bulked up ever so slightly. Still far from someone like Naruto’s build, but no longer a beanpole, either. His hair was never that long in school, always shorter in the back and untamed. His style had been rather...alternative back then, but now he’s just dressed in dark-wash jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket. Seems he’s mellowed out quite a bit.
Curiosity is eating at her. She wants to know where he’s been, and why! But perhaps more importantly, the reason behind his return. No one’s said anything about hearing from him or seeing him, so...clearly he hasn’t contacted anyone. At least not according to anything she’s seen on Facebook. Surely by now, Naruto would have thrown a huge fit all over the site if he knew.
But...she very rarely spoke to Sasuke back then. He’d been so...withdrawn. And while he appears far more laid back now, she’s not sure it would be wise to just...go say hello. He might not want to be seen. But...well...he is in a public place.
...maybe she can get a photo of him.
Digging out her camera, she makes a show of perusing through her memory card, turning to sit sideways in her chair. He’s technically facing the same direction as her table, further back from the window, eyes glued to a phone he scrolls through while sipping his drink. Then carefully, ever so carefully, she starts angling her lens, trying to find him through the screen view. Almost...there…
Like magnets, his dark eyes whip to her lens, startling her so badly as he stares right at her that she jumps. Fumbling not to drop her (rather expensive) hobby device, she feels heat bloom quickly through her face.
He perks a brow at her, stopped mid-chew through a bite of his snack. But after a moment to consider her, recognition bleeds through his confusion.
“...Hinata?”
“I, uh...y-yes?” Caught red-handed and not having the gall to try to fib, she shrinks in her chair, clinging to her camera. “Er...Sasuke, right?”
“Yeah.”
Well, she’s already embarrassed herself this much...might as well go all-out. “What - w-what are you...doing here?”
“Getting some coffee. Same as you, looks like.”
“I - no, I mean...here. In town. No one has seen you in...in ages! You just sort of...disappeared.”
Clearing his teeth behind his lips, Sasuke adjusts his posture a bit. “Took some time to travel. Wanted to get away from it all for a while. Hopped around a few cities, took odd jobs...but thought I’d come back now that it all sort of lost its spark. Didn’t think I’d run into someone I knew so quickly, though.”
Someone he...knew? But...they hadn’t exactly been friends… “I see! Well, it - it’s nice to see you. So...you’re here to...stay?”
“I think so. Still planning things out. Been mostly winging it for the past few years, so...I have to get used to it again. Working on finding a place and a job. Thought I’d lie low and get that figured out before letting anyone know I was back…”
“Oh, I-I won’t tell anyone!”
“Thanks. But...weren’t you trying to take my picture?”
Jolting, her blush returns full force. “I was just, um...I-I wasn’t sure if it was really...you! You look...different.”
“Yeah? You too. No more baggy clothes and curtain hair, huh?”
Hinata blinks. He...remembers that? “N...no. Not so much, at least. I...well, I guess change is h-hard to avoid. Even if you don’t notice it over time. Must be, um...easier for you to notice, since...since you’ve been gone.” Clearly still nervous, she smiles sheepishly, gesturing to the window. “You...you picked a great time to come back! The weather’s been very...very nice. And the Autumn colors are at their peak. That’s what I have the c-camera for. Was out...taking pictures.” And not just looking like a creep sneaking photos of people… she thinks to herself, wilting.
“Photography, huh? Neat hobby. Get any good shots?”
This seems so...strange. To just be...talking to him. They’d been in completely different circles in high school. Now that sort of cliquey nonsense seems so...childish. But still...they’re practically strangers beyond a few overlapping acquaintances. “I...I think so. I need to go...through them. And get them posted. I...I run a little blog, it - it’s nothing fancy. Just...well, just a hobby.”
Sasuke nods. “Hobbies are good. Keep you sane through the other life crap you gotta put up with. I’d like to see it.”
“You -? It...it’s not that -”
“You were always one of those quiet ones in school. That means you know how to observe. Bet you take great photos.”
The compliment catches her off-guard. “...I…? Well, I...I try.”
“What’s the site?”
Pink in embarrassment, Hinata just...writes it on a napkin, handing it over. “Don’t, um...don’t have too high of expectations. I’m still...I’m still learning. A-about a lot of how it all, um...works.”
He waves a hand. “Maybe I oughta make one. Took a lot of photos while I traveled.”
Hinata can’t help a small perk. “Oh, you...you should! I’d love to see them!”
“...I’ll look into it. Maybe yours’ll give me some inspiration.”
She blinks, still rosy.
“Well...I gotta get going. Lot to do tomorrow,” he then announces, rising from his seat. “Nice seeing you, Hinata. Maybe I’ll bump into you again.”
“I-I bet you will. I’m here a lot, so…” She trails off, unsure what else to say. As he offers a farewell, she waves, still not quite...grasping their entire exchange. It felt so alien. Now that he’s gone, she’s not even sure it really happened.
But, either way, she remains true to her word, deciding not to mention the sighting to anyone. Sounds like he’ll be busy enough as it is without anyone pestering him. Looking into her empty coffee cup, Hinata thinks for a moment longer before packing up her things.
...she’s got a blog post to work on.
.oOo.
Tired @~@ But I like this one pretty well. I'm a HUGE fan of Autumn myself, so getting to add it to the background of a drabble is nice~ Otherwise...not too much to say about this one. Just a chance encounter between two prior acquaintances. Might continue it at some point. Honestly there's so many of these that could use part twos or full fics...I can't keep track anymore xD But we'll see~
Anywho, I need to get some sleep - I'm still a day behind here, and tomorrow's gonna be another very busy day. The next two weeks or so (at least) are still gonna be very...eventful, so I can't make any promises about catching up. But I'll try, at least, not to fall any further behind lol - anyway, thanks for reading!
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His Girl Tuesday {Part 1}
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Tuesday Adams x Billy Hargrove
[Prologue] [Series Masterlist] [Main masterlist] [AO3]
Series Warnings: This series will contain NSFW, Language, Drug use, horror themes, potentially gore and the occasional racist depictions (because it’s the 80′s people)
Words: 3k
Part One: Infectuous
The plastic bottle pressed between Tuesday's palms shook slightly. The trapped water inside, sloshing against the flimsy material that was pressed inwards -deforming with rounded indentations on contact with her fingers.
Tuesday felt numb to everything. The rapid pounding of her heart beneath her breast reduced to nothing more than a distant thrumming of white noise. The shake in her limbs transformed into a tingle of discomfort that refused to subside. But most notable of all was the outward silence.
There she sat, in a crowded, bustling mall. A dizzying panorama of people laughing, talking, arguing, chewing, stomping, and yet, everything was so distant. It was as though someone had turned the dial on her piece of junk television set and now static was the only thing blaring through the dust-covered speakers. Leaving only one voice to speak up inside her cranium. One confounded voice.
She needed to find her way out of this maze, she needed to return to the now.
"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi..." she counted idly by within the safety of her private thoughts. Savouring that one truth that still held true. Unless…
Tuesday pried her eyes away from the air bubbles trickling to the surface of the water bottle, placing her attentions on the group of kids across from them in the arcade, "She can't read minds can she?"
Steve drummed his fingers on his thighs, lips pursed in a half show of amusement and concern, "No," he replied. "At least, if she can, she hasn't told me about it. I don't typically ask too many questions. It makes it easier to hold onto my marbles."
Feeling redundant, Tuesday rotated the lid until it popped off and rolled away, devouring the contents of the plastic bottle as if she'd been tittering on the precipice of unquenchable thirst. It hadn’t helped. The liquid, though refreshing, didn’t freeze up her mind. She yearned for her action potentials to stop racing across her wired synapses so she could stop hearing the singular overlapping sound of her own voice inside her head. The voice kept multiplying into a cacophony, overlapping over itself again and again.
Steve ignored the meandering rivulet of water making its way from her mouth to the space between her breasts –moving awkwardly in his seat.
Tuesday wiped the cool liquid from her chin and the underside of her jaw using the side of her shirt -overalls half peeled off at the waist.
This was turning into the kind of day where Billy's proximity was sorely missed. His dominant nature made him an overwhelming persona to be around. It was demanding and dark, a crack in the universe that led to a solitary grotto away from everything.
Some days Tuesday felt as if she was viewing her entire life through neon coloured glasses accompanied by that electric hum that was always present, even in the dark recesses of her mind. Billy was her sedative. He kept her in a state of euphoria, an enticing escape from her woes.
There were two things that sent her over the edge, into that euphoric bliss she craved. One of them was Billy. The other was the smell of his cigarettes. Lucky Strike was his go-to brand, he always had a burning fag in his mouth at one time or another. It's bitter and oaky scents mixed into a heady blend when it diffused together with his musky aftershave. It was an intoxicating mix. A cheap odour that she'd grown accustomed to. And now she found herself scanning the crowd for puffs of smoke, looking desperately for that distinguishable red dot on a filmy white packet.
"Look, I don't mean to be pushy but..." Steve leaned closer. "What are you planning on telling your boss? About the freak accident you narrowly avoided? Heck, what are you planning on telling anyone, period?"
She almost didn't hear him, his gentle nature was a rarity to her, it didn’t demand to be seen, instead, it whispered. "Do you have a smoke?" she asked, her nails scratching at the mystery bruise on her arm.
Steve's eyes skittered about before he said, "Uhhh, n-no. I'm trying to lay off."
She hissed as she scratched at her scalp, ankles springing with pent up energy underneath the table. "Shit."
"Listen, I know all this can be overwhelming, believe me. But you have to promise to keep this a secret. She may have superpowers but she's just a kid, and all she wants is to have the same kinda life as any other regular kid," there was compassion in his words. The way his tone fluctuated from a serious whisper to a soft muttering informed Tuesday that Steve actually cared for those kids.
She wanted to listen, wanted to be wholly attentive, but she just kept searching for a white stream of cigarette smoke. Her mind drifted away again as he continued his plea: "And it's not just her life that would be affected either. I mean, Dustin, Mike, Will, Max, they're great kids and--"
"Wait, Max?" she careened her head. "As in Hargrove?"
"Y-yeah. You know her?"
"In passing. Why isn’t she here?"
"Sick with the flue apparently."
Tuesday's mouth stayed agape until she caught sight of a man with a moustache sucking in the air through the cotton filter of a cigarette bud by a clothing store. "Excuse me a minute."
She dashed from the table with a near-jog. Butting into the strange man's conversation to ask if she could bum a smoke. When she returned, she had a fully lit cigarette strategically placed under her nostrils so she could be bombarded by the smell. It wasn't Lucky Star, but it was a close alternative.
After a satisfied inhale, she turned to Steve, fully present this time.
"Well?" He pressed after she spent a whole minute just staring blankly at his face.
"Well what?"
"What are you going to tell your boss really happened?"
"Jack?"
He was confused by that, "I guess.”
She looked back at the kids all hovered around a Mrs Pac-Man arcade game. "People survive near-death experiences in inexplicable and miraculous ways all the time. Perhaps my guardian angel finally awoke from its slumber. Maybe it was divine providence. Though sometimes it's best to leave things unexplained."
Steve nodded a thank you in gratitude, stress leaving his face with a deep exhale. "Thank you, Wednesday."
"Tuesday," she corrected like it was second nature. "Wednesday Adams was the nickname Tommy H. and Carol gave me in high school."
"Oh," regret was present in his eyes.
"Ingenious, I know," she chortled sarcastically. "Don't sweat it. We were all a little screwed up in high-school. It's no one’s fault I was a little weird too."
She noticed him push back his hair, an old habit she would have swooned over had they been sitting at the same table two years ago -before Billy.
“Doesn’t make it alright,” he said.
“C’est la vie.”
He fidgeted, "I always wondered…" he trailed off, unsure if he should be treading over these particular eggshells.
Tuesday recognised that look. "If my name is somehow a rip off of a popular 60's television show?" she finished his unspoken question for him.
He nodded.
"No," she blew the miniature logs of ash off the table. "At least, I don't think so. My dad says I found my way to him on a Tuesday morning. He was never one for television. I guess it was just another stroke of divine providence is all." she joked flatly before standing from the table. "I'm beat and I feel gross. I'm gonna head out. And don't worry. I'll keep your secret."
Tuesday didn't have the energy to towel dry her long hair, the wetness of it made it look blacker than coal. Her head fell back onto her thinly stuffed pillow, the landing much harder than she intended. She could feel the moisture seep into the cotton pillowcase, but she was content with ignoring the coldness at her back so long as sleep came quick. And it did. She went out like a light.
***
Eyes filled with terror. A stench of copper and urine turning the air humid. Fear clung around opened sweat glands. A nauseating feeling upturning stomachs as Tuesday's vision was impaired by the spin of vertigo.
The unfamiliar room was a striking show of gestating entropy; shadows born from pale, sickly, yellow lights; dust covering every crack and crevice; the smell of gasoline and burning rubber ghosting off a rusted metal drum placed next to tattered and torn couches. This was a den. A derelict place of rest. And someone had claimed it as their own.
The lord of this domain sat on a leather chair, the whites of his eyes and the stained yellows of his teeth were the only thing visible about him. Tuesday stood under a circle of light that flickered out of beat.
"Who are you?" her voice came out distorted, a ringing echo that morphed into the voices of others –those she had heard whispered to her during the day.
He shifted closer to the light. No. It was more like the darkness had peeled itself back, like a cloud he could control hovering around his body. Even with the dark cloud pulled back, he was still enveloped in blackness. It was slick, wet. Like his body was drenched in tar.
That's when Tuesday realised that here, in this wretched place, he was darkness. From his aura, to the veins around his aqueous humors and the chipped off nail polish on his bitten down fingernails. He was void and Tuesday had unknowingly trespassed into his domain.
She was unwelcome here. The weathered concrete walls leaked of despair. Seeping out like a pustulous boil. It made her want to retch. But there was something else too. Something primordial and infectious rolling off his menacing presence. It snaked its way to her through the soles of her bare feet, veins turning black the higher up it climbed.
Tuesday was petrified in fear as this unwelcome sensation burned at her toes and her ankles and her knees and her stomach until finally, it blocked out all the light in her eyes. She looked down at a materialising pool of oil and what she saw made her scream –only no sound came out of her. Her eyes, they were gone, replaced only by orbs of blackness. She was like him now.
His body turned to air and mistified off the couch, materialising a second later behind her, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes trickling off his pierced tongue. "It feels good, doesn't it? Rage."
She swallowed but her throat remained parched.
"Do you know why you came to me? Why it was so easy for me to worm my way into your pretty little brain?" He dug a fingernail into her temple, the pulsating vein turning dark, spreading like a stain. "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished. You can’t bear it for a moment longer."
He appeared a mere inch from her nose now, his eyelids carrying the same epicanthic fold as hers. "Are you going to lie down and take it, like some weak, powerless, frightened little girl who's too afraid to leave her pathetic life behind? Or are you going to give in and do the one thing you've been thinking about since that car nearly crushed you?"
His words were a cajole to join him in his darkness. A temptation to embrace her baser instincts. An awakening of a vehement desire. A violent urge.
Now she was grinning, as he was grinning, their faces mirrors of each other.
"Atta girl," he praised before turning into mist and tunnelling down to her chakras through her nasal cavity and throat. And then she was burning, a fire burning through her flesh.
She was infected now.
***
Tuesday's eyes flashed open, but her body remained relaxed. It was noon, the sun still high up. She washed her face, noticing a dark purple outline encircling her eyelids. Then she grabbed her car keys off the hook, dropping the note that that was stuck onto the pinboard, stepping on it with her dusty boots. It went unread.
The sputtering sounds of her engine vibrated through the entire car. Tuesday set in in park, but kept the motor running. Sam and his brothers were welding off car door hinges, stripping it for parts. The red flashing signpost of their establishment blinked in the back, several bulbs blown: Carson Bros Metal Works and Junkyard.
One of Sam's brother's noticed her arrival, peeling back his welding helmet, "Yo, Sammy, we got a visitor."
Sam Carson was not the most refined specimen Hawkins had to offer, and that was about all Tuesday cared to noticed of him. His entire body stunk of sweat and burning, the tell-tale signs of leading a life that relied on scraping by. The smell stuck to him like flies over rot. All his foul persona was missing was that constant buzz that accompanied large house flies.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the beguiling Tuesday Adams," he snorted with a pinch of his nose.
Tuesday bit down on her teeth until they sent trembles up to her cochlear nerve. "Can you even spell beguiling?"
"Yeah," he leered, thumbs in his back pocket. "I believe it goes: B-E-Blow me!" He mocked.
Tuesday narrowed her eyes and he bent his pelvis so he could look at her at the same level.
"Can you even see when you squint like that?" his brothers let out huffs of amused noises and Tuesday balled up her fists. He noticed her fingers strain under her shaking fist and he held up his hands as though he were innocent of whatever feelings of antagonism she held towards him. "Oh, hey now. Don't get your knickers in a twist. We're just making light." He propped his frame on top of a newly salvaged JTO. "What brings you to my place of business?"
"Jack brought over the car-jack yesterday, he said you told him you fixed it." It was a statement, but it implied something else.
"Jack? I don't know no Jack. You must have your wires crossed honey," he leaned further back with a smug smile on his heat blistered lips.
"Your botched up job nearly cost me my life," she was seething now. "I nearly got crushed!"
"Yeah, well," he pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket, lighting it with a match. "I can't be held liable for any accidents that happen at other people’s businesses. It's not my fault your boss is a negligent cook. You get what you pay for, and he’s the one who wanted to play hardball. Take up your grievances with him."
Tuesday could feel that infectious rage swirl inside her, her breathing rising and rising the same time her knuckles turned white. She didn't come here to talk. In that moment, she knew exactly why she came here.
In a flash, her hand swung back as she planted her feet and powered her right hook into the unsuspecting Sam's cheek, his cigarette spitting out on contact. Her form was off, sacrificing technique for power and as a result, a cracking sound came off her proximal phalanges.
Sam was sent reeling into the dust, his brothers scattering to come to his aid and gang up on the very riled up Tuesday.
"You bitch!" He sucked on his split lip. "Are you fucking insane?"
He picked himself off the ground and in an instant of red, he struck Tuesday with a heavy open palm. She landed on the hood of the car, trading places with Sam, a gasp of air knocked out of her lungs. She massaged her jaw muscles and spun around to promptly kick him in the crotch. Her fists pressed to her cheeks.
Sam groaned, buckling to the floor again. One of his brothers rushed at her but was deterred from his path by a threatening Trans-Am almost ramming into him.
Billy got out of the car with flaring nostrils and a baseball bat.
"Get the fuck back," he growled as he strode over to her side. The bat pointed at each of the men lick a swinging pendulum. "Tuesday, get in the car."
She didn't listen to him, in fact, her focus was fixed solely on Sam. She made a motion to advance, to trade another blow and this time Billy snaked his arm around her waist and heaved her off the ground. Tuesday was dragged, kicking and screaming, into Billy's car. Face turning beat red from anger.
Billy walked back up to Sam after he locked Tuesday inside, he walked with his usual slow, swaggerful gait. He appeared to be extending a white flag when, without warning, his bat abruptly crashed onto Sam's knee, making him howl in pain.
Billy pulled him by the collar and threatened him, "The next time you lay hands on someone, you better pray it's someone I don't know." He pushed him back into the dirt and taunted his brothers, arms wide open. "Anyone else?"
They all took an instinctive step back when Billy motioned to step forward. He spat at the ground before climbing into his car and speeding Tuesday home.
"The fuck were you thinking?" his voice was harsh as he grabbed a packet of frozen peas from the fridge.
Tuesday stared at her reflection in the television screen, the voice from her dream returning to taunt her: "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished."
The cold press of peas to her face brought her back. She looked into Billy's eyes, so filled with anger and worry. Her right arm stiff from the tight bandage Billy had wound around her undoubtedly fractured hand.
"I- I don't know what came over me..."
He sighed, placing his forehead to her knee. "Something could have happened."
Tuesday was reminded of the harrowing image of the car hurtling towards her small frame, "Something nearly did."
“How did you learn to fight like that?”
“I was raised by a single dad…”
Billy didn't move and for a while, neither did she. They just sat there, stewing in their unpleasant emotions until they proverbially pruned.
Her eyes caught sight of the note that had been stamped with a dusty boot print, "Hey Champ. Won't be home for dinner. Don't wait up. Taking a double tonight. Love dad!"
Her chin quivered, barely. "How did you find me?"
Billy sat up, removing the bag of peas that turned soft. "I went over to the garage. Jack told me what happened. When no one answered the door I figured, if you were anything like me, you'd be itching for payback. I got lucky." He turned her head to examine the red palm mark. "It won't bruise."
Tuesday noticed he sported a new bruise beneath his shirt, she trailed a finger over it and he shivered, biting down hard. "How'd you get this?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does to me."
Billy held her gaze, and now she was reminded of their proximity. Of the cheap aftershave and cigarette smell that turned her limp. She pulled him close, savouring the feel of sedation. And then her lips found the sensitive stop of flesh behind his ear and he groaned, fingers digging into her back.
Without a word or look or a warning, Billy pulled her off the couch and carried her towards the bedroom where he proceeded to fuck her against her old, creaking dresser -the wood groaning and legs lifting from his fevered intensity. Their kisses all tongue and teeth and with no propriety -it was a primal instinct fuelled by heat and savagery. When he flipped her over and backed her into a wall, legs locked around his waist while he increased the power of his strokes, he noticed her hand had been kept over the bruise she had seen earlier. Her unintelligible whimpers fuelling him to go even deeper -harder. When he came, he had pulled out just in time. They leaned against the wall, ragged breathing, raspy voices and aching limbs. He watched his cum slide down the length of her inner thigh, waiting for it to reach the dip in her knee before he let her drag him to the bathroom.
That night, as he held her in his arms, he couldn't help but notice that the purple-bluish marks had almost faded into the yellowish-brown of a nearly healed bruise. Billy ignored the strangeness behind the colour change and focused on smoothing the raw skin of her cheek as she let out small breaths through lips agape.
***
Tuesday was drawn back into the dreamscape from before, but this time it wasn't drowning in darkness. The red and orange hues of the sunset covered the room in orange paint. The man from before looked less animalistic and spectral. He resembled a simple human now.
He held a bloody bat over his shoulder, the plasma smearing onto his wrist as he craned his neck to the side and side-stepped so she could see the fruits of his depraved labours. On the ground, a man in a security guard uniform lay barely breathing, incisors surrounded by splotches of blood around his face, no longer rooted in his mouth.
The nightmare-man turned to her, and with a mockingly high pitched tone, he screeched like a deranged parrot, "What are you? Some kind of ffrrreeeeeaaaaakkk?!"
His yellow teeth in full view through thinly pried lips.
And then she was forced awake.
***
Tuesday grumbled when she was conscious again, an epiphany dawning over her now that she was sober and in full possession of her bearings.
“Damn it,” she cursed as she realised she had left her car at the Carson’s Junkyard.
To be continued...
Meet Cute & Robin’s Girl taglist: @chims-kookies @electroma89 @mochminnie @timeladygallifrey
Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees
#steve harrington#billy hargrove#steve harrington imagine#billy hargrove imagine#steve x ofc#billy x ofc#horror#violence#billy smut#stranger things#st3
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a month ago i watched every Twice video in order, some of them for the first time, because Twice was finally clicking for me and i was “getting it”. i wrote a little thing about which songs i liked and which i didnt, and i wanna expand on that cause my opinions have gotten more fleshed out over the last couple weeks of listening to them, and also some of them have changed. i just really like reviewing things, i hope that’s okay lol
so here are two or three sentence reviews of every Twice title track, in order
Like Ooh Ahh: i think this is one of their best songs, personally. it’s not as much of the bubblegum stuff they go for after this, but it’s extremely catchy lol, the “i just wanna fall in love!” and the “ha~~ ooh-ahh hage!” gets stuck in my head a lot. i just love the way this song’s instrumental sounds too, the aesthetic of it
Cheer Up: um okay so from hot to cold... this is my least favorite Twice song. i’m listening to it right now as I’m writing this, and I’ll listen all the way through, but i haven’t listened to it all the way through very often. i think the chorus feels out of place, so does the “be a man, real man” thing. i don’t like that. that ruins the song for me lol. i also don’t like the chorus much haha, it sounds like theyre saying “chore up” cause they went with 치얼업 (chi-eol/eor-eop) instead of like... even just “chireop” or “chi-eo eop”... they dont usually have ㄹ for an english r sound at the end of a word...
TT: ah okay nice we’re back on track lol, this song is fantastic and totally deserves to be their most popular song (at least in terms of music video views). when i first heard it i didnt like it cause i didnt like anything Twice lol... then when I listened to every Twice title track in order as i was beginning to “get it”, i liked everything except the “i’m like TT, ahhh, just like TT, ahhh” haha, i thought the fact that it was about the emoticon was weird and didnt fit the video, and the “ahh” was goofy haha. but now? god its so catchy lmao i always whisper-sing along to this part when i listen to this song haha. i love the echo-y reverb-y synths in the verse, and the instrumental in the chorus when paired with the vocal melody just makes it one of the best choruses in kpop lol. i think TT is their best song. the rap break doesnt feel like a rap break, it fits sooooo naturally in with the song, it’s so impressive. this song is so impressive
Knock Knock: initially i liked this song a lot, and i still do, but... this would be another group’s best song, easily, but for Twice... it’s a bit overshadowed haha. the guitar plus the synth is really cool though, its rare to hear a calming, sort of mellow, soft song with as high a BPM as this haha. one of the writers, Mayu Wakisaka, also was a composer for Loona’s Hi High and Fromis 9′s Love Bomb... and you can totally see that lol. all of those songs have high BPMs and are wildly catchy. still, idk, i like this song but i dont have a ton to say about it
Signal: this song is weird in a good way, i love really unconventional instrumentals. it sounds as alien and outer space as the music video haha. at first the “sign-eul bonae signal bonae” kinda annoyed me, but i got more used to it. i don’t listen to this song much, but i should change that, honestly. though another thing is that the music video has a lot those things where it adds sounds from the video that arent in the regular song, and has an intro i gotta skip every time lol, but like thats not a huge problem, i can just listen to the song elsewhere haha
One More Time: this song sounds like something you’d hear at a hockey game lmao. i dont even know really what i mean by that, i dont go to hockey games lol.... anyway. i like this song, but again, it’s kinda overshadowed. if i’m in the mood for the vibe this song has, there are other Twice songs that have it that i like more. it’s refreshing every once in a while though.
Likey: this song is so good!!! it didnt stand out at first, like, there’s not really a huge gimmick like some of the others... “likey likey likey” is kind of the same sort as the “just like TT” and “knock knock knock on my door” and stuff from other songs, but for some reason it feels less prominent in this song. i dont think this is their most iconic song ever, and its not genre-defining or one of the ones you’d mention first when talking about Twice, but it’s just a really solid song. one of my favorites
Heart Shaker: yeah, heart shaker is alright. it was apparently just a couple months after likey, and it feels like a similar concept? maybe it’s just the music video giving me that impression. it’s alright. the music video has the longest part with the distinctive way Twice shoots dance scenes... in that very nauseating way lol... but i don’t mind it lol i’m used to that by now
Candy Pop: so like, was this song sorta made for kids specifically? i guess i’m mostly just being influenced by the music video cause i’m watching it while writing this. i dont like the video much lmao it’s like a pokemon ripoff complete with Officer Jennies and Jin-young Brock. the song’s not bad though, it’s catchy but it’s a little too sugary sweet for me (which makes sense given the concept i guess). i like a lot of ideas in the instrumental though... because it was also written by the people who did Knock Knock, including the writer of Hi High and Love Bomb.
What is Love: this isnt their best song ever, but it’s undeniably one of their most solid. i listen to it a lot haha. the music video has a cool concept, i like when groups do this kind of thing (interpreting scenes from movies or famous music videos or popular culture). i don’t have much to say other than that i like it a lot, it’s one of my favorites i think
Wake Me Up: okay here we go, this is another one of the three Twice singles I just don’t really like. it’s a fine song up until the chorus. i just can’t get over the shift upwards in.. uhh.. scale? octave? pitch? one of those lol, or something else, i dont really know music terms like that very well haha. yeah though i just find it offputting.
Dance the Night Away: it’s alright. i’m pretty neutral on it. i was put off at first but i’ve gotten used to it. though still, i’m not that into it. i get that its a dance focused song and the choreography does look a lot more intense than their other choreos, and thats cool, but that doesnt make me like the music in and of itself. it’s a summer-jam type of song, and i’m not as into those anyway. there’ll never be a better kpop summer-jam than Red Flavor anyway lol
Yes or Yes: this is the other Twice that i don’t like haha. i just think the constant “you only one choice: yes or yes” thing is kind of annoying haha. also the chorus is catchy in a way that i dont think its especially exciting... it’s an earworm because i think it’s slightly annoying, not because it’s satisfying. of the songs that i’ve said i don’t like, this is the one i could see myself getting into the most. this might not always be in my “bottom three”. it is right now though
Fancy: this was the first comeback they had since i’ve been into kpop, and even though i wasnt into Twice at the time, i wanted to try it out just to see if it would change my mind, and it did somewhat.... sorta. it got the ball rolling for sure. it came out on my birthday, the same day as the Loona Fire dance cover haha, that was a good birthday. yeah this song is great, i think it’s better than any of their 2018 comebacks, personally. the concept isn’t all that different from normal Twice, it just appears that way cause the video is so lavish and elegant. it didnt convince me to be a Twice fan on that day it came out, but I liked what I thought made it different from the other Twice songs I’d heard. but now? what I like most about it is how very Twice it really is. the thing is, I wasn’t into Twice probably because the only songs i’d heard were Yes or Yes and Cheer Up, and those songs are still my least favorites lol. Fancy doesnt sound that out of place when you take into account their whole discography! i looove the video and i loooove the chorus so much, this song is great and i wonder if they’ll be able to top it if they have another comeback this year
Breakthrough: okay so in the last one i said i wonder if they’ll be able to top it this year, i meant in terms of Korean comebacks lol. cause in terms of just songs in general, if i include their new Japanese comebacks, they’ve already topped Fancy. this song is the one that finally won me over. this is the song that made me a Twice fan. now, this one is a little outside their typical concept, but they’re really really good at it nevertheless. i wonder if Twice is going a bit more in this direction? at least maybe half the time, alternating between the two styles now? cause Breakthrough continues a bit down the path that Fancy set for them. in any case, i love basically everything about this song, I’m so glad it got me to finally love their music
Happy Happy: so you know how I said that Breakthrough was a change from the bubblegum fun-fun style they’ve had and that move is what got me to finally be into Twice? well that made me think I’d like Happy Happy less haha, but actually I listen to it way more than I listen to Breakthrough, I like it more overall. this is a very Twice-style song, and that’s fine because it’s fantastic. this song genuinely makes me happy
oops didn’t i say i’d try to keep it to two or three sentences?
anyway yeah my favorite Twice songs are TT, Happy Happy, Breakthrough, Likey, and Like Ooh Ahh in that order i think
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I have the big writer’s block so I don’t have much but uhhh how about some good ol fashioned squad fluff with ray and the kids?
OKAY I HAD THIS ALL TYPED OUT AND IT WAS PERFECT BUT THEN MY LAPTOP FREAKING REFRESHED THE PAGE AND I LOST IT. HHHHHH
I hope I remember it well enough
(I feel that writer’s block frustration. It’s a mcfreakin’ pain in the butt, my dude.)
I made it a little goofy as well as fluffy bc I really like the comedic dynamic of HD. I hope you like it!!!! :)))))
I just got back from a beach trip, so let’s go with that
it’s summer in Swellview and it’s crazy hot
that summer heat is taking no prisoners
Ray is down in the Man Cave and everytime the elevator opens up, it lets out all the hot and stuffy air from the store
he’s all “no. nope. not happening. I’m here sweating when I could be on the beach sipping from a coconut with one of those frilly umbrellas. this is unacceptable.”
he calls Schwoz and the kids and tells them he’s taking them on a spontaneous beach trip
he says he wants them to come with bc he doesn’t want to be alone and look like a creep
but it’s really bc he enjoys their company and wants them to have fun
he sends the kids home to get ready while he closes shop
“Can Piper come?” “Who’s Piper?” “My little sister, Ray.” “Aw, no. Is she that little loud girl?” “I guess she can be loud? Anyway, can she come or not?” “I feel like saying ‘not’ would make me a bad person but I really don’t want to say yes….” “Come on, man.” “UuuuuUUUggggGGGGhhhHHH fine. Paper can come.”
they all pile into Ray’s car
the ride there is a bit chaotic bc the beach is 45 min away and the car is cramped and it’s hot and no one can agree on a radio station to listen to
“Henry, I’m not going to say it again. Move. Over.” “Piper, I’m not even touching you.” “You’re about to touch me.” “Are you kidding me?” “No, I’m not.” “Where do you want me to move? There’s only so many seats in the car.” “I don’t care. I can feel the heat coming from your gross body.” “Okay, I’m not gross, for one, and I would scoot over if Jasper would get in his seat.”
“I already told you I can’t be by the window. I get carsick.” “Then why did you choose the window seat?” “Because I get claustrophobic in the middle seat.”
“Henry, I’m gonna kill him.” Char overhears and intervenes. “Hey, Piper, why don’t you sit with me on the way back?”
Ray heard all of their bickering, so he rolled the top down to cool them all off
as soon as they got to the beach, Schwoz shot out of the car blurting out something about having to pee
Ray packed food from the auto-snacker (sandwiches, chips, fruit, etc.–things he thought the kids would like), so he grabs the ice chests full of food/drink while the kids get their stuff
there isn’t too many people on the beach, so they don’t have a problem finding a quiet spot
Char x Piper get Hen to take pics of them right where the waves meet the sand
Piper posts them with captions like “beach day with my best-ay” and some lyrics about summer
she even takes a few with Hen for their parents
Jasper brought wayyyyy too much sunscreen
“I don’t joke about my skin care. Skin cancer is not a joke. Do you think I maintain this ivory color by not using sunscreen?”
Piper agrees with him bc she’s fair-skinned too
Hen doesn’t like it too much bc he doesn’t like how it feels, but it beats sunburn
Ray, however, won’t use it.
“I’m indestructible. The sun is no match for me.” “It’s literally a ball of fire in the sky.” “Psh. I’ve had worse.”
the kids don’t agree with him, but they know arguing is futile so they let it go
Hen brought a beach ball and some paddles with a matching little ball
the Harts used to go to the beach a lot, so Hen had a lot of stuff to choose from
he and Piper team up like they used to when they were younger and together they are un-beatable
like
no one else wins. at all.
they have this ridiculous handshake/victory dance they do every time they win and it’s so over-the-top (like Ross x Monica’s new years dance routine for you friends fans)
even Ray thinks it’s a bit much
Char x Jasp have no idea what to think
they’ve never seen Hen like this
“I always thought Piper was the scary one.” “I know. Did you see Hen’s face when I scored a point?” “He looked like he was going to kill you.” “Yeah, and Piper looked like she was going to help him get rid of any evidence.”
(I like that little ride or die sibling bit ajksjslksj)
Schwoz comes back from the restroom and Ray scoops him up, running to the water to throw the little man in
everyone joins in
the tide is pretty rough and Ray’s a little worried
esp for Char and Schwoz and whatever her name is bc they’re all pretty short
Hen is chasing Jasp x Piper, pretending to be Jaws
a pretty big wave comes and washes over all of them
Hen x Jasp are okay bc they could just easily stand up but Piper is a lot shorter
Hen starts freaking out when she doesn’t come up
Ray is worried too
he sees the little girl and immediately yanks her out of the water and into the air
“Paper! Paper! Are you okay???”
she swallowed a good bit of nasty saltwater that burned her throat/nose, but she’s okay
“It’s Piper.”
Hen sighs in relief, moving the hair out of her face. “She’s fine.”
they take a break from the water for a bit to eat lunch
Ray unpacks the food he brought for them
Hen x Jasp eat their lunch on an inflatable unicorn inner tube :)
Piper takes some more pics of the gang eating
she records a snapchat video of Hen being attacked by a swarm of seagulls after his sandwich
he takes off down the beach after them but gives up, hoping the birds at least enjoy it as much as he did
he doesn’t bother asking Pipes to delete it bc he knows she won’t
after lunch Hen x Char go off alone to collect seashells
Hen finds a really pretty spiral shell to give to his mom
Jasper tries to get Ray to at least put on a little sunscreen, but Ray is still being ridiculous
Piper is flying a kite, but Schwoz keeps pestering her about using a new device he created that’s supposed to make the kite fly ten times higher
she lets him do it just to shut him up, but it goes wrong
the string gets cut, and her favorite kite flies away just like the birds did with Hen’s sandwich
she’s furious
Ray jumps between them just in time
a second later and Schwoz would be pummeled
“Look, Paper, I know he’s an idiot, but I kind of need him, so if you could just not kill him, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Its. Piper.”
Hen x Char return from collecting shells and everyone gets back in the water
he won’t let Piper go out in water that reaches any higher than her stomach (she put up a fight but she agreed, not wanting to drink anymore disgusting water)
Jasp x Hen played a game where they’d wait for a big wave and then turn around so that they could fall backwards into it
a fish brushed against Schwoz’ leg, and he tried to jump up on Char to get out of the water
she just dropped him so the he ended up going under right where there was a school of fish
Ray let Char x Piper get on his back so he could tow them around
he also picked them up so he could toss them into the water (playfully, of course)
a fish nibbled Jasper’s foot, and he wanted to catch it so he could bring it home as a pet
no one could catch it, and there was no way of telling which fish it was
Hen got a pretty gnarly sting from a jellyfish, so they all decided it was time to get out of the water
the sun was beginning to set anyway so the others weren’t too upset about getting out
there was still some food left over from lunch, so Ray made a little campfire and they all ate a light dinner
they watched the sun dip down below the horizon line
the sky turned dark
Ray reached behind his back and pulled out a surprise: s’mores
Hen’s leg was still hurting so Ray handed the s’more fixings to Piper
“Here, Piper. Why don’t you make one for Henry?”
she just stared at him, shocked that he had used her real name for the first time
she didn’t say anything
she just took the food from Ray and made her brother a s’more just the way she knew he liked it: marshmallow extra crispy, chocolate extra gooey, and graham cracker as is
Ray smiled to himself, knowing Piper’s reaction was bc he’d remembered her name
he didn’t call any attention to it though, knowing neither of them wanted that
they ate their s’mores in comfortable silence
Char noticed Schwoz was smiling mischieviously
“Schwooooooz…..why are you making that face?”
he just giggled and produced a small guitar from behind his back
everyone groaned
“What? What? Why the not happy sounds?” Ray just rolls his eyes. “Because, Schwoz, no one wants to hear you play.” “Why? What’s wrong with my tunes?” “Your ‘tunes’ sound like a dying cat.” “So does your singing, but I never tell you you can’t.”
he plays anyway and…he’s actually…..really….good???
“Schwoz, where’d you learn to play like that?” “I had lessons.” “When? You never leave the Man Cave?” “………from Lelani….”
Char keeps Ray from jabbing Schwoz with his hot s’mores stick
Schwoz keeps strumming away while they all sit around the campfire, listening to it crackling, listening to the waves crashing against the shore, watching the light flicker on everyone’s faces, watching the smoke from the fire rise up the the stars
the kids almost fell asleep, but Ray got them up and in the car, deciding it was time to go home
he let them get seated while he packed everything up
the kids did fall asleep on the drive home
Ray kept the hood down so the cool night breeze makes its way to everyone
he finds an alternative station that’s playing a slow, soft, hypnotic song that’s perfect for night drives
he keeps checking on everyone in his rear view mirror and smiles big when he sees them all sleeping soundly in the same seating arrangements that had caused problems before
Hen x Piper are leaning against each other when they’d been complaining about being too close before
Jasp is propped against the window, no longer needing to worry about getting car sick since he’s sleeping
Char even let Schwoz use her as a makeshift pillow despite the fact that he drools
Ray turned the radio up a little bit
he drove on under the yellow street lights in the quiet night, listening to the quiet pulsing song, feeling perfectly content and happy
it had been a good day
bonus:
Ray wakes up the next morning and screams at the top of his lungs
he’s as red as a stop sign
he got sunburned after all (just as everyone else knew he would)
“Sun: 1 Ray: 0″
#thank you for always coming through when I ask for hcs or requests#you are the best ryker#i hope you liked this!!!!#i enjoyed it so much#it was good to be able to write something without my uninspired a** messing it up#headcanon#henry danger#henry hart#piper hart#jasper dunlop#charlotte bolton#ray manchester#schwoz schwartz#mine#em writes#request#hd ask
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Is Putlocker Not Doing work? Putlocker Choices to Look at Free Motion pictures
Putlocker was one particular of the most sorted online movie portal the place you could look at your favored movies and far more for cost-free. Back in late 2016, the internet site was shut down after a higher court docket blocked the internet site in the Uk. However, prior to its shut down, Putlocker was ranked amongst leading 250 most visited sites by Alexa World wide web. Since the closure of the website, several folks are searching for Putlocker options or Putlocker new site mirrors to observe cost-free videos. So, we determined to make a record of prime five choices of Putlocker.is for you to observe your well-liked and most recent films on-line for totally free.
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Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse
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75 vs 144hz
There are different types of monitors refreshed with an assortment of details. Every one of them is appropriate for individuals with different inclinations. One of the monitors' primary elements is its revive rate, as it decides the screen's rapid showcase with no slacks. There are favored two sorts of monitors—the one with the 75Hz invigorate rate and the other with a 144Hz revive rate. Presently the central matter is that the distinction in a 75Hz vs 144Hz invigorate rate screen?
These rates are not restricted to a solitary element. All things being equal, they impact a huge load of monitors particulars like casing rate and show quality. None of these monitors is most noticeably awful or liked more than each other. However, they are appropriate for individuals who need diverse determination as indicated by their necessities.
This article will examine a critical contest between 75Hz vs 144Hz screen to clear the entirety of your questions. In this way, it very well may be simple for you to choose the screen as per your decision.
Must read: Is 75 Hz Good for Gaming?
76Hz vs 144Hz Monitor | Specifications and Comparison
There is an uncommon distinction somewhere in the range of 75Hz and 144Hz screen, which is typically left overlooked by individuals. We should not burn through our time and delve into the focuses that separate a 75Hz and a 144Hz screen.
Refresh rate:
The invigorate rate is the quantity of pictures that the screen show in one second. Its estimating unit is hertz. We probably won't have the option to see changing pictures in a second, yet they give a smooth and straightforward experience to the client.
To have an ideal invigorate rate, it is important to have a GPU that praises your revive rate, or in different cases, you probably won't utilize the monitors revive rate for your potential benefit. The higher the invigorate rate, the higher the screen's perfection and the less slack it will be.
75Hz
75Hz invigorate rate implies that your screen is showing 75 pictures in a second.
This is useful for normal control center games and office works and turns out totally great without screen tearing.
144Hz
144Hz invigorate rate implies that your screen changes 144 pictures in a second.
It gives a more point by point show with smooth illustrations.
Ideal for proficient gamers
The image will be unbelievably uniform and will give the ideal experience
Related: The Ultimate Buying Guide For Best Monitors for RTX 2060 Super
Overclocking:
Overclocking implies expanding the invigorate rate up to most extreme. It further develops the presentation quality and diminishes input slack. This implies that your monitors will work quicker and smoother than expected. In any case, a portion of the monitors don't uphold overclocking. Prior to getting a screen, you need to check in case they are equipped for overclocking or not. It relies upon you.
75Hz
A 75Hz screen can be effectively overclocked
You can build its revive rate up to 100Hz (25% expansion) with no issue.
Assuming you need to go to the limit, it tends to be raised up to 120Hz, yet this accompanies the danger of an over-burden PC.
Outrageous overclocking can hear up your gadget unreasonable and bring about inner harm.
144Hz
144Hz is as of now a magnificent invigorate rate.
You don't have to elevate it, yet assuming you need to, start with a more slow speed
Try not to do overclock if your PC can't bear the strain.
Related:Best Monitors for RTX 2080 Super
Frame rate:
Frame rate is the rate at which the quantity of persistent delivered pictures (outlines) a screen shows on the screen. The essential distinction between outline rate and Frame rate is exclusively created by the screen. While outline rate is made by mix work of screen and your realistic card unit.
Frame rates don't surpass the revive rate. It assumes an indispensable part in fostering the nature of recordings and delivering superior quality games. How about we look at the casing rate between 75Hz vs 144Hz screen.
75Hz
It is 75fps (outlines each second).
It performs well with less info slack.
144Hz
Its edge rate is 144fps.
It is extremely close to 200fps.
Because of high fps, it gives the most minimal screen tear and info slack.
It likewise gives the superior experience as make FPS implies More pictures each subsequent which implies more smooth designs.
Should peruse: 10 Best IPS Monitor Under 300 Dollars
Freesync:
In case you are a gamer, you know the significance of freesync. Freesync is fundamentally an innovation given by AMD that opposes screen tearing and improving the designs. Played out this method by synchronizing revive rate with the edge rates, giving a smooth, slack free insight.
Screen tearing normally happens when the edge rate is lower than the revive rate. It gives an unappealing presentation that can be irritating.
Freesync support is viewed as a fundamental part of monitors. How about we perceive how it supplements monitors with various revive rates.
75Hz
It supports freesync
This expands the showcase quality and diminishes the slack and screen tearing
144Hz
It is additionally free sync steady
Essentially, it functions admirably even without free sync
By empowering free sync, you can hoist the nature of the showcase that won't ever release you back to the past settings.
Gaming similarity:
There are various types of games that have extra presentation prerequisites. A few games require a normal presentation, while others need ultra-HD goal with ideal invigorate rate. Everything relies on your decision, which you need to pick. Till we will clear up the distinction between 75Hz vs 145Hz screen with the goal that you can pick carefully.
A higher recurrence screen additionally requires more cutthroat set up and more costly parts as it will be amazingly difficult to encounter 144Hz experience on a mid-range arrangement, and the image will slack, and 144Hz screen will likewise be more costly when contrasted with its 75Hz partner
75Hz
It is appropriate for console gaming
Invigorate rate and fps doesn't trouble
You should empower free sync in it
As it can perform overclocking, it is a fitting decision.
144Hz
Master display
No glitches, input slack
High invigorate rate occurs in speedy reactions in gaming
It gives a particularly incredible encounter from which you won't ever turn around
Cost:
Cost is additionally a huge factor in figuring out which screen to go for as 75Hz monitors are more affordable than 144Hz screen, which relies upon the parts utilized in the assembling of the screen.
144Hz screen is just utilized for High-end arrangements, and individuals with mid-range arrangement don't really go for the more costly alternative as it isn't enormous of a contrast between these two beside smoother outline rate and the exhibition distinction additionally relies on the kind of PC that you have
144Hz PC is more insight and aren't made by nearby organizations
75Hz PC is more affordable and more available
Picking inclinations: 75Hz Vs 144Hz:
Eventually, those above focuses will assist you with choosing which screen to browse.
The most urgent issue will be your Budget as you can't accepting a 144Hz screen in the scope of 75Hz screen so the main central consideration will be your Budget.
The second most pivotal point is your PC arrangement, as you can't anticipate that a low should mid-level reach PC to help a 144Hz screen.
In case you are an expert game and don't have any desire to have an error, year free
experience that doesn't upset you during your opposition, we will prescribe you to pick a screen with a 144Hz revive rate.
In the event that you don't need an expert screen and utilize a PC on a typical level, then, at that point a 75Hz screen is ideal for you as it would give the best outcomes that accompany moderateness.
Consequently when you need a screen for high illustrations portrayal, go for a 144Hz screen. What's more, for normal use, select 75 ha screen.
Final verdict:
To sum up the entire article, we did an itemized correlation eye to eye with the 75Hz vs 144Hz screen. What's more, without a doubt, there are explicit contrasts that can't be left unattended. The principle concern was invigorate rate and what it means for our presentation. Afterward, we looked at their exhibition on various inclinations like fps, versatility and freesync, cost and significantly more to recognize these two invigorate rates.
In the wake of perusing the whole article, we became acquainted with that a 144 Hertz invigorate rate screen works preferable and quicker over the standard screen with the 75 Hertz revive rate. Additionally, they gave the ideal presentation when joined with the ideal goal. Yet, then again, the 75 Hertz screen is more Budget-accommodating and doesn't bring about any tearing or opposition. Its quality may be low, however it performs best under the control center and ordinary office work and gaming.
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Nokia Photo Browser Download
Nokia Photo Browser Download Windows 10
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One is to make use of SkyDrive’s tight integration with the Windows Phone 8 OS. Whenever you look at a photo, a video, or any other file for that matter, you’ll notice the option to share or upload to SkyDrive. The other two options are to download the standalone SkyDrive app, or to use the phone’s browser to access SkyDrive.
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Review
Changelog
UC Browser launched in April 2004 as a J2ME-only application. It is a fast, reliable and secure web browser for Android, Blackberry, iOS, Java ME, Symbian, Windows phone and Microsoft Windows PC. UC Browser is a mobile phone browser that has so many features as it's desktop counterparts.
You are allowed to select between Chromium and Internet Explorer kernels, in whatever way you see it fit. The download experience on UC Browser is one of a kind that you can only explain when you have used it; extremely fast.
Why you should use UC Browser
UC Browser is For PC is a mobile browser that is available in different languages including Chinese, English, Urdu, Bangla, Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, Russian, Vietnamese, Indonesian, Portuguese, Spanish, Arabic, Farsi, and Bhojpuri. It makes use of cloud acceleration and data compression technology, as well as it's servers that act as a proxy, compressing and rendering the data of web pages before it is sent to the user. Web content tends to load faster through this process. There are customizable quick search options in UC Browser that allows you to make use of popular search engines like Google, Bing, and AOL. You can also open multiple tabs with this browser to view the navigation history, set the style for the home page, as well as create shortcuts to access your favourite websites quickly.
You can download multiple videos, images or audio tracks simultaneously with this program. With the UC Browser download manager, you can pause, and resume your downloads. Even if your device shuts down for some reason, the download process can automatically resume. Sorts downloaded files and put them in their respective folders. One low point about UC Browser is it's security issues. Logjam, FREAK, and POODLE vulnerabilities are typical with UC Browser because it makes use of outdated RC4 cipher cryptography with deprecated SSL 3 protocol that has quite a several security flaws.
UC Browser has a clean and clutter-free interface for smooth internet surfing. It has a Video/MP3 grabber that lets you download any MP3 or online video with a single click, and allows you to select the quality of the video you wish to grab. Some other very handy tools in this web browser are the night mode feature, smart file manager and cloud sync. There is also an adblocking tool that you can use to customize the privacy options. In the Tool menu, you can change its encoding. The developer's console enables you to view elements, sources, timeline, audits or the space for your JavaScript edits.
Features of UC Browser PC
High speed download;
Cloud sync;
Easy to use;
Video grabber;
Ad-blocker;
Pop-outs video.
Overall
UC Browser is fun to use for mobile devices. It is available in multiple languages and can be used on a wide range of mobile devices and desktop computers. UC Browser has the best download speed among browsers in the market.
We don't have any change log information for UC Browser 7.0.185.1002 yet. If you have any change log info for this version of UC Browser you can share with us.
Screenshots
Nokia Photo Browser Download Windows 10
More info
Developer:UCWeb Inc.
Version:7.0.185.1002
Downloads:39,065
Operating system:Windows 10, Windows 8/8.1, Windows 7, Windows Vista, Windows XP
Filename:UCBrowser_V7.0.185.1002_4770_(Build1801021540)_(en-us)_online_installer.exe
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Nokia Photo Browser Download Windows 7
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The downloading speed for large files has been optimized. Now, when you are downloading a large-sized file there will no longer be a big drop in download speed.
Customized shortcut keys
To make accessing your favorite webpages and using common actions more convenient, we’ve added the ability to bind a webpage or action to a shortcut key. So if you want to get to your Download folder fast, you can set it to any number 0-9 or a combination of #+number, and pressing those keys will take you there instantly.
Sharing on Twitter added
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You can now quickly share content on Twitter. Long press what you want to share, then select Twitter in the Share menu.
Nokia Photo Browser Download Pc Windows
Improved File Manager
The File Manager has been enhanced with new features. You can now preview images and create folders for easier sorting of your files.
Enjoy a new and improved experience with this version! Check out our site and also tell us what you think on our Facebook and Twitter, we’d like to hear your feedback.
What's New:
Added download link to beta version (4.0)
New Features in the Beta:
Visit as PC. By entering Desktop mode, you can now experience the full features of webpages as if you were on a PC.
Flexible Modes. Includes Night Mode, Speed Mode, Incognito Browsing, Text-only Browsing. Added a brightness control for Night Mode.
Customized Themes & Lockscreen Wallpaper. Change the browser skin from the UC Theme Center. These can also be used as lockscreen wallpapers.
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Popular apps in Browsers
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