#title from the song past lives because that song gave me the idea for this entire fic
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Hello! I've decided I wanted to give writting a fic with multiple chapters a try, so here's chapter one! This one is a post episode 200 fix-it (sorta), but instead of time travel it's just spooky dream stuff.
Summary: Martin's been having strange dreams recently, usually involving the man he's seen in the Institute's library.
This Isn't Our First Time Around
Chapter One -- Dreams and a Rough Morning
The mug was hot in his hand. He fidgeting nervously with the handle while staring at the closed door. He could feel eyes on the back of his head.
He knew Tim and Sasha were watching him. He could feel their judgmental gazes every time he went to bring Jon a mug of tea, or tried to get him to go home at a reasonable hour, or simply tried to talk to the man.
"What is it, Marto?" Tim called from his desk in a slightly mocking tone, "scared he'll yell at you 'bout being a murderer again - ow - hey!"
Tim's annoyance was cut off by Sasha swiftly kicking him in the shin under their desks and giving him a glare.
Deciding that he'd rather speak to Jon than listen to Tim's angry rambling about Martin daring to show any sympathy towards the 'spooky boss 2.0', Martin grabbed and twisted the door handle.
Jon's office was a mess. It often was, but now the stacks of papers and tossed-aside tape recorders felt somehow threatening.
"Hey, knock-knock," Martin called, not yet daring to step fully into the cramped office.
Jon startled at the noise and glared at Martin for the interruption. His hair was a mess, and he looked absolutely exhausted, but he was still dressed in a button-up shirt and a sweater vest, as he almost always was. His face was still dotted with scars and a few scabs from the stubborn wounds refusing to fully heal.
"Ah, Martin," he said, seeming to try and hide the folder he'd been rummaging through under his arms.
Martin lifted the mug in his hands and explained uselessly, "Brought you some tea."
He slid into the room, shutting the door behind him, and took a few steps forward to place the mug on the desk. Jon eyed the mug suspiciously.
Martin honestly wasn't there to snoop at whatever work Jon was doing, but he couldn't help seeing the CCTV footage that was pulled up on Jon's laptop and his frantic notes covering the page his notebook was open to.
Jon's gaze had shifted from the mug to Martin. He was eyeing him, now.
"Did you need anything else?" Jon's voice was sharp, but it was tired. It was sad and regretful, yet still full of fear.
"I just - I... no, I guess not," Martin gave up on his words.
Martin turned and left the room, preparing to have to face Tim once again.
***
Martin's eyes opened slowly and heavily. He felt a strange guilt bubbling in his chest, though he did not know what he was guilty for.
It was another one of those dreams. He'd been having them recently. Dreams where he worked down in the archives of the Magnus Institute rather than the library.
Those dreams always felt oddly real, but they were getting stranger and stranger recently. They often included Tim and Sasha (two people he was sure he'd never met before), and that rather pretty man he'd see every now and then in the library (Jon, his dreams apparently named him).
He promptly tried to forget the dream and the uncomfortable feeling it gave him, and he went about getting ready for the day.
Unfortunately, he'd somehow managed to oversleep again, and by the time he reached the station, he missed his usual tube.
It was no big deal. He'd still get to work on time. This just meant he'd have to skip his routine of stopping at that cute café near the Institute for tea before heading into work.
Except, once he stepped onto the tube, a familiar person caught his eye.
It was him! The man he'd see in the library! The man from his dreams! Though, seeing him in reality, he was much more put together than his dream-self.
His hair was neatly brushed (it was long for what one would call short hair, but it only barely passed his ears), and he wore a nice, dark-green, patterned button-up, but it was not nearly as formal as 'dream-Jon's'.
He was pretty. Very pretty. Martin was only slightly embarrassed that him being pretty was part of the reason he'd been staring. But, mostly, he was staring because of how closely he resembled dream-Jon.
Martin had never been great with visualizing or remembering people's faces. And, he'd never been nearly close enough to this man to see his face in great detail before now. But his dream had managed to be so accurate (minus the scars).
It was odd. But so was a lot of things, so Martin did his best to ignore it, even though he did continue to steal several glances of the man.
Eventually, the man's eyes darted in Martin's direction. Their eyes locked. Martin tried to look away, tried to break the awkward eye contact, but he couldn't.
It was as if nothing else was there. As if there was nothing to look at except the large brown eyes locked on his own.
Suddenly, the other man's gaze went slightly vacant, as if he was no longer looking at Martin, but rather, through him.
The vacant looked flashed to horror for only a second before he was once again looking at Martin. He scowled, though the scowl held a bit of confusion and fear, then huffed and pointedly stared at the floor.
Martin, suddenly embarrassed, having been caught staring, also decided that looking at the dirty floor of the tube was better than continuing to make the poor man uncomfortable.
***
Jon was not having a very good morning.
He might even go as far as to say that he was having a terrible morning.
Sleep had been... difficult lately. Trying to sleep was nearly impossible as he felt as though he was constantly being watched. And his dreams were strange.
Jon had always dreamed. His dreams were always very vivid. This, of course, meant he'd had his fair share of nightmares (especially involving spiders), but the dreams he'd been having recently were even stranger than the typical ones his brain managed to create.
They were short, often only lasting what felt like a few minutes. But they were awful. Either painful or terrifying, it seemed.
Once, he'd dreamt that he felt as though he were falling for an eternity, despite the fact that he was sitting perfectly still in a chair. Another dream involved grabbing a woman's hand, only for pain to shoot through his arm and body, heat melting into the nerves of his hand. He'd woken up screaming both those times.
Last night's dreams involved throbbing pain in his leg, dark tunnels, and too many worms. Tim was there, and he'd opened a trap door leading to a room filled with the terrible wriggling creatures and a woman covered in holes. And she screamed a horrible scream of a thousand voices as worms lunged at Jon and Tim.
And then he was back in his bed, sweating and shaking. His leg still faintly hurt, and he could feel the worms crawling over every inch of his skin, waiting to burrow into his flesh.
Usually he woke up at 5:30. It was 4 in the morning, according to his phone, and he was certain there was no way he was going to fall asleep again. So, begrudgingly, he pulled himself out of bed and turned on a cold shower to hopefully rinse the feeling of thousands of flesh-eating larva off of him.
***
On his commute to work, he saw a man on the tube. He felt oddly familiar, oddly important, though Jon wasn't sure why. He tried to ignore the feeling, but when he looked back over, the man was looking back at him.
They locked eyes, and as Jon studied the man's face, his stomach suddenly dropped, and his heart raced.
Worms. He could suddenly see a jar of worms being slammed onto a wooden desk by the man. He was very clearly distressed and shaking, and the worms wriggled and pulsed inside the jar.
Then, the image was gone. It had only flashed before him for a second, but it was so vivid.
Jon was back to staring at the man, who now seemed slightly concerned. Jon was shaking. He glared at nothing as he turned his head to look at anything but the man.
What was wrong with him? Was he hallucinating? What was up with all the worms?
Jon refused to look anywhere but at his shoes for the rest of the ride. Unfortunately, as he stepped off the tube, the man seemed to follow, though also seemed to be consciously staying a good distance away from Jon.
Jon's heart rate picked up again as he swiftly walked to the Institute, hoping the man wasn't following him.
He made it inside and climbed the stairs, opening the door to the research department. Tim sat at his desk and was chatting with Sasha, who sat perched on the corner of the desk holding a document, most liking on some new strange item that'd been transferred to Artifact Storage.
Jon was slowly getting closer to Tim over time, who'd introduced him to Sasha. They were close enough that Jon considered them his friends, going out for drinks every few weeks and chatting during the work day.
"Hey there, Jonny-boy!" Tim called when Jon came to sit at his desk opposite to Tim's.
"Morning, Tim," Jon mumbled, decided that he was not in the mood to entertain Tim by grumbling about being called 'Jonny-boy' again.
"You alright?" Sasha asked, sliding off the desk.
"Fine, fine," Jon waved his hand dismively, "just another odd dream, is all. You were in this one again, Tim."
Tim's face lit up, and he clapped his hands together while saying, "Ooo, what happened in this one? What did I do?"
"Opened a door," Jon stated flatly, then made a face while finishing, "and we got eaten by worms."
Sasha grimaced a bit at that, then asked, "What about me? Was I there?"
"I think you were meant to be?" Jon shrugged. "You and someone else. You were supposed to be there, but we'd lost you at some point. Probably in the tunnels."
"This one had spooky tunnels, too?" Tim interjected. "Wonder what all the dreams mean."
"They're probably just stress dreams," Jon sighed, then pulled some papers from his bag and placed them on his desk. "Lord knows I've had plenty of those," he muttered and turned on his computer.
#This Isn't Our First Time Around au#title from the song past lives because that song gave me the idea for this entire fic#massive spoilers for all of tma#jonathan sims#martin k blackwood#timothy stoker#sasha james#tma jmart#just a lil bit#fanfic#the magnus archives#tma fanfic#au fanfiction#dream au#dreams
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On Directionality of Movement in BNHA (and the Neat Reversals)
(Take 2 on this post, which gave me fits trying to post it. Fingers crossed it works this time, and sorry for any vanishing posts, people who reblogged the original.)
This post was initially conceived back in December, when I first saw the home release covers for HeroAca’s Season 6. They look like pretty standard stuff at first glance, but there was something about them that was very, very interesting: the direction the characters were moving.
(Hit the jump for an explanation spiced up with lots and lots of images from first American and then Japanese media.)
So, this is something that’s absolutely ubiquitous in visual media that a reader/viewer is probably never going to consciously register (at least without being told about it, as in, for example, film class or art school) because the emotional cues in play are intrinsically tied to a culture’s written language.[1] To wit, because written English progresses from the left to the right, the subconscious association with rightward movement is forward progress. Thus, in American media, be it stage, screen, or graphic panel when a character is moving from the left to the right, that directionality expresses forward movement, progress, agency, empowerment, righteousness, clear-mindedness, healthy ambition, heroism, and so forth. Progress is towards the unturned page.
[1] The broader term to use to research this further is “linguistic relativity.”
The chase Furiosa initiates in Mad Max Fury Road spends most of the movie heading to the right, before Max convinces Furiosa to return to the Citadel, at which point, naturally enough, the chase reverses directions, spending the rest of the film heading left.
Heroically smashing up cars in a rightward-facing direction, while people with less agency flee leftward.
Elsa spends most of this number moving to the left, the same direction she fled out of Arendelle, but as her resolve grows, the choreography stars reversing, moving her on the z-axis more, and when she declares her resolve to never go back, donning her ice queen dress, her directionality immediately shifts to right-facing. Even her turn at the end of the sequence, as she spins to walk back inside, is to the audience’s right.
Conversely, when a character is moving from the right to the left—against the flow of written English—that expresses return, backsliding, a lack of agency, powerlessness, wickedness, unhealthy ambition, difficulty, turmoil, and a generally dark or conflicted mentality. Regression and turmoil lie in the direction of the page that’s already been turned.
Nina’s grasp on reality is beginning to fracture due to the multifaceted stresses she’s facing.
Jean Grey is classically a heroic character, but you don’t get hero layouts when you’re giving in to dark urges and consuming suns.
Scar will start trending rightward when Be Prepared really gets underway, that song being all about his future plans and proactive evil, but for the introductory bits, he’s firmly left-facing—as is also the case when he hurls Mufasa to his death.
Of course, this doesn’t have to be a huge production! Even something as simple as Charlie Brown walking rightward out to the doghouse to feed Snoopy then leftward to go back inside fits this idea of forward vs. backward motion. (Compare this to, say, Dagwood, who runs leftward out his door to crash into the mailman every time he’s late for work.)
Naturally, you see this idea of directionality in confrontations as well.
In Hamilton, the title character is reflecting back on his past, the loved ones lost, his actions and the sort of legacy he will leave behind; he "throws away his shot" and dies. Burr, conversely, is thinking of his living daughter, of his determination to survive; he fires, bullet moving from left to right, and will go on to survive the duel.
Steven Q. Universe, facing the future despite the embodied wall of stasis and indifference standing in his way.
The Wicked Witch, facing leftward, attempts to scare the Tin Woodsman and Scarecrow from progressing any further with Dorothy towards her destination, which they would do by following the yellow brick road extending rightward off the screen.
You can see the reverse positioning—hero facing left, villain facing right—in cases like this, where the hero is making a dramatic defense against a villain in an attempt to stop their progression.
This isn’t a hard and fast rule, obviously—visual dynamism alone will mean characters move around and change position! It also doesn’t address movement on the y- and z-axes, nor does it necessarily account for e.g. mixed group compositions or romance scenes. Also, more intangible things like power dynamics, command of the scene, and shifting character motivations can change who’s moving/facing what direction. It’s not as basic as good-right, bad-left. Nonetheless, it’s an interesting thing to watch for.
However, all of the above is reversed in Japanese media. Written Japanese moves from the right to the left,[2] and therefore the mental association with forward progress/positivity versus regression/negativity is likewise with leftward versus rightward movement. Following are some obvious examples from works other than BNHA (no live action films because I don’t have the familiarity to be comfortable picking individual shots from them):
[2] In its normal vertical orientation, which is what you’ll find in books and manga. When arranged horizontally, as in scrolling marquees or banners or the like, usually it reads left-to-right, though this was not the case historically.
Anthy leaves her allegorical coffin, Ohtori Academy, in the final episode of Revolutionary Girl Utena.
A twist on Sena’s signature move, the Devil Bat Ghost, in Eyeshield 21. Check any sports manga you read and I would bet you good money that the protagonist team’s goal is on the left in most instances.
Mima, pictured here Really Going Through It. Note that Perfect Blue is the inspiration (to say the least) for Black Swan, above, but the psychological break is facing the other direction.
Cure Dream shows us the mixed feelings of being the leader of the last PreCure team that regularly killed their enemies.
So, that all laid out, let’s talk about how that looks in BNHA!
Like my other examples, the series is chock-full of examples, both of the usual forward-leftward, regression-rightward directionality, as well as a number of interesting plays against type. Below, have a pile of examples!
BNHA, manga and anime both, gets piles of face-off shots like this, and in every one of them that I’ve seen, it’s the same general layout: heroes moving leftward, villains rightward.
Deku attacks towards the turning page, while Muscular attacks against it. Tokoyami, mired in turmoil and a dangerous loss of control over his power, also faces rightward.
The specter of the past and the emblem of the future facing in the expected directions.
Here’s a telling group composition: the Stoplight trio working hard for their futures, ditto the man who moves too fast, while Endeavor and Fuyumi face forward, still somewhat unsure of their current situation, while Natsuo is actively going against the flow.
Of course, it holds in the single character images as well, like so:
Likewise, you can see the contrast even between images, like these two, announcing the anime adaptation of the Joint Training Arc and My Villain Academia, respectively:
Notice Shinsou, who's a major character in the arc but not quite a Hero Course classmate just yet, has his face turned away, back in the rightward direction.
You can see it more generally in the action itself, as well, not just the promo art. Think of moments like Shigaraki emerging from the warp at USJ, the race during the Sports Festival, the direction of All Might’s final punch—as well as Shouto’s later victory over Dabi—at Kamino, the direction Gentle Criminal (and thus Deku following him) is heading when trying to reach UA, and so forth.
And then there are the interesting subversions.
Usually, in the days of their most pitched rivalry, the forward-moving Deku is moving left, while the tumultuous, stuck in the past Bakugou is moving right, but he drifts more leftward-facing as he gradually begins to get his head on straight, as in their fight post-Kamino.
Shigaraki would be on the left if he were facing down Deku, but against All Might? Not so much. That makes this less a good versus evil stare-down and more a past versus future one.
This incredibly fucking telling composition, which I’ll let speak for itself:
Shigaraki, having the protagonist slot on loan for the duration of My Villain Academia, spends most of the Deika fight facing in the direction of the future, though Re-Destro interrupts this to take the left-facing when he’s challenging Shigaraki about having no vision. Shigaraki’s pseudo-apotheosis has his facing right as he destroys everything around him (Re-Destro facing left as he sees his future rewritten and his burden removed), but by the time we come to the aftermath in the crater, Shigaraki is moving forward again.
Interestingly, that does not necessarily follow for the rest of the League! Dabi and Geten trade off facings through the whole arc, while Toga is mostly rightward facing against Curious, only getting the leftward advancement at the very tail end, once she transforms into Uraraka. Twice’s doubles are often fairly leftward-aimed, as they’re driving the action forward, but Jin himself spends his big confrontation mostly facing outward, towards the reader, only getting much leftward-facing when he’s helping the unconscious Toga afterward. Mr. Compress, not having a dedicated match-up, is all over the place.
Spinner, though? Spinner is following Shigaraki both literally and in the sense that he spends the arc coming into his own. Thus, even when Shigaraki’s gotten ahead of him, Spinner maintains the leftward aim.
This can get more complicated than simple inversion, too!
For example, Gigantomachia is leftward moving in, really, virtually every scene he’s in. It really adds to how much he feels like a complete force of nature that, all throughout his earliest introduction, Kirishima’s flashback, MVA, and both war arcs, there are literally two (2) sequences in which he’s anything other than leftward-oriented for the bulk of his appearances, and both of them occur when he’s significantly struggling to make forward progress.
The first comes when he’s trying to leave the Gunga Villa and facing steep resistance; this conveniently lets the kids facing him (+Mount Lady, when she can get out ahead of him) heroically face left, like they usually do. Once Machia clears the Villa battleground, however, the rest of his route to Jakku is smooth, even sailing, and shows him returned to his usual leftward orientation.
The second is once he’s actually reached Jakku and the sedative has started kicking in. While he still gets a good number of leftward orientations, he’s tied down in a lot of them, and they’re mixed with more rightward and a considerable number of outward facings.
And that’s it, really. Even escaping from the holding facility built around him and confronting AFO, he gets leftward facing, with that only reversing in the moment AFO strikes him down.
Unlike Machia, Deku facing stiff opposition gets to keep a leftward progression when he comes up against heroic opposition in his fight against his classmates.
Shigaraki and Overhaul, appropriately for their vying for control of the villainous future, are constantly vying for the leftward facing position in their scenes/art spreads.
And then there’s the example that prompted this whole post—the home release covers of Season 6:
In other circumstances, I might chalk this up to the heroes being in the defending position—like Gandalf against the Balrog—but BNHA has not tended to do much with that visual; the heroes usually get to keep their heroic leftward facing even when they’re on the defense, as indeed is the case for all of Jakku that comes to mind! Yet just this once, for the anime art, we can see the futility the heroes are up against, trying to stop, as Dabi so aptly put it, the future coming down the pipeline, where all the heroes’ lip service will be blown away by chaos.
Thanks for reading through this, all, and my apologies if I mixed up my right and my left anywhere! I hope you enjoyed the pictures, and that you have fun spotting the patterns in your future media intake!
#bnha#my writing#image heavy#what makes them heroes and villains#going to become a villain if this doesn't post correctly
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Blood in the Cut (Eddie Munson, One Shot)
MINORS DNI
A/N: Sorry y'all I've been going through some things so this is a big, fat, 4000 world, smutty cathartic scream of a one shot. Older Eddie Munson x POC she/her reader. Title is based on a song by K. Flay that's been bouncing around my head lately.
CW: Rough unprotected sex (consentual), violence (bar fight), racial slur towards reader from a bigot, allusions of past suicide attempt, mental illness, trauma, and wounds, blood play (sort of?)
Summary: For years now Eddie's put the traumatic year of 1986 behind him by living an uneventful life and running The Hideout. Now a gruff but good-hearted middle-aged Munson has hired you (a young lady with a sad past of your own) as a bartender. One night a brawl breaks out and you become collateral damage in the violence. Only then does the prickly Eddie open up all the way to comfort you.
Blood in the Cut
The place was a shithole, but goddamit, it had become your shithole. It was a godsend when you rolled into the little town of Hawkins. You felt crusty, cramped and drowsy from hours on the Greyhound, but you made it. 1000 miles from your hometown, from the overbearing family who branded you a failure early on for being born with the wrong genitalia but expected perfection nonetheless. 1000 miles from the psych ward you ended up in when the pressure became too much. You tried not to think about the past anymore. Scars are easy enough to cover with make up or long sleeves, and nobody cares about the career you broke yourself trying to get when you just wind up opening beer bottles and mopping floors for a living.
Well, Eddie cared, but he hid it well. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have given you a chance that day. You had walked right into his bar and gestured to the shabby “help wanted” sign, shyly offering him a dog-eared resume. He gave you a long, unnerving, inscrutable stare from those big dark eyes.
You fidgeted as he nonchalantly scanned the paper over the haze of his cigarette. As the silence became too awkward for you, you piped up. “Uh...sorry it's...um...crinkled. I didn't have anywhere to print new ones.”
His face cracked into an amused grin suddenly, and it shocked you how quickly the grizzled guy could go from intimidating to disarming once his dimples came out to play.
“You...um...you do realized that this isn't exactly a place requiring a resume, right?”, he said, a cocky, teasing tone to his lazy voice.
You finally let out an exhale, “Yeah...yeah. I mean. I figured. But I already had it with me so you know...It's a little quicker than chatting to tell you my credentials. And as you can probably already tell, small talk isn't something I'm great at.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully, “ Well, bartenders do have to chit chat a little generally, but you're in luck, because not many customers come around here to talk.” He gestured a lanky tattooed arm to the tattered, dark, dive bar, the drunks having their liquid breakfast, and the ramshackle stage, as if to sarcastically say, behold, my kingdom.
“But anyway...impressive degree. Ivy League shit. Guess you're a long way from home. So, if you don't mind me asking, what is a young bright-eyed bushy-tailed little scholar like you doing in a shit town like this?” As he asked, his perceptive eyes darted down to your long sleeves; a bit unexpected in the warm spring air. He had an idea of what your answer would be, and it softened his heart more than usual.
You shrugged. Any attempt at pretense just dissolved in his presence. This man possessed a perfect radar for bullshit. You could tell. And besides, you'd relinquished any pride you had left at the hospital. There was no face left to save. “Well...Mr...”
“Munson...and just call me Eddie. Everyone does,” he clarified, grinding his spent filter in the ashtray.
“Eddie...Well, Eddie, I'm $70,000 deep in student loan debt from this impressive and apparently useless degree, and another $10,000 as the cherry on top for landing in the psych ward because of how I almost killed myself making sure I got it. Or rather, I tried to save my parents from their sunk investment in me, because the co-signer doesn't have to repay loans when the borrower kicks the bucket...or so I've been told. I'm 1000 miles away from it because I can't deal with my family reminding me that I'm an expensive disappointment every day of my life. But mom still calls me to shame me about how much it cost them to keep me alive...so there's that. And uh...these are more words than I've spoken in the last 5 months to anyone...so...sorry if I'm rusty at saying anything nicely.
Finally, you took a breath. Eddie just stared for a moment (that same inscrutable evaluation), nodded pensively then stood up from the bar stool. He simply reached out a calloused hand full of rings to shake yours. With a little grin he said, “Welcome to The Hideout.”
And that was that. You were here for 40 hours and 5 days a week. You tried to get overtime but Eddie always refused to let you, explaining, “you're a recovering workaholic and I don't want a relapse on my hands.” He always said it matter-of-factly with a flat expression until he turned his head just slightly from you to relieve himself of the smirk crawling across his plush lips.
Working side-by-side with him so much meant you got to observe him. You got the idea that in his youth he was probably rebellious, squirrely and bombastic, but he was taciturn and guarded now. Something had clearly pummeled that youthful anarchy out of him. The thought of it broke your heart a little. These days he kept his head down and hid under that mop of wild brown-sugar-colored curls. When he slid by you in the small space of the bar you noticed the little silver coils running through the strands, here and there. Your boss was still squirrely though; always tapping his fingers or feet in time with the soundtrack. He always seemed primed to run.
When you got a chance to look at him (really look at him) you couldn't help but wonder if Eddie knew he was a damn fine-looking man. He lived above the bar, but never once had you seen him take anyone home with him, or leave with anyone. Running this place seemed to be his life. What a waste, you thought, considering that nobody got to see that beautiful, tattooed, body without any clothes.
On slow days you'd usually hang out quietly behind the bar; both reading, and occasionally breaking the silence to talk about your books, or about the music Eddie had chosen, or about art or movies or languages or history or science. He was a bright guy and you treasured those chances to flex your academic muscles. In fact, you wondered if he hired you just to have someone to talk to like this. Hawkins wasn't exactly crawling with intellectuals and forward thinkers. Most of the local truckers, factory workers, farmers, and deputies who stopped by the Hideout would narrow their eyes in suspicion or confusion when they clocked your dark hair and tan skin. If they seemed about to say something stupid, Eddie would always nip it in the bud, giving them a warning glare that told them in no uncertain terms, not to fuck with you. Eddie felt a slowly building swell of protective impulse for you. You seemed so young and small and soft, even thought he knew you were tougher than you seemed...in some ways, tougher than him.
Once, only once, did some pea-brained idiot dare to snap at you and call you a “camel jockey”. That was the day Eddie broke a beer bottle on the counter, pointed it to the guy's beefy neck and hauled him outside, muttering quietly that if he ever showed his face here again he would end up in an ambulance. After that, word spread quickly that no one talked shit about Eddie's mysterious new bartender if they valued their lives. That was the day you began to realize you were becoming truly smitten with this man; his humble decency and thoughtful nature and even the pain behind those big brown eyes...but...he was your boss. So you weeded the idea out as soon as it began to sprout. You settled on simply saying, “Thank you,” and giving a relieved exhale.
He nodded and said, “Don't mention it. Fucking idiots. My friend Lucas and his family had the same problems. It wasn't easy for them, being the only black family in this hick town. Jesus Christ. I hoped it had gotten a lot better than this. That's a shame...they should be ashamed. Shit. I'm ashamed!” You chuckled and assured him he had nothing to be ashamed of, but he was embarrassed by proxy anyway. It was so scorching hot when he defended you like that, getting rough around the edges with righteous anger and a willingness to fight dirty. It didn't make the crush any easier to kill.
Much like dandelions, crushes have a way of popping back up, but you stayed removed and kept your interpersonal walls at a height matching his, though you would occasionally enjoy a chat from open windows in warm lamplight. You really treasured those chats and glimpses, when both of you reached out carefully from your barricades. You couldn't know that Eddie lived for those moments just as much. He'd been alone for so long, and now this fascinating young lady walked right through his door like a godsend. He was grateful for this friendship, and he would never dare to hope for it to become more. What use would an incredible young lady like you have for grumpy old Eddie Munson?, he thought.
-------
It was a Saturday night, rowdy as hell. Some shitty local band had just closed their set and packed their van, and the audience was worked up. You and Eddie and taken turns hauling keg after keg of cheap beer from the basement as they were swiftly emptied. It was an annoying crowd, but Eddie was proud of how well you kept up and you were happy for how well business was booming for him tonight.
You two were in the homestretch, but your nerves were fraying after a long night of drunken idiots. Eddie put a little ditty on the sound system called “The Closing Time Song” with the charming refrain of “get the fuck out” as he did every night to playfully alert the clients that it was time to leave. Everyone was gone aside from two knuckleheads who began screaming at each other for no apparent reason while you had begun sweeping.
You both knew the drill for this; get them outside to mitigate property damage and make their little scuffle the concern of Hawkins' finest rather than yours. Eddie was afraid to let you handle this at first, but after a few times he realized you're a lot stronger and tougher than you looked. At this point you manhandled jerks out the door with ease as often as he did. You huffed and set your broom aside. Eddie was in the back counting out the till, so you stepped up, walking swiftly towards them, grateful that it was still just verbal.
As you moved to shove the big galoots out the door, they suddenly began throwing punches, not seeing you underfoot, you got an elbow and a smack right in the face. You yelled every expletive in every language you knew as you kicked them out the door and slammed it shut, locking it behind behind them. As you turned around and strode back to the bar, you realized the noise had summoned Eddie from the back. He looked at you wide-eyed and concerned.
Through the buzz of adrenaline you didn't realize how badly you were hurt until you held your sleeve to your face and it came away soaked with blood. “Fuck,” you hissed, grabbing a bar rag and holding it to your face. Suddenly, you felt like crying. You hadn't been able to cry in months, even though you wished you could let it out. It was like the physical hit, the blood, the adrenaline, the anger, unraveled the dissociation choke-holding your emotions. You were horrified and decided Eddie would not see you cry. He'd mostly seen you being smart and tough and you'd be damned if you let him see you weep like a child.
You muttered, “I'll gonna go clean this up and grab another vodka for the speed rack. I'll be right back.” You heard him call your name after you as you flew down the hallway and down into the basement storage room. You closed the door behind you, found the janitor sink between the stock shelves. You bled and sobbed into the stained square basin, wondering what the fuck your life had come to. You prayed to a god you didn't believe in that Eddie would keep his distance. When the minutes passed without interruption, you heaved a sigh of relief, bending more deeply at the waist and resting your arms on the ledge.
You didn't hear him coming. All you saw was big hand holding out a clean bar towel neatly wrapped around ice cubes as he said in a quiet deadpan, “We don't need another vodka in the speed rack.”
“Thanks,” you huffed, wiping away the tears and blood with the old towel then pressing the ice pack to your face.
Deflect. You thought, picking up one of the bottles of Ketel One and grimacing to your boss. “Well, really, nobody need this shit, Eddie. Jesus, can't even spring for one that doesn't come in a plastic bottle?”
Eddie shrugged. He was standing with his arms crossed, leaning beside the sink. “We obviously don't have the most discerning clientele. Come here. You're doing that wrong,” he snipped, pulling out two folding chairs to face each other and ordering, “Sit. Lean forward, not back. And let me check it.”
You gingerly took the pack off of your face and he touched it, feather-lightly, to inspect it. “Huh, well, it doesn't seem broken. Just a hell of a nosebleed and probably a nasty bruise for a few days.”
You nodded, returning the pack to your aching skin. “Sounds like your know your way around getting hit in the face.”
“Oh yeah,” he said with a chuckle as he prepped another fresh towel for you. “I was bully target number 1 most of my youth. 'Hunt the freak,' they called it. My punishment for being a weird loud ugly little gremlin who played DnD.”
You shook your head, too rattled to watch your words “Idiots. Ugly little gremlin! What the fuck. Eddie, you're gorgeous. Don't pretend you don't know that.”
Eddie smiled wider than you'd ever seen him smile. His cheeks turned bright pink. His dark eyes sparkled. “What? Do you have a concussion or something?”
Oh god. I shouldn't have said that...uh deflect. “Well shit...I hope not. My insurance is shit.”
“Hey!” Eddie whined in mock-offense, “it's the same insurance I have.”
“Yeah, and I can't help but notice you never go to the doctor either.”
They both chuckled awkwardly, and an even more pregnant silence settled until Eddie said, “you know, you're lucky. When I would cry after being beat up, you could see it all over my face, my eyes would be red and puffy and my face and neck would be all red like I just ran a marathon. You don't even look like you've been crying.”
You shrugged, “One up-side of darker skin...I don't get red. Blushing, bruises, crying...scars...none of it shows up as much. I can hide my feelings pretty well.”
Eddie gazed at you, eyes full of bittersweet compassion. “I wish you wouldn't though.” He reached his hands out to yours.
You looked down and noticed your sleeves were pushed up from your attempt to clean up the blood. Now the ruddy splotches decorated your arms and cuffs, and beneath them, the scars on your wrist were clearly exposed in the florescent lights. You rushed to pull the sleeves over your scars, but Eddies calloused fingers stopped you, as he ran them gently up and down the slightly darker, rougher skin running up your forearms. “Please. Please don't hide it. Not with me at least. I know the story, after all, and I don't judge you.”
Deflect. God, his face is so close. His pretty pretty face. “Ah...well...you can judge me for being an idiot tonight.”
Eddie averted his eyes, sat back and then stood up. He was hoping for a more intimate moment, but you just made it clear that he shouldn't, so he played along. “Yeah....totally. What the fuck were you thinking, huh?...All 5'2 of you gonna take on a couple of meat slabs like that?”
“Hey I'm 5'4, and don't tease me about being short. The hobbits saved Middle Earth, remember?”
He turned so suddenly that you almost ran directly into his chest and you dropped the ice pack. He caught it between you. You, once again, found you were close...so very close.
You forced out a chuckle, “Nice reflexes.”
He shrugged and said absentmindedly, “well...you know...guitarist.” But he hardly knew what he was saying. He was staring at your lips.
“Yeah,” you sighed out then pointed to the ice pack. “ I don't think I need that now. The bleeding stopped.”
Eddie said quietly, “Okay, just let me check.” He gently held your face in his hands again, looking around it for any cuts or swelling. There were a few small splotches, but none serious. Before long he realized he was no longer noticing the wounds, too wrapped up in the feeling of his hands cradling your soft tawny skin as his fingertips fanned teasingly into your dark hair. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing, as he tentatively stroked down the side of your face. “Does...does it hurt there?”
“No,” you said in a whisper.
“What about here?” he asked, quietly brushing hair from your temples.
“No,” you repeated.
His pointer finger ran lightly over the curve of your lips. The bottom one had a tiny cut where your teeth had grazed it. His eyes followed his finger as he asked even more quietly, “What about here?”. He took a step closer.
“No,” you repeated, mirroring his step in with your own.
“Good,” he said as he leaned in, closing the distance. Eddie kissed you with those plush delicious lips you wanted to taste for so long. He was shy at first, still cradling your face like you were made of fine china, but when you opened your mouth inviting him in, he pushed harder into you, smelling and tasting the coppery blood on your skin. Eddie's warm wet tongue met yours and explored, thirsty for you. When you pulled away you bit lightly on his lower lip before releasing him and he groaned in delight.
You looked up to meet his big sweet eyes with yours. With desperation in your voice, you confessed, “Eddie...I want you to touch me. I want it to hurt. I want to cry. I just want to feel something...let something, anything out.”
Eddie was breathing deeply. He was already growing hard and hot against you. Groaning, he said, “God, sweetheart, you don't know what you're asking for. Fuck...I want it. I want you.”
“Fight me,” you growled. And he grunted back as he lifted you onto a shelf, slotting his skinny hips between your plush thighs. He grabbed one of your wrists and licked up your inner forearm where your old scars and new blood mingled together under his hot, wet, tongue. You'd never let anyone touch you there before, and it was so intimate, so arousing, it made you limp in his arms. If this was a fight, he was already winning, and you couldn't have that.
You gripped your greedy hands into those gorgeous curls and tugged to see how he liked it. Judging by how loudly he groaned and the way his thick erection twitched against his jeans, he loved it.
You giggled. “Oh Eddie, you moan like a whore.”
He muttered, “Come on, you love it.” from where his mouth was now latched to your jugular vein, no doubt raising blossoms of blood under the tender skin. His harsh sucking and the light scratch of his teeth set off dynamite in your bloodstream
You whimpered and confessed, “Mmmm! I do. I fucking love it.”
He gripped your ass and growled into your ear, “Open wider for me, sweetheart...atta girl”. You obeyed. His arm snaked around you waist as he pulled you tight against his chest. He rubbed the cleft of your cunt over the seam of your jeans. You whimpered and melted, head lolling on his shoulder as you panted.
“These gotta go,” he said, hooking his fingers in your belt loops and grazing the button of your fly. “That okay, honey?”
You begged, “Yes...yes, Eddie. Jesus fucking Christ, yes. Do whatever you want with me.”
Eddie let out a surprised breathy chuckle and you felt it reverberate against you. “Fuck, baby, now who's moaning like a whore?” he teased, with a shit-eating grin.
You had no words, you were too rapt watching his clever hands easily undo your pants; hastily tearing away anything keeping his mouth from immediately tasting your pussy.
You shrieked at the sensation of his long tongue dancing around your wet velvety folds. After a few unhurried laps he came up for air with a gasp of awe. “God, you have the prettiest pussy,” he said, slowly teasing his fingertips along where your brown skin became a deeper, more saturated hue, like the center of a flower; rich and lovely and soft, like fine dark silk. Eddie slid a finger on either side of your clit, pinching and coaxing the little jewel to the surface. The rough callous against your most sensitive skin scratched a little, hurt a little, and the ache felt so good. He stared at where his fingers moved as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, then continued worshiping at it, like a shrine, saying his devoted prayers in mumbles as he consumed.
He sucked your clit, nestling it between his full lips, while two rough fingers moved in and out of you. You panted as he found a rhythm, demanding, “More....more please. Harder...”
Suddenly he withdrew his fingers and watched your confusion with amusement. He stared menacingly and stepped back, making a show of taking off his layers. His chains clattered against the concrete floor as he stripped for you until he was completely naked; unguarded. Despite the confident posture, his puppy eyes pleaded for approval in his vulnerability, and you were only too happy to give it to him.
You gasped out, “Jesus Eddie, you're incredible...you're so pretty. I've wanted you like this for so long.”
He came closer again and pressed an unexpectedly gentle kiss to your temple as his hands worked at your shirt and bra. He noticed your hands shaking; how nervous you were to be bare with him.
He kissed you under your ear then whispered into it. “I know you're scared, sweetheart, but you don't need to be. I want to see all of you. Let me see all of you, huh? You're so pretty.”
He stroked your now-bare shoulder. Eddie loved the hue of his pale skin against yours, the different flesh tones winding together, perfectly complimenting...meant to be.
You bit Eddie's earlobe and buried your greedy hand into his hair as you said, “I need it rough, Eddie, please. Don't be gentle.”
“Anything you want, baby. Anything,” he groaned out as he pushed into you, in one hard thrust.
Your breath caught for a moment as the ache volleyed through your body. You felt yourself crack open..shatter, finally shatter, finally release. You felt hot tears and hot arousal pulse through you in a cascade. Eddie met your eyes, concerned.
You nodded and smiled through the blood and tears “I'm fine. Eddie, I'm fine. I need this. I love this.”
Eddie loved it too. He felt a little guilty about how much he loved it, but that just made him even harder. He felt like a hungry animal gorging himself on your sweet broken body, licking at your tears and cuts as your tangled weight hit the shelf again and again. The clanging tempo built until you both came in a crescendo of shuttering, gripping, biting and grunting.
As you both caught your breath, slumped against each other, Eddie rubbed sweet little circles on your back and kissed your forehead. He pulled out gently and his eyes grew wide with shock and fear as he noticed blood mingled with his cum and your wetness.
He gasped in surprise and concern, “Oh, sweetheart...fuck...I...I didn't know or I would have been more careful with you....would...would have made it special. Shit..I...I'm so sorry.”
You grabbed his face, smiling broadly, drunk with afterglow and shaking your head, “Shhh shhh. No, no please don't apologize. I wanted it like this. Needed it like this. I had to let it all out. Thank you, Eddie....thank you.
You nuzzled into his chest and he held you tightly, kissing the top of your head protectively. He said quietly, “Okay, honey. But for now, we're gonna go upstairs and take a nice hot bath and curl up in bed together...that alright with you? I...I liked it like that too, but I want to take care of you after something like that. No hiding, got it?”
“Yeah...yeah I got it.”
“Good,” he said, smiling and kissing you. You noticed you'd left a little collection of bruises on Eddie, just as he left some wounds on you. Noticing your worried look, he held your face and met your eyes with a satisfied smile. “Hey...don't worry. I loved it. Now let's go play hospital.”
@hellfirenacht @fairyysoup @take-everything-you-can @sweetsigyn @elegantkoalapaper @veemoon @slutty-thevampireslayer @little-wormwood @leelei1980 @ladyofthestayingpower
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#Eddie Munson x POC reader#eddie munson#eddie munson hurt and comfort fic
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30 days Hypnosis Mic challenge
DAY 3: favorite song of your favorite division
🎤 「Stella」
(link)
I apologize in advance, but I'm going to blather a lot about this.
This song is really special to me because it reminds me of a particular time in my life, specifically of a winter ... the one of the lockdown.
I remember that the first time I listened to Stella, the first thing which caught me out of guard was the music and the very peculiar vibe. Both had a strange effect on me, conveying a feeling of immensity as well as being perfectly capable of making me imagine that I was scattered in a galaxy, although at that first listen I had no idea what the song was about, and the title had me more imagining something to do with idols (lol, no).
I can't quite explain this, but I remember that I literally freezed when the piano started playing and a sense of powerful nostalgia immediately hit me hard. Because. Wtf was THAT???? I didn't expected such a vibe??? (gradually my mind started to create a connection with my childhood memories of Dragon Ball GT (LOL)).
And then, the narration started.
I understood little to no Japanese at the time, so I couldn't have even remotely grasped any words that might provide me with a start on the content of the song, but as soon as Dice's rap started, I immediately screamed WOOOOHH??! What is this stuff??? SO COOL, OMG???
And then Gentaro.
There, gentlemen, Gentaro's part was something exceptional to hear for the first time. The atmosphere between his first stanza and the second one is COMPLETELY different and the way he closes with the last verse, "ore mo ubai satte kure MESSAIAAAH〜"
KYAAAHHHHH!!! SO SEXY?!?!? SO FU****G HOT.
Then Ramuda's part, with that mechanical tone and that way of breaking sentences and words that is extraordinarily difficult to follow ...
So here's the chorus ... and that single chord on the word "starlight", with that change in tone that gave me a sense of immensity (???), that kidnapped my heart.
The second part of the song, in which a real dialogue between the members begins, intrigued me even more because there I could pick up on something, actually, and I wanted to understand why the hell DICE had such a serious tone in this damn (affectionate) song. It was so strange, for him!!!
In conclusion, at the end of listening, I pounced to look for a translation.
And my world changed.
I came to know that this song was plotted as a Gentaro's story (and that alone, to me, is simply brilliant) about a bandit, a king and a scientist whose respective planets are in ruins, for one reason or another. But they all find themselves gazing at the same falling star and thus begins a journey through the galaxy, which will see member after member recruited on this journey, tearing each of them out of their ruined reality...Until the scientist, the hardest to convince. But the words and support of the other two will be able to bring him, too, out of the dark into the light...and make him too take part in that wonderful journey.
We can understand this as a metaphor for the Fling Posse and the relationship that subsists between them:
The shooting star represents them as a group, their union;
The journey could represent the inner discovery that the three of them are taking together, to get to know each other better and trust each other, to the point of creating a true and indissoluble bond;
The scientist, who doesn't trust others and sees no meaning into joining them, is clearly the Ramuda of the past who, thanks to Gentaro and Dice, gradually learns to want to live and to truly trust his companions;
Also, funny to see how the role of the king was assigned to Dice, considering that he's the son of the governor, in the Hypmic universe.
Well. Wow.
Wonderful.
My heart is yours, Fling Posse.
So, Stella was THE song by Fling Posse that made me reach the concrete certainty that they, from that moment on, would have to be my favorite division, without any doubt. It's a song that had a very special effect on me from the very first listen. I can't quite describe what it feels like, as I hear it. It may also be the fact that I particularly love anything that has to do with the universe and galaxies, so I would say that the vibe described is perfect for me lol.
It's a song that I can't skip when it starts playing and it gets me every time. It's not for nothing that my level of obsession is such that I made a journal spread (link) and a mini MV (link).
Check them out, if you're curious! ^^
[Side note: today's Ramuda's birthday...so happy birthday with this?!]
#hypnosis mic#hypmic#stella fling posse#fling posse#day 3#30 days hypnosis mic challenge#30 day challenge#30 days challenge#ramuda amemura#amemura ramuda#gentaro yumeno#yumeno gentaro#dice arisugawa#arisugawa dice#anime#manga#japanese rap#my art#hypnosis mic fanart#hypmic fanart#fling posse fanart#artists on tumblr
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Babii v Polca
I want to first start this off by prefacing: I’m a babii first, Tay fan second. So, clearly I have a bias. Take what I say with a grain of salt. But the Babii 24/7 concert blew the Polca Time Traveling concert out of the water.
Stats at a glance. OffGun’s concert lasted 2.5 hours and their group performed 22 songs. TayNew’s lasted a little past 3 hours and they did 25. OffGun had 13 songs they performed together (just them), and each had a solo song. TayNew had 12 songs they performed together (just them), and also each had a solo song. OffGun had 9 different outfits, TayNew had 7. OffGun had 8 guests: Neo, Aungpao, Fourth, and the five members of Lykn. TayNew had 7: Gemini, Ford, Mook, Sing, Janhae, Junior, and Mark. Neither concert’s tickets sold out at the venue, but I want to say OffGun had about 20ish tickets left, and TayNew had 12. They both sold out of their plushie keychain at the venue.
Now onto my analysis. These concerts can easily be broken into three different moments. It’s usually a song, or a transitional phase with music or a fun video clip, followed by chatter to allow for change in set designs and costumes. After watching TayNew’s concert, I am almost positive they had more chatter than OffGun’s. I went back through my recordings of both concerts and these are my findings.
When I timed “chatter” I specifically only counted moments when there was no music. I did not include the fan videos at the end of their shows within that time, but I did count the talking to the audience afterwards. I usually don’t mind chatter but when subtitles are so delayed or inaccurate during a live performance, I tend to lose interest. So for me personally, it can affect how I view the concert flow.
OffGun had about ~52 minutes of chatter. Of that, there was ~12 minutes dedicated to their OffGun Fun Night segment. Which, if you understand the premise of their show…that’s the whole point. They host a talk show. There’s supposed to be chatter. But to try and be more fair, I did include those 12 minutes in my total time.
TayNew had ~68 minutes of chatter. The difference between their chatter and that of OffGun’s seemed significantly noticeable to me. Perhaps it was because most of the chatter involved was on a blank stage with a wide cast. TayNew got lost in the group for me at times. Whereas OffGun’s longest chatter segment (the OGFN part) was hosted on a bed with Fourth. So it made it more fun and interesting for me.
Which, the bed. This brings me to another point. I feel like OffGun had more time to come up with the concept of their show. They utilized props more. The idea of a convenience store for the 24/7 theme was brilliant. Their hosting of a “ribbon cutting” scene in front of their store to begin their concert was perfect. Then having a shelf with products they could flirt against was a nice touch. I’m trying to remember what outside props TayNew had and can only come up with the Polcasan robot thing, a few chairs, and a picnic bench. It seemed like OffGun gave more consideration to their theme and stuck with it. There were even three songs within their set list that had 24/7 in their lyrics, further bringing up the concert's title.
So, all in all, I’m giving this one to OffGun guys. The concert flow was tight, the songs coincided with their theme, their outfits were above and beyond, props too. I also loved that for their closing song they jumped down from the stage and walked through the audience to sing. To me this added another personal touch and really showed how much they love and appreciate babiis.
Yes, I’m biased. But there’s a reason for it. I think OffGun are creative geniuses and their concert proved that.
Will I rewatch TayNew’s concert? No.
Will I rewatch OffGun’s? Honey, it’s been seven days and I’ve seen it three times already. We already know the answer there.
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enemies to lovers + monoceros caeli + sun spot
request - monoceros caeli (childe/tartaglia) + sun spot (adapting each other's little habits) + enemies to lovers x gn!reader
warnings - this entire drabble is just you and childe sparring, canon-typical violence, mild description of non-specific injuries
a/n - i'm practically frothing at the mouth from how good an idea this is WOOOOOO i decided in the end to put a little twist on the prompt and have you both adopt each other's fighting techniques but i hope you enjoy!! i know i enjoyed writing this >:) (special shoutout to brynn who gave me excellent enemies to lovers advice because i, admittedly, have no idea how to write enemies to lovers LMAO) also this is my first written piece in a while so apologies if it sounds a lil wonky, i'm a tad rusty :P but the break has definitely helped me and i felt it as i was finishing this up! this has been in my drafts for about 2 months and i'm super glad to just finally finish it LMAO
metal clashed against metal in a flurry of dizzying, electric sparks. you grit your teeth and skid backwards on the soles of your shoes. dust billowed up from the disturbance, playfully swirling around you as you heaved a breath and readied your weapon for his next attack with eyes haunted by memories of his blade.
moonlight licked at your cheeks, hauntingly. your shadow followed your body in a dance as you dodged another blow. hydro droplets flung against your skin and left an imprint that burned too harsh for water.
"you've gotten weaker since we last battled." childe spat, a snarling grin stretching itself across his devilish lips. how traitorous the moonlight was for casting its ethereal, gentle glow on a living weapon of a man making him appear as a heavenly angel when he was no more than the worst demon from hell.
a flurry of your knives hurled themselves towards him. eager, thirsty and lusting for victory.
the garters that clung to your thighs and upper arms were now barren of the metal; thrown for naught as childe easily danced past your attempts to ambush him. you would've thought with his lanky limbs he might've sustained even a nick but here he remained: unscathed, much to your dismay.
"don't spout nonsense at me, harbinger." the title dripped venomous poison off your tongue between gritted teeth.
your body lurched forwards. you were tired of this song and dance and the harbinger needed someone to pry away his flute from his conniving little hands. your blade moved as an extension of your arm; as an extension of your hatred towards this man who drove you to the brink of insanity then drew you back in with a smile dipped in a corrosive, addicting liquid.
continued utc!
his arm thrashed upwards, watery droplets trailing behind his blade to block your strike. gods, how you wanted to wipe that charming little pretty boy smirk off his face.
"oh, so you think i'm pretty? my, how flattering." he crooned, devilishly from beneath the silver of your blade. curses, you said that out loud.
"you're pretty annoying if anything. now shut up and face me."
he whistled lowly, standing to full height as he knocked your blade back and twirled his own with deft, nimble fingers. "feisty thing, aren't you?"
your reply came in the form of quick swings of your weapon at his chest. a most appropriate response, you figured.
childe merely laughed and parried your attacks with a smile that made the skin on your neck crawl. his arm caught your waist in a bind and drew your body close against his, pinning your hands against his body and effectively disarming you for the moment. the hammer of his heart beat wildly against the thin skin of his chest like thunder itself swirled in the capacity of his lungs. chills scaled up and down your body as you squirmed desperately in his hold. a gloved finger traced an invisible line from behind your ear trailing along the side of your jugular down to your sternum, where childe finally stilled his movements.
"you're like a firework," he hummed with lidded eyes that swirled with an emotion you couldn't decipher, "when you burn, you burn brightly and fiercely. the impression you leave behind is beautiful—a spectacle that rings clear within a void, black sky..."
his voiced turned deep and clear, just above a whisper near your ear as he brushed his lips against the shell.
"it's such a shame that fireworks must fizz away into nothingness."
rage you'd never felt before seeped into your bones. white, hot, furious. this man was incredulous. with a cry you broke free of his hold, not missing and relishing in the surprise caught on his stupid face for the briefest of moments before it melted into a smile you could only describe as crazed.
he tackled you to the ground with the eagerness of a puppy, blue eyes wild and amazed like the swirl of a hurricane. you quickly kicked him backwards, looped your legs around his shoulders and squeezed with all your might before throwing him off to the side. childe broke into a fit of coughs, tenderly massaging the base of his neck as if to soothe the ache.
"quit babying yourself and get up, harbinger. we've yet to finish this." you spat as you rose from the ground and gripped your blade.
childe sputtered out a laugh and rose on shaky legs, "my, what a move! you've got some real tricks up your sleeve, comrade!"
you rolled your eyes. the absolute nerve of this man! "there will be plenty more where that came from if you sit still like a good boy and take your beating silently." your blade flickered ominously in the glint of the moonlight with an eager calling for his defeat.
"we both know that's not possible." he chuckled.
childe barely had a moment's reprieve before you lunged at him again with fire billowing in your pupils. with childe's physical strength it was difficult for you to imagine winning in melee combat and yet the stubborn part of you wanted to push your boundaries and face up directly against this devilish adrenaline junkie whose eyes sometimes made your heart skip a beat.
his hands moved deftly with his blade to parry your blows and attempt to deal some of his own. familiar lips were stretched into a grin that both simultaneously sent shivers of fear and intrigue down your spine.
no! no, your spine shivered at the mere thought of finding him attractive. childe of all people? you wanted to pause the battle and have a moment to reevaluate your thoughts. oh, but his eyes swam so beautifully with battle-lust in the innocence of moonlight...
you scoffed aloud and shook your head to empty your brain of the ridiculous thoughts. with your mind distracted, you barely had a moment to react when childe threw his body weight at you. your immediate response echoed back to his earlier move on you: your arm swept out and locked around his waist, pinning his arms to your body and rendering him incapable of movement.
"huh, copying my moves now are you?" childe grinned, all teeth. "well, in that case..."
in mere moments, you were thrown to the ground. barbatos himself seemed to arrive just to steal all the air from your lungs as your back hit the ground. before you could gather your wits, childe's legs had snaked up to your neck and squeezed mightily before echoing your earlier move and throwing you to the side, leaving you gasping for air.
"do i leave you breathless, comrade? i wasn't aware i had such an effect on you." childe drawled as he crouched on the balls of his heels and peered down at you like one would a pitiful childe. "now, how will you be admitting defeat? i expect some tears and perhaps maybe a favor owed or two."
archons, how did you even find this asshole attractive before? it doesn't count that him peering down at you with a sheen of sweat over his skin and fringes of his bangs clinging to his forehead made your stomach turn with the weight of butterflies.
with all the might and anger left in your system, you looked up at him and hissed, "go to...hell..." before lunging forwards at him with hands that sought his head (metaphorically, of course).
"wrong answer, sunshine!" he laughed and rolled over so he loomed over your body.
you'd been sparring with childe a long while, but now was one of the rare times you got to see him up close in all his sweat-bathed, battle-hungry glory. his chest heaved up and down from beneath the clothes that clung to his skin. blue eyes that seemed lost in an endless myriad of ocean water roved over your body with a thrill that you'd never seen in him before. a trickle of sweat cautiously teetered down the slope of his jaw before descending madly down his throat and over his adam's apple, which bobbed furiously.
"you're staring, comrade. do you really find me pretty?" he bat his eyelashes flirtatiously and you resisted the urge to sock him in the throat right then and there.
your leg curled around his waist and you flipped your positions so that you now straddled childe's waist. blade still in your hand, you pinned his wrists above his head and leaned downwards towards his ear to mimic his actions from earlier.
"that's a secret you'll never know."
with skilled hands you grabbed his hydroblades from his hands and sat back up, smugly dangling them from the hook of your index finger. "i win, harbinger."
you expected a cocky reply or perhaps even a smug laugh. but, instead, you were met with a speechless (for once) childe whose freckled cheeks blossomed with a shade of red you never knew existed. his lips parted as if to speak but for once his tap of mystical words and snarky jokes had run dry.
"aw, cat got your tongue? you know you're cuter when you're quiet." the index finger of your unoccupied hand moved just beneath his jaw to tip his head backwards. his compliancy surprised you, but it remained a victory in your mind nonetheless.
"so, best of threes? when do i get the pleasure of beating you to a pulp again?" you smiled gleefully as you rose from the ground and dusted your clothes.
if you had looked behind for a moment you would've seen the warbled smile that stretched across childe's face and the gleam of the toothy smile that cracked from his rosy red cheeks as he cast an arm over his eyes.
"anytime you want, sunshine."
he doesn't think your secret was much of a secret, and neither did you. just the way you both preferred it to be.
#5k/anni event. written in the stars#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact drabbles#childe genshin impact#tartaglia genshin impact#childe#tartaglia#childe drabbles#genshin x reader#genshin impact fluff#genshin fic
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WIP Tag/Reblog Game
Thank youuuuu @aidanchaser!
List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)
An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing
Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!
Then tag 10 writer friends!
WIP TITLES
Specifically 5 fanfics this time around - the things that are loudest about rattling my head at the moment.
Timetravel AU - Septimus Heap
After a series of escalating deaths, Marcia and Septimus use the House of Foryx to travel back in time and - hopefully - fix things.
Merlin Resurrection AU - working title "I Refuse"
Merlin has been alive for a thousand years, and he just found out that the rest of the gang is back. The problem is, none of them fully remember anything: It's only just enough to spook Arthur hard enough that he cut contact with all of the others and is trying his hardest to just be an obnoxious college student.
Three is Company - Septimus Heap, role swap AU.
Prequel/Equel to The Long Way Home. Answers such thrilling questions as "how did Septimus get adopted by the Queen?", "how much trauma can you put into one freshly-minted EOW?" and "What exactly IS going on between Marcia, Milo and Cerys?"
The Egypt Agenda Part 4: The Distant Goddess
I have yet to properly write out my Egyptian analysis of Nona the Ninth! Also I've been meaning to put the other parts on Ao3 for a while
Gideon the Musical
Ohhhh boy I just rediscovered this while going through my drafts and?? I mean no there's pretty much nothing in that file yet but now I really want to pick it up again
UPCOMING SECTIONS
I am two-thirds through the scene in which Septimus and Simon infiltrate the Young Army to rescue 412. I'm not sure why I haven't kept working because technically I'm at such a juicy point? 412 thinks he's about to be thrown into DN1, Septimus can't tell him what's really going on, and Simon is being told to do a spell that this-timeline Simon has no reason to know. It's GOOD I think I'm just scared I can't hit the correct balance for it
sgahjhgsshfdg Merlin just met Gwen and the Knights at a metal concert and they made their way backstage to greet Morgana and Morgause but like. Morgana is half-convinced he'll try to kill her again. Gwen is crying. Merlin is inwardly screaming because if THEY'RE all back does that mean Arthur is as well???
I probably COULD skip the explanations and just continue the scene where he confronts Arthur. I'm just.... not sure how to resolve it yet. Stubborn Prince is being Stubborn.
Milo just fished a baby from the river and is walking towards the Palace to greet his wife and newborn daughter. He is about to a) be accosted by a very panicked Marcia b) have to fast-talk his way past the Supreme Custodian and c) find out that his daughter is very dead. Noone is having a good day, except maybe for me, because all of this is setup for some VERY stupid miscommunication.
DID YOU KNOW that there's an actual myth in which "Alecto" runs off to live in a land where "John" has no direct jurisdiction so he has to send "Ianthe" to cajole her into coming back? YEAH. THAT
Act I works pretty well! Even Act II is fine! It gets more difficult after that.
Anyway I have decided there's going to be a song called "To the Floor" and then it can have reprise elements in all the other duel scenes. How? I dunno whatever gave you the idea that I know what I'm doing
No way I can think of 10 and I don't know if any of you have already been tagged but hmmmm - @echo-has-queries @into-september @trainsinanime @liesmyth @septimus-heap
#chaos writes#tag games#there's nothing for ML on there right now.... there's already so much angst in these I couldn't stomach putting my Daemon AU on there too
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So IDK if any of you are interested, but I felt the need to write a sort of DVD commentary for Adding on Weight talking about easter eggs and inspirations.
General
Working title was "Die a Boring Death" but I decided that it didn't make sense past chapter 5.
I spent a lot of time trying to find something about longing, about wanting someone to want something. About wanting to be wanted, or wanting in general. I never found it and I'm not sure I like the title I landed on.
(The song after the chapter is where the title is from.)
Chapter 1: Dial Drunk, Noah Kahan
I moved the timeline of the book because I wanted everyone to have more time to feel consequences. Kaz gets happy years before he gets imprisoned. Matthias is in Hellgate for longer. Everyone has a long enough time to actually work through the grief because I don't have to write YA where they're 17 years old.
Sir was originally 2 characters; a heavy and a talky guy. By the time I got to chapter 5 and knew what was going to happen when Kaz escaped, I knew I had to cut them to one. So we lost the talky guy and Sir just became more odious.
Kaz eats an apple because this is his Kobyashi Maru
The assignment was originally to wipe out the principal of the debt. Once I did math, that wasn't going to be near enough of an impetus.
The chef Kaz works for is named Kooken, which is just the Dutch word for "cook"
Chapter 2: Afraid of Heights, boygenuis
The party was not the original idea here, at the point of writing this chapter I didn't have the inciting crime totally figured out (originally Jordie just lost money he was carrying, but that wasn't good enough later to imprison and brutalize Kaz) and so I had this idea that he'd been breaking into the office of the brothel and doing like… audits that got him attention. And Pekka was going to send him to a Mercher's home to get their financial information. I scrapped that when I decided Pekka was going to be our major villain.
The entire point of this chapter was to get Kaz in eyeliner
No actually, the idea of Kaz being forced to sit on Pekka's lap and count cards came extremely early in the process, as did the idea of it being where Inej sees the potential. Originally she was going to be a Dreg lieutenant but I didn't want to have to deal with Per Haskell, so I gave her a gang of her own.
The tattoo knife thing would absolutely not work in reality.
Card counting is not that reliable.
The tray of glasses was a very late addition to the story, but I fell in love with the idea of Kaz having glass stuck in him that no one will help him with but Nina.
I always think the trope of a person sitting in the shadows waiting for another person is ridiculous because it implies that they broke in and sat in the dark for hours waiting. Doing fuck all. I still made Inej do it.
Chapter 3: Afraid of Heights, boygenuis
The chapter that boygenuis wrote, this whole thing is a mix between revolution 0 and afraid of heights
I just want to know/who broke your nose/figure out where they live/so I can kick their teeth in
There's been a run of fires downtown/On half-built construction sites/I know you never liked a townhouse/I've seen you climb a crane at night/If they ever catch you at it/I know you'd want me to be proud/That you took a rich man's dream/And brought it with you on your way down
Kaz thinks the Jam Tart House is a stupid name because I do. Who names a house that? But it's in the book!
They're drinking fantasy Strongbow at the night market.
Kaz crawling into Inej's bed is, to me, the saddest scene of this entire fic.
Chapter 4: Stick Season, Noah Kahan
A deck of cards and book of tricks gets left in Kaz's room, but he doesn't stop to think about who left them there. This is Inej, wanting him to want things.
"Good days" here is lying in wait for Jesper's question six chapters later.
The client Kaz kills was an early idea, that he'd be set off by the word "daddy". Mostly because I am.
The Floating Place is pure dissociation. Brought to you by my mental illnesses.
"So break me. Or buy me." is one of my favorite lines.
Kaz makes more than $1,200 a night. At the end of 8 years, assuming no days off and no fines, he would have made $3,504,000. He has paid off his principal 54 times.
We learn later that his debt is held at 500% interest, which means at the end of 8 years with 0 payments he would have owed $221,709,240,000.
Kaz is getting fucked by the interest.
"Young, dumb, and down for everything" was originally "young, dumb, and full of come" but I couldn't bring myself to put that in a story.
Inej's story changed a few times, mostly her age at the time of the raid. At first she was 14 when it happened, but I needed more time for her father to drink himself to death and her to hunt down slavers before getting to Ketterdam. So now I imagine she left Ravka on her mission around 14.
Chapter 5: Afraid of Heights, boygenuis
Kaz's birthday is canonically in December or January, so I believe my exact idea for this scene was December 20. That's my mom's birthday.
Kaz's Kaelish is actually the gaelic for "you are an excellent lover"
Jesper's comment about using the curtains to hang youself is due to the way Margret Atwood describes Offred's room in the Handmaid's Tale.
Getting them in year four would mean Kaz was 17, so after the leg, which he refers to as "breaking him beyond repair" later.
Kaz doesn't put on shoes because I wasn't sure he would own a pair. Why would he?
The Sir fight scene was originally much shorter, but I liked the idea of Kaz getting a little beat up.
I kinda regret killing Sir here. I should have done it after chapter 8, it would have meant more to the audience.
""No," he says. "I'm right here." was originally the last line of the story.
And then she's gone/And then he's alone is a reference to Come From Away and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands.
Kaz hiding under the bed is inspired by the one scene in The Haunting of Hill House that I have never watched, where the Tall Man comes for his hat.
Inej brings coffee because Kaz wished for coffee in chapter 1 as a luxury he didn't get. She doesn't know it, but I do.
Chapter 6: Harmony Hall, Vampire Weekend
Going to the exchange to see his debt posted was a night before publishing add or I would have written the entire scene. I should have.
I had to think of a reason for Inej to be painting. In reality, I think she just finds Ketterdam ugly and needs the beauty in her life.
"Wool socks" is inspired by that viral Danny Pudi clip
I imagined Inej did a lot of the "hanging head first in a canal while the tide comes in" type murders because then she can tell herself that if the Saints want them to live, they will.
"Don't come into my club and refuse my hospitality" is based on something my grandfather would say if we came to his restaurant and weren't hungry. You could order a plate of nothing, but you had to order something.
Kaz mentions that he should learn people's names here. By chapter 14, he will know the name of every Razorgull he meets.
Chapter 7: Dial Drunk, Noah Kahan
I forgot about the first tattoo knife for a long time and had to go back and write it in. I believe Nina had it with her on Heist Night.
Kaz's back being scarred from beatings was a decision I made because I needed him to be damaged in ways people didn't know about to echo his insides.
This is the only time the word "rape" is used in the entire fic.
The private room where they have dinner is based very specifically on one at the Palm that my parents rented out for my dad's birthday once. There are fewer caricatures in Kaz and Inej's.
"Secret for a secret" was the only way I could make Kaz talk in this scene.
Chapter 8: revolution 0, boygenuis
Is the whistle Inej uses (and Wylan does later) the conflict motif from West Side story? I'll never tell.
Inej in the meeting with Pekka is heavily inspired by a specific Space Pirate RP Pixy and I did 12 years ago. "I didn't do it and you can't prove it" was her character's MO there.
$60,000 at 500% for 40 years would end up being $1,764,509,279,127,346,261,335,823,263,022,972,928 with 0 payments.
We know Kaz makes more than $1200 a night, and works 7 days a week. Assuming he never had a day off and never incurred a fine, he would make $17,520,000 in 40 years.
He was always fucked.
I very nearly cut the leg breaking scene because it was just that brutal. I expected more people to be disgusted with Sir afterwards, anyway. This is why I shouldn't have killed him so early. If he was in the room for Kaz's flashback it would have hit harder.
The style of the leg breaking is deeply inspired by my friend Ruby, who writes such beautiful horrors.
Chapter 9: Afraid of Heights, boygenuis
Kaz counting his kisses starting over is something I borrowed from Natasha Romanoff fic. It doesn't count if you had to do it.
I also do not know how to make dry coffee be wet coffee but that's because I hate coffee.
Inej gets to show her smarts here, she knows what Kaz saw even if he still doesn't. He never mentions two sets of books, but she recognizes the behavior and names it.
Inej does angry dishes as a homage to my college friend Elle who used to clean my dorm room when she was pissed off.
Chapter 10: revolution 0, boygenuis
Originally Nina was going to be able to control dissociation a lot better until I reread her intro in SOC and she specifically says she can't control the brain. That's when I invented plan B for the heist: fantasy roofies.
Jesper and Kaz are flirting while picking locks and I ship it.
"You've been through it" is in fact the most insane way I could think of to respond to "I wish I could have picked locks so fewer people would have assaulted me," which is in itself a BUCK WILD thing to say.
The affidavit was a late addition. I needed Kaz to be more afraid.
"Torpor of constant terror" would be a good band name
Originally the painting had a representation of Kaz and Inej in it, but that felt too obvious to me.
Chapter 11: revolution 0, boygenuis
Inej is wearing a fantasy Sari. Kaz specifically got 9 yds of silk for it.
It is raining because something has to go wrong in a heist and it can't be something that the characters could have planned for. Adding it allowed me to slow down the escape from Pekka's office later (sealing the tray) and also set Kaz on high alert so he'd be more susceptible to the panic later
Chapter 12: Cool About It, boygenuis
Describing a person as "built like a ship- wide and low" gave me great joy.
The cloche tray was one of those happy accidents I wrote in that turned into a gift. Initially it was just a tray. Then it had a fork. Then it was a ledger containment device. But that all happened organically.
Originally Jesper left the code in his pants in the ceiling, but I decided that was a stupid mistake to make and I didn't want him to look incompetent.
The guards absolutely smell the acid and that's what brings them into the room.
Chapter 13: Harmony Hall, Vampire Weekend
The chapter of badass lines
There are 0 hits on google for the phrase "upstanding young criminal", which I was sure I stole from somewhere.
The tattoo knife being Kaz's weapon here was planned from chapter 2. I loved the idea of Kaz stabbing Pekka with a knife made of the ink Pekka put on him.
Maybe someday I will write a story about Dime Lion Hostage girl, because I love her an irrational amount.
The hero/corpse line gave me so much joy that I told it to my roommate who also thought I plagiarized it. I did not.
I knew Kaz had to think something happened to Inej, but I was disgusted at the idea of actually hurting her in a sexual way. In the first draft of this scene, I still didn't know why Pekka wanted to get her alone and I wrote a whole monologue about them joining forces and it was extremely bad.
I considered having Kaz tell Pekka that his son had already signed a contract to be a closer analogue to the book, but it just didn't make sense for this Kaz.
Chapter 14: House By The Sea, Moddi
Do not jump out of third story windows. I did a lot of research about this, you will injure yourself.
Here we have the first hint that Kaz has actually integrated into the Gulls, even if he doesn't know it yet. When he bursts into the guard shack Dael (who I also love?) speaks to him, and not Jesper.
The guardroom questions between Jesper and Kaz are my least favorite scene in this story. It feels like plain exposition to me, but it needed to happen and I never figured out how to make it better.
"You should see the other guy" is what Jesper said back in chapter 4 when he got stabbed. It was my brother's go-to response when he was hurt after wrestling matches in high school and college.
"I've been worse" is what Kaz told Nina back in chapter 2 after the beating. It's what I tend to say when someone at work asks me how I am.
Kerstan, the Razorgull who gives Kaz a blanket, is roughly 9 years old. I know his backstory vaguely (he is Dael's little brother), but mostly he's meant to invoke feelings of "what the fuck" in Kaz
I went back and forth about the scene with the caning scars. I almost cut it, but in the end I wanted Inej to assert that she loved Kaz, and I wanted Kaz to be able to tell her that he wasn't ready for her to love him that way, but he wanted to be.
Pekka in draft 1 was the captain of the ship, but if he was running the Dime Lions when Kaz was 9-13, that would only give him a few years to get to that position. So I adjusted him to the owner.
Chapter 15: Harmony Hall, Vampire Weekend
I had the worst time with this chapter, it got rewritten about 90 times
This piece of paper (below) reads "Open before fall/house by the sea/contracts" as the three things I needed to remember to keep in it through the drafts. It was taped next to my computer.
Inej is talking about the Ice Court when she talks about the big job
This is the only chapter that was NOT finished when I started posting. I didn't know what the last line would be, but I knew I'd find it in editing.
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i know a place where the pain doesn’t reach
Fandom: Roleslaying With Roman
Relationships: Blood Red Song/royono
Characters: Youngblood, Noise, Roman, a cameo from one of the sides + mentions of other roleslaying characters
Summary: Youngblood and Roman refused to let Noise go back to Fantabulous Neon, instead kidnapping him and taking him to Frogtown. But once they arrive, it's clear something is off with Noise - and it might not be what Youngblood expects. But this is a chance to start soothing old wounds, both literally and metaphorically, that Youngblood won't pass up.
Word Count: 3336
Warnings: some slightly questionably morality, mentions of destruction etc, difficult emotional situations, scars, chronic pain, Youngblood does a bit of that 'i could heal it' stuff, self-deprecation, eating bugs, food issues, non-sexual nudity, well-meaning kidnapping, past violence, The Bard King (he needs his own warning tbh)
Notes: title from Come Wander With Me by Brian Fallon
AO3 // My Masterpost
Noise had tried to stay in Neon, to go back to their duty as First Chair and the people they were supposed to command. He didn't succeed.
It was a good thing Roman picked Noise up and threw him into the car when he did, because Youngblood didn't want to think about what might have happened if he hadn't.
Noise put up a token struggle as Roman carried them away from the collapsing city but once he managed to get them into the car, they just... stopped.
Youngblood threw himself after them and slammed the door, heart pounding. They couldn't get out of there fast enough.
It was only as they were driving away that Youngblood began to worry. He and Roman, already criminals by Bard law, had just kidnapped the First Chair. Sure, Noise didn't seem too upset about it – but that was a whole other can of worms. Youngblood wouldn't put it past the Bard King to accuse them of abandoning their post as First Chair. And Noise had already suffered too much at that bastard's hands.
In trying to keep him safe, they may have put Noise in even more danger.
The journey had been quiet. Noise hadn't looked back at Neon once, but Youngblood knew they were thinking about all the citizens and Bard Guards they were leaving to be overpowered by the fey.
A pang of guilt went through Youngblood as he remembered all the people that he'd left to fend for themselves against such a powerful attacker. But he couldn't regret doing it.
He couldn't handle the thought of Roman, bright and smiling Roman, being hurt as he tried to save people. Or the idea of Noise, already beaten down and hardened, charging back into danger on behalf of the College that had hurt him? It was unbearable.
Maybe he was selfish. But Youngblood knew that his friends, the two most important people in his life, were safe and happy, and that was more than worth all the lives in Neon.
They hadn't talked about it since arriving at Frogtown. Youngblood knew that Noise was conflicted, mourning the people they had lived and worked with, and relieved to be out from under the Bard King's thumb (at least for now). But they hadn't talked about it.
The drive had been uncomfortable, to say the least. Noise silent, Roman unusually subdued, and Youngblood having no idea how to bridge the gap between them.
The taxi driver dropped them off at the inn, where the innkeeper introduced himself as Lily Padton.
“Free of charge!” he said as Roman began to get out his money bag.
“Thank you!”
“Why?” Youngblood demanded.
“Well, you’re newt to the area! Besides, you three look like you’ve had a rough day. I’m perfectly happy to house you while you figure out where to go from here! Now come in, come in,” he said as he herded them all inside. “You can leave your things in the croak room.”
Youngblood thought he should probably be a little suspicious of that but Mr Padton gave them such a big smile as he herded them inside, and he was just so tired. Roman and Noise seemed to trust him. They would be okay if he just let it go for a little while.
Roman of course made fast friends with their host. He smiled and joked and made pleasant conversation, offering to help as Mr Padton bustled around the kitchen and insisting on doing something even after being waved away. He seemed much brighter now than he was on the way here.
Meanwhile Youngblood sat to the side and watched Roman in what was apparently in his element. He didn't know what else to do with himself. He tried not to glower too hard but it was difficult. Social niceties were not his strong suit, especially not with the mood he was in.
The only person missing from the scene was Noise. The minute they got inside he'd made a beeline up the stairs and claimed a room for himself, slamming it shut behind him. Youngblood didn't think they were angry per se, but they definitely weren't happy, and he didn't know what he could do other than give them space.
Youngblood wanted to help, to do something. But if he got it wrong, he risked shattering the friendship they were slowly rebuilding entirely.
No matter how much he wanted to help, he was helpless.
So he sat there, quiet and brooding, managing to feel alone even surrounded by Roman's chatter.
"Right!" Mr Padton exclaimed suddenly, snapping Youngblood from his thoughts. "Dinner is almost ready. I just need to set the table, then I'll serve it piping hot!"
"I can do that!" Roman jumped in front of Mr Padton, collecting cutlery from the draw and sweeping into the dining room before he could protest.
Mr Padton chuckled, before turning to Youngblood. "Do you think your friend will be hungry, kiddo?" he asked gently.
Youngblood blinked. It was so obvious. Why didn't he think of that? "Yes!" He blurted out. "Yes, I'll go get him!"
Maybe Youngblood couldn't help Noise with everything they were dealing with right now, but he could make sure they ate. That was something.
He leapt up, making a beeline for the stairs before Mr Padton could respond.
"Oh-" he ribbited, "Alright then, kiddo! You two come on down when you're ready."
"Thank you, Mr Padton," Youngblood called back, not even waiting to see whether he heard it.
***
"Noise?" Youngblood knocked on the door gingerly. "We’re about to have dinner, are you coming?"
"Yeah, yeah." The response sounds distracted, hastled. Like something was wrong. "I'll... I'll be down in a bit. You guys start without me."
It set off alarm bells in Youngblood's mind.
He couldn't help it. After everything that had happened these past days – the injuries Noise sustained in the bards duel, watching their fingers slip past his own as they were swallowed by the cart, learning exactly what happened to their eye – the idea of Noise distressed and alone was unbearable.
Before he could even think about it, Youngblood burst through the door, sword already in hand.
But there was nothing there, nobody who posed a threat. Just Noise, squawking at the sudden entrance.
So what was wrong?
Youngblood turned his attention to Noise, whose face was slowly turning pink as he babbled about "privacy" and "manners" and "what's even the point of knocking if you're just going to barge in" and hurried to sweep his cloak over himself. Because their shirt lay on the bed, along with a small vial. Youngblood's face started to heat as well as his eyes fell on their bare chest, before Noise managed to wrap the cloak around his shoulders and draw it around himself.
"What are you doing?" they shrieked.
"I- I didn't-" Youngblood spluttered, hastily putting his sword away like that would undo the awkwardness of the situation. "I thought something was wrong!"
"Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?"
"I don't know!" His voice rose. "Forgive me for being worried about you!"
"Well there's nothing to be worried about," Noise snapped. "So if you could go off to dinner with your new friend and close the door behind you, that would be great." A hand slipped out from behind their cloak to point like he might not be able to find the door himself.
Youngblood froze as his gaze locked onto that hand, and Noise froze with him. Starting at the wrist and disappearing into their cloak, was a mass of dark purple, twisted flesh.
Burn scars.
There was silence.
Youngblood swallowed. "Was... was that me?"
Noise paused.
"…What do you think?"
Feeling sick to the stomach, Youngblood strode across the room, grabbed his hand and flipped back the cloak. His heart sunk as he took in the full extent of the scarring, twining around their elbow, up their bicep, and touching their collarbone.
Noise hissed through his teeth and snatched his hand away. He stumbled backwards, gingerly wrapping his other hand around his wrist.
"Sorry!" Youngblood blurted. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... Does it hurt?"
"No." They looked away.
"Noise," Youngblood said softly, prompting them to meet his gaze. "Please, don't lie to me."
They didn't reply.
"I can help?" The thought of using magic on Noise again made his stomach twist, but the idea of leaving them in pain was far, far worse. "I might be able to heal it."
"You think I haven't tried that already?" Noise scoffed. "I've seen countless healers, and none of them could do it." They looked at him, considering. "I don't know why, Bloody, but your magic sticks."
"But I was the one to do it! Surely I can undo it."
Noise sighed. "That's what they all said."
Youngblood frowned at them, anguished but silent.
"I can’t be healed. The best I can get is to ease the pain."
"Then let me do that."
They waved him off. "I don't need you for that. I just need to apply the salve the College Healer gave me."
"But I-"
"Youngblood." Noise cut him off. They spoke softly, but his mouth snapped shut. "You don't have to feel guilty. It was an accident."
"No." Youngblood shook his head. "It's not that."
He still felt guilty, of course he did. After almost every interaction with Noise, his mind drifted back to what he'd done and the state they'd been in when he left. But that wasn't why Youngblood wanted to help, not really.
It took some courage to admit it, but once the words were out Youngblood knew they were some of the truest he’d ever spoken.
"I want to help you because I care about you, Noise."
There was a pause.
Voice small, Noise asked, "You do?"
And Youngblood's heart broke.
"Yes. Yes, of course I do. Please, Noise. Let me help you."
Noise stared at him for a long moment. "Okay," they whispered.
Hesitant, Youngblood drew closer. He lifted his hand to the edge of the cloak.
"May I?"
Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, they nodded silently.
Youngblood gingerly peeled away the fabric and put it on the bed, leaving their torso bare once again. Noise didn't meet his eyes as he put a hand on their shoulder, the contact feeling like it burned, and led them to sit next to him on the bed.
"What do I use?" He murmured.
"What?" Noise blinked. "Oh! Here." He scooped up the small vial on the bed and placed it in Youngblood's palm.
The salve was a paste, pale green with small flecks of herbs that hadn't quite been crushed, and cool to the touch. Taking Noise's arm into his lap, Youngblood began to work it into their skin with diligent care. Keeping his touch as gentle as possible, rubbing small circles across the scars and making sure to give equal attention to every inch.
He started at their shoulder, applying the salve with one hand and gently holding their wrist with the other as he moved down their arm. The scars were a strange shape, spiralling around Noise's arm like vines. It became methodical, almost meditative, to work his way down those lines. Youngblood couldn’t say how long he spent at his task, all his focus on doing the best job he could for Noise. He just moved his fingers to the vial, back to Noise, softly circling, and repeat.
A heavy silence had settled over them, but not an uncomfortable one. Noise's hand was heavy in his, the touch of his fingertips against their skin unignorable even as he tried to keep it light as possible.
There was something familiar about this. The silent significance in every action was new, but the deep affection in the air and the things unspoken but mutually understood were like old friends to him.
Finally, Youngblood reached Noise's palm, still cradled in his hand. The first point of compact, the place that first got burned. Youngblood scooped up another dollop of salve and, taking a deep breath, continued smoothing it in.
Noise made a small sound as his fingers ghosted over the knot in the centre of their palm and Youngblood paused, gaze snapping up to look at them.
"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"You didn't hurt me," Noise hurried to reassure him. "It just... feels nice."
They were staring steadfastly at where his own wrist was held tenderly in Youngblood’s hands.
"Oh." Youngblood replied, suddenly too flustered to do anything other than continue soothing the scars he had left on them with the pads of his fingers.
***
Roman raised his eyebrows at the colourful display set out across the dinner table. He knew this was a town of frogs, but he still hadn't expected such an... insect-based diet.
Mr Padton looked his way, seemingly for approval, and Roman immediately replaced the doubtful expression with a beam. It was just a difference in culture, no need to be rude. He'd already eaten his fair share of insects as a child running around Reston, and these ones were even cooked!
But back in Fantabulous Neon, Youngblood had seemed horrified when he thought they were being served cockroach – he wouldn't like this one bit. And Roman could only imagine how Noise would react.
Speaking of: Noise still hadn't come down for dinner, and Youngblood hadn't returned since offering to go get him.
It had been a while now, but that wasn't too surprising. After such a long couple of days, they both deserved a chance to rest in privacy. But they won't be able to recharge if they're hungry - Roman should bring some food up for them.
And if that would give him the chance to see the horror on their faces when they saw what was on the menu, that was only a bonus.
He swept up a few serving plates - some kind of insects lightly drizzled in syrup, a plate of brownish mush with tiny legs sticking out, and something that might actually be cockroaches served on a bed of roasted vegetables - to take upstairs.
"Your friends not coming down?" their host asked as he began to ascend the stairs.
"I figured I'd take some food up for them." Roman smiled. "It looks delicious!"
"You're a good lad," the Mr Padton said, pleased. "You go on up, kiddo."
It was a strange balancing act to carry the three large plates without dropping anything, but Roman managed, walking slowly and taking care not to trip.
Eventually he made it to Noise's room, where he assumed Youngblood was too.
With his hands so full, he knew he didn't have a hope of knocking. Deciding manners would have to be forgone, Roman shoved the door open with his shoulder and called, "I come bearing gifts!"
He was stopped short by the sight in front of him.
Youngblood and Noise, curled up together on the bed. Noise, shirtless, rested with their head on Youngblood's shoulder, a scarred hand placed on his chest. Youngblood had an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, and their tail twined around his upper thigh.
It was so tender, so vulnerable yet relaxed, in a way that he'd never seen either of them. He'd been travelling with Youngblood for a while now, and slowly getting to know Noise since leaving Neon, but this was a level of familiarity and trust that he couldn't even dream of. The sight had his heart aching with a sudden craving for this, this intimacy, with them.
Noise's eyepatch was off to the side, eyes closed and the right lid slightly slack. He was still slumbering peacefully but Youngblood's snapped open, frowning at his clumsy entrance.
Roman flushed.
He wasn't supposed to see this.
"Roman-!" Youngblood started.
"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't realise-"
It was such an intimate moment, and he'd just walked in without thinking twice.
"I just thought, food! Sorry, I'll um I'll go-"
The arm Youngblood had around him tightened as Noise began to stir at the sound of his stammering and Roman cursed. He'd only managed to disturb them more.
They stretched, languid as a cat, and rolled their head to face him.
"Roman?"
Their voice was so soft that his mouth immediately snapped shut. Somehow, he managed to feel even more guilty that he'd disrupted their peace.
"Sorry," Roman whispered, trying desperately not to make it any worse.
"What are you doing here?"
Roman cringed. "I thought you might want some food?"
They propped themself up on an elbow at that, peering at the plates Roman still had precariously balanced in his arms.
Noise's eyes lit up. "Are those honeyed dragonflies?"
"Uh."
Roman looked closer at the dish. Those could be dragonflies.
"Maybe?"
Youngblood wrinkled his nose.
"Ugh," he said at the same time as Noise cheered sleepily.
"Give, give!"
That wasn't quite the reaction Roman was expecting, but he found himself delighted by it.
"One plate of dragonflies, coming right up!"
The pair sat up, Youngblood leaning against the headboard and Noise soon returned to their place curled against his side. Roman deposited the dish in his lap, careful not to spill any food - he knew how particular Noise could be about their clothes.
They blinked blearily and smiled at him. "Thanks, farm boy."
"It-" Roman flushed, busying himself with arranging the remaining plates on the bed, "it's farm man. And you're welcome."
He did his best to hide how jittery Youngblood’s intense gaze made him, but he was sure they both noticed his hands shaking slightly before he could tuck them behind his back.
"Well-" Roman said, almost hysterical and definitely too cheery. "Enjoy your dinner! I'm just gonna-" He swallowed. "I'm gonna go."
"Roman?" Noise called, freezing him in place just as he was about to flee the room. "Where are you going?"
"I- I’ve got to eat too, you know," he said, a half hearted joke that fell flat.
He looked back to see Noise looking at him with big, mournful eyes.
"You're not eating with us?"
"I thought you two would want some time alone, you know, I wouldn't want to intrude."
"Roman," Youngblood interrupted. He’d been silent for so long that even that low muttering of his name immediately stopped Roman in his tracks. "You're not intruding. Come eat with us. Please."
And that was all it took for Roman's admittedly feeble resolve to crumble. His shoulders slumped.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Roman. We want you here."
So, hesitating and slightly clumsy, Roman climbed into the bed. He didn't know what to do with himself but Noise didn't let him flounder for too long, pulling him against their side.
"I love honeyed dragonflies," he said, already digging in, and beaming at the taste. "I haven't had them in ages! Youngblood, here!"
Youngblood grimaced and screwed his eyes shut, but obligingly opened his mouth to let them feed him a spoonful. He looked faintly sick as he swallowed.
"Oh, Bloody," Noise cooed, half mocking and half sympathetic. "We'll find some other food for you tomorrow."
"I'm sure Burgundy has a stall around here," Roman chimed in. "She's everywhere! Her employees are very resourceful."
Youngblood looked at him, despairing. "I can't just eat bread, Roman!"
Noise couldn't hold back their giggles. "You might have to!"
Then they turned to Roman, another spoonful in hand. "Your turn, farm boy!"
"Oh! Um-" his face heated as he let Noise feed him the dragonflies. It was odd – crunchy, and with a bitter flavour that cut through the sweetness of the honey. Roman decided he liked it. "Mm." He grinned at Youngblood, who pretended to gag.
Roman soon found himself absorbed into the serenity of the couple, spooned around Noise and laughing with them as Youngblood groaned at the food (although Roman suspected he may have been exaggerating his disgust slightly to make them both laugh).
A little bubble of joy burst into existence inside Roman, and for the rest of the evening it only glowed brighter.
#rswr roman#rswr youngblood#rswr noise#roleslaying with roman#royono#blood red song#roleslaying with roman fanfiction#fanfiction#ts patton
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'thotiana is a long story' you have my attention
oh man thotiana lore INCOMING
ok so back in 2018 my boyfriend and i had a brief simultaneous obsession with the song thotiana by blueface, this was largely due to a single tiktok of some grilled chickens dancing to said song which had a truly absurd grip on both of us. at the same time he had soft-moved into my apartment bc he (justifiably) hated his roommates at the time and during that process his ps4 ended up in my living room, which i took as an invitation to start playing bloodborne because i absolutely love bloody gory fleshy eldritch horror
this is when thotiana was born.
thotiana was my first earnest soulsborne character, i had tried dark souls a few times before but i was REALLY bad at it bc i had no idea what i was doing, so i just made very generic characters for it. i was DETERMINED to be good at bloodborne though, so i decided to actually spend time on my character and make them unique. i decided to name them after the song i was indescribably obsessed with at the time.
thotiana was the result. i spent over an hour in the character creator perfecting thotiana.
thotiana, in all his splendor, looked about like this:
thotiana was the most wretched, accursed man in all of yharnam. his chin could cut the moon in half. his stats were terrible because i insist on being a magic main in every soulsborne game even though it's the worst fucking strategy every time. thotiana barely beat the cleric beast and could NOT get past father gascoigne. thotiana was never destined to live.
i abandoned thotiana shortly after creating him because i deeply hated fighting father gascoigne. it did not occur to me to try a non-magic build. but two years later, after i had moved across the country, i decided i wanted to git gud and actually beat a soulsborne game, so i fired up dark souls 1, which i had owned for five years but had never made any real progress in. as soon as i reached the character creator, i knew what i had to do.
this is when thotiana ii was born
thotiana ii was the scrawniest, palest bitch in the history of lordran. she rivaled the crimson chin for the title of most prominent chin ever. she was a pure mage in a game that is extremely hostile to mage builds. she looked like a lizard. i deeply wish i could find screenshots of her but i just spent a hot minute looking for them and couldn't find any. suffice to say she had no business existing. she defeated gwyn, lord of cinder and linked the flame.
she was reincarnated in dark souls 2, and so thotiana iii was born
thotiana iii was even more wretched than her predecessor, and the same was true for thotiana iv in dark souls 3. (thotiana iv actually never finished her journey -- the thotiana lineage is one of mages, and the two princes fight in ds3 is extremely stacked against magic users). thotiana v was summoned into the lands between during my second playthrough of elden ring, she is a frenzy mage and absolutely terrible at everything
the sixth and current iteration of thotiana is the man pictured above -- my boyfriend gave me his ps4, the very same on which the original thotiana was created, after he got a ps5, but because of the way psn accounts work i had to get my own copy of bloodborne and start from scratch. this thotiana (just thotiana, not thotiana vi) is a recreation of the original, designed with as much precision as i could manage four years after the fact. he is actually a viable character because i'm halfway decent at these games by now, but he carries the spirit of his namesake in being an absolute wretch.
thotiana is an absolute fixture in my life. every time i start a new game that has a character creator, i create a new iteration of either thotiana or cheekbones mccoy (my other cursed character from mass effect, i think i have a few pictures of him on here somewhere). the thotianas are one of the few constants in my life and they will always be there to haunt me. i adore them. long live thotiana
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WIP TITLE ASK GAME
WIP title ask game!
the rules are: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. hahaha no.
I got tagged by @marymauk and boy this is gonna be a trip. For the sake of not posting the entirety of a twelve-page document, I'm only doing the Critical Role ones since... That is what people mainly follow me for. Also that's... the bulk of them anyway. The only ones I removed are the ones I'm holding back as possible Wildflowers treats, the rest is accurate to the true unlimited potential of my brain just throwing ideas at the wall and waiting until the right time to do them. Also seriously my wip document is extremely well organized. Like before we get into this I need to show you what exactly we're dealing with:
Fortunately you're only getting the titles and if you're lucky I have actually written something for one of these. If not you... get the little summary and how long it is so you can laugh about why it's not written yet. I'm hoping to clear a bunch of these in the three month gap between OUADYA's ending and the sequel's beginning.
ANYWAY. TO THE TITLES... There are SEVENTY. I HAVE A DISEASE. IT'S CALLED "A THOUSAND IDEAS AND NOT ENOUGH ENERGY TO WRITE THEM." I am not tagging anyone specifically, because... 70. And I don't know who hasn't done it because I'm terrible. If you wanna do it, you can say I tagged you. There ya go.
have caution when the fox begins to dance
how many miles to babylon?
i have trod the mortal paths and danced the faerie way
and I'm certain the clues and deductions will help you to run me to ground
if you follow me, follow me, follow me down
you can never hope to beat the tricks that centuries have taught her
give me cold kisses now- one, two, and three
the flower in the shadow of the hanging tree
you can’t keep the ghosts out (when you’re the one who’s the haunted house)
there isn’t a past, there’s only the present flowing into the future
and the seasons turn like pages in the story of our lives
only the spiders are cunning enough to keep us from seeing the seams
of spindrift and footsteps and blood in the waters
some stars fall home, and this one still could
they weave their wicked webs among the spindrift and the rot
we build our homes on the water, and we wonder why the flood runs in
there’s not much point pretending this tale will have a happy ending
and we are the hope that you hold when the darkness grows strong
like an answer is something you’re allowed to choose
no judges here, just wicked men:
our hearths have grown cold
sharper than a serpent’s tooth (the lies they tell us in our youth)
the trick is not to fear him
a hand to guide them down the primrose path
these half-hidden lacerations won’t be healed by incantations
there’s always some new sucker who just won’t get out alive
this is a song of mornings after
went tilting at the windmill
and the scars you leave behind you never heal
are you sure that where it leads you is a place you want to go?
we were never a mistake
choose your words carefully
gulping pretty poisons that devour me in return
his pretty hands just won’t come clean
as you’re facing the future they gave you
we’ve had quite enough of that
your love has a cost nothing human can take
and always one page at a time
and the sky lights up with fire
i am not a sheltered princess and i know that good men die
it’s the midnight special, baby
light a candle for a wanderer who never meant to roam
let me be your lighthouse, and guide you to shore
she gives cheshire kisses; she’s easy with white rabbit smiles
strawberries smothered in snow
the math that makes us real
the word that ends the story
one day you’ll pay the piper’s fee
where the ash and willow grows
you know that all the heroes are gone
as in the painted parlor, ophelia dreams
there’s something divine in the way screams can sound
and no one could say where the story would bend
and the absinthe and the wormwood are the lost years creeping in
and the sea is never silent and the sea is never tame
blood burns like fire (and it always burns through)
so place your orders, place your bets, and draw your final card
how much dark before you just lose the light?
the tribe of crows and tinkers sang the roads across the world
they say her tale’s last word was known before the first was spoken
for the chains that we forge can be broken
give me coyotes to sing up the sky, for their voices are suited to labor
it's hard to explain all the sorrows you've seen, or the reason you keep buying more
and then came act two
in the shadow of the broken tower
wicked girls saving ourselves
she met the fate of fools who love the winter’s king
the cold sacrifices you can’t even see
for when the gods dare to believe, the light never fails
this is a song of all the troubles you’ve been bringing
#ask game#do i have a disease or am i disease#listen consider this a preview of coming attractions once ouadya is done#guess how many of these are tombtakers related#go on guess#my writing
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The Art of Story Telling: An Insight to Kendrick Lamar
By Nahla White
When I think of some of the greatest concept albums to come out of the 21st century, it’s impossible to neglect mentioning the works of the great Kendrick Lamar. Across all five of his studio releases, Kendrick has been able to craft a reputation for himself of being a masterful storyteller and an even more masterful musician, and nothing displays this more than his 2015 magnum opus: To Pimp a Butterfly (TPAD).
Following three years after the release and massive success of Good Kid, M.A.A.D City, TPAD serves as another book in Kendricks life, with each chapter (song) recounting his personal experiences, inner thoughts, and opinions about the world he lives in. And while Kendrick's album does contain much insight and commentary about issues relating to capitalism, the exploitation of Black music and culture, and the mistreatment of Black people in America, his personal testimony is often overshadowed by the previously listed qualities and is sometimes outright ignored by people who tend to want to search for deeper meaning within the album. Today, I want to look into why this happens and shed more light on the deeper, more personal aspects of the album that are often obscured in interpretations of the work. Rather than going through the entire album, I’ll be focusing on four of my favorite songs and their place in the overall story.
“I’ll Wesley Snipe Your Ass Before Thirty Five.”
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Starting with what I believe to be the best song on the album, “Wesley’s Theory” provides a rather deep and introspective outlook on the effects of becoming a mainstream rapper. Within the story of the album, Kendrick recounts the aftermath of Good Kid, M.A.A.D City's success, with the first verse of the track expressing the excitement he felt upon making it big in the industry. Through lines such as “When I get signed, homie, I’ma act a fool,” and “Uneducated, but I got a million-dollar check like that,” we hear the narrator of the song flaunt his success by indulging in things that he once saw as unobtainable.
The following hook that goes “We should never gave you niggas money” describes the sentiment most White people (and even many Black folks) have towards this generation of "new money". Similar to the topic of reparations, many people retain ideas of African Americans being undeserving of such wealth because they believe we’d spend it on unimportant things. There is this overarching theme of reflection throughout the album, with Kendrick reflecting on the poorer decisions of his past, and he admits that his eagerness to spend money is one of them.
Another impressive storytelling device that I feel Kendrick doesn’t get credited with enough is his ability to rap from different perspectives, especially through the use of voice modulators and vocal impressions. The last section of the song is told through the perspective of Uncle Sam; an allegory for America’s capitalism. A particular section in the verse, I think, perfectly summarizes the entire point Kendrick was trying to convey with this opening track:
“Christmas, tell ‘em what's on your wishlist
Get it all, you deserve it Kendrick
And when you hit the White House, do you
But remember, you aint pass economics in school.
And everything you buy, taxes will deny.
I’ll Wesley Snipe your ass before thirty-five.”
Uncle Sam sort of acts like the devil on Kendrick's shoulder, coaxing him to indulge in his desires despite the financial repercussions that come with it. While the commentary on capitalism in this song is worth talking about, I think it's just as crucial to focus on the ways it personally impacted Kendrick’s life.
Which leads me to my next song…
“King Kunta, Black Man Taking No Losses.”
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King Kunta is the third track on the album, and it is here where Kendrick reveals his intentions behind the title of the album.
Kunta Kinte was a character featured and popularized in Alex Haley’s novel Roots. With the accounts of Kinte’s life supposedly being passed down through Haley’s family via oral tradition, one of the most memorable events in his life is his refusal to accept the slave name that was forced onto him. Due to his defiance, Kinte’s foot was cut off, hence Kendrick’s reference of: “Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin’. King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him.”
The juxtaposition between the word king and the name Kunta is supposed to portray the way in which Kendrick feels like a slave to the system. Despite having the fame, money, and likability that he had always desired, he ultimately recognizes that he’s fallen victim to the game all the same. He feels like he’s being pimped out by the rap industry as a whole, hence the name To Pimp a Butterfly.
However, despite this knowledge of his exploitation, this doesn’t stop Kendrick from continuing to indulge in his lifestyle, and that also doesn’t stop him from using his own power and influence to exploit others.
“Killed my Homeboy and God Spared Your Life.”
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“These Walls” is the fifth track on TPAB and acts as the bridge that connects this album to Good Kid, M.A.A.D City.
Upfront, These Walls is a funk inspired, upbeat track where Kendrick utilizes numerous metaphors and allegories to talk about sex. Even the use of the words “these walls” is supposed to represent the walls of the female genitalia, but peeling back the surface reveals so much more that the song has to offer.
This is where we, as the audience, start to see aspects of Kendrick’s depression and survivor’s guilt begin to manifest. Along with being an allegory for sex, the “walls” Kendrick raps about also represent the mental barriers that he finds himself trapped in as a result of his fame and the expectations he has to live up to. Feeling isolated from his community and within his own mind, he turns to sex as a means of distracting himself from his depression; a coping that doesn’t seem to be working very well.
The song takes a rather interesting and dark turn during the last verse. For context: The ending to Good Kid, M.A.A.D City’s “Swimming Pools” is about one of Kendrick’s childhood friends being gunned down seemingly out of nowhere. This happens when Kendrick is 15 years old. Fast forward to the events of “These Walls”, and while Kendrick is back visiting his home city of Compton, he ends up sleeping with the girlfriend of the man who killed his friend as retaliation.
“Killed my homeboy and God spared your life
Dumb criminal got indicted same night
So when you play this song, rewind the first verse
About me abusing my power so you can hurt
About me and her in the shower whenever she horny
About me and her in the after hours of the morning”
While feeling like he’s been cheated by the system, Kendrick uses his own power and influence to manipulate and exploit others, ultimately allowing the cycle of exploitation to continue.
“A Friend Never Leave Compton for Profit.”
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What I consider to be the first of two climaxes and the emotional peak of the album, “U” (the sixth track on the album) acts as a hate letter from Kendrick to himself. During his downward spiral, Kendrick finds himself in a hotel room drinking away his sorrows while contemplating on the least admirable qualities about himself. His feelings of survivor's remorse and self hatred start to manifest in the repetition of the lines “Loving you is complicated.”
In this, he raps about all that happened during his tour of Good Kid M.A.A.D City, reminiscing on the numerous friends that he had lost due to violence in Compton. He expresses guilt for seemingly leaving his friends and family behind to die while he was living a life most people could only dream of.
"You ain’t no brother, you ain’t no disciple, you ain’t no friend.
A friend never leave Compton for profit,
or leave his best friend, little brother
You promised you’d watch him before they shot him."
I feel like this is the song most people seem to overlook in terms of their interpretations of the album. Black art is constantly politicized regardless of the artist's true intention for the piece, and while there is much political commentary to be found throughout the album, “U” holds the key to understanding that this truly is a story about Kendrick’s personal journey.
“I Remember You Was Conflicted…”
It's difficult for many folks to conceptualize that Black people are allowed to live lives that don’t revolve around our struggle, even though our struggle plays a huge role in how we live our lives. Despite TPAB walking this fence almost perfectly, the credit is almost never given where it’s due.
I personally believe that this, in part, has to do with society's obsession of finding “value” in Black art and music. With Rap making its way into the mainstream and becoming the new Pop music, most people detest the mainstream Trap sound that the genre is often reduced to. It further affirms the numerous negative stereotypes people have about Rap and thus rids the genre of any nuance or diversity. As a result, critics typically gravitate towards music that they deem as “introspective” or “valuable”, completely disregarding stuff that would be considered “stereotypical” Hip-Hop.
While looking into why this is, I also stumbled across another theory as to why people can’t seem to divide the personal from the political. John Lawrie’s article “I Remember You Was Conflicted”: Reinterpreting Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly points towards the works of Henry Louis Gates Jr., and his theory of how much Black art during the duration of 20th century (and even now) was created as a form of retaliation:
“This broad methodological practice, however, forces one to examine all African American music as fundamentally political, regardless of its intent.” (Lawrie, 2016)
At its roots, Hip-Hop was originally created as an alternative subculture, serving as a means of finding joy, community, and happiness despite the many socioeconomic disparities most Black people were subjected to. In a time and era where simply being Black was frowned upon, any sort of triumph was seen as an act of defiance towards the norm of White culture and supremacy, which is why Hip-Hop was immediately rejected by the masses at the time of its emergence.
Despite Hip-Hop being mainstream, many people still hold onto this concept. It's the same reason why non-Black people compare me to the Black Panther’s whenever I wear my afro on the street; the Blackness and the Black experience has historically been politicized, and TPAB has been subjected to the same treatment.
Works Cited:
Bassil, Ryan. “The Narrative Guide to Kendrick Lamar’s ‘to Pimp a Butterfly.’” VICE, 24 Mar. 2015, www.vice.com/en/article/rzvbwe/the-narrative-guide-to-kendrick-lamars-to-pimp-a-butterfly-2015. Accessed 11 Feb. 2024.
Eastaugh, Sophie. “‘Don’t Call Me Toby:’ the Story of the Slave Who Fought Back.” CNN, Cable News Network, 4 Aug. 2015, www.cnn.com/2015/08/03/africa/the-story-of-kunta-kinte-the-slave-who-fought-back/index.html. Accessed 11 Feb. 2024.
“Hip-Hop.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, inc., www.britannica.com/art/hip-hop. Accessed 11 Feb. 2024.
Lamar, Kendrick. “Swimming Pools (Drank) - Extended Version.” good kid m.A.A.d city, Spotify, 1 Jan. 2012, open.spotify.com/track/5ujh1I7NZH5agbwf7Hp8Hc.
Lamar, Kendrick. “To Pimp a Butterfly.” Spotify, 16 Mar. 2015, open.spotify.com/album/7ycBtnsMtyVbbwTfJwRjSP. Accessed 11 Feb. 2024.
Lawrie, John. “‘I Remember You Was Conflicted’: Reinterpreting Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly .” Sydney Undergraduate Journal of Musicology , vol. 6, Dec. 2016, pp. 40–54, https://openjournals.library.sydney.edu.au/SCM/article/view/11550.
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Manifesto
"Lover, You Should’ve Come Over." Is the name I gave my Love Manifesto, I drew inspiration from Jeff Buckley’s song title because I resonate with it heavily. I often saw a pattern of different aspects of love in my past post in my blog. I love the idea of love and how it can be received and returned in any way. I simply love, love. To begin, In my representative work I chose the a poem by Alaska Lane in ‘The Words I’ll Never Say.’ In this poem the writer feels as if it is difficult to be involved with another romantically until they meet their current lover who makes the writer feel seen and heard for the first time. I can resonate with this poem because love may seem like madness when you don’t feel appreciated for who you are and what you stand for, but can feel like a breath of fresh air when you finally meet someone who understands you. My second example is my writing for the painting, ‘Untitled, 2013’ by Nasrollah Afjei. In this post I wrote about how Afjei’s painting reminded me of love and how his marble effect made it seem like different amounts of love. The repeated use of the word ‘love’ made me become curious about the painting and once again lead me to perceive the painting as love itself. The red paint, different marbling, and repetition of love made everything about it scream ‘love.’ In my Architectural Interior blog post I talked about my local library and my home and these two places resonate with me as I spend most of my time in these two places and I enjoy the company of the individuals in both, my family and my friends. I talked about the good and bad things of both places, but in the end I mentioned how they service their purposes and with that I love both of those spaces. In my post for Poetic License I used the poem ‘Tamer and Hawk’ by Thom Gunn. The poem symbolize the obsession in love that can happen and I also mentioned how the writer felt like they can come to terms with feeling unconditional love without being ashamed of not being able to tame the tamer, and I believe love should be enjoyed by both parties involved. In my Musical Theme I chose the word "Eyes" In doing so, I chose songs that mostly sung about a women in the singers lives who clearly made a romantic impact on them. The love in those songs make me feel loved and they are constant reminders of what love can be like to everyone. My sixth example is shown very clearly in my Photographer’s Eye blog post as I speak about my cat, Neo, different stages of love because ‘to be loved is to be changed.’ I believe love can change an individual for the better and you can grow into different stages of yourself through love even if it’s not romantically and with that a bittersweet feeling can be felt when you are loved unconditionally. Finally, I talked about the abusive side of love that could be present in troubled relationships. In my Anatomy of a Scene I talked about the relationship of Priscilla and Elvis Presley. This relationship showed how love can turn sour and abusive when there are different aspects of each others lives clashing. In abusive love like this it is only right to work out these abusive behaviors together with help or go your separate ways. I believe my blog posts represented the different points of views of love and can clearly be seen with my repetitive mentions of the word itself. I can never get enough of love and I hope there will forever be it in our world. Love can never be taken from us and it is something we should cherrish forever.
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10, 15, 20, 25 for the Fic writer asks :3 pls & ty!
10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?
Every Side of You, actually. I didn't expect it to resonate with so many people. I set out to write some smut, ended up writing a character study, and got a lot of feels along the way. I'm really happy with that though, and it's the fic I'm most proud of so far
15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?
Ha.. haha... I don't... I used to be really good at off the cuff titles, but that skill seems to have left me lately! Usually I pick one-word titles that I feel suit the overall theme (ex. Estranged, about two estranged brothers reuniting; Resilient, about a character who survives being groomed/kidnapped/tortured by a serial killer, Touched about a character with a history of sexual abuse learning how to accept sexual contact again, and being overwhelmed at how patient/caring his partners are, etc.) Other than that, lyrics and poetry! I'm cliché so I really like Richard Siken and Ocean Vuong
20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?
The Righteous Rise With Burning Eyes was a pretty badass one. It was a fic about an orphan boy who watches his foster-mother get burned alive by the village. Years later, he he seeks vengeance by seducing the town priest and corrupting/killing them all. I'm pretty sure it was originally a song lyric, though, so I can't take credit for it
White Dove is another one that actually had a lot of meaning attached to it, but then I stopped working on the fic and legit forgot the symbolism lmfao
Neverland is simple, but deep w/in the context. And actually the context lines up with the next question, so I'm gonna move it down there!
25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?
Lol oops, I think I answered that with the last one! I'm just going to paste it down here
Neverland is a fic about a teenager who runs away from his abusive father, lives on the street for a while, and is eventually adopted. I ended up getting inspired for a sequel so tragic it legit had me sobbing for like an hour. I'm pretty sure it was the first time I ever made myself cry with a fic idea? The inspiration was a song, Promise Me by Badflower, where the repeating line is "promise me we'll never grow up", because the narrator doesn't want all the horrible things that come with getting older. And then the song ends with:
You promised me you'd never grow up
But you fucking grew up
God, I miss you so much
And even when your heart gave out
I was thinkin' I'd
Love you 'til forever
And I can't face the truth
That I died with you
That you lied (That you died...)
You died
Which, in the sequel, the Main's love interest was going to die right as they were finally getting to start their lives together as Real Adults. They were together for 10 years because they met in high school and it happens after college graduation, but when you find the person you love, no amount of time is ever enough.
Anyway, the whole thing was very Peter Pan to me, thus, Neverland! (my last update was almost 3 years ago, but this fic still makes me emotional)
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Jini's Interview for Cosmopolitan Korea Nov 2023 Issue
Q: How does it feel to start anew as a solo artist?
I'm extremely nervous. As it's my first EP album, I've really prepared diligently. I kept practicing and re-recording, staying up all night, to create this album. It's my first step, so I'm nervous, but I hope you all will like it!
Q: The album title is unusual, 'An Iron Hand In A Velvet Glove.'
It conveys the idea that within the soft and beautiful velvet glove, there's a strong hand made of steel. We believe that not only appearances but also the solid inner self that we've been preparing for a long time is important to show.
Q: The overall album art has a strong and cool vibe, but what does 'Jini's 'pursuit' mean?
I may appear chic in terms of my looks, but personally, I have a preference for a ballet core-like girlish mood, just like the photoshoot we did today. So, I enjoyed it! (laughs)
Q: Is Jini also strong inside and out?
In reality, when it comes to personality, it's the opposite (laughs). Based on looks alone, people often describe me as having a very cool and cold image, but in reality, I'm quite gentle. I'm quite sensitive. Everyone says it's a surprise when I start talking.
Q: Do you have any favorite features on your face?
The sharp angles. When I was younger, I used to be self-conscious about it. However, now I like that feature because people around me say it's more attractive.
Q: What type of song is the title track 'C'mon'?
It's a song that I want to listen to every day. The lyrics, which invite you to come to me, are charming, and the melody is addictive. With my favorite artist Amine featured in the song, the rap part creates a rich atmosphere, making it a captivating track. World-renowned choreographer Kiel Tutin has crafted a fantastic dance for it, so you can also look forward to the performance. Perhaps for fans, it might feel like, "Does this kind of music suit Jini?" It's a side of me that I've never shown before.
Q: How did you come to collaborate with Amine, who featured in the song?
He's been an artist I've liked for a long time. "Caroline" is my favorite song of his. Our company's CEO pitched the song I recorded, and I heard that Amine liked it and readily agreed to participate. I actually met Amine yesterday, and he was so kind and enjoyable to be with!
Q: You participated in the lyrics for 'Bad Reputation,' right?
I had tried my hand at writing my own rap lyrics in the past, but this was the first time I had written the lyrics for an entire song. I was nervous and had my moments of contemplation while writing. I expressed my emotions honestly in line with the story of the demo track.
Q: Do you have any artists you consider as role models?
Blackpink's Jennie sunbae-nim! Her solo performances always fill the stage even when she's alone. I have so much respect for her. I hope I can deliver performances like that too.
Q: Are you a hard worker?
Yes, when the choreographer comes, I practice until it's ingrained in my body, and I don't sleep. I continue practicing even after returning to the dorm. I keep at it until I get it right. I have a strong determination.
Q: What were you like when you lived in Haeundae as a child?
I was a cheerful and lively child. I used to play in the sea every weekend, swim, run around, build sandcastles, and collect seashells. The beach was my playground.
Q: When did you start dreaming of becoming a singer?
I've been dreaming of it since kindergarten. I watched a performance video of KARA's 'Mister' on TV and thought, "They're so pretty and cool; I want to be like that." So, I learned ballet and belly dance, and I ended up going to Seoul after auditioning at a dance academy. I've been living in Seoul since I was in the 2nd year of middle school.
Q: It must have been challenging to pursue a trainee life at such a young age, away from your parents. What gave you the strength to come this far?
It wasn't easy, but I kept my heart set on my dream. With a determination to become a singer, I made it this far. I think I'm in this position now because I didn't give up in the face of difficulties and didn't crumble even when things got tough.
Q: What does turning 20 mean to you?
Turning 20 means being at an age where I can try new things, take on challenges, and grow. Right now, I'm working harder than anyone, getting ready for the album release!
Q: What do you consider as something cool or impressive about yourself?
Something cool about me is experiencing things I haven't encountered before.
Q: What do you think makes someone a professional?
Is it kicking the hair tie away when it falls during dance practice? (laughs) I think being able to adapt flexibly to any situation is what makes someone professional.
Q: What do you consider as uncool or not impressive?
Spending a day without meaning, giving up without even trying.
Q: What are you currently into these days?
These days, I've been oddly craving overripe watermelons. I've been ordering and eating a lot of watermelons.
Q: Please name one song that feels like it sings your heart.
"꽃길" by Kim Sejeong sunbaenim. It's a song that understands my heart and provides comfort.
Q: What are your aspirations for the new start you're embarking on?
I don't have big ambitions. I just want to meet more fans right now!
Q: What do you believe in?
I believe that if I earnestly wish and vocalize it, eventually it will come true. I will succeed. (laughs)
Source: 솔로 데뷔한 지니, "성공할 거예요, 저는." || 코스모폴리탄코리아 (COSMOPOLITAN KOREA)
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Rita Ora Releases 'You Only Love Me' With Star Studded Cameos
Rita Ora, who hails from the United Kingdom and is active in the fields of singing, songwriting, and acting, has been making waves in the music industry for more than a decade.
Ora has demonstrated on multiple occasions that she is a formidable figure in the world of pop music, beginning with her breakthrough single "R.I.P." and continuing with her more recent collaborations with artists such as Imanbek and David Guetta.
Ora and her family left Pristina, Kosovo, and moved to London when she was just one year old. Ora was born in Pristina. Ora was exposed to a wide range of musical styles throughout her childhood in the United Kingdom, where she also began her career as a singer and performer at an early age. In the end, Jay-Z was the one to discover her, and he was the one to sign her to his record label, Roc Nation.
Ora's first studio album was titled "ORA," and it was released in 2012. The album featured several successful singles, including "R.I.P." and "How We Do (Party)." As a result of the album's success, Ora's place in the music industry was solidified.
In 2018, she released her second studio album titled "Phoenix," which included the top-charting singles "Let You Love Me" and "Only Want You." She followed up her debut album with this release.
Ora has made a name for herself as an actress in addition to having a successful career in the music industry. She is best known for her role as Mia Grey in the Fifty Shades of Grey film franchise, but she has also appeared in a number of other films, including Southpaw and Spivak.
Ora has a large group of loyal fans because she mixes pop, R&B, and electronic dance music in a way that isn't common. Her live performances are renowned for their high energy and powerful vocals.
She has also been honoured for her work in the music industry, receiving multiple awards such as the Brit Award for British Breakthrough Act in 2013 and the MTV Europe Music Award for Best UK and Ireland Act in 2012. Both of these honours were bestowed upon her by MTV Europe.
With the release of her brand new single "You Only Love Me" in 2023, one of the most successful British female musicians of the 21st century, Rita Ora, ushers in the beginning of a new era for her career.
Rita's own experience of feeling vulnerable at the start of her romantic journey gave her and Lewis Thompson the idea for the song "You Only Love Me," which Lewis Thompson also produced.
The voice memo that opens the song was recorded by Taika Waititi, a filmmaker who has won both an Academy Award and a BAFTA. The song is driven by love and passion. "You Only Love Me" is a catchy, high-energy pop song that is certain to serve as the background score to the fans' very own love tales and to be a floor filler for the foreseeable future.
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6o1m7ofjCCY[/embed]
In the field of music, Rita Ora has established herself as a performer who is both varied and talented as a whole. "You Only Love Me" is the first song from the singer-songwriter's highly anticipated new album to be released.
The album is a deeply personal body of work that is tied to a new stage in Ora's life and career. "You Only Love Me" is the first track to be lifted from the album.
It is also Rita's first release since she signed a relationship with BMG, which will result in her own all of her future master recordings and allow her to have a level of creative autonomy that she hasn't had in the past. On The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon on the 1st of February, Rita will give her first-ever performance of the song, which will air the following Wednesday.
The music video that goes along with "You Only Love Me," which was directed by well-known creative Charlie Sarsfield and filmed in the suburbs of Los Angeles, has its world debut on MTV today and is one of Rita's favourite videos that have been done to this point.
It features
hyperreal scenes of a bride's big day turned tumultuously upside-down, (with overzealous "badmaids," the venue going up in flames and more), as well as cameos from well-wishers Kristen Stewart, Lindsay Lohan, Jodie Turner-Smith, Chelsea Handler, Addison Rae, cake delivery boy Alexander Stewart, and fairy godmother Sharon Stone. The narrative depicts a fictional wedding through the lens of a Stepford House
Her one-of-a-kind sound, commanding live performances, and significant contributions to charitable causes have established her as a formidable opponent in the realm of entertainment as well as in the larger society at large.
Fans of this brilliant performer may anticipate hearing more interesting songs from her next album, which will be released soon.
[embed]https://open.spotify.com/track/5FHPvs8RxWBQXP2Rq9I2B2[/embed]
#Music#KStew#RitaOraYouOnlyLoveMe#RitaOraYouOnlyLoveMeOfficialVideo#RitaOra–YouOnlyLoveMeLyrics#RitaOraDropsNewMusicVideoWithLindsayLohan#RitaOragetsreadyforherweddinginthevideo#RitaOrainsiststhegownsheworeforYouOnlyLoveMewasNOTherweddingdress#RitaOraReleasesYouOnlyLoveMeWithStarStuddedCameos#RitaSahatçiuOra#WatchRitaOrasnewvideoforhersingleYouOnlyLoveMe#WhatisRitasbiggesthit#YouOnlyLoveMeSongbyRitaOra
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