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everygame · 1 year

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Battle City (NES)

Developed/Published by: Namco Released: 9/9/1985 Completed: 20/11/2022 Completion: Beat all 35 unique levels. Version Played: Switch Online Trophies / Achievements: n/a

[Apologies for interrupting, but before we get to the article I’d like to mention that you can pre-order a copy of exp. 2600, my brand new zine, right now and get more of–and help support–writing like what you’re about to read.]

There are iconic NES games–Super Mario Bros. and that. And then there are iconic NES pirate cart games. Battle City is the latter.

I have a funny history with NES piracy, actually. As most people know, the NES wasn’t really a thing in the UK for most people (I certainly didn’t know anyone with one as a child) and by the time I reached the age where my family were spending more time in Malaysia, I was already an avowed PC gamer. So even though I have so many memories of department stores with rows of pirate carts and knock off Famicoms… I wasn’t interested at all, and instead filled my boots with copied floppies (seeking out the stalls with the best reproductions of manuals and that sort of thing.)

In some respects, I regret this–so much of the video game culture of South East Asia in the 90s seems to be lost forever (see tweets) and now all I really have is snatches of memories–usually a gaggle of kids crowded round a pirate cart version of Street Fighter II in a Jaya Jusco–but I also know that games like Battle City squandered the chance to get me lugging a Malaysian famiclone home with a couple of 150-in-1 carts.

Let’s remember here I’m not yet a teenager and I’ve just discovered the glory of things like Wolfenstein 3D’s vibrant ultraviolence and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis’ cinematic narrative. And while in Malaysia I’m putting the exchange-rate equivalent of pennies into big fancy sit down/ride cabinets of the likes of Suzuka 8 Hours or Rad Mobile. So when an uncle digs out a faimclone and a pirate cart and you boot it up to find you can play 30 versions of the dustiest-ass tank game for babies you’d ever seen…

(And what was the deal with every single pirate cart massively over-inflating the number of games anyway? Was anyone fooled when they selected “Fancy Excitebike” in the list and just got Excitebike again??? I have one of those snatches of memory of standing in a wee store with my dad, him saying “you can get another game for the house!” and me, unable to tell which cart offered any value at all–after all, 80 of the games would probably be the same ones on the cart we already had–going home empty handed! Empty handed! When do kids ever do that???)

Anyway. When I think of pirate carts, I think of Battle City. Maybe it isn’t iconic to everyone, maybe it’s only iconic to me because it was on the cart I had for one summer at least… but it’s such a pirate cart game that it almost feels weird to play it in an “official” way.

And I suppose, this many years later, it’s kind of weird that I put a bunch of time into it?

I’ll say this. It’s not surprising that at the time I gave it short shrift. It’s got horrible sound (a constant buzzing of engines) and feels extremely simplistic and limiting as you awkwardly move your tank around sans diagonals. It was, after all, based on a game from 1980 with a bit of a graphical touch-up–contemporary with the timeless Pac-Man, sure, but this ain’t Pac-Man. I’ll admit the tank movement feels better than I remember it (smooth, and perfect speed) but the game sort of doesn’t really feel like anything.

Look at it this way. The game has you as a tank trying to defend one poorly walled-in base, always at the bottom center of the screen, from being shot by enemy tanks. There’s some terrain, but it’s mostly brick walls that can be shot through. Enemies spawn from the same three spawn points at the top of the level, and there’s some variation between them (some fast tanks, some tanks that take a bunch of hits). None of the enemies have any real AI–they don’t seek you, or really seek the base, either. Sometimes there are power-ups; you can improve your gun to destroy steel walls; there’s an occasional smart bomb or time-stop which are must-grabs. Shoot 20 tanks to get to the next level.

It’s, you know… fine. It’s an alright game design. But when you actually sit down and play it, the game very quickly devolves into getting your tank as far up the screen as you can manage where you are able to shoot clearly to both the left and right boundaries without being shot from a tank spawning above, and then just… firing constantly left or right based on which side tanks are traveling down from most urgently.

There are a few levels where this is not simple to do (a total bastard of a level mostly with tree coverage, making tanks near-impossible to see) and you can’t consider this tactic a total slam dunk because if a tank does slip past, they’ll often destroy your base before you can get to them, leading to an instant game over (no matter how many lives you have!) which can be infuriating. But it’s not like there’s better tactics; on a level by level basis you’ll do your best to shoot your enemies straight paths to your base, so you kind of just have to accept the variance.

In the cold light of 2022, Battle City is… a half-hour or so of near-mindless blasting that you wish had any sort of twist, or spark, or even particularly interesting level design, to make it a charming bit of classic arcade action worth score attacking.

In the early 90s it’s a dusty-ass tank game for babies that is indirectly responsible for the total lack of preservation of south-east Asian game culture history. Probably.

Will I ever play it again? Nope but I’ve got 1991’s Tank Force waiting to be played which is a baffling (and obscure) sequel that’s maybe brilliant. I mean who knows.

Final Thought: One of the most annoying things about Battle City of course is when you’re shot from the side by a tank that’s turned on a dime before you could notice, and I have to admit I’d be interested to play this exact game but with real, slow-ass tank turning. Would it be better? Would it actually be even more annoying? I’m kind of imagining these situations where you watch your tank turn, watching another tank turn, thinking “oh god, I hope I get this shot off” like you’re actually in the tank, feeling it slowly spin around… [“That’s why tanks have turrets though. So they can shoot in different directions more quickly”--Ed.] Shut up!

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#video games #games #gaming #battle city #nes #famicom #pirate cart #switch online #text #txt #review #namco #namcot

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mendingcross · 1 year

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as a feminist, i’d let him ultraviolence me 😇😇

#i want his kids #im begging #sorry lol #hornyyy #i love him #my bae for life 😍😍#my husband #i want him #norman reedus #please #i want to fuck him #id let him ruin my life

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moriartyluver · 10 months

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alright 🦢 anon is back

i got grounded so i couldn’t read the new updates but i am free *dobby voice*

anyways just binged the entire remainder of act 1 AND LET ME SAY IS SHIT BROKE MY EXPECTATIONS

false lovers is just so wow like it’s so perfect. Perfect mix of romance and angst and the character building for all the character in such a short space of time is good but also realistic at the same time.

lemme just summarise my opinions on each of the chapters because I will start painfully rambling if I don’t.

chapter 7- LIAM BEING ALL CUTE AND JEALOUS?? IM IN LOVE

chapter 8- liam going feral 😍 I’d let that man ultraviolence me. Also fl cleaning liam up was so cute bro. Imagine they have a liam getting injured so fl has to help wrap his bandages moment omg

chapter 9- THE FLIRTING?? LIAM SENDING GIFTS?? HIM BEING ABSOLUTELY WHIPPED?? FL LITERALLY GAGGING HIM?? HELLO?????

chapter 10- fl backstory when? I love how u integrated the subtle thing abt her brother. My guess is that he got killed because of the British idk. Maybe he was a soldier?? anyways-

THE NIGHTGOWN SCENE

I WAS ON MY KNEES BRO THE FLIRTING?? THE CUDDLING?? EVERYTHING WAS SO 😫

also the moon symbolism was so cute. The Japanese use the term ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ because it sounds similar to ‘I love you’ and it was just so BAKFBSJSHJSKS

anyways regarding sneakpeaks-

spicy chapter in chapter 15???? And it was titled parental visit so I’m just wondering how that’s gonna play out. Anyways author u have not disappointed at all and I’m sure it’ll be good for this chapter too

ALSO FL JUST DIPPED?? BRO LIAM WAS PROBABLY SO DEPRESSED OMG POOR DUDE

the way Josephine keeps getting forgotten 💀

speaking of, don’t think the little rose slid past me in chapter 10-

poor josie probably would have loved to be a bridesmaid but ofc she’s not a noble so she can’t really but her trying to be included and share the happiness ☹️☹️

PLEASE DOBBG VOICE 😭 😭

Parental visit chapters gonna be..something..to say the least.

Also a few more flirty bit in the noahatic arc don’t worry

And fl will meet Sherlock and become biggest menacing duo ever. Mycroft hates them.

Glad the rose didn’t slide past but it’s also sad but cute at the same time 😭 Josephine and fls dynamic is everything to me bro

Yeah fl just left (tiny hint at the beginning of the letter as to why) to help her parents and stuff. They wanted her to go with Liam but ofc fl being fl went alone (with josie)

It’s okay tho because them reuniting was cute asf

#—a’s anons 💄#—false lovers 💋

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taintedvi0lets · 2 years

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As a feminist I’d let him ultraviolence me

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leia-writes · 2 years

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These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

hwang in-ho | front man x female reader

Chapter 12: Ultraviolence

warnings - VIOLENCE, torture, blood, REALLY SAD STUFF, PROCEED WITH CAUTION

18+ ONLY

song - ultraviolence by lana del rey

chapter list

read on ao3

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The next few days went by uneventfully as you made final preparations for the next round of games that would be happening in a couple weeks. You decided the host hadn’t seen you and In-ho that day at the cliffside since nothing was said or done. The two of you hadn’t seen each other since that night.

One evening, as In-ho was working in the control room, the host approached him. Even though his gold mask was on, In-ho could tell the host was angry.

“Follow me. Now.”

In-ho did as he was told and followed the host into a conference room. He sat across the table from him, quietly anticipating what he had to say.

The host took an envelope from his coat and slowly opened it in front of In-ho. He reached in and removed several small pieces of paper in a stack. As he laid them out on the table, In-ho froze and caught his breath. They weren’t just pieces of paper.

They were your polaroids.

The mask helped In-ho look stoic, but internally he was filled with dread. How had the host found these? He must have gone through everything in the main residence. He made sure to keep the photos tucked away, not just lying around for anyone to see.

The host eyed In-ho, chuckling darkly. “You thought you could hide from me?”

In-ho looked down, saying nothing.

“After your little outburst, I decided to do some investigating. I’ll admit it took me a while to find these.” He scoffed as In-ho continued to be silent.

He went on. “You know, I was right, wasn’t I? She’s beautiful behind the mask.” He held a photo up to his face, examining your features.

In-ho raged inside. He wanted to kill the host on the spot and run away with you, but he knew it would just put you two in danger. He had to be smart about this.

“How many times did I tell you two to stay away from each other? Your blatant disrespect for my authority won’t be tolerated.”

In-ho stayed silent. He couldn’t risk saying anything wrong, even though he was dying to let him have it.

“If the games weren’t about to start, I’d kill her. But I need you two to do your jobs. So this is my final warning. If I get the sense at all that you two are up to something, I will make you do it.”

Internally, In-ho was seething, his emotions turbulent with anger, frustration, and pure hatred. The host gathered the photos and put them back in the envelope, standing up.

He looked down at In-ho, leaning his arms forward on the table. “Don’t fucking cross me again, or you’ll die too.”

In-ho glared at him under the mask, clenching his fists. It took everything in him not to explode in that moment, not to unleash his rage on the host. He took in a deep breath to somewhat calm down, every fiber of his being on fire with anger.

The host laughed and walked out of the room. In-ho sat there for several minutes, trying his best to calm down. How could he have been so stupid to take the photos? He should have left them in your apartment. He was overwhelmed with shame, knowing he put you at risk for something so simple and avoidable. And now he would never get those photos back. It killed him inside.

He made his way back to the main residence, somewhat thankful when he realized you weren’t there. He sat in his chair and poured a tall glass of whiskey, downing it in just a few gulps. He could barely contain the shame and anger he felt inside.

In that moment, he wondered what life would’ve been like if he’d never joined the games. Never became the Front Man, never met you, never fell in love with you… that pained him even more. If he wasn’t there you’d still have joined the games and became the Front Woman. He wanted to regret everything but knew if he wasn’t there, he couldn’t protect you.

That’s all he ever wanted.

He poured himself another drink, quickly drinking it again. He wanted to forget, even for just this moment, the danger the two of you were really facing. As his thoughts raged, he vowed to find a way to get you two out of that dark place for good.

~~~

During the next week, you noticed a complete change in In-ho’s behavior, even during the few times you saw him. He was completely closed off from you. He barely spoke to you, barely even acknowledged your presence. Anytime you entered the residence when he was there, he quickly left.

It tormented you. You knew he wouldn’t act that way for no reason, so why was he all of a sudden treating you this way? You just wanted to know why. Anytime you questioned him, practically begging for him to talk to you, he brushed you off and walked away. It left you feeling pained and empty.

And he never removed his mask around you. That hurt you immensely, not being able to see his face. You wanted to just get a sense for what he was feeling but he rejected you each time. You’d try to go in for a hug, or just a simple touch, but he would avoid you.

Under the mask, In-ho was more than tormented. It was torture to deny and ignore you. His heart broke in a million pieces every time he saw your face drop when he rejected you. All he wanted was to hold you and tell you he loved you, but he couldn’t risk your life. He hoped you’d understand, once this was all over. He wanted to explain everything to you now but he was afraid to even speak to you sometimes, convinced the host could see everything now.

So he pushed through his pain and sadness and continued ignoring you. He felt like he could feel your pain as if it was his own. Each time he ignored or rejected you, it felt as if he was inflicting the same pain on himself.

You knew In-ho wouldn’t explain himself after a while, so you tried to just push through as well. There wasn’t too much time left, you’d just have to endure the worst of it for a short while.

On your last off day, before the games were to start, you decided to go to your favorite cliffside spot. It was a source of comfort for you before In-ho, maybe it could provide even a little now. As you walked outside, you noticed In-ho standing by the water, watching the horizon. You thought about ignoring him, but couldn’t bring yourself to.

You walked to his side and noticed he didn’t have his mask on. It was the first time you’d seen his face in several days.

He looked exhausted, and when he glanced over at you his eyes looked extremely sad. It broke your heart. He wanted to look away from you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t hide from you anymore.

You observed him as he looked at you, your eyebrows furrowing. “In-ho.”

He stayed silent, his face grimacing. You could tell he was holding back tears.

You started to cry yourself. “In-ho. I miss you.”

Tears fell on his face and he choked out a quiet sob, closing his eyes. “I know.”

You stayed where you were, afraid to attempt to hug him. You wanted to touch him but you felt his fear. You didn’t understand exactly what was going on but you knew he was doing this for a reason. And that reason frightened you.

You breathed in deeply and looked out to the water. You didn’t know what to say, you were just happy to be in his presence. He watched you as you stood there.

His emotions got the best of him and he couldn’t help himself. He moved towards you quickly and pulled you into a tight hug. He breathed a sigh of relief feeling you close to him and your arms around him. You gasped as he grabbed you, and buried your face into his chest.

Your emotions and thoughts came crashing down and you cried into his coat, both in relief and sadness. But most of all you finally felt comfort with him in your arms. You felt protected with his arms tight around you, holding you as if he’d never let you go.

He leaned his head down, his cheek resting on your head. “Darling, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You cried. “It’s okay. I know.”

He shook in your arms, taking a deep breath. “We just have to get through a little bit more.”

“I know. We will.”

He rubbed your head and you started to calm down, rubbing his back. In-ho took a deep breath and started to calm down himself. The two of you continued to hold each other tight, faces pressed to each other with eyes closed.

The next thing he knew, you were being pulled from his arms.

You gasped. In-ho opened his eyes as you left his arms. Two guards were pulling you away from him, with the host not far behind them. The guards held your arms tightly.

The host walked next to you and looked at In-ho. “You never learn, don’t you? I told you, you cross me again, you’ll regret it.”

The host turned to you and slapped you hard on the cheek, causing you to scream.

In-ho charged towards the host, but the host anticipated it, and drew his gun. He didn’t point it at In-ho. He pointed it at you. In-ho stopped in his tracks, fuming beyond belief.

The host laughed. “Make one more move and I’ll kill her.”

You cried out, unable to contain yourself, the pain from his slap radiating throughout your head.

The host ordered the guards to take you away to somewhere you didn’t know. As you were being dragged away, you heard the host tell In-ho, “I’ll be back for you.”

The guards took you to an empty room on one of the underground floors, tying you to a chair by your arms and legs. The host entered the room and observed you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll see him soon.” He smirked and punched you in the face, knocking you out instantly.

~~~

The host brought In-ho to the room you were in. He didn’t have to tie him up or pull a gun on him, all he had to do was threaten you and In-ho complied.

In-ho was beside himself. He wanted to act on his rage but knew it would end in your death, so he reluctantly obeyed.

He entered the room with the host, noticing you tied up in the chair and your head hanging low. You were still knocked out. The host pulled your head up by your hair and shook your head, lightly slapping your cheek to get you to wake up. You slowly came back to consciousness and gasped at the host, the previous events flooding your memory again.

You looked around and noticed In-ho in the room, behind the host. He looked beyond distraught. It pained you to see him like that, more than any physical pain you could endure. You quietly cried.

The host turned to In-ho, still holding your hair. “Make no mistake, this is happening because of you.”

He turned back to you and slapped you hard, the blow almost threatening to knock you out again. You screamed and could barely catch your breath before he hit you again. The taste of blood flooded your mouth, heavy on your tongue.

You squeezed your eyes shut as he continued hitting you. You started to dissociate and almost slip into unconsciousness as you heard In-ho scream over and over for the host to stop.

The host chuckled and stopped hitting you, releasing your hair and allowing your head to hand low. You could barely keep it up.

He looked back at In-ho. “Don’t think we’re done yet.”

The host walked to your side and pulled out his gun, cocking it and pointing it to your head. You glared at him through the blood and sweat on your face, but he was facing In-ho.

“Now it’s your turn.”

In-ho stayed silent where he was. His heart dropped further than he could comprehend.

The host pushed the gun to your head, causing you to yelp. “You’re going to beat her or I’ll kill her right here. It’s time you learn your lesson.”

Your eyes shot open, your body frozen with fear. In-ho stood there but started to shake. He looked at you, his heart broken more than it already had been. He glanced at the host, his eyes pleading.

“Please.” he begged, his voice cracking.

The host huffed. “Do it. Or she’s dead.”

After several moments In-ho walked in front of you. You kept your head down, unable to bear looking at him. You knew he’d have to do it for you to live, you didn’t want to make it harder on him.

The host grabbed your hair and forced you to look up. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to keep your sobs in. In-ho looked at you with a pained expression. He could barely handle seeing you like this, but now he would have to hurt you himself?

Internally he was falling apart. He knew he’d have to do this. It felt as if his very state of being was crumbling inside.

“Do it now.”

In-ho sobbed and raised his hand weakly. Inside he was screaming for this to not be real, for this to be a fucked up dream he’d wake up from. But he felt the reality of it all too well. He cursed himself over and over as he slapped you. You unintentionally yelped and In-ho sobbed out loud.

The host sighed, annoyed. “You can do much better than that. Hit her harder.”

In-ho cried out in anguish, almost unable to stay standing. Tears were falling down both of your faces. He raised his hand again and hit you, harder than before. Blood started pouring from your lips and nose. You gasped, crying, but trying your best to stay as quiet as possible.

“Again.”

He hit you again, screaming. He couldn’t stop himself from holding your face afterwards, sobbing. “Darling, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m-”

The host pushed In-ho away from you. “None of that. Again.”

In-ho sobbed uncontrollably as he hit you. The sound of his anguish hurt more than his blows. It was worse than anything you’d ever experienced, worse than any representation of hell your mind could come up with.

The host continued. “Again. Again. Again.”

In-ho hit you each time the host commanded, his mental stability quickly fading. He fell to his knees as he continued to hit you, constantly either pleading for the host to stop or apologizing to you.

It seemed to last for hours. You endured blow after blow, forcing yourself to stay conscious. You didn’t want to give the host the satisfaction of it. It was enough that he had to hear your screams and cries. Blood and tears were smeared all over your face, dripping down to your neck and chest. Your neck was sore from whiplash.

You knew you’d just have to endure this, endure more pain, for you and In-ho to make it. It was worth everything, every bit of pain. Even in your increasingly delirious state, you knew In-ho was doing this because he loved you and would rather do something exceptionally horrific than see you die.

The host stopped for a second to hold your face, forcing you to look up at him. You were bruised, covered in blood, barely recognizable. He sighed, roughly wiping your face and pressing on your bruises.

“Sweetheart, you were so beautiful before, look at you now. This is what being a stupid whore gets you.”

You cried, tears mixing with the blood on your face. In-ho had his head resting in your lap, sobbing. He cried out, "PLEASE!”

The host laughed and released your head. You looked down at In-ho, your face grimacing. This was pure hell.

The host dropped his gun and put it back in his coat. “I’ll give you two a moment. We aren’t through yet. Enjoy your time while you have it.” He walked out of the room shutting the door.

In-ho looked up at you, shaking on his knees. He looked at his gloved hands, noticing your blood all over them. He threw them to the ground in disgust. He held your face and gently wiped your tears. His face was twisted with so many emotions. You sighed, catching your breath.

“In-ho. In-ho. In-ho.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, you were just thankful it was finally over.

In-ho sobbed, caressing your head and hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating himself, resting his head in your lap.

“In-ho. It’s okay. You had to.”

He sobbed harder at your words. He cursed himself for ever knowing you. He thought he could protect you, but he only hurt you. In his mind, you were better off without him. He was cursed, beyond repair, and ruined you because of it.

“I ruined you. I ruined everything. I’m so sorry.”

You cried at his words. The two of you were already so fucked up, this made it a million times worse. You let out a quiet sob. “We just… we just have to get through a little bit more.”

He looked up at you and held your face again, kissing you softly all over, his own tears mixing with yours. “I’m sorry.”

“In-ho. I know. It’s okay. This will all be worth it.” You cried, the pain overwhelming you.

He couldn’t comprehend how understanding you were at that moment. He felt worse than anything, undeserving of anything good at all, much less your unconditional love.

In-ho let out a shaky sigh and looked at your arms, still tied to the chair. He quickly undid them, letting your arms free. You instantly reached for him. He held you gently, rubbing the back of your head. You leaned your weight on his shoulder, taking him in with all of your senses.

You were afraid of what was to come, but in your heart knew the two of you would do anything to make it out alive. It was worse than anything you’d endured in the past. Going through the squid games, getting shot, all of it. And you knew you’d endure it all again and more just to be with him.

As In-ho held you, he felt sick to his stomach knowing he caused you so much pain. He’d rather kill hundreds of people with his bare hands than hurt you again. He rubbed your back and through his sobs, whispered, “I promise… I promise I’ll get us out of here. I’ll make this right.”

In his heart he felt beyond redemption, but he would stop at nothing to save you.

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#front man x reader #hwang inho x reader #squid game #squid game fanfic #hwang inho #front man #fanfiction #reader insert

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vanderlindemorgans · 3 years

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Mr. Perfectly Fine

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: Two weeks after breaking up with you, you're picking up the pieces of your heart that had been broken by your now ex-boyfriend Javier Peña. You want answers, a clear reason as to why things fell apart. The only problem is that Javier refuses to even acknowledge your existence

Warnings: A little bit of period-typical sexism, but not much, Javier being an asshole, mentions of prostitution, some low level typical Narcos themes

Authors Note: So this idea has been swimming around in my head ever since the song was released last week. I already had a Bad Breakup fic for Javi planned but I’ve decided to extend it into three parts! Also reader speaks in English bc I do not understand a word of Spanish other than that one line in Ultraviolence. None of this is beta read, so there’s bound to be a few mistakes - if I get anything really wrong then let me know.

Part 2 | MASTERLIST

The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. From the moment someone walked in they could feel it, the stifling air of awkwardness surrounding every single person in the room as they pretended to carry on with their work, averting their eyes to the spectacle presented in front of them, a war of agitation rife between two agents sitting across the room from each other as well as the unfortunate Steve Murphy who just happened to sit between you two. From your end it was simple silent fury, directed right across the room to where your partner, or rather, ex-partner, Javier Peña was seated at his own desk, casually leafing through mountains of paperwork and suspect photos as if you weren’t practically shooting daggers at him from across the way.

He wasn’t doing anything, and that was exactly the problem - you wanted him to do something, say something, anything, if only it would show that he even gave a damn about the situation at all. But he never did. Every morning when he walked into work carrying a black coffee in his hands, his top shirt buttons hanging loose as they always seemed to be and his hair mustled as if he hadn’t been sleeping properly, he said nothing. He walked past you as if you weren’t even there, ignoring your stares and crashing down at his desk, ready to continue the endless chase for Pablo Escobar. And it infuriated you. Oh lord, how it made you burn. With every refusal of acknowledgement he gave, you became even more tempted to march right over to him and strike him across his stupid handsome face. You never did, of course, and you never would. Physical confrontation just wasn’t your style. Nevertheless, the mere thought of such did bring you a small bit of joy to your broken little soul.

Things had been going like this for two weeks now. You hadn’t expected much on the first morning back in the office after what had happened between you. A part of you wanted him to come grovelling to you, insisting that he’d made a mistake and begging for you to take him back. That in itself was nothing more than a fantasy: Javier Peña was too proud to grovel. If anything, his behaviour shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest. He was the one who broke up with you over a 27 second phone call, after all.

Despite taking that into consideration, you thought by now you would have heard something from him. He’d have to talk to you eventually since you two were working the same case. Apparently no, because it appeared that he went out of his way to deliver every piece of correspondence meant for you through to Murphy, letting him act as a sort of unwilling middle man between the two of you. You knew that Steve already felt awkward enough having to be in the same room with the two of you whilst this was all going on, so your sympathy for him deepened when he was thrust into the even more awkward position of messenger. Sometimes you swore he made up fake meetings with Messina to attend to or new leads to investigate just so he could get away from the suffocating air of hate around you and Javi. And really, who could blame him?

You felt your nose twitch in annoyance as you trained your eyes forward to him, periodically looking down at various files of intel to keep up the facade that you were indeed working, though you eyes were across the room for most of the time, searching for any sign of emotion on his face. Nothing, zilch, not a single trace, his expression only showcasing general indifference, as if nothing were wrong at all. You gripped your hand tightly around the edge of your pen, thinking of everything you wished you could say to him. How’s your heart after breaking mine, Javi? For your information, ever since you pulled that bullshit on the phone, I’ve been miserable as all fucking hell. Before all that happened, I wanted to try. I was even ready to try to forgive you after that stupid fight, but you just had to make that call. You know what? I’d actually hate you less if you just acted like you cared a little that we broke up. But noooo, you’re just Mr. Perfectly Fine, what with your ignoring me and your casual cruelty, your always showing up at just the right time, and your insincerity, and the way you think everything fucking revolves around you. Well, I’ll tell you something Javi - I’m done! Absolutely done with you and your shit. Jump off a cliff for all I care!

“I’ll be back later on, gonna go follow up on a few leads” your thoughts were cut off by Javier’s abrupt announcement, your eyes gracing themselves upwards to watch him hastily scoop his jacket off the back of his chair and skulk his way out of the office. Every bitter word you wanted to say to him burned on your tongue, though you only managed to settle on a simple yet seething glare while his eyes glazed over you, rushing himself out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. You noticed Murphy look over his shoulder like he was about to say something but it was too late - Javi was already long gone.

_______

Letting out a low groan of frustration, you slammed the door to your car shut and threw your head back against the seats headrest, the stress of the job and the emotional weight of the day combining to make you even more tired than you would usually be at the end of a long day. Javier hadn’t been back to the office since he left, leaving both you and Murphy to pick up all the work he’d left in his absence. If that wasn’t infuriating enough, the thought of him running around all of Bogotá just to avoid seeing you brought your anger to new unreachable heights. It was annoying - him not being around should have left your mind to be free to do some actual goddamn work but instead, just as before, every single moment he occupied your mind, living there permanently as if it were his right. How much more infuriating could that man get?

Thankfully, the drive home wasn’t any more of a nuisance than usual, since the apartment complex you shared with the others wasn’t that far from the embassy, so that was a small positive at the very least. Once you’d pulled up to the lot you were feeling a lot more level-headed than you did before, and were mainly looking forward to kicking back in pajamas and watching whatever was on TV with the leftover pizza from the night before. It wouldn’t do much to take your mind off everything with Javi, though, you knew that much. Still, a small bit of bliss was still bliss.

Your apartment was down the hall from Javier’s, which had made it easier for you two when you were together but now felt like another sore reminder of what had been. Sighing heavily to yourself, you kicked the door to your car shut and stuffed the keys into the pocket of your jeans. A minor annoyance, sure, nothing you couldn’t handle though. You wondered if he would even be back right now. He had to be, right? An idea started to creep into your head at that thought, taking root and festering until you had practically talked yourself into doing it already, descending up the stairs with a sense of purpose behind you. Maybe if you showed up on his doorstep you could force him to confront you, make him look you in the eye. Any sort of acknowledgement to what you two had would be nice at this point, and if you had to take action yourself to get him to do it, then so be it.

The closer you got to his door the more you felt you should turn back, a feeling of uneasiness beginning to form somewhere deep in your chest. This might be a bad idea. What if you two got into a fight again? As much as you wanted nothing more than to hurl some carefully crafted insults at Javi and his stupid gorgeous face, you weren’t exactly up for a full on battle that could result from it. Would it be better to simply go home and ignore your problems a little more?

Once you were only inches from the door was when you started to hear it. At first it sounded muffled, on account of the fact that there was a physical barrier between you and them, and you weren’t quite sure exactly what you heard at first but when you pressed yourself closer to the door you could hear it all clear as day - a woman moaning loudly on the other side, whimpering out Javi’s name and betraying exactly what was going on within the walls of the apartment. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, the world feeling like it was collapsing around you from the very second you realised why he had left early for the day. Unable to stop yourself, you tore yourself away from the apartment door and ran down the hall to your own place, tears falling at a rapid pace that refused to stop. You didn’t know if the woman in there was an informant, or a prostitute, or some random chick he’d picked up in a bar after ditching work for the day. In the end none of it mattered though. All that mattered is that it wasn’t you in there with him, like it used to be, like it should be, and that fact made you hurt all the more fiercely.

Fumbling with the keys to your apartment, you choked on a low sob working your way through the waterfall of tears in your eyes to try and wrestle the key into the lock. Through your haste, you accidentally let them fall loose from your palms and onto the ground, prompting a loud “fuck!” to ring out from your throat, loud enough for everyone in the neighboring apartments to hear. Not like you really cared about that, to be honest. With your hands shaking, you finally managed to throw the door to your apartment open, slamming it back closed with a thud and leaning back against it with your head in your hands, slowly descending to the ground to finally give in to the wave of sorrow threatening to claim you.

You’d known his reputation before you started seeing each other, that he slept with all his informants and chased every woman who crossed his path in Colombia. Actually, it had made you hesitant to get involved with him in the first place but once you two had bitten the bullet and finally admitted your damn feelings for each other, Javier had ceased with his wild ways, becoming solely dedicated to you and you alone. And sure, you two weren’t together anymore, there wasn’t anything stopping him from being with other women. It felt like a deeper twist of the knife though, what you’d heard from behind that door, and it practically confirmed the sickening feeling that had been building in you since the first day back in the office after your breakup, when Javi refused to even look you in the eye and acted as if you’d vanished off the face of the planet. He doesn’t care about me anymore.

Moving on had been that much easier for him. While it took everything in you to get up each day, he was doing absolutely ok. More than ok, if the sounds coming from his apartment were anything to go by. He was even already settling back into his old reputation. You should’ve known it was too good to be true - the manwhore of the DEA, Javier Peña actually wanting to settle down with one woman, actually caring about a girl beyond what she could be in bed. You remembered the raised eyebrows when you two had first gotten together: for most, it just seemed so out of nowhere. You’d ignored them all, remembering all the times you’d be tangled up with Javi on the couch, his head nestled into your neck while your heart raced a mile a minute, hearing every sweet nothing and praise he’d whisper to you. Stupid girl, you should’ve known.

_______

After such a huge revelation, you thought things might’ve changed. In what way they would, you didn’t really know. Maybe the change would be sudden, such as you finally working up enough of a resolve to actually go confront Javier on his shit. Or maybe you’d take a leaf out of his book and start trying to seem like nothing was wrong at all, maybe go out on a few dates with some other guys. One of the Search Bloc guys had been eyeing you up every time he came over with Carillo to talk strategy, maybe you could go out with him. Though you knew it wouldn’t help - unlike Javier, who was actually more than happy with where you two had left things, you weren’t, and acting like it was just to throw it in his face wasn’t really going to work if he didn’t care enough to look over at you in the first place. And even then, the idea of falling into bed with some random man that you didn’t care for all that much in the name of moving on didn’t seem right to you.

Nevertheless, you expected some form of change to happen the morning after when you came into work to see Javier sitting at his desk, on the phone to someone you couldn’t care less about. But nope. Nothing had changed. You sat down and stared across the room at him, just like you’d done every day for the past two weeks, and he ignored your stare to continue with writing something down on his notepad, just like usual.

Maybe the change would be gradual, you thought, staring back over at the man in the midst of your ire with one of your coldest glares. And sure enough, around midday Steve had come up to you asking to retrieve something from the evidence room for him. Apparently he needed to look over something but was too busy with his own work to go fetch it - you knew on some level that his excuse was bullshit as it had been a pretty slow day for all of you but sure, whatever, if it got you out of that room and away from Javi for at least a few blissful moments that was fine by you.

Reaching out for the door to the evidence room, you pushed it open and admitted yourself into the crowded space, twisting around to slam the door shut firmly behind you. Before you were rows of shelves containing every bit of evidence the DEA had accumulated against Escobar - there wasn’t as much as there probably should have been due to the fire that had broken out at the Palace of Justice years before yet the amount contained in that small room was still impressive in size. Moving between the shelves, you scanned the rows of boxes looking for the one Steve had asked for in particular, taking your time with it as there was a small sense of serenity to being in that room. For once it felt like you could breathe. You didn’t have to sit at a desk across from your ex, you didn’t have to go home to your apartment that was literally across the hall from his, you could be alone and not feel suffocated by his ever-present shadow over your life. Though, in some way you supposed, your own memories could still prove just as suffocating as Javier’s own godforsaken presence.

As if by thinking of him you’d magically summoned him, the man himself strode through the door to the evidence room, appearing to be in quite a hurry however once he noticed you were there he stopped, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual stoic glare. You could barely contain your own disappointment at his sudden appearance, letting your face twist into a low scowl as you watched him walk down the aisle you were standing in, his eyes dashing from row to row searching for any place to look so they could avoid landing on you. Anger bubbled within you, a thousand different sarcastic or otherwise snarky remarks coming to mind that you could throw out at him, every one of them becoming increasingly more scathing the more you thought about it. Letting out a small sigh, you forced yourself to push all those delightful insults to the back of your mind, not wanting to become caught up in any more personal drama than you had to. Get the box and go. It’s that simple. There doesn’t need to be anymore to this.

A minute later your eyes landed on the fabled box you’d been searching for, shoved into a corner and so out of the way you almost missed it completely. You thought of asking Steve what was in the box that he needed so bad when out of nowhere you heard a familiar voice speak up from behind you.

“Listen, I...about what happened on the phone a few weeks ago-”.

So, it seems Mr. Perfectly Fine has finally decided to break his silence. In an instant you twisted yourself around to face him, quickly taking in his serious expression and stiff stature before your eyes met for the first time in two weeks.“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to speak to me now? That’s a first. I thought you were steadfast gonna ignore me for the rest of my life” you spat, not allowing him any form of politeness or decorum in your reply. Why should you? He’d ignored you for weeks. He deserved this.

You watched as Javier tensed at your words, clearly not expecting the bite back that you had given to him. There was some part of his expression that almost looked sheepish in a way, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he really wanted this conversation to happen at all. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just-” he started with you rolling your eyes and cutting in almost immediately. “Save it for someone who actually gives a shit. Shouldn’t be hard since you don’t seem to care all too much yourself” you snarled, an action which only made him even more tense.

“I do care, and I kind of always have fucking cared so if you could calm down a little and stop getting yourself worked up we can actually talk about what happened. Can you do that for me at the bare minimum?” he retorted, a harsh edge appearing in his tone that indicated he was already becoming frustrated with your attitude. You knew Javi’s emotions like the back of your hand - he wasn’t a patient man, and he had no time for snark or sarcasm, though only if it was directed at him. When it came to himself, he was more than happy to indulge in a small bit of pettiness. You didn’t much care at that moment though: as far as you were concerned, he lost the right to a civilised discussion when he broke up with you over the phone and then pretended you were invisible for weeks. It’s not like things can get any worse than they are now, right?

“Oh, sure, sure, we can totally talk. How about I start then?” you fired back, every word simmering with venom and dripping raw with sarcastic edge. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the shelf to take him in, from the creases in his tie to his tired eyes staring straight into you. Wait, tired? You didn’t realise it until then but he had been looking pretty tired lately, almost like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Then again, his sleep schedule had never been quite stellar, so that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. And he was probably up all night with that woman I heard him with, you reminded yourself bitterly. “Look at you, so dignified in your well pressed suit, so smug and self-involved, so far above me in every way, so far above that you won’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge my presence. Tell me, Javier, has it really been that easy to forget about me?” you taunted. “Though I supposed when you’re seducing every whore in Colombia into your bed it would be easy, wouldn’t it?”.

Javier was caught off guard by your remark, not anticipating that you would go so far as to accuse him of returning to his old ways. “First of all, she was an informant, and I had to leave yesterday to go meet up with her. Things ran into overtime and that’s the reason I wasn’t back. I thought you of all people understood that gathering intel is a vital part to the fight against Escobar?” he replied, that last line at the end being delivered with only a little more underlying snip than the rest yet it was more than enough for you to feel around thirty percent more pissed at him.

You scoffed at his lies, your lip curling into a snarl at his attempt at patronising you. “Don’t patronise me. I’m well aware of the ins and outs of this job, in case you’ve forgotten I’ve been working with the DEA for eight years now, which is why I’m calling bullshit on your pathetic excuse for a lie. You do realise we live in the same building right? I know you were doing more than having a friendly discussion with her in there, in fact, I quite literally heard you two through the goddamn walls on my way back home. And before you try to spin some shit about how it was necessary for the case, you and I both know that fucking the informant isn’t a standard part of procedure. You don’t see Murphy bedding any of his sources of intel, do you?”.

“Murphy’s married, princesa” he deadpanned, throwing in that little nickname he had for you that two weeks ago would have made your heart flutter but at this time and in the context he used it only soured your mood further. “That’s besides the point. You’ve been acting like I never even mattered to you at all, and it’s honestly making me wonder if I ever did? Especially since I apparently didn’t deserve the dignity of a proper breakup and got a 27 second phone call instead. Tell me, when did you change your mind? I thought I was supposed to be the one you were waiting for all your life. Guess that was pretty easy to change, wasn’t it?” you snapped.

“Hermosa, can you just fucking listen for one minute?! God, you’re impossible sometimes” Javier shouted, that infamous temper of his rising towards the surface at a rapid rate. It was only a matter of time before he spat something out that he would no doubt regret. In your own haze of anger though, that fact didn’t register with you at all - you only saw red. If you had to scream back at him to finally pull some answers out of the man, then so fucking be it.

“No, how about you listen for once! I know we had that big fight but we could have just talked. The next day when you called me up I was ready to forgive you for being a complete ass. And what did I get instead? ‘I’m sorry, I think we should stop seeing each other’ and a dead dial tone after that. I can tell the only reason you’re apologising today is just so you don’t have to feel like the bad guy in all of this. So what’s the truth? Why were you so ready to throw away a whole relationship over one night of terse words?” you screamed, not caring that you two were at work and anyone could pass by outside and hear you two argue. With the way you both were shouting, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire building could hear your screaming match with Javier. None of that mattered to you though. The only thing that mattered was the truth.

You weren’t the only one refusing to hold back in any of this: any lingering spark of politeness had vanished in Javi, his eyes turning dark with searing anger you had only seen in him a couple of times before. “You want to know why? You want to fucking know why? It’s because you’re a fucking pain to deal with. You may be a fantastic agent but god you can be so stupid sometimes. You’re too reckless, you throw yourself into danger too willingly with no consideration for anyone else. Did you ever stop to think what would happen to the people who cared about you if you died? Do you even give a shit about the people trying to protect you?” he confessed, fury burning with every word that came out of his mouth, his admittance making you flinch. It was just like he said during your last fight, the one that led to him dumping you in the first place.

Everything he said from that night came rushing back to you, remembering how furious he’d been at you for what had happened during your last raid together. You could see that underneath it all he was concerned for your safety, a gesture that was usually sweet but frustrated you that night as you felt something more akin to a porcelain doll than a capable agent in his eyes. Just because I’m your girlfriend, doesn’t mean you can treat me like I need to be protected. I can handle myself just fine. That was what you’d said to him that night, which should have been the end of it but somehow as the argument went on things got more and more heated that by the time he’d stormed out of your apartment neither of you could remember what had started it all.

What took you by surprise was that apparently he was still stewing about this, for some reason not wanting to believe in your capabilities as an agent and that alone made you more pissed at him. “I don’t need to be protected, Javier. I’m a woman, a DEA agent for crying out loud, not a flower! I’m more than capable of handling myself, I was literally trained for this! Nobody else here seems to have a problem with how I approach things so maybe the issue isn’t my method of attack but the fact that you’re a paranoid asshole?”.

He raised a single eyebrow back at you, looking somewhat skeptical of your claim but more so angry that somehow you two had managed to circle back around to the very thing that had started this whole mess.“Really? Because our last raid you were throwing yourself into the fray as if it were a suicide mission. It was a miracle you only ended up with a minor sprain to the wrist. Those men, the sicario’s, they don’t fucking hold back, one wrong mistake means the difference between life and death” he snapped.“And you know what? After constantly stressing over your safety every minute I was done. If you wanna end up with a bullet between your eyes, be my guest”.

The second those words slipped from his lips, he knew he’d fucked up. As the tears started to form in your eyes you could see him freeze up, his burning temper that had caused him to be so hateful before starting to slowly seep back, replaced with remorse and a hint of panic if you squinted. Although that didn’t matter much right now - his venomous words were rattling around in your brain, acting as a metaphorical hammer that took the final swing towards your damaged heart. Apparently what you heard through the walls the night before hadn’t been enough to break you completely, since there was still enough left of your heart for the rest of it to be shattered by his callous cruelty.

Forcefully swallowing down your cries, you wanted so badly to disappear from the room. You wanted to melt into the floor, to run away and go find one of Escobar’s men and gloat about all you’d done to try to stop him so you could feel the mercy of a fatal gunshot wound to the head. All the pain you had felt previously paled in comparison to the knife that cut you then, the tight feeling of your throat closing with every word you forced out. “So you were lying. You don’t care about me at all. You...you think I’m stupid. And reckless. And...not able to handle being here…”.

“Shit, princesa, that’s not what I meant, I-” Javier started, desperately scrambling to fix the mess he’d caused, however, you weren’t going to let him. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Any hope he might have had of making things right was now thrown straight out the window. No more chances. Not anymore.

“I think that’s exactly what you meant, Javi. Well, you got your wish I guess. I’ll get out of your life for good” your voice wobbled as you spoke, the next few minutes becoming a blur from when you’d pushed past him and ran out of the evidence room, hearing him call your name behind and not bothering to turn back to face him, running through the halls past different agents and members of the DEA, your hand shielding yourself in a pathetic attempt to save face. Somehow you’d managed to make it out to your car, throwing yourself into the driver's seat and jamming the keys into the ignition, your mind going in a million different directions. Your first thought was to go back home, though you knew that you’d have to hear Javi come back later, probably with yet another woman he picked up. You didn’t exactly have any friends in Colombia - with your line of work there hadn’t been exactly a lot of time to sit around and mingle with people, and truth be told you wanted to avoid people at all costs right then. Without any idea as to where you might be going, or what you were going to do, you pulled your car out of the parking lot and slammed on the gas to get you out of there, the world surrounding you not registering to you anymore and every sound becoming a rush against your ears that you paid no mind to.

One thing was for sure - you weren’t going to give Javier a single drop more of you. Your time, your mind, your energy, your tears, nothing. He’d already proved himself to be a lying sack of shit who didn’t care about you, so as it stood, you wouldn’t care about him either. Like the end of a tragic tale, everything had crashed and burned, and now that you thought about it more, maybe that was how things needed to be.

Goodbye, Mr Perfectly Fine. I’ve been Miss Misery for the last time.

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robertdenir0sgf · 10 days

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starlightsearches · 3 years

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Hello! I love your work so much ❤️ could we get a story about the reader and Hux flirting in a ball and they’re both drunk

Hello friend! This is such a fun request and I'm so happy you sent it in. I hope you like what I have for you 💖

Requests are open ✨

Young! Armitage Hux x GN Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of sex, it's kind of slutty, and I think that's it! Let me know what you think besties!

The wine has gone to your head.

You've heard the tales of Auria—the dazzling lights and wicked parties—but no one managed to mention the strength of their spirits, which, now that you think of it, is a testament to their potency. You've only had one glass but you're already seeing stars, the entire estate filled with dazzling strings of light and chasing trails of laughter.

You had come here with someone. What was her name? Saria? Or maybe it was Samada. Is that who you're looking for? There doesn't seem to be any point in it now; you're not feeling lonely.

Besides, every room is absolutely bursting with people, all of them friendly and obliging, scattered over couches or laying ornate rugs, beckoning you to join them in fits of laughter.

There are others partaking in activities that you find much more appealing—sequestered away in darkened bedrooms or quiet corners, chasing a different kind of intoxication. You avert your eyes each time you stumble upon such a couple, but you can't help the heat that travels through your stomach, its embers trailing through your limbs, sparking over your skin.

It must feel good to be touched like that.

You carry yourself deeper into the house, a new motivation singing through your blood.

Lucky for you, there's a potential candidate just ahead. His back is to you, but your mouth already waters—he's tall, and well-dressed, his red hair slicked back and neat, hands encased in leather gloves and clasped tightly behind his back.

He'll do nicely.

You adopt an indifferent air, strolling past him as if you don't see him at all, but you're too confident and your trajectory is off. You collide with his shoulder, losing your own balance and threatening his, flinging your arms out haphazardly, hoping desperately to stay on your feet.

And then his hand is on your arm, steady and secure, saving you from yourself.

"Thank you," you say, meeting his eyes, "I'm so sorry I ran in to you, I wasn't looking where I was . . ."

Your mouth goes numb. You know him.

Lieutenant Armitage Hux has clearly been drinking, as well. His face is as relaxed as you've ever seen it, eyes bright, cheeks flooded with color. Your breath hitches in your lungs. He's more handsome than you remember.

"Oh, hello. I know you."

The words feel dumb and heavy in your mouth, but you have to say something. You haven't seen Armitage since your graduation, working practically on opposite ends of the galaxy. He moved on to the Finalizer immediately after graduation, and you turned to politics as a negotiator for the Order.

"Yes, I remember. We were at the Academy together."

He speaks quietly and you take a step closer, hoping to better hear him over the raucous group behind you, cackling over the stem of a broken wine glass.

His hand slides slowly down your arm, his thumb circling absentmindedly over your skin. There's something else that's different about him. It's not just his face that's changed, but his demeanor, as well—he's more confident, sure of himself. Less threatened by everyone around him.

But maybe that's just the wine.

"I'm glad," you whisper back, running your teeth over your bottom lip, feeling bold. "I thought you would have forgotten about me."

He smiles, just slightly, but it's enough to fill your chest with thunderous nerves.

"Never."

His fingers are at your wrist now, taking your hand in his own, and your face grows warm. You had missed the point quite a few lectures back at the Academy, daydreaming of a moment like this one. Armitage had always been the star of those trite little fantasies: his hands under your uniform in the library, or behind the barracks.

You hadn't been generous enough, even in your naivety. Being touched by him feels better than you ever could have imagined.

"Dance with me," he commands, stepping forward, close enough that the hem of his suit jacket brushes against your chest. Your eyebrows raise, alarmed.

"But there's no music." It feels like a silly objection, especially when his other hand meets your waist, pulling you flush against him, swaying slightly in time with a melody only the two of you can imagine.

"I'm aware, but I wanted an excuse to hold you."

The whispered words meet your ear, sending a thrill through your stomach, and your mind feels airy and light. So you hadn't imagined any of it: those panicked looks across classrooms, the weight of his eyes on the side of your face as you studied together for exams. Craving something, but unable to name it.

All this time, and he wanted you, too.

"You never needed an excuse, Armitage," you whisper back, and his grip tightens on your waist.

"Are you telling me that you return my affections?" His hand trails upwards, ghosting over your rib cage, close enough to be improper—if this were an Order event.

"You didn't know before? I thought I'd been too obvious."

His hand reaches your shoulder, fingers trailing gently before molding themselves against the flushed skin of your neck. "Then you'll have to forgive me for my ignorance."

His other arm slips around your waist, holding you steady when your knees threaten to buckle, and then his lips are on yours.

He tastes like wine and smoke, his mouth softly searching your own, and you give him everything in hopes you have what he's looking for.

He moans into your mouth, uninhibited, as if you're alone in this room, not surrounded by hundreds. You slip your tongue between his parted lips, emboldened by the thought. The can look, if they'd like.

Your back meets the wall behind you, his hips pressed tight against your own, every fiber in him hungry for every part of you.

His lips wander from yours, across your cheek, down your neck, searching every inch of skin you've made available with his lips and teeth and tongue.

Your eyes roll back, a rush of dazzling light blurring through your mind, stealing every thought but the feeling of his hands on your waist, his breath on your ear.

"I'm not sure if you're already aware, but I'm told the estate features an excellent garden. Perhaps we can find a more private place to continue this reunion?"

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kkysolo · 3 years

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Why do your posts only get like 5 notes tho

I’ve had this in my inbox since this morning and I’ve rewritten and hashed out the answer at least three times already because I honestly don’t know if you meant this in a rude and mean way, but that’s certainly how I took it.

Because, really, it’s kind of a shitty thing to point out? Because believe me, honestly and truly, no one is more aware of that than me - and I consider deactivating every other day because of it.

But listen! I’m not at the luxury of all of the things that encourage engagement around here. I don’t write requests, I don’t write a whole lot of smut or anything and I only write for one character. I’m not friends with people in fandom who mostly reblog from their friends (which is fine, I’m not bashing that, I reblog mostly from the people I follow too), I’m in the wrong timezone to post at your peak times, and I write mostly longer, slowburn/multi-chaptered fics that people don’t seem to often read on here anymore. Because sure, I have enough followers - assumedly from Ultraviolence if we’re being really honest here - but I mean, if you can discern as much then I suppose we all can see that engagement is still minimal because my readers all seem to mostly be silent. And you know what? I try not to let those things constantly circle in my mind, and I try not to let that get in the way of my writing, because that’s not why I’m here.

I’m here because I love this character so much, and I want to do him justice and because writing about him is my comfort.

If I was really that damn pressed about it, I’d open requests, I’d write to gain traction. But I’m in the middle of a masters with a demanding job where I can’t even have my phone on me, much less a laptop to be writing on while I’m there. I also have a partner and dogs and a million other responsibilities that require my attention, so that just isn’t a priority.

And on top of that? I like the stories I write, with the exception of Ultraviolence, and I want to continue them for the people who enjoy them.

At the end of the day, I do this for free just like everyone else, and it has to be for my enjoyment. But man, if that’s the way tumblr is gonna be and this is what people really focus on and choose to interact with me about, then I think I had the right damn idea when I said I might just stick to AO3.

#this is like #got me so fucking annoyed like i'm sorry to be so rude #but jesus christ #i'm at work and i'm fucking sour #anon #ask

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malethirsty · 4 years

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Polar Saviour: Sandy

Summary: When you trip up at a rally, a different type of hero steps up to help you, one that has opposing views, but sometimes, opposites attract & make a blasting connection.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

Attending an Anti Trump rally was something you’d never experienced before, but you were part of the generation that he and many like him was fucking over, so you had to do your part for a better world. So you threw on a ‘Why be racist, sexist, homophobic, when you could be quiet’ shirt, grabbed your homemade banner saying ‘Peach showers await Mr. Trump’ and made your way out to the streets.

As expected the place was packed as you marched down the streets of New York, chants alternating between ‘No Trump, No KKK, No Fascist USA’, ‘Lock Him Up’ and various other things like that. The reason you hadn’t gone to one of these before was because of the raucousness of the crowd & this was no exception, people were hustling and bustling about, and various people were being squashed around, including yourself. Not wanting to cut in front of people, you reluctantly stayed where you were as the crowd bustled forwards through the streets. Suddenly, you lost your footing and fell hard onto the pavement “Fuck!” You groaned, if you’ve ever fallen over, you’d know how rough and gut wrenching it is. “Shit man, are you ok?” Came a voice, you cautiously moved your head to see a man had departed from the crowd and had moved over to make sure you were alright “Yeah, leave me here for a bit and I’ll gather my strength” you said. The man laughed “I think people will think you’re dead if you stay stock still on the road.” “I guess so” you conceded “I’m gonna help you up alright?” He stooped down and pulled you up, “We’ll head to a cafe on the corner, I’ll check you out, make sure you haven’t hurt yourself.” You nodded, only half listening gazing at your savior, he had black skin, with darkly tinted brown eyes to match and a shaved frizzy hair style, he looked absolutely gorgeous, like a beautiful dream that had come to life.

You barely even noticed the change of place until he sat you down on a chair in an emptied out cafe and started to check you over. “I don’t think you’ve broken anything, there seems to be a bit of bruising though” You looked down and saw what he meant “It still stings but not as much as it did, thank you Mr.” you looked at the man hoping he would get the prompt “Sandy” he responded “Sandy, well I’m Y/N, thanks for helping me out.” “No problem Y/N.” The two of you placed orders and started small talk, you learnt he was steeped in political knowledge as he learnt about your journalism. “So I figured if I went, I’d have something to write about this week for my column.” “Yeah, ‘PROTESTERS: practice spacial awareness at events’ should be your headline” Sandy quipped back, leading you to laugh and grin, usually sarcastic comments would be retorted against, but something about his delivery worked so well.

“So why were you there? Something Trump tweeted about John Lewis? The ‘First Black President’ statement during Black History Month?” You asked, having had the ‘President’ blocked on Twitter for years on end “No, I’m actually a Republican.” Midway through your handful of chips, you choked. Sandy rushed over to hit you on the back, clearing your airways. “You keep running into trouble Y/N!” Sandy exclaimed “Yeah” you subtly said, if Sandy was a Republican, what was he doing at a Democratic event? You posed the question to him after he returned to his seat “Well whilst some of my views are Right Wing, like the right to own guns, I think my party and the world deserves better than Trump.” “Absolutely, but guns? When they contribute to massive deaths?” “So do knives but you don’t see people calling for a boycott.” Sandy responded “And it’s more complex than that, the amendment even if it could be changed, would take a while to pass by, rednecks could refuse to give their blessed weapons over, pandemonium potentially breaks out. I’m not saying anyone should be allowed to own a gun, but there are things people need to consider regarding our constitution.” As much as you wanted to stand very against his viewpoint, you knew he had points “I guess, cutting gun passage and starting proper screening processes could help minimize the amount of deaths in America, I get the whole defense thing, but it’s a shame that this country has turned into a place where Ultraviolence is an art form. Where sex is bad but violence is the new black.”

Sandy stared at you, taking it all in “I like how you debate your issues & how you didn’t storm off or make a big deal due to the side of politics I’m on.” “Well I probably would have tripped over my chair and hurt myself more.” You countered making him grin “And also when a big threat to our world is posed, people on opposing sides have to meet in the middle, or else the threat picks at our weaknesses and plays us against each other.” Sandy nodded “Very true. Geez, at least this went better than the last conversation I had about this.” “I hate to ask but what happened?” You grimaced slightly, worried about what it could have entailed “It was my ex girlfriend, Hannah her name was, she initially saw past my views and we had a decent relationship, and then it came back up because I didn’t like her essay and even when we broke up, she still wanted sex.” Your mouth dropped open, you felt bad for the poor guy, whilst being Right Wing wasn’t the best thing in the world, this Hannah sounded like a right piece of work “Shit Sandy, I’m sorry you had to go through that.” “And it always happens, people like her are like ‘Oh I’m in my 20s, I’m gonna move to New York, be a free spirit, date a black guy and go to a dangerous part of town.’” “It’s like they want to date black men because of the societal view of thugness or thrill that comes with it!” You exclaimed “You took the words right out of my mouth” Sandy quipped.

You soon finished your meal, and you reached for your wallet to pay “Nah Y/N, let me.” Sandy started “No Sandy, you’ve done enough for me today.” “Seriously, my treat.” He responded to you. You abandoned your attempt to get your wallet “Well I have to pay you back somehow.” “You don’t have to, unless you wanna go back to mine.” He subtly grinned your way, and you wondered was there a trace of a flirt in his grinned gaze? You decided to take the chance “Yes I will.” You said “Good. I thought you might.” Sandy responded. Having rested in the cafe for a while, you were able to stand on both feet and you followed Sandy past the crowds to his flat.

His flat seemed like any other that you’d come across, everything neatly arranged, his political books all stacked on a shelf & his bed tucked away in a corner. “Mind if I rest my leg up against the table so I can see how my bruise is doing?” Sandy nodded and having his ascent, you sat down and tentatively stretched your leg out, the black and blue colour now starting to stand out stronger than what it did “Oh that’s bloody great, people are gonna fucking notice that, it’s as clear as day.” “What if you stayed in with me?” Sandy offered “What would we do, streaming and cooking is great, but that can get tiring, no offense.” You quickly turned to see if Sandy was alright and found his face studying yours, much like how you did on the way up to the cafe “None taken, babe” and before you could react, he moved over & kissed you deep.

His lips felt so pleasant yet dominant, you moved further in, letting a moan fall out of your lips, making him laugh “And I haven’t even got your clothes off yet” “Well you better take it off then” you countered. Sandy proceeded to take off each garment “Fuck, you look real sexy when you’re naked man.” He exclaimed with a lustful tone in his voice. He lusciously stripped his shirt off for you, his sculpted pecs and four pack made you moan out in pleasure “Pants. Now” you got out as Sandy laughed and quickly disposed of his pants & underwear, his big cock flopping out. He moved your leg from table to lounge and moved his dick in front of your face “Suck my dick babe” he said softly & not wanting to waste another second, you lowered your head & began to suck. Sandy threw his head back breathing out an “Oh fuck!” you moved further down, tracing his veins. Louder groans filled the room as he grabbed your head and guided you “Oh fuck, you’ve got an amazing mouth, so fucking good!” He leant down and gave you a kiss “Fuck, I taste good on your mouth!”

"Sandy I want you to fuck me.” you got out. Sandy not wanting to prolong you, made his way to the other end of the couch & began to shove his cock in your ass “Oh-Oh Fuck!” You moaned out, "You alright? If it hurts too much I’ll stop.” You nodded at Sandy and he stopped so you could steady your breathing “Keep going” you told him and he finally bottomed out balls deep. “Guess it’s true, black men have big cocks.” You said, causing Sandy to laugh “Babe, if you think our cocks are big, wait till you see how we fuck.” He started a passionate fast pace fuck into you, moans filling the apartment. You ran your hands down Sandy’s chest & tweaked his sensitive nipples, making him cry out in pleasure “Yeah Y/N, keep going!” You continued whilst running your hands down his four pack, getting to grips with his defined muscles while Sandy continues to fuck you.

“You wanted this” he moans out “Yeah I fucking did.” You responded, the adoring pretty gaze you had given him on the streets was gone, replaced by a look of lust. “And now you’re getting it, such a good fucking slut!” “Yeah, I’m your fucking slut Sandy!” You responded, the dirty talk flowing naturally “Yeah, good sluts like you get rewards.” Sandy gripped your cock & began to stroke it in time with his pace “Fucking come for me, shoot all over me baby boy!” It felt so sudden, like your load had been brimming up this entire time, but you hadn’t noticed because of how good Sandy was fucking you. “OH SANDY!” You screamed aloud as you shot your load all over him “Oh fuck!” Sandy laughed out “You blew a lot! I must be fucking you real good then.” “Y-yes you are.” You breathed out “Well then, I better keep going.” And he thrust in harder than before, drawing another lust toned scream from you, you didn’t know how he could have gotten faster than before, but he did, despite that, you knew that even the strongest man has limits.

And this was proved right after a while, as Sandy’s pace got sloppier “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” He groaned “Yeah Sandy! Give me your cum!” You moaned out, riding him hard, meeting him with every beat. “You want me deep in you?” He groaned out “Yeah fill me up please!” You yelled out. Sandy continued go rut inside you, gazing deep as he did so “Fuck babe, I'm cumming, God I'm cumming! Oh Fuck!" He finally cried out as you felt his cock pulse, load upon load squirting inside you." "Y/N babe, that was fantastic!” He kissed you, you returning with the same amount of passion. You rested up against him “Fuck, you’re amazing!” Sandy grinned “Nice to know Y/N.” He picked you up and led you to his bed “Now, we have two weeks and a bunch of positions to do & this time I’m gonna show you the blacked the berry, the sweeter the juice. And by berry, I mean my balls” You grinned up at him “Bring. It. On.”

#Sandy #Male Reader #Sandy/Male Reader #Sandy Smut #Girls #GirlsHBO #Girls Smut #GirlsHBO Smut

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disembowel-me · 4 years

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SAD SACK Review

SAD SACK is a series of ultraviolent snuff porn comics by meanboss and barbatus following 5 somewhat likable but very maladjusted guys as they commit a series of murders against deserving(?) people. I didn’t know anything beyond that going in, though I was familiar with some of their previous works and loved them so I knew I was gonna love this. This review is split up by my thoughts on each comic, and then my overall thoughts.

Spoilers shouldn’t ruin your enjoyment of these comics, but if you’re the kind of person who cares about that but want to know if I recommend it - hell yeah I recommend it. if you think you’ll like it, you’ll probably like it. This review is also nsfw, which goes for everything on this blog.

disclaimer: I am not an artist, I do write but not very well or often and have no formal training beyond what you get from k-12 and a basic college degree. I’m just a gore, sex, and death enthusiast here to let you know my thoughts on this awesome comic ‘cause god knows more people need to hear the word

1. SO MUCH FOR THE TOLERANT LEFT

This is definitely the most fun. It’s a raw, unadulterated revenge fantasy. It’s passionate, it’s angry, but stays pretty light and fun, or as light and fun as a torture porn comic can be. It’s indulgent. It’s violent pleasure to the max. And it's so! fucking! HOT!

Malik’s dirty talk is so raunchy. Raping a nazi? Making him cry and beg for cock? Jesus christ it’s SO hot. I love Stone’s mock-kindness, and how the nazi bends to their whims so fast. And Garv’s skull-fucking is probably one of if not my favorite scenes in all of the comics. Those exposed brains reeaallly hit the spot.

The art is a little rougher than the others, which is to be expected since it’s the first but honestly? I love it and it fits the tone, and it’s really cool to see how the quality is improved with every comic. The visuals are amazing. The facial expressions are incredible and are exaggerated in such a way that conveys the extreme emotion really well. I love the panels where the nazi’s face is reflected in Jake’s glasses and you see how tiny and pathetic he is and feels.

This one is the easiest to digest. There’s not a lot of story here, it gets to the point fast, it feels like it’s not ‘real’, as in it doesn’t feel like it exists in a world like our own where consequences exist..... until the end where Jake has to go back to retrieve Malik’s sister’s knife and the nebulous “torture world” and the real world the boys live in meet. Most torture porn I’ve consumed thus far has only or mostly only been torture porn, so I like that they have lives outside of this, which is explored a lot more as the story goes on.

2. A SMALL PLOT OF LAND

This murder is purely emotional, and the only one that isn’t sexual at all. I don’t have as many specific things that I liked to point out here but it’s so satisfying to see a cowardly predator get what he deserves. The only explicitly sexual content is at the beginning where Sal and Stone are violently fucking, but the story and gnarly as fuck gore more than makes up for it (and if you’re into that sort of thing, it won’t hold you back from finding parts sexy anyway). I love the quick tonal shift from violent fuck to a tender and vulnerable moment between them. Sal and Stone’s relationship here is sweet and loving and actually pretty cute. For how intense this one is, it ends fairly light-hearted and I got a real kick out of Garv starting to lick the cock and then get pissy when Malik tells him off, and clearly, Sal did too!

What really shines in these comics, aside from all the gore and porn and dicks and yummy goodness we’re here for, are the panels featuring faces. The expressions are intense and scary, and they're not afraid to make the characters look ugly. You can feel Sal’s pain and rage through the pages, and his asthma acting up as things spiral in intensity helps convey that even more. And in the end, when he lets out that heavy breath, you can feel the weight that's been lifted from him.

The brunch date in the epilogue is awfully cute, and I'm glad to see Sal so happy.

3. SNUFF MACHINERY

Malik is so sexy and charming. I love his sweet talk and dirty talk. I like that it starts as a consensual encounter… and Vaska slowly realizes something’s wrong as he chokes on Malik’s cock. I love how lost, scared, and pathetic yet so pliant and willing to please he is. I love that he just opens his mouth up for everybody to pass him around and fuck his face, and I love how grody and sopping wet his beard gets with all sorts of body fluids.

There’s not even any gore until halfway through… but once it comes, boy, things escalate quickly. Ironic revenge is one of my favorites, so it makes his drugged, fluid-soaked face all the more satisfying to watch get crunched. And when Garv fingers his brain… ooh, fuck.

The revelation that Malik’s motive was revenge for something that happened to his sister and not actually to him completely changed the context I viewed it in. You could tell killing him hadn’t relieved Malik of the guilt and anger like he’d expected it to, maybe even made the guilt worse. This seems to sort of mark a turning point in tone for the overall story. Jake and Sal both seemed to be helped by their experiences, but Malik and later Stone were not. If anything, their problems seem to have been made worse by their choice to take somebody’s life, and it doesn’t give me good feelings for the fate these boys are headed for.

3.5. 15°20' FRACTURE ZONE

Simple, sexy, great atmosphere, free. Check it out first if you’re on the fence about buying the others. There’s no gore, but it’s still great.

4. A.M.F.

I think Garv’s date is the most painful thing I’ve seen so far, HAH!

By this point, I’d been endeared enough to all the characters that I was invested in their dinner and karaoke and probably would’ve still been if they hadn’t been planning their next fetish murder. Stone is an unlikable asshole for the majority and it makes me feel bad for Sal, but I still like getting to see more and more of their real lives and I want to root for him to do better. This was by far the most story-heavy, and by far the one I felt the most conflicted about. I was pretty fucked up my first couple reads of this, so I didn’t realize that Evan, their waiter, was Stone’s victim until my third or so read. Realizing this I had an oh, shit moment, and realizing they were talking about his death right in front of him!!! gave me another oh, shit! moment. That’s so fucked. That fucked me up. Up until this point, most people would agree the victims deserved what came to them, or at least don’t feel bad for them, but this man’s only crime was.... being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Looking too much like Stone’s dad? And all the other guys were ok with this too? That speaks louder to me than anything these characters could say. Also, that’s sloppy. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to kill people you know?

It’s the first time I’ve truly been disturbed by SAD SACK, knowing the feast is just a guy who didn’t do anything wrong. After stewing on my feelings and reading again, it… actually makes it hotter? In the sense that it’s that much more provocative. That context made me more sensitive to the gore, too. The tooth-pulling scene was the first one to actually make me cringe, and I still have a hard time looking at it, so good job guys! Jake talking to Stone while he’s getting fucked out of his mind is so fun, and everyone looks so sexy. Every view we get of Sal’s ass is a fucking gift. I’m so glad Stone sat on Garv’s face against his will, and I’d say he deserved getting blood and shit sprayed all over him… or maybe that just because he’s real cute when he’s upset.

Stone's murder was not a good idea and clearly didn't help him. He wasn't prepared for Evan's death quite yet when it happened, just like he wasn't prepared for his dad's. You can't control death, dude. If anything, just like Malik, it might've made it worse. I could speculate about how maybe both were using their murders as a way to avoid actually dealing with their real issues… buuut I'm not here to speculate.

5. Pre BOG

I… like Garv a lot. I think he’s a new favorite character. He stirs the same lustful feelings in me that Lawrence did. I want to hurt and humiliate and control him. Unlike Lawrence, he’s an awful person who I don’t care about at all or want any happiness for but man is he a cute little piece of shit! The fact that he fucks (or tries..to fuck...) the dead bodies at the end of each comic definitely doesn’t help my endearment towards him. I’m a little nervous for his comic because he is such a misogynistic piece of shit... but I’m also excited because I love how nasty he is and excited he gets, especially for the dead.

CONCLUSION

I like that they’re just ‘normal’ guys (minus Garv. Garv is a piece of shit). I like it when people who do bad things are relatable. I like it when you can sympathize with them, and I like it when you can empathize with them, and I like thinking about if I were under similar circumstances, would I be capable of such things? What would it take for me to? Would I ever be able to? How close is the average person to being able to violently murder someone? Is there something wrong with me for even thinking about it? Hopefully, these contemplations will never be anything more than hypothetical but I think it’s still good to analyze my enjoyment of darker things. It’s not just indulgent porn (although it definitely, certainly is that too). It’s an exploration of personal failings, trauma, choosing to deal with your issues through violence and how it does or doesn’t help… but those are topics that would need an analysis, and while one could definitely do a full analysis on this series, I’m not going to otherwise we’d be here for a lot longer.

The art is gross, it’s repulsive at times, and it’s done so well. I love the scant use of color in the mostly monochrome torture scenes, the way their eyes either glow or look hollow, the wonky angles, and exaggerated proportions to maximize the impact. I don’t know if these count as horror but the art has an awesome horror aesthetic, and a lot of the time the way the guys are drawn is downright terrifying. There’s no way I can talk about every small detail I loved. That’s 769 pages to talk about and at that point, I might as well just annotate every page. If you like gore you’re gonna love these comics. If you like torture, or helpless screaming men, or really dark themes, or nasty stuff in general, you’re gonna love it. Even if you’re not into gore sexually, it’s fucking gnarly, and it has a comedic edge. These guys do gross so fuckin well and I absolutely love it. My creative goals in life are to make erotic art - to make porn, but not exclusively porn, things that are able to be used as wank material but also able to be enjoyed outside of that. SAD SACK accomplishes that, and it’s kind of inspirational.

I appreciate everything that goes into this project. I wish there was more violent fetish content of this high of quality, so I think it’s important to support creators when it comes to projects like this. Most horror porn I’ve seen also puts the reader in the victim’s position, and as someone who leans generally on the more sadistic side of things, I appreciate the main characters as the perpetrators. If you do too, go check it out. Thank you, RJ and Nick, for all the incredible amounts of work and time you've put into this project. I've enjoyed it a lot and will continue to do so for quite a while, I’m sure.

Also... I didn’t know where else to put this, but those weeks-old corpses were exquisite <3

#i wanted this to be longer because i have way more thoughts #but honestly this has taken way too long as it is and if i waited for my brain to start workin better to #make those thoughts coherent to others #nobody would ever see this #sad sack

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cinemamablog · 4 years

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Lana Del Rey Goes to the Movies

I use roughly 1/16th of my iPhone’s storage space to hold my collection of Lana Del Rey’s music, including her (misspelled) self-titled album Lana Del Ray AKA Lizzy Grant and over a hundred of her leaked, unreleased tracks. (If you have an MP3 of “Yosemite” or “Life is Beautiful”... Hit me up, please.) My husband teases me because I have a LanaBoards account so I can read - and occasionally participate in - the pre-release gossip months, sometimes years, before the next Lana album drops.

Just like I make no secret of my Lana Del Rey obsession, Ms. Lizzy Grant pulls no punches when it comes to her idolatry of the silver screen and Hollywood lore. With songs aptly titled “Hollywood,” “Hollywood’s Dead,” and “Super Movie,” she wears her movie loving heart on her sleeve. Lana makes references to movies, iconic (usually dead) actors, and David Lynch throughout her discography. She has also contributed to countless recent movies, providing sultry vocals while matching the vibe of the films, like on the soundtracks for The Great Gatsby, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, and Big Eyes. In fact, Mary Ramos, Quentin Tarantino’s music supervisor, revealed last summer that Lana submitted music for Tarantino’s latest film, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood. She also reportedly recorded a song for the James Bond franchise at one point. A casual fan of motion pictures, Lana is not. To which I say: girl, same.

Lana frequently references to Marilyn Monroe in her music, always in a very blatant (some might say distasteful) manner. “If I call you on the telephone, I might overdose, ‘cause I’m strong but I’m lonely, like Marilyn Monroe,” she mews in an otherwise sweet love song named after the actress. She also references suicide and Monroe in her single “Body Electric”: “Elvis is my daddy, Marilyn’s my mother,” she sings in the first verse. By the second verse, she sings “Diamonds are my bestest friend [Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, anyone?]. Heaven is my baby, suicide’s her father, opulence is the end.” On a less morbid note, she also pays homage to Monroe in the intro of her National Anthem music video. In the black and white clip, Lana sings “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” a la Marilyn Monroe, except instead of JFK on the receiving end, she serenades rapper A$AP Rocky.

The reason for Lana’s attraction to Marilyn’s mythos seems obvious to me. They both created their persona by studying the stars that came before them: Marilyn by emulating Jean Harlow, Lana by paying her respects to Marilyn, Sharon Tate, and other young movie stars known for the tragedies that marked their lives. The cycle continues into the 21st century.

Lana has a few other movies and film people that reappear throughout her song catalogue: David Lynch, Scarface, and Easy Rider. I find this appropriate, as all three present the viewer with stylized visions of how the American Dream can go wrong. Lynch explores the nightmarish underbelly of the suburban lifestyle, Scarface follows Al Pacino’s immigrant character up a violent ladder of success, and Easy Rider glorifies living on one’s own terms, a freedom for which the main characters pay dearly.

Lana covered the titular song of David Lynch’s film Blue Velvet on her first studio EP, Paradise. At first, I thought that maybe she just likes the song, but then, on her second studio album, Ultraviolence, she gave an undeniable nod to Lynch that marked her for a fan. In the song “Sad Girl,” she sings: “He’s got the fire and he walks with it,” a blatant reference to the phrase “fire walk with me” from Lynch’s project Twin Peaks. Both Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks focus on the sexual, drug-fueled violence lurking just under the surface of an otherwise idyllic community, much like Lana’s storytelling through song.

“Scarface, sacrifice, sold my soul to make it nice. It was worth it, paid the price, life is death when blow is life,” Lana sings on an unreleased track called, you guessed it, “Scarface.” The lyrics of the song follow the same themes as the movie, describing a life characterized by mob violence and stoned patriotism. Lana also references the De Palma remake in another unreleased song, “Never Let Me Go”: “Like they say in Scarface, kid, you can push your drugs and I can make it big.” I’m pretty sure they don’t say that in Scarface, but still, the sentiment remains the same: the road to the American Dream (and doom) can be paved with drugs, money, and luck.

“Is the sun in your eyes, easy rider?” Lana asks in the unreleased “Angels Forever, Forever Angels.” She sings in the bridge, “Paradise is a hell-colored flame sky. Is it nice to feel free and wild?” throwing out a subtle, decades-old reference to the theme song of Dennis Hopper’s 1969 counterculture hit Easy Rider, “Born to be Wild.” On her third studio album, Honeymoon, Lana recycles the reference on the track “Freak”: “Sun reflecting in your eyes, like an easy rider.” Like Blue Velvet and Scarface, Easy Rider shows the American Dream onscreen as a drug-induced fantasy that can’t end well, but the ride is worth it.

Occasionally, Lana sings about the real dark side of Hollywood, where the bad decisions and late nights aren’t a fun game or even a choice anymore, but rather the price of artistic success, demanded of her by men with sinister intentions. In Lana Del Ray AKA Lizzy Grant’s “Put Me in a Movie,” Lana teases a powerful man in the movie industry: “Come on, I know you like little girls... Put me in a movie.” Some of Lana’s other lyrics came under fire in the media shortly after the accusations against Harvey Weinstein publicly surfaced. Lana sings the lyrics in question during the bridge for the already-controversial song “Cola”: “Harvey’s in the sky with diamonds and he’s making me crazy.” She’s since claimed in interviews that she won’t sing “Cola” anymore due to the backlash, but I think the song has made its point: Lana’s always known that men like Harvey have the money and power (“diamonds”) to drive desperate people crazy.

In her penultimate album, Lust for Life, Lana doesn’t let up on the Hollywood imagery. In the album’s teaser trailer, Lana lives inside of the Hollywood sign, stirring a witchy potion and pondering the fate of the world from above the LA lights. She climbs that same Hollywood sign with the Weeknd in the music video for the titular song, “Lust for Life.” While the album begins on this upbeat note, by the third song, “13 Beaches,” we return to a familiar sense of isolation and sadness. An audio clip from the cult classic movie Carnival of Souls plays over string instrumentation: “I don’t belong in the world. That’s what it is. Something separates me from other people. Everywhere I turn, there’s something blocking my escape.” (This monologue is only available in the deleted scenes of the recent Criterion Blu-ray release and in unrestored YouTube videos. Lana knows her independent horror movies.) This cinematic depression haunts the rest of the album, with lyrics like “Cherry”’s “My celluloid scenes are torn at the seams, and I fall to pieces” and the disturbing Charles Manson references in my all-time favorite LDR song, “Heroin”: “Manson’s in the air and all my friends have come ‘cause they still feel him here… Something ‘bout the sun has made these kids get scary. Oh, writing in blood on the walls and shit…” Even when Lana tries to shift her audience’s focus to her lust for life, she can’t help but revert to her old melancholic ways. But as she sings in the final bridge of “Heroin”: “I hope that I come back one day to tell you that I really changed.”

“You move to California, but it’s just a state of mind,” Lana sings on her latest album, Norman Fucking Rockwell, and the rest of the album echoes that sentiment. Her disenchantment with the City of Angels has been a running thread through her discography and yet she returns to it over and over, in songs like “Bartender” and “California.” On Honeymoon, she sang “I will never sing again. With just one wave, it goes away.” On Lust for Life, she sang “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sick of it.” Now on NFR, she sings “I guess that I’m burnt out after all.” But after three albums of threatening to leave it all behind, I don’t think Lana Del Rey will ever really be done with Hollywood. In the words of the last song on NFR: Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like Lana to have… but she has it.

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