#Dashing Across Town || Dash Commentary

[invictarre-archive]

time to re-paste my tags and tag everything I’ve been getting lazy with  :))))))))

can’t wait for these to get deleted !!!!!!!!!!

[lunarcovehq]

You set my soul alight Glaciers melting in the dead of night

THE FIELD DAYS PART 1 - CAMPFIRE PLOT DROP

Let the games begin! Sunday and Monday of Campfire Week is all about team building. "Your coaches" Elif and Safiye have put together a number of bracket-esque games to compete in. Each game involves strategy, quick-thinking and team work. Everyone will convene at the Town Green in the morning where boards have been set up, each with a different sport and bracket featured. Every organization has been tasked to select their own "uniforms" to make it clear which team everyone is on. These uniforms are as follows-

The C.O.N.S. (and unaffiliated): Will be decked out in Blue. They will also have on matching t-shirts.

The Clan: Will be decked out in Black. They will also have matching biker leather jackets with a Clan ensignia on the back (though they can wear them at night if its too hot during the day).

The Coven: Will be decked out in Purple in honor of Mason (it was their favorite color before they passed). They will also have matching cropped baseball jerseys.

The Fae Court: Will be decked out in Pink. They will also have matching denim jackets with butterfly wings embroidered across the back.

The Pack: Will be decked out in Green. They will also show up in matching hoodies (though they can wear them at night if its too hot during the day).

You do not have to bring thing else, though it is highly advised to wear sneakers and shoes to play sports in.

Over the course of the next two days, you will be representing your team as you compete against other organizations for points (these points will come in handy during the camping weekend). You will receive 1 point for participating in each activity and, if you win, you will receive additional points for your team (depending on who participates, cheating etc.). You will also receive bragging rights for having won! There will be no maiming and no killing, but powers are welcome. All magic is permitted. May the odds be in your favor!

ANNOUNCEMENTS

Below is a breakdown of the different activities your character will be able to participate in.

As you will see below, there are brackets to indicate which species is playing against which species at a time. We figured it would be fun to have your teams plot in the discord channel strategies, roles etc. and make a pitch as to why your team should win. Then we all vote OOC to decide which team deserves to move on to the next round. We will be updated the GFXs in this post accordingly as each team progresses to the next round.

In terms of dash starters, feel free to write open starters per any of the activities below. We're only doing the brackets for fun since we feel like it will be nice to get to see which team wins. But, in terms of dash replies, you can have any two characters playing soccer together etc. It's fine, we promise <3

On top of the bracketed sports below, we will have two nightly activities being the Werewolf BBQ and Capture the Flag. These activities will come shortly.

This event will be mandatory so every character is required to show up. Though, they do not have to be good at said sport, nor do they have to enjoy themselves or participate. If you want your character to be sitting out in the outfield picking daisies or refusing to play/having a sideline tantrum you are more than welcome to do so.

For anyone looking to bring in new characters, we will continue to have regular acceptances throughout the event. 

The tag for the event is lunarcoveevent12. If you have read this plot drop, please react in the dash commentary of the discord channel saying "I can't wait to see Ken on a horse" to let us know you've read it. Everything from pictures, outfits & threads etc. should be under this tag. Starters should have both the starter and event tag. 

Last, but not least, we hope you have fun!

FIELD DAYS SCHEDULE

SUNDAY

9a Meet at the Town Green

10a-5p Baseball, Archery & Canoeing (there will be lunch sometime in between here too)

6p Growl n' Grill BBQ (Werewolf BBQ) over at Echo Acres *Plot Drop to Come

MONDAY

9a Meet at the Town Green

10a-3p Horseback Riding & Dodgeball (& lunch at some point)

5p Capture the Flag *Plot Drop to Come

FIELD BRACKETS

BASEBALL

Where: LC High School's Baseball Fields

ARCHERY

Where: Field in Echo Acres

DODGEBALL

Where: The Rec Center

HORSEBACK RIDING

Where: W.H. Equestrian Center

CANOEING

Where: Moon River (The River in Town - See Map)

[roguelov]

This is my brain dump idea, please excuse my narrator commentary 😂 1.4k of info dump incoming! 🤭

Linaria Bonn of the Bonn family who have a monopoly on most major businesses within her home town.

Early Morning, reader has been up all night worrying about her wedding which will happen this day. It is arranged and while reader is from a wealthy family and has everything she needs and wants, she is very fearful of getting married to the Commodore in charge of her island. He’s older and not a very nice man. Her parents are forcing her into this for political reasons. Maids and everyone bustle in and get reader ready for the wedding. Reader feels like her corset is a trap. Once left alone, reader reaches a breaking point and bolts.

Reader is fleeing from her families manor through the back woods, makes it to the town (by now guards are after her and she has to hide periodically). She knows the ship schedule and that ships are departing so she makes a mad dash to the port. Reader goes up to Shanks, begs for help getting off the island now. Shanks doesn’t think it’s a good idea since she’s obvious a well kept lady, but he can clearly see she’s in a wedding dress, in distress, and running. The Marine’s reach the port and spot reader and reader freaks out, Shanks can’t leave a damsel in distress and wraps his cloak around her shoulders before hauling her up onto his shoulder (He’s one armed by still strong) So the Marine’s see him carting off reader over his shoulder and think he’s kidnapping her and try to stop him, but he and his ship get away.

Backstory of reader meeting the commodore on her sixteen birthday and her parents setting up her arranged marriage. She doesn’t want it, argues and is struck across the face for the first time in her life by her mother. Reader is sitting on a stack of boxes, surrounded by pirates.

Story of how reader got stuck in her arranged marriage, Shanks gives her his room to rest because clearly she’s been up all night worrying and stressing, and some clothes to change into. Reader thanks him and goes in. Only by dinner time the crew hadn’t heard anything from Reader. Shanks goes in with a tray of dinner, only to find reader curled in a corner. She couldn’t get her dress off because of how tightly the strings of her corset were tied (like she was never going to break free of the life her parents sold her for). Shanks set’s the tray down, talks to her and coaxes her to her feet before offering to help her untie her corset. He may be one armed but he’s still quite proficient, that makes reader flush and she agrees. So Shanks unties her corset, revealing the bruising reader has from her governess for when she was being too unyielding to the marriage, especially after she bolted the first time. Shanks brushes his fingers along the bruises, upset by them, reader tells him that today wasn’t the first time she tried running, it was her ditch effort. That just makes Shanks more happy that he helped her out.

He finished untying and leaves her to get dressed and eat alone if she wants, and if she is up to it, he and the crew are on the main deck having a drink. Reader get’s dressed, stares at the tray of food, then goes out to the main deck on good faith. She then realizes that they’re pirates by looking at the Jolly Roger, but shrugs it off because it was pirates who saved her from Marines. Hypocrisy. If there are bad marines, then there are good pirates.

Shanks and the crew plan a day out in a picturesque harbor village just for Lin, the crew is teasing Shanks nonstop about it and telling him to make a move while reader is oblivious to their teasing. So they have their day and it is marvelous and the sun is setting with them walking the boardwalk they stop to look t the setting sun and then they almost kiss (lips brushing) when they’re ambushed by Marines. So the pair go on a wild goose chase through the town to get back to the ship, Shanks is cursing out the commodore who is their for ruining the date but the reader starts giggling and laughing as they near the ship. Shanks only falls more in love with her as they escape onto the ship and set sail, the commodore starts shouting at him for stealing his bride as they leave through a snail speaker? Reader calls the commodore some creative insult and to rub salt into the wound, Shanks kisses reader in front of everyone. And it isn’t innocent.

As the ship sails (after dinner everyone is settling in for the night), reader goes back to Shanks room to put away the stuff he bought her. Shanks then drops by to talk about the whole “I kissed you without your permission and I may be a pirate but I am not an asshole’, reader cut’s him off by kissing him. Obv Shanks isn’t opposed and the pair play hide the panini. Shanks get’s his bed back and get’s to hold reader at night.

The next morning, Shanks is already up but left Reader to sleep in. When she appears for breakfast the crew makes digs at her love life  much to Shanks displeasure, only reader claps back with: at least I have a love life. Mic drop as reader get’s breakfast and something to eat. Then the topic of what reader is going to do since the Commodore is still giving chance. Reader openly disses the Commodore and makes blatant remarks about never marrying an entitled jackass (insert potty mouthed insult/curse) and that she actually likes being on the sea and seeing places as she has never been allowed to leave the manor grounds. So she is going to explore as much as she can. The crew openly invite reader to stay on their ship as long as she wants (Shanks is silent because he doesn’t want to tie her down). He is totally head over heels for reader, but refuses to trap reader by keeping her with him. Thus begins the uneasy romantic relationship between Reader and Shanks. Things are tense but also hot between them as they continue their travels, occasionally talking about reader’s future, arguing over it, and then having makeup sex.

One stop in a village (11 months after she fled home), reader get’s roped into helping out a local elementary school putting on a play. The head teacher sort of becomes friends with Reader and talks about red haired guy who’s eyes always follow reader. Reader tells her that their relationship is complicated. She got out of an arranged marriage because of him and they have a thing going on but he keeps pulling back. Teacher tells Reader that maybe it’s time that she forces him to listen to her and what she wants, aka she wants a life on the ship and she wants a life with him. Reader understands what the teacher is telling her. That night reader approached Shanks telling him that they need to talk. Shanks is like fine but it will have to be after they depart as he promised the villagers he’d help with something and is busy. Reader is like fine. Shanks knows she not really fine with it and gives her a kiss on the head to show that he does care for her.

The next day, reader is helping the kids paint the set when one of them comes into the room crying because they fell and now their wrist hurts really bad. Reader takes the kid to the town to see the doctor, but the doctors office is empty surprisingly. Reader shrugs it off and cleans up the little cuts and scrapes before wrapping the child's arm up so it isn’t injured more until the doctor show up. While they are waiting, there’s commotion at the door, reader is like, there’s the doctor! Surprise! It’s the Marines! So they kidnap  reader and the child (can’t have witnesses). Wake up on Marine ship, reader makes a break for it cause they’re totally underestimated her. So she breaks a few noses with the kid in tote before getting stopped via a very strong kick in the stomach. Reader goes down and experiences Vasovagal Syncope (fainting). They cart her off to a room and a doctor gets called cause hellur Marine just kicked the Commodore’s fiance in the stomach and she flat out fainted.  So basically we have a reunion between the Commodore and Reader, he’s figured out that reader and Shanks are a thing now and is super pissed but whatever, reader’s still got the blood of an aristocrat and that’s all he needs.

Naturally, Shanks goes after his babe

HONEY MY SWET BEAUTIFUL LOVE IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH I AM SALIVATING I AM ABSOLUTELY DERANGED FUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKK ITS HAS ANGST, ITS HAS FLUFF, ITS HAS SMUT, ITS HAS TENSION, THIS HAS IT ALL

[aura-acolyte]

On-Screen Event: Mare vs. Riley

This is an event that happens in a place where other people could potentially be present, in this case the Aura Guardian Tournament Battlefield. People are allowed to comment on this event however please do not reply to this post as it is technically OOC (reblogging it is fine since I do want people to see it just don't add any IC commentary).

Mare stood on the battlefield, eyes full of determination. This was what it had all been leading up to. The final battle between her and the most skilled trainer at the festival. A chance to really test her mettle.

That's how it was in her head, at least. In reality it was… not all that badass. It was a small tournament at a festival, after all, not the Elite 4. Not that she'd know that since she never actually finished her gym challenge.

Standing across from her was her opponent, Riley. He was a man from Sinnoh who bore a striking resemblance to Sir Aaron. Especially his hat.

“The Finals match between Mare Birch of Littleroot Town and Riley Genmai of Oreburgh City is about to begin!” The announcer, well, announced. “Competitors, choose your Pokémon!”

Mare took a Pokeball out of her bag and tapped the button to expand it to full size.

“Kyoshi, I choose you!” She shouted, tossing the ball into the air to release Kyoshi the Lucario. Sure the line was a bit cliche but it was a classic for a reason.

“Ah, back in the arena.” Kyoshi said, though nobody but Mare could understand her. She was perfectly capable of using her Aura to speak human, she simply didn't feel like it. “Who is my opponent today?”

As if in answer to this question, Riley released his own Lucario. “Mosa, come on out!”

“Ah, a fellow Lucario.” Kyoshi said, taking a fighting stance. “Then it will be an honorable duel.”

“Indeed.” Mosa agreed, also taking a fighting stance. “I look forward to this battle.”

“Seems like we have a Lucario vs. Lucario duel today, folks!” The announcer shouted. “This is sure to make for an exciting match! Battle, begin!”

(Music Box: Unbeatable from Pokémon: Advanced Battle)

Kyoshi opened with Extreme Speed, slamming into Mosa with great force. This knocked Mosa backwards, kicking up dirt and dust. Mosa regained his footing by leaping into the air and doing a backflip before sticking a three point landing.

Mosa dashed towards Kyoshi and tried to hit her with a Close Combat. Kyoshi responded in kind, using her own Close Combat to block his strikes. However, Mosa managed to catch her off guard by transitioning into a Meteor Mash. His fist was encased in a star-shaped crystal that he smashed straight into her, breaking her guard. Then he followed that up by kicking her away.

Now that Kyoshi was a decent distance away from him, Mosa fired off an Aura Sphere. Quickly, Kyoshi formed a Bone Rush club and knocked the Aura Sphere away like a baseball, where it exploded in midair. Mosa fired off a few more Aura Spheres which Kyoshi knocked away. The final one was knocked straight back into Mosa.

Hoping to close the distance between her and Mosa before he recovers, Kyoshi used Extreme Speed, zigging and zagging while blinking in and out of existence as an extra precaution to throw him off. Unfortunately, Mosa recovered quicker than expected. Before Kyoshi could reach him, he slammed his paw into the ground and caused a small Earthquake localized in the battlefield, knocking Kyoshi out of her Extreme Speed and into the air.

Kyoshi had one last trick up her sleeve, though. She fired off three Aura Spheres in quick succession. While Mosa was distracted dodging them, Kyoshi used Extreme Speed once again, angling downwards towards Mosa. As she sped towards her opponent, Kyoshi formed a Bone Rush club and brought it down onto Mosa, kicking up dust. And when the dust cleared… Mosa was down for the count.

(Music Box: Victory! Trainer from Pokemon Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum)

“Mosa is unable to battle!” The announcer proclaimed. “Mare and Kyoshi win!”

Mare cheered and ran up to high five Kyoshi. Riley returned Mosa to his Pokeball.

“You did well, buddy.” He said. “Get some rest.”

Riley walked up to Mare.

“Good match.” He said. “Your Lucario is quite skilled.” “Thanks.” Mare replied. “Kyoshi’s the best. She taught me everything I know. Your Lucario’s pretty great too.” “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Riley held out his hand. “The name’s Riley.”

Mare took his hand and shook it. “Mare. Pleased to meet ya.”

“May I ask you something?” Riley said.

“Course.” Mare replied. “Unless its about how my hair defies gravity. I have no idea.”

Riley shook his head and chuckled. “No, its not about that. I’m curious… are you, perhaps, an Aura User?”

“Course I am.” Mare said. “Isn’t it obvious. Nobody’s got an Aura quite like mine.” “That’s true.” Riley replied. “I’ve never seen an Aura that flares as bright as yours. Its almost blinding to look at.”

Mare giggled. “So you’re also an Aura User then, right?”

“That I am.” Riley said. “I am one of the last Aura Guardians.”

“Aura Guardians? They’re still around?” Mare asked, surprised.

“Well… not officially.” Riley said. He glanced around and noticed that everybody else had left the arena. “Hmm… perhaps we should continue this conversation later. You have a victory ball to prepare for.”

“Fair enough.” Mare said. “Wish I didn’t have to wear this stupid dress.”

[a-musing-mixologist]

   “Who do Beat need t’ punch?”

[bd-handystand]

"Ah - the consequences of my stupidity. "

[sensesdialed-aa]

... would pspsps work on spiders

[sauntering-serpent]

[muniificus]

the berserker watches the crowd while she’s picking flowers. hetero-chromatic eyes watch every person involved with this chaos; wanting to join, but knowing she’d be ignored.

[pocket-infinity]

alright campers since i know people who have moved to tumblr from twitter i feel like i should mention that the algorithm here is shit to the point of near-nonexistence so you’re only gonna see stuff from people you follow, so if your dash is upsetting you then unfollow some people or block some tags and move on

also the way people use tags vs reblogs vs comments is kinda weird bc like. tags are basically whispering commentary to the person you reblogged from and the people who follow you, and tags wont get passed along with any reblogs from you, whereas adding stuff with the actual reblog is like shouting it in town square and it’s gonna travel down across the reblog chains from you. i dont know why people use comments so youre gonna have to ask someone else lmao

[babyybitchhh]

Ace x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 3,201

Warnings: oral sex, cunnilingus, semi established relationship, first time

A/N: Wrote this for my editor in chief, who just got to the climax of Marineford and is very upset about ... you know. She gave the okay to post it, so please enjoy! : )

♥♥♥♥

You were halfway through the motion of lifting the overstuffed laundry basket so you could hand it off to Marco when you suddenly caught movement at the corner of your eye. Distracted from the task at hand, you swivel around only to find Ace leaning through the doorway, beckoning you over with a wave and a big mischievous grin. You eagerly start to smile back, excited to see him, but the sound of Marco expectantly clearing his throat stops you from bolting.

Sheepishly, you turn back around to glance at the blond who offers you a droll look in response. “Don’t even think about it, missy … you’ve been shucking your laundry duty off on other people for weeks now. Do you really think I’ll just let you take off like that?”

Your mouth pulls in a frown, dejected, and Ace not-so-helpfully chimes in with a grumble of ‘no fun!’ Brow arching wryly, Marco shoots him a quick look of warning, putting a stopper on any further commentary before turning his attention to you again.

“Sorry,” you murmur, holding out the basket in resignation. Whatever Ace wanted would just have to wait until the chores were finished.

Silently, Marco takes the laundry from you, studying the dispirited droop of your shoulders for a long beat until, at last, he heaves a yielding sigh. “Go.”

Your head immediately comes up. “What? Really?”

“Yes, really.” He says, trying not to smile when Ace loudly whoops from his spot at the door. “But you owe me. Both of you do, so you’ll take turns filling in for me on the chore rotation, got it?”

“For how long?” You ask, not exactly trusting his generosity at face value. But Ace was already dashing across the room to grab your wrist and unceremoniously yank you towards the doorway, making you squeak and stumble after him.

“A month!” You hear Marco shout after you, just barely, over the racket of Ace’s heavy boots on the plank floorboards.

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, clearly making the decision for you as he drags you down the hall like a clumsy toddler until you get your feet situated under you. Laughing, you pick up the pace to jog alongside him with your heart in your throat, cheeks flushed and warm. He was laughing as well, his howling chortle much louder than yours, as his grip adjusts to your fingers so he can swing your arm back and forth between the two of you.

“Where are we going?” You giggle, struggling to breathe around the happy flutter in your chest.

“You’ll see! I’ve got a surprise for you!”

That gives you pause - or at least it would have, if he hadn’t been steering you down the winding corridors of the Moby Dick at an excitable pace. You were completely at his mercy now that he had you in his clutches and all you could do was go along with it, tittering the whole while.

You’re a little surprised, though, when he pulls you right up to the door of his cabin a few moments later, but Ace doesn’t so much as pause. Swinging the door open, he storms inside and slams it shut again before yanking you towards the cot.

“Sit.”

You do, but not without shooting him an inquisitive look.

“Now close your eyes.”

You do this, too, with butterflies in your stomach. Ace was a kind soul, certainly, but he was also prone to making impulsive, sometimes questionable decisions so you weren’t really sure what to expect while you listened to him move about in the small room. It was really anyone’s guess at this point, and you start slightly when you feel him slide something into your lap.

“Okay,” he says, plopping his butt on the mattress to sit beside you. “Open them.”

Obediently, you do just that only to find yourself blinking down at a ribbon wrapped box. It wasn’t very big at all, so likely not anything too extreme, but you could tell the bow on top wasn’t messy enough to be his doing, and you shoot him a questioning glance.

Ace’s grin only widens though; big and boyish, and so frustratingly charming that it makes your heart twist. You still couldn’t believe the effect he had on you, sometimes. “Go on, take a look. I think you’ll like it.”

Certain you would like it, you take the end of the ribbon in hand and tug. It comes loose with a slither and you feel for the seam with your fingertips, quickly finding it and working the top off so you can peer inside.

“Ace …” you warble after a prolonged moment of surprised quiet, eyes wide and glossy. “You shouldn’t have.”

He snickers as he leans close to your shoulder, proudly joining you in regarding the small, personal sized tiramisu sitting within. “It’s your favorite, right? I knew I had to get you something when I saw the bakery in town and I hurried back to the ship as fast as I could so it wouldn’t get all soggy. I hope it still tastes okay.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying valiantly to fight back the happy, reflexive tears that threaten to spill over your lashes. “You really shouldn’t have, but thank you. That was so sweet of you.”

His smile falters slightly when he looks up at your face and sees the misty quality of your eyes, fluster quickly creeping into his expression. “Hey, hey! It’s nothing to cry about!” He huffs, suddenly awkward, as he reaches over to drag his index finger through a corner of the cake. “Here, give it a taste. Tell me if it’s any good.”

Your mouth opens, wanting to tell him you’re sure it’s delicious, but he slips the cream covered digit past your lips before you can get so much as a word out. Cheeks warming, you noise around the intrusion and turn a plaintive look up at him even as you shyly clean the tip of his finger with soft little kitten licks. That seems to please him a great deal, his grin returning at full force in just a matter of seconds.

“Yummy?” He prompts, withdrawing his finger.

“Yummy …” you agree as your hand comes up to timidly touch at your mouth. “It’s really good, actually. Thank you.”

“No problem. You know I’m always looking out for you!”

Mouth tugging into a smile, you watch as Ace leans back with his hands braced on the cot, face tilted up at the ceiling. He seemed so content and happy just to share his space with you, lightly humming a faint tune under his breath while he kicks his feet back and forth over the edge of the bed. In so many ways, he reminded you of a little boy when he was like this. Carefree and easy. Untroubled. It wasn’t a side of him that many got to see and, feeling quite fortunate, you start to reach for the cake.

“Here, you have some too.”

“Mmmm. No thanks. I’m good.”

Blinking, you curiously glance over at him. “Oh? You liked it the last time, though.”

“Yeah, but … I’m not really in the mood for dessert right now.” Neck turning, Ace drops his cheek to his shoulder and casually sends a meaningful glance down the length of your body to settle on the spot between your thighs. A sharp thrill immediately races through you, face warming alarmingly quick. He laughs at your reaction, all good natured humor and charming as he starts to tip his head back again. “I’m just teasing ya’, don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to - -“

“I don’t mind.”

His laughter abruptly cuts off with a sputter. “What?”

Face growing even hotter, you nervously shuffle your feet against the floor. “I said I don’t mind. If you really want to, that is. It’s okay if you were just joking - -“

Ace jumps up from the cot so fast you’d think he accidentally set it on fire if you didn’t know any better.

Eyes widening, you let him snatch the cake box from your slack hands and watch as he urgently sets it aside with quick, jerky motions. His expression is suddenly dark when he leans down to hook broad, calloused hands under your knees and pull up, flipping you onto your back.

“Ah - Ace!”

“Were you serious just now?” He asks, not stopping long enough to hear the answer before sinking down to the floor and sending you a hopeful puppy dog look from where he was now knelt between your legs.

“Y - yes,” you tell him truthfully. “I was. But you don’t have to though, I just - -“

He abruptly drops his face into the meat of your thighs, startling a squawk out of you. Embarrassed, your grasping fingers shoot down to tangle in his wavy hair as he inhales a deep, stuttering breath that makes his shoulders rise dramatically like some sort of hunching beast.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” He practically growls against you.

“You should have said something then …”

Ace’s only response is a low, rumbling groan to accompany the tight squeeze of his fingers on your hips. You tense and shudder for him as he drags those big hands of his further down to take hold of your thighs and ease them apart. The breath catches in your throat when he promptly nuzzles into you, rubbing his face against your tingling cunt as if he were a cat marking its territory. You struggle not to screw your eyes shut at the sensation of him so intimately close to your core, smelling you and basking in the warmth bleeding through your clothes, but you force yourself to keep watching.

To bear witness to the way he presses in so tight his nose wrinkles up, brows furrowed in unconcealed pleasure. To see how the wavy strands of his hair rest along the curve of your thighs and then cling to the fabric of your skirt when he impatiently shoves it up out of his way. To appreciatively drink in the sight of him, all dark eyed and freckled, staring hungrily at the pudgy seam that runs down the center of your panties just as a starving man might look at a bountiful harvest.

He was easily the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and, based on the way he was looking at you, that feeling was apparently mutual.

“You’re sure?” It’s a soft question, but it rings loud in the quiet cabin.

“I … I’m positive, Ace. You don’t need to hesitate.”

Loudly exhaling the breath he’d been holding, he snags his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs. Your throat constricts as you twist on top of the bed, helping him work the cotton down over your legs. He tosses them without a second thought as soon as they’re loose, quickly diving back in to shove his face into your bare pussy, making you jolt.

You have to bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet when you spread your legs further apart for him, delighting in the way he eagerly nuzzles against you without another thought to the matter. His lips purse against your slit and he kisses you, just as passionately as he does your mouth when no one’s looking. A whimper promptly claws up the back of your throat, high strung and needy, and Ace responds in kind with a rumbling sigh of his own.

Blunt fingers knead into the doughy soft flesh of your thighs as he tilts his head so he can better work your labia apart. You shiver at the sensation of warm spit gathering along the crease of your body, slowly dribbling down your skin and mixing with sticky slick to leave you feeling obscenely damp. The realization that he was excitedly drooling all over your pussy, panting and faintly moaning into you as if you two had been at this for hours, has your toes curling in premature ecstasy.

His rough lips were the perfect contrast on your delicate folds, sending intense shockwaves of friction through you that felt like something akin to fireworks. You heave, spine arching off the bed when Ace finally dips the plushy swell of his tongue inside to truly taste you and tease at your clit. Fingers scrabbling across his broad shoulders, you latch onto him with your nails, fighting to keep yourself grounded rather than let the heat of the moment swallow you up.

It was the middle of the day on a heavily manned ship, after all, and there was no lock on the cabin door. If someone came calling on him for one reason or another they probably wouldn’t hesitate to barge in unannounced. This was Ace you were talking about here. He wasn’t someone that often concerned himself with pleasant niceties such as knocking so why would they show him that courtesy?

It would be over in an instant and you’d both be caught red handed, no questions asked. Word of this incident would spread fast, no doubt, depending on who found the two of you like this, but everyone on board will have certainly heard about it by sundown. You just couldn’t afford to get carried away right now, for your sake as much as his - but it was so hard not to cry out in pleasure when he was languidly dragging his tongue up and down the length of your slit to gather all the accumulated fluid and swallow it down in one big gulp.

Seething, you finally give in to the urge and squeeze your eyes shut as your head tips back against the haphazardly strewn sheets, the smell of him swarming your senses all over again. “Ace … please …!”

“Mmmm, yes, baby,” he murmurs against you, muffled by the meat of your cunt. “Say it again. For me?”

“Ah! A - Ace! Please … pleeeaaase!”

It’s hard to keep your voice down but, somehow, you manage to hush your desperate pleas to a mere whisper, strained and cracking. He responds in kind, moaning softly as he nuzzles deeper, making your pliant pussy lips mold against his face. Hooded obsidian eyes rove up to regard you as he does it, watching your expression twist in pleasure with nothing short of a fierce, almost predatory interest reflecting in his dark irises.

Ace was hungry for you in a way you never would have anticipated, his lips and his tongue voraciously laving you in warm, wet attention, quickly winding the spring inside you tighter and tighter. Your sensitive cunt was already throbbing for him, threatening to burst at a moment's notice if he wasn’t careful. You could hardly breathe through it, so heavy and gratifying, as his insatiable, relentless mouthing continued to work you over until you were half delirious with it.

Despite wanting to savor this, you knew, instinctively, that you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Ace … I - I’m gonna’ …”

The sound he makes in response is very nearly a snarl, bordering on animalistic and feral. His fingers come up to press into your labia and spread them, finally - finally! Exposing your clit fully to his mouth. You suck in a haggard gasp of air and try to brace for it, but still jolt as if you’d been electrocuted when he drags the flat of his tongue over that pulsating little bud tucked away inside silken folds. Your vision whites out for a split second, entirely overwhelmed, nails clawing at his shoulder blades with an almost savage sort of desperation. A scream rises in the back of your throat, choking you when you refuse to give it voice.

Embarrassingly, all it takes is three quick swipes of his tongue to send you into a fit of convulsions, fresh tears instantly welling up in your eyes. This time, however, they track freely down the sides of your face while you struggle to keep yourself in check even as you twist and writhe underneath him, mewling as quietly as you can. You sound like something broken, an injured calf in its death throes, and Ace the ravenous wolf drinking your lifeblood as if it were sacrament.

He doesn’t let up for what feels like a small eternity, persistently lapping at your sensitized clit until you finally issue a wounded, half stifled shriek that seems to echo against the cabin walls. Coming up off you with a wet, wheezing gasp, he watches the way you slap a hand to your mouth and quake through the lingering tremors of your orgasm from under the fall of messy, sweat slicked bangs. So obviously entranced by the sight of you even as his bare chest contracts with quick, heavy breaths that give away the true extent of his tense arousal.

“You look so good like this ..” he murmurs, comfortingly dragging his hands across your trembling thighs as you start to ease down from your high. “Coming apart just for me. How’d I ever get so lucky, huh?”

Whimpering, you reach for him with shaking fingers and Ace attentively obliges, climbing up onto the cot and settling over you with his knees bracketing your hips. He swoops down to catch your mouth with his, and you moan at the taste of yourself as you languorously stretch out beneath him. The buzz of your afterglow was potently intoxicating, making your head spin long after the pulses had finally stopped, leaving you warm and comfortable. Satiated.

Sighing pleasantly into the kiss, you card your hand through his hair, working out a few errant knots here or there before tilting your head back to look up at him. “I think I’m the lucky one, actually … I’ve never felt so good in all my life, Ace.”

He chuckles when he leans down to adoringly press his forehead to yours, eyes locking from just a scant few inches away. “Guess we’re both lucky then, baby girl. I couldn’t ask for anything else, you know that?”

“That makes me happy,” you warble, feeling like you could just burst all over again.

“Me too.” Sighing contentedly, Ace snuggles somehow even closer to you and tries to get comfortable, but the prodding weight pressed into your thigh seems to give him a bit of trouble. He shifts awkwardly, looking for a position that will ease the strain on his cock, but it doesn’t appear as though one is very forthcoming in his current predicament.

You hesitate to do it but, quickly making up your mind, you reach down and shyly grasp at him through his pants. It’s his turn to jolt as if he’d just been shocked, and his attention whips around to practically gape at you. It probably would’ve been rather funny, the flabbergasted look on his face, if only your pussy wasn’t still soaking wet and silently begging to be stretched.

“I want to.” You tell him quietly.

Ace visibly gulps, swallowing his nerves. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I know for a fact that there isn’t a single soul in this world I would rather have. Please …?”

Luckily, you don’t have to ask him twice.

[kneipho]

Submission: @mantrabay​

--

A Little Known Shortcut.

Wandering the roads. It has me under a spell.

Even when prickly brambles

scrape my eyelids or those bony ankles are being twisted by tooth like stones. The angular sort clustered mischievously among the green shoots that litter every footpath.

They lie in wait, in ambush.

It goes with the territory for this seasoned footman.

Meandering landscapes are house and home to the spiral lanes and clover clad hills that are rife in my area.

Their rustic heritage sometimes sacrificed to the orphanage of malleable motives.

Crop farmers obsessed with bountiful harvest.

A restless developer pushing the limits of an urban jungle.

Fellow traveller in league with fugitives from the cockpit.

The pressure cooker of modern life.

The town dweller with split loyalties who clings to the tumult of the city but hankers after some rural idyll.

Culprits one and all.

A lair from the hubbub.

Dwellings of the quaintest kind huddle together like dots in a matrix separated only by a minuscule space.

The more alluring aspects of tradition have been preserved.

Among these are shortcuts or bypasses.

Those sequestered passages that shave miles off for the perennial rambler or clueless hitchhiker.

The eye becomes a lense to all these

things hidden or supposedly hidden.

Human vision as sensor to magic trails.

Those tucked away secret spots beloved of local wiseacres.

They festoon the sprawling countryside at random.

My name is Eric Spring.

Anthea, my partner a transcendental meditation teacher retired early at an early age.

Her withdrawal from work was never meant to be permanent.

A final decision hinged on Anthea’s ability to purge that fiendish veil of sadness that had been shadowing her.

There were several obstacles in her path but they weren’t insurmountable.

Thoughts of Anthea in her halcyon days haunted me.

Mental pictures of a vibrant woman imbued with passion.

Poignant evocative heart-tugging images.

Bar excursions into town my station is that of Anthea’s carer.

This eternally stoic woman is mindful of her mental boundaries and the abyss concealed by each of them.

But she is not prone to self-hate or abuse. The more lethal plagues of the psyche hadn’t yet impacted on her.

Anthea was groping for exits but hadn’t found the signs.

She remains housebound as I embark on those age defying treks into town.

We keep in touch by mobile phone.

A very angelic sensitive looking person is she.

Reminiscent of a Sunday Times editor.

The accent filters every noun and stresses every nuance.

Like the sounds from an early morning orchard.

Anthea’s job became monotonous and her other pursuits painting and writing fled without trace.

A budding artist’s most dreaded syndromes struck.

Writer’s block. Artistic vacuum.

The wellspring of her imagination now devoid of those inspiring flashes that sustain creative impulse.

She had few outlets bar my care and a lady called Fidelma who had the edge on me with regard to local knowledge. I longed to hear Anthea’s voice on my device.

Her hypnotic voice bridges gaps.

You feel close even when speaking to her from a distance.

I love the walks and savouring all those pivot points of folklore.

I pride myself on my intimate knowledge of every branch strewn rivulet, stream and layered rock formation.

My links to the environment are almost erotic as I crave it’s sensual touch.

At times I enter a tranquil zone where the shutters are drawn.

Just myself and all those habitats.

“Hello Eric? Lost in thought again.

How is anthea these days?

I spoke to her over the phone a few days ago.

I sometimes drop in on her when you are out.”

Fidelma speaking with that chirping red robin voice of hers.

She had this penchant for suddenly appearing like an archaeological site.

And she vanished just as quickly leaving the person she spoke to scrambling to process her asides and insights before they disappeared.

Neighbour, friend, root and branch archivist whose grasp of detail was legendary.

“She seems to be coping.” I said.

“Glad to hear that. Maybe I can pay a flying visit some time soon.

But aren’t you a foolish man to be imposing all those Olympic Marathons on yourself?”

Fidelma about to share one of her treasured nuggets.

“I love walking but any tips?”

Spring enquired naively as events soon demonstrated.

“There’s a shortcut…..a little known shortcut.

People in the know recommend it though I have never actually used it myself.

Maybe I will one day.

See, it’s on the right hand side up the road there.

Think it might be useful when you want to get home in a hurry.” She concluded.

Fidelma in advanced middle age was still sprightly and youthful in her ways.

I missed a text from anthea and Fidelma noticed.

“Yes. I have one of those gadgets too.

Keeps me connected.

Took me awhile to master it.

Wish there was a shortcut for that.

But I’ll best be on my way.

Take good care whatever the route.”

As always having spoken to Fidelma I wondered about in a trance.

Another colourful aspect of Fidelma’s personality was her “Banana Skin Syndrome.”

She could lose her balance betimes when enthusing about a topic or when she stumbled on an area that fascinated her.

The feet were a little wobbly.

All this against her philosophy about how interconnected everything is.

The mind is an antenna sending out signals to others was a frequent broadside of hers.

Even when Fidelma said very little she always had this magnetic effect on others.

Those terse one liners could trigger an avalanche in the mind.

Her thin phrases were always shrouded in a well crafted poetic meter.

It was in the tone, gestures and body language.

Those beady yet expressive eyes scanning her environment like a radar screen.

A cascade of images and sound bytes ensued when she left.

Several hours passed as my mind was in overdrive like a central processing unit.

I heard this inner voice telling me to explore this “shortcut.”

Having texted Anthea I then proceeded to this offshoot of a lane.

It was going to lighten the journey of this slope and pavement plodder.

Off I went down this quaint country shortcut.

Nothing out of the ordinary to begin with until Anthea rang.

“Gnawing feeling of sadness.

My mind is a dark blue canvass at the moment.”

Her lilting twang mingling with the song birds at the start of my downward journey.

I sensed this was urgent and started to walk quickly.

That’s when problems arose.

Just a plain country passage with a primarily flat surface at this point.

There were houses on each side and some weeds strewn and partially mangled, turned to mulch by wild and indiscriminate boots.

Strange feelings welled up within me as I felt like a geyser at yellowstone.

The puff and splutter of tractors in nearby fields as furrows, the epicenter of future yields were turned.

Scarecrows were strategically perched in the meadow behind the right hand hedge to ward off some menace or other.

Something told me to relate my surroundings to Anthea.

If only to divert attention from an impending gloom.

Those barely audible inner prompts again.

“Eric, I don’t want to pressurise you but at the moment I feel this dark cloud.”

Eric paused.

It then occurred to me that I was engulfed by dark foreboding clouds in tandem with a rising rainbow like haze.

As Anthea continued her disorders seemed to be complemented by external threats of rain intermingled with sunshine.

“I feel, Eric there is a radiance trying to break through.

Just to see you … your presence is a light which I could focus on.”

Then I realised that speed was of the essence.

That’s when I could have panicked.

Anthea’s voice seemed louder, but also more lyrical as I realised this obscure

overlooked route could have done with some restoration!

Tufts of grass oozing slime.

Mounds of mud with pockets of oil stained water.

The briars were a shock team that endangered every part of the human body.

I was conveying all this to anthea as I was trying to dash at my normal pace.

Oddly Anthea’s tone of desperation started to dip.

But she did appear less tense as I told her this story over the phone.

“Someone told me this is a shortcut.”

Eric said gingerly.

“Who was that ? Anthea asked.

“Fidelma. We met on the main road just a short while ago.” I responded.

“You know her a bit better than I do.”

Anthea observed. “She’s going to call over one of these days I’m sure.”

By now Anthea, initially nervous was mellowing as I continued with my frantic running … and staggering commentary!

She didn’t have had much to excite her over the last five years.

But I had to be careful lest those dark brooding phases returned.

Like a roving reporter I regaled her with lurid descriptions of limp green shrubs, tea brown leaves shredded on fissured rocks, juice dripping blackberry bushes with foraging earwigs seeking shelter from the sun.

But here I was almost knee deep in tangled foliage while keeping the love of my life up to speed!

The labyrinthine outcrops and mock craters were all included.

Suddenly misfortune struck without warning.

I nearly sprained my leg as I fell face down on a grassy patch.

Sprawled awkwardly across this surface my phone went flying but I managed to catch it.

“Eric, are you ok?

I don’t mean to be a burden.

Will I get someone to meet you at the end of this lane or short cut.”

Anthea again.

“I’m fine, Anthea.”

Eric said before slowly rising.

I kept detailing my observations and Anthea was reacting positively.

But I made it eventually with the sounds of the road as guide.

The temperatures continued to rise causing perspiration.

Peering thru the maze of entwined growths I saw … Fidelma.

“Where did you spring from?” Eric punning his own name.

“Fidelma …you fell too.” A question that might have appeared tactless.

She was getting up, having fallen when taking her bearings it seems.

“Fidelma …. thanks but no thanks.

The shortcut.” I said.

“You are shivering.” She observed.

“I am. Spring responded.

“Got to get to Anthea because she might be in need of help.” Spring continued.

We both headed for my house as quickly as possible.

But it wasn’t far.

I texted Anthea and she answered by saying she had every reason to speak to me.

One wondered what that might be.

My face whitened.

Fidelma and I soon reached the house where I lived.

Eric pressed the doorbell as his heart pounded.

The door opened suddenly and we couldn’t believe what we saw.

“Anthea, is that you?

I haven’t seen you smile like that in years.”

I said.

Fidelma and I were perplexed to say the least.

“It’s early days yet but those locusts of darkness hopping around in my head maybe dwindling.

Those creative juices returned when I sensed your anxiety down the lane because I didn’t want two sick people in this house.

But you brought splashes of vivid colour into my drawing room.

I could almost smell the rustic fragrance of every wilting petal and the creaking of every twig.

You set a whole cycle in train.”

Anthea then showed me two items she was working on.

“I have started a rough sketch of the lane you detailed and a short story.

There’s been a sea change.” She said.

“Oh I wonder what I’ll call this sketch and that short story?

Any ideas?” Anthea enquired.

Fidelma and I looked at each other and spoke almost in unison.

“I think we both have a fair idea what they both might be called.

Your story included.”

A little known shortcut indeed!

Photograph and short story mantrabay copyright protected

[emerald-studies]

The complex Nina Simone

“Born Eunice Kathleen Waymon in Tryon, North Carolina on February 21st, 1933, Nina’s prodigious talent as a musician was evident early on when she started playing piano by ear at the age of three. Her mother, a Methodist minister, and her father, a handyman and preacher himself, couldn’t ignore young Eunice’s God-given gift of music. Raised in the church on the straight and narrow, her parents taught her right from wrong, to carry herself with dignity, and to work hard. She played piano – but didn’t sing – in her mother’s church, displaying remarkable talent early in her life. Able to play virtually anything by ear, she was soon studying classical music with an Englishwoman named Muriel Mazzanovich, who had moved to the small southern town. It was from these humble roots that Eunice developed a lifelong love of Johann Sebastian Bach, Chopin, Brahms, Beethoven and Schubert.After graduating valedictorian of her high school class, the community raised money for a scholarship for Eunice to study at Julliard in New York City before applying to the prestigious Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. Her family had already moved to the City Of Brotherly Love, but Eunice’s hopes for a career as a pioneering African American classical pianist were dashed when the school denied her admission. To the end, she herself would claim that racism was the reason she did not attend. While her original dream was unfulfilled, Eunice ended up with an incredible worldwide career as Nina Simone – almost by default.

 One fateful day in 1954, looking to supplement her income, Eunice auditioned to sing at the Midtown Bar & Grill on Pacific Avenue in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Word spread about this new singer and pianist who was dipping into the songbooks of Gershwin, Cole Porter, Richard Rodgers, and the like, transforming popular tunes of the day into a unique synthesis of jazz, blues, and classical music. Her rich, deep velvet vocal tones, combined with her mastery of the keyboard, soon attracted club goers up and down the East Coast. In order to hide the fact that she was singing in bars, Eunice’s mother would refer to the practice as “working in the fires of hell”, overnight Eunice Waymon became Nina Simone by taking the nickname “Nina” meaning “little one” in Spanish and “Simone” after the actress Simone Signoret.At the age of twenty-four, Nina came to the attention of the record industry. After submitting a demo of songs she had recorded during a performance in New Hope, Pennsylvania, she was signed by Syd Nathan, owner of the Ohio-based King Records (home to James Brown), to his Jazz imprint, Bethlehem Records. The boisterous Nathan had insisted on choosing songs for her debut set, but eventually relented and allowed Nina to delve in the repertoire she had been performing at clubs up and down the eastern seaboard. One of Nina’s stated musical influences was Billie Holiday and her inspired reading of “Porgy” (from “Porgy & Bess”) heralded the arrival of a new talent on the national scene. At the same mammoth 13 hour session in 1957, recorded in New York City, Nina also cut “My Baby Just Cares For Me,” previously recorded by Nate King Cole, Count Basie, and Woody Herman. The song was used by Chanel in a perfume commercial in Europe in the 1980’s and it became a massive hit for Nina, a British chart topper at #5, and thus a staple of her repertoire for the rest of her career.

Nina Simone’s stay with Bethlehem Records was short lived and in 1959, after moving to New York City, she was signed by Joyce Selznik, the eastern talent scout for Colpix Records, a division of Columbia Pictures. Months after the release of her debut LP for the label (1959‘s The Amazing Nina Simone), Nina was performing at her first major New York City venue, the mid-Manhattan-located Town Hall. Sensing that her live performances would capture the essential spontaneity of her artistry, Colpix opted to record her September 12, 1959 show. “You Can Have Him,” a glorious torch song previously cut by Peggy Lee and Ella Fitzgerald, was one of the highlights of the evening. The song opened with a dazzling keyboard arpeggio that would become her signature for decades. So momentous was the Town Hall performance that it inspired some of the same musicians, featuring the vocals of Nina’s only daughter, Lisa Simone Kelly, to do a tribute to a sold out audience over forty five years later.As Nina’s reputation as an engaging live performer grew, it wasn’t long before she was asked to perform at the prestigious Newport Jazz Festival. Accompanied on the June 30th, 1960 show by Al Schackman, a guitarist who would go on to become Nina’s longest-running musical colleague, bassist Chris White, and drummer Bobby Hamilton, the dynamic show was recorded by the Colpix. The subsequent release in 1961 of the old blues tune “Trouble In Mind” as a single gave Nina her third charted record.Her stay with Colpix resulted in some wonderful albums – nine in all – included Nina’s version of Bessie Smith’s blues classic “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out.” Issued as a single in 1960, it became Nina’s second charted Pop and R&B hit and one of two Colpix tracks to achieve such a feat during her five year stint with the label. Other stand out tracks from that era were the soulful song “Cotton Eyed Joe,” the torch tune “The Other Women,” and the Norwegian folk rendition of “Black Is The Color Of My True Love’s Hair” – all beautiful examples of Nina Simone at her storytelling best, painting a vivid picture with her skill as a lyrical interpreter. During this time with the label, Nina recorded one civil rights song, Oscar Brown Jr.’s “Brown Baby,” which was included on her fifth album for the label, At The Village Gate.“Critics started to talk about what sort of music I was playing,” writes Nina in her 1991 autobiography I Put A Spell On You, “and tried to find a neat slot to file it away in. It was difficult for them because I was playing popular songs in a classical style with a classical piano technique influenced by cocktail jazz. On top of that I included spirituals and children’s song in my performances, and those sorts of songs were automatically identified with the folk movement. So, saying what sort of music I played gave the critics problems because there was something from everything in there, but it also meant I was appreciated across the board – by jazz, folk, pop and blues fans as well as admirers of classical music.” Clearly Nina Simone was not an artist who could be easily classified.

Nina’s Colpix recordings cemented her appeal to a nightclub based U.S. audience. Once she moved to Phillips, a division of Dutch-owned Mercury Records, she was ready to expand her following globally. Her first LP for the label, 1964’s In Concert, signaled Nina’s undaunted stand for freedom and justice for all, stamping her irrevocably as a pioneer and inspirational leader in the U.S. Civil Rights Movement. Her own original “Mississippi Goddam” was banned throughout the South but such a response made no difference in Nina’s unyielding commitment to liberty; subsequent groundbreaking recordings for Philips like “Four Women” (recorded September 1965) and “Strange Fruit” continued to keep Nina in the forefront of the few performers willing to use music as a vehicle for social commentary and change. Such risks were seldom taken by artists during that time of such dramatic civil upheaval.For years, Nina felt there was much about the way that she made her living that was less than appealing. One gets a sense of that in the following passage from I Put A Spell on You where she explains her initial reluctance to perform material that was tied to the Civil Rights Movement.“Nightclubs were dirty, making records was dirty, popular music was dirty and to mix all that with politics seemed senseless and demeaning. And until songs like ‘Mississippi Goddam’ just burst out of me, I had musical problems as well. How can you take the memory of a man like [Civil Rights activist] Medgar Evers and reduce all that he was to three and a half minutes and a simple tune? That was the musical side of it I shied away from; I didn’t like ‘protest music’ because a lot of it was so simple and unimaginative it stripped the dignity away from the people it was trying to celebrate. But the Alabama church bombing and the murder of Medgar Evers stopped that argument and with ‘Mississippi Goddam,’ I realized there was no turning back.”

Nina was deeply affected by these two events. In 1962, she had befriended noted playwright Lorraine Hansberry and spoke often with her about the Civil Rights Movement. While she was moved by her conversations with Hansberry, it took the killing of Medgar Evers and the four girls in Birmingham to act as catalysts for a transformation of Nina’s career.There were many sides to Nina Simone. Among her most amazing recordings were the original and so-soulful version “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” and “I Put A Spell On You” (which had reached to #23 in the U.S. charts), eerily moody, unrestrained, drama to the max; “Ne Me Quitte Pas” tender, poignant, filled with melancholy; and with gospel-like fervor, the hypnotic voodoo of “See-Line Woman.” In her own unrivaled way, Nina also loved to venture into the more earthy side of life. After she signed with RCA Records in 1967 (a deal her then husband/manager Andy Stroud had negotiated), her very first recordings for the label included the saucy “Do I Move You?” and the undeniably sexual “I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl” which were from the concept album entitled Nina Sings The Blues. Backed by a stellar cast of New York CIty session musicians, the album was far and away Nina’s most down-home recording session. By this time, Nina had become central to a circle of African American playwrights, poets, and writers all centered in Harlem along with the previously mentioned Lorraine Hansberry, James Baldwin and Langston Hughes. The outcome from one of the relationships became a highlight of the LP with the song “Backlash Blues,” a song that’s lyrics originated from the last poem Langston Hughes submitted for publication prior to his death in May, 1967 and gave to Nina.Nina’s seven years with RCA produced some remarkable recordings, ranging from two songs featured in the Broadway musical “Hair” (combined into a medley, “Ain’t Got No – I Got Life,” a #2 British hit in 1968) to a Simone-ified version of George Harrison’s “Here Comes The Sun,” which remained in Nina’s repertoire all the way through to her final performance in 2002. Along the way at RCA, songs penned by Bob Dylan (“Just Like A Woman”), the brothers Gibb (“To Love Somebody”), and Tina Turner (“Funkier Than A Mosquito’s Tweeter”) took pride of place alongside Nina’s own anthem of empowerment, the classic “To Be Young, Gifted, & Black,” a song written in memory of Nina’s good friend Lorraine Hansberry. The title of the song coming from a play Hansberry had been working on just prior to her death.After Nina left RCA, she spent a good deal of the 1970’s and early 1980’s living in Liberia, Barbados, England, Belgium, France, Switzerland and The Netherlands. In 1978, for the first time since she left RCA, Nina was convinced by U.S. jazz veteran Creed Taylor to make an album for his CTI label. This would be her first new studio album in six years and she recorded it in Belgium with strings and background vocals cut in New York City. With the kind of “clean” sound that was a hallmark of CTI recordings, the Nina Simone album that emerged was simply brilliant. Nina herself would later claimed that she ”hated” the record but many fans strongly disagreed. With an eighteen piece string section conducted by David Mathews (known for his arrangements on James Brown’s records), the results were spectacular. The title track, Randy Newman’s evocative “Baltimore,” was an inspired Nina Simone choice. It had a beautifully constructed reggae-like beat and used some of the finest musicians producer Creed Taylor could find including Nina’s guitarist and music director, Al Schackman.

Aside from 1982’s Fodder On My Wings that Nina recorded for Carrere Records, two albums she made of the independent VPI label in Hollywood (Nina’s Back and Live And Kickin’) in 1985, and a 1987 Live At Vine Street set recorded for Verve, Nina Simone did not make another full length album until Elektra A&R executive Michael Alago persuaded her to record again. After much wining and dining, Nina finally signed on the dotted line. Elektra tapped producer Andre Fischer, noted conductor Jeremy Lubbock, and a trio of respected musicians to provide the suitable environment for this highly personal reading of “A Single Woman,” which became the centerpiece and title track for Nina Simone’s final full length album.With two marriages behind her in 1993 she settled in Carry-le-Rout, near Aix-en-Provence in Southern France. She would continue to tour through the 1990’s and became very much ‘the single woman’ she sang about on her last label recording. She rarely traveled without an entourage, but if you were fortunate enough to get to know the woman behind the music you could glimpse the solitary soul that understood the pain of being misunderstood. It was one of Nina’s many abilities to comprehend the bittersweet qualities of life and then parlay them into a song that made her such an enduring and fascinating person.

In her autobiography, Nina Simone writes that her function as an artist is “…to make people feel on a deep level. It’s difficult to describe because it’s not something you can analyze; to get near what it’s about you have to play it. And when you’ve caught it, when you’ve got the audience hooked, you always know because it’s like electricity hanging in the air.” It was that very electricity that made her such an important artist to so many and it will be that electricity that continues to turn on new people all over the world for years to come.Nina Simone died in her sleep at her home in Carry-le-Rout, Bouches-du-Rhone on April 21, 2003. Her funeral service was attended by Miriam Makeba, Patti Labelle, poet Sonia Sanchez, actor Ossie Davis and hundreds of others. Elton John sent a floral tribute with the message, “You were the greatest and I love you”.” (source)

Watch “What Happened Miss Simone?”

[evieveevee]

What We Lost: Returning to Tumblr in 2020

On December 17th, 2018, Tumblr banned 'adult content' across the site, marking the end of an era. The ban was the result of a cavalcade of issues which reportedly made maintaining NSFW content unfeasible for Tumblr. Now, it's 2020. I'm back on Tumblr, and I can't help but meditate on what we've lost both on Tumblr, and across the globe in 2020.

Part One: Tumblr and Adult Content

*Things we lost to the flame Things we'll never see again All that we've amassed Sits before us, shattered into ash

— Bastille, "Things We Lost In The Fire"*

A bit of personal history: Tumblr was the primary community I used in various forms from 2012 onwards, associating with various fandoms, doing what I could to design interesting things. The various communities I was involved in intersected with social justice communities, and eventually I dug into those further and tried to learn to better myself in the process, starting along the path to becoming the person I did.

Part of that process was also learning to love my own body, a thing I was not particularly good at and still struggle a bit with nowadays. One of the ways I did this was by making 'adult content', or more plainly, pornography. It was a unique opportunity to experiment with femininity and sexuality - something I'd been very closed off from as part of my upbringing - in a supportive, fun environment. Experimenting with my self image first in this way, in semi-private, led to me experimenting more publicly and eventually embracing aspects of that as part of my day to day life. That's right: making pornography was part of what led me down the path to figuring out I was trans and embracing that part of me.

Making porn on Tumblr was a great time; the adult content creators and consumers community on the site was largely supportive of queer people and sexuality, different body types, all manner of things. It was - in my experience - a healthy and fun place to be, and certainly one of the better places you could be on the internet for a visual medium like pornography. Tumblr's format made it easy to share both adult content you made yourself, and stuff you were curating. Vex Ashley wrote that "this sharing was so desperately vital for women and other marginalised people whose sexualities are often overlooked or infantilised in media about sex in preference for the tastes of the traditional porn consumer – the straight white guy" in a eulogy and love letter to Tumblr's adult content communities.

Tumblr's format remains novel to my knowledge as well: the notion of having a large image-focused feed which also allows for easy sharing and curation, gorgeous, high resolution pieces and photos to be uploaded with relatively little compression, custom arrangements of photosets, and personalized theming of your blog. There was, and remains, lots of potential for expression on Tumblr., and its focus remains unique. Twitter and Mastodon's focus is on what's written, Wordpress doesn't have the sort of interlinking of blogs that Tumblr does, and Facebook is... Facebook (read: evil).

I think the novelty of that format is what made the announcement of the ban on 'adult content' so impactful. Even looking back at the framing of it is gross: the post posits that 'adult content' is something which is negative, and says that removing it is working towards a 'more positive' Tumblr. There appears to be an attempt to try and strike a balance in allowing conversation about sexuality and such, but this is the killing blow. A huge portion of the community, including countless queer and furry artists, needed to find a new home online.

3 months after the ban had hit, traffic had reportedly dropped off 20%. Recent data from SimilarWeb, the outfit which published that initial data, shows that visits to the site have dropped off a little bit more, but have stayed otherwise pretty consistent. August 2020's data shows about 317 million visits. [1] In other words: any hope that this move would allow Tumblr was dashed. A massive portion of the userbase deleted their accounts after archiving them; Tumblr and the internet at large had lost a massive, vibrant chunk of community, and it was completely in vain.

I lost contact with a bunch of those folks I was following on Tumblr for years. The mass exodus left both people who wanted to find and share artwork and adult content and the people who made it completely adrift. Years later, some artists are still picking up the pieces. Archaic policy like SESTA/FOSTA being brought into the picture has left very few standing when it comes to adult content, Twitter included. Who knows how long that will last? If something happens to change the way that Twitter handles adult content, for example, what options do casual creators like myself have?

Fortunately, platforms like OnlyFans exist. But even those are at potential risk from legislation like the EARN IT Act, not to mention the danger this poses to Twitter and to the internet at large. OnlyFans and its ilk, as they exist right now, are fantastic for sex workers because they offer pay-gating and a variety of features to make sure sex workers get paid. But they leave those of us who want to be able to curate the content they enjoy or casually create their own content freely without real options, and without real community.

We stand to lose a lot, and as always people in the margins will be the ones most impacted: the queer, the people of color, the disabled; all will suffer greatly if adult content is found without a home. Media dealing with queer themes is enough to be considered "adult content" by some and it's not hard to imagine what we could be staring down the barrel of here.

What have we lost in eliminating platforms like this?

Part Two: 2020 and the World

*These are the things The things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire.

— Bastille, "Things We Lost In The Fire"*

Meditating on what we have lost seems to be a running theme for the year 2020.

January: New Year's Day. In Aotearoa New Zealand, smoke covers the skies from a fire a literal ocean away. The Australian bush has been on fire, part of one of the most and it has turned the skies of a nation not it's own orange at midday, across thousands of kilometers. What did we lose in those fires? What stories and history? What wildlife, what species? What will remain afterwards? What will grow anew?

April: Aotearoa New Zealand hits the peak of COVID-19 related lockdown with the entire nation moved to Level 4, meaning that nothing except truly essential services, such as roadworks, pharmacies, and supermarkets were open. During that time, I thought a lot about how some of my favorite small shops were doing; the bakery with astonishingly good pies, the charming dollar store which always has a few things that catch my eye, the coffee cart near one of the local parks every morning. As a nation, Aotearoa acted early to deal with COVID-19 with a strong hand, and it was risky for all of those small shops across the country. What would we come out the other side of the lockdowns having lost, both in terms of human cost and cost to the places around us?

May: Following the murder of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis Police officer Derek Chauvin, massive protests against police brutality, racism, and white supremacy break out across the United States of America. Daily protests have continued to the time of writing in some cities. George Floyd is one of 781 people killed by police in 2020 at the time of writing in the United States alone [2]. 1099 people were killed by police in 2019 [3]. What incredible lives and stories have been lost in the process? Are those stories being told now? How do we prevent this from happening again? (Hint: defunding the police will be a start, and supporting the cause now is a good choice too.)

It is now September: The incompetence of the US Government has allowed COVID-19 to spread beyond control, leaving tens of thousands of deaths in its wake; lives and stories which must be remembered and their stories carried on by others. The western coast of the United States is on fire, blanketed in smoke and ashes. Massive west coast cities like San Francisco gain an apocalyptic feeling as the skies turn orange, like they did for me in January. Friends of friends lose everything in small Oregon towns. The costs of the prolonged fires will be paid by people all up the coast; it's their health outcomes which will suffer. What will we lose as a result of this in the future? What can we do to make things better?

I want to be clear: this is not a comprehensive list, and is centered around the things that me and my social circles have been aware of and talked about. Even with that consideration, we have to reckon with massive, ongoing, and far reaching concerns. The loss felt as a result of all of the above issues is staggering, and far reaching, and we must fight to ensure that loss is not in vain. Voting alone is not going to solve these concerns, and there's more to concern yourself with than any one person should have to cope with. There's not a magic bullet to solve all this stuff though.

Rather than pretend that I have one, I want to propose a couple things to close this out: one bit of advice, and one plea for yourself and others.

The advice: pick your battles carefully. Pick issues you want to focus in on, and fight for those things to make things better where you live, and in your social circles. Choose things to care deeply about first. Keep caring about them.

The plea: think carefully about the questions I've asked throughout this piece, and think about the things in your life and communities that you have lost. Think about how to make sure those losses are taken with you and learned from; to take lessons learned and better yourself and the people around you. Think about the things you don't want to lose, and how to fight like hell for them.

Move forwards to something, and some place better than where we are now. Stand united with the people around you, and press on.

*Do you understand that we will never be the same again? The future's in our hands and we will never be the same again.

— Bastille, "Things We Lost In The Fire"*

If you enjoyed this piece and want to support my work, please contribute to my Ko-fi. If you are interested in re-publishing this piece on another site, please contact me either here or via my business email.

References

[1] Data provided by SimilarWeb; accessed on 15/09/2019 at 5:30am. (https://www.similarweb.com/website/tumblr.com/)

[2] Data provided by Mapping Police Violence (https://mappingpoliceviolence.com); accessed on 15/09/2020 at 4:08am NZT

[3] Data provided by Mapping Police Violence's (https://mappingpoliceviolence.com) database, downloaded on 15/09/2020 at 4:08am NZT. Count obtained using the following formula:

=COUNTIFS($'2013-2020 Police Killings'.F:F,">=1/1/2019",$'2013-2020 Police Killings'.F:F,"<1/1/2020")

[a-musing-mixologist]

   “Now there’s a fight I’d pay t’ see.  Priss Kid vs. Pixie Chick, maybe they’ll take one another out.”

[anony-mony-moose]

Let’s Stay Together - Izzy Stradlin x Reader (Part 2)

Y/N starts her new job, agrees that Izzy’s water is hot, and narrowly dodges an interrogation from Duff

warnings for swearing, mentions of drug use, and very mild Duff abuse (specifically his toe)

also on ao3 :)

------------------------------------------------

“First off, you gotta be able to clean dishes.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” I delivered my most charming smile. “I’m a dab hand when it comes to soap and water, Angus.”

Izzy huffed quietly in amusement as he set down a chopping board, and I had to work to keep the pleasant expression on my face.

“I don’t doubt it, Y/N/N.” Angus replied jovially, eyes twinkling under his undulating brow. “Only other condition is I have to like you enough to be around you five days a week.”

I bit my lip and sighed dramatically. “Shit, well if it’s not meant to be... Where’s my coat?”

He belted out a laugh and strode further into the kitchen, slapping my back (and politely ignoring the way I jumped about a foot in the air).

“Come on, we gotta get you set up before the orders start. It’ll get real busy soon. You wouldn’t think so, on a Thursday afternoon...” He continued as he led me to the sinks at the back, marching past Izzy who shot me a wink and laughed silently at the mock-bewildered face I pulled.

There isn’t much you can explain about washing up, further than pointing to a sink and then some dishes, but Angus gave it a shot anyway, doling out helpful tips like, “This one’s the cold tap, that one’s hot. Be careful, alright? The hot water is pretty damn hot.” Eventually, mercifully, his commentary ran dry and he bustled over to dice veg with Izzy at one of the counters. A few hours passed with me scrubbing my way through various pots and pans, occasionally enjoying Angus’ happy chatter about this and that whenever service calmed down. He had something to say about just about everything, that man.

Although you wouldn’t know it from the way he spoke, Angus Walker was only in his early thirties. Smoking one too many packs a day for about ten too many years had reduced his voice to a low scratchy rumble, and it matched perfectly with the strange little rambling tales he liked to share. His funniest kitchen war stories usually centred around his time starting out in Chicago. They were also evidently his favourites to tell - he’d get properly invested, slipping into thickly accented voices for each character. The way he reminisced, you’d think he was referring to things that took place fifty years ago.

Although not especially close, we’d been familiar since I first arrived in LA. Of course, since Izzy got the job doing food prep for him at Andrea’s, we bumped into quite regularly - it was usually Angus who answered the back door, and he was very generous with Izzy’s smoke breaks whenever I came calling. Weirdly enough though, Duff had also previously worked for him at a bakery, which was conveniently only ten minutes up the road from the call centre I was temping at at the time (another job which bit the dust pretty fast). I used to pop by everyday over my lunch hour to chat with all the staff in the break room. Duff made a habit of stuffing my pockets on my way out with all the goods that didn’t survive the ovens, constantly trying to feed me up, and even back then Angus would always turn a blind eye.

All round, he was just a really nice bloke. Didn’t half harp on though, I mused, tuning in to follow the end of a lengthy discussion about the guy I’d replaced.

“Damn sight better to have you on the team, anyway.” He concluded, pottering away to rummage around for something in the walk-in. I turned and caught a knowing smirk from Izzy.

“Comin’ out for a smoke?” He asked, jerking his head towards the door.

I nodded and swivelled round to check with Angus.

“Sure honey, take all the time you need! I’ll hold down the fort over here!” He hollered in reply and I stifled a small laugh. I had a feeling he was just grateful for a new, even marginally more responsive ear to chew off as he worked - Izzy could be an absolute brick wall when he set his mind to it.

We stepped outside into a light drizzle and the man in question burst into laughter, ducking with a delighted grin as I clouted him round the back of the head.

“You are a such a fuckin’ flirt!” He wheezed, only spurred on by my unsuccessful attempts to look unamused. His shoulders shook as he plucked a crumpled pack of Marlboro’s from his back pocket, still chuckling as he passed one to me.

“Angus doesn’t mind.” I mumbled, glancing away to hide my smirk. 

He cackled again. “No, he fuckin’ doesn’t.”

Our elbows knocked together, a short fit of giggles escaped me before I could properly stamp it down. My voice trembled when I replied, “My skills really are wasted on this shit, huh?”

All it took was a glance and we both devolved into hysterics again.

You could probably forgive us for feeling a bit crazed that afternoon. Neither of us had got even a glimpse of sleep, having been kept up all night by Slash and a steady supply of pills from his various pockets; the man really did have everything stashed away in there. The day had broken and morning was well on it’s way to noon when Slash finally left to restock, Izzy and I tagging along just for something to do. I didn’t have much memory of our bleary walk around town to find a dealer, apart from a single clear image of the cold, grey sunlight dancing over Izzy’s face. A little weird, granted, but I figured that could be easily blamed on the pills.

It was a bit of a miracle that we actually to made it to Andrea’s on time. It was even more of a miracle that we weren’t just turned away in our bedraggled state. Getting a good look now we were outside, Izzy still looked objectively awful, with big red rings shadowing his eyes and a slightly twitchy quality to all his movements. An unruly part of my brain helpfully reminded me that despite this, he was still extremely attractive. Another, more unruly part suggested that, yes, I definitely still wanted to shag him like this, and hey presto, now I was imagining him pinning me against that metal door and fucking those hangover jitters out of me. Christ.

No sleep, an ever-intensifying comedown, and an incorrigible imagination – the real miracle would be surviving to the end of this shift.

*****

“Sheena is-“ The words garbled as I dunked my head back under the showerhead to rinse. “A punk rocker, no-o-o-o-ow!” My feet slipped a little, stumbling over an empty beer can which floated above the drain, and I splashed my face to wash off the soapy water, still singing cheerily. “She’s a punk, punk,” I climbed out of the tub to snatch up the towel from the floor, (“A punk rocker!”) giving myself a quick once over  (“Punk, punk-“) before hitching it up around me. (“A punk rocker-er!”) I shook my hair out enthusiastically and immediately winced as that stubborn hungover headache clattered around my skull again like an enraged bull, battering away at my temples. I could hardly wait to meet the guys and get a drink inside me, if only to get rid of the incessant pounding in my head.

I plugged on determinedly with the song, neatly bringing the chorus to an end as I left the bathroom (spoiler: she is still definitely a punk rocker). A wry grin was leering at me from the other side of the door.

“Is she now?”

I hid a smile and squeezed some more water out of my hair as I pushed past to search out some clothes.

“Yeah, weren’t you listenin’? I thought me and Joey made it pretty clear.”

A loud thunk sounded from the window. He brushed behind me to answer it, hand flitting over my bare shoulder briefly, and I swallowed as I sifted haphazardly through the accumulated rubbish on the floor for my skirt. I sighed, standing up to ask Izzy if he remembered where we’d lobbed it before, and the unkempt stranger outside jeered suddenly. How he had the energy, I had no idea. The sheen of sweat on his forehead hinted at a pretty nasty case of dopesickness – after all, that was why he’d come knocking.

“Shit, Stradlin, what else you got hidin’ in there?” My nose scrunched up in irritation, any sympathy vanishing instantly, but Izzy beat me to it.

“Fuck off.” He hissed and reached out to give him a harsh shove, and the man stumbled backwards, startled.

“Jeez, man, I was j-“ The window slammed shut in his face and he gawked through the dirty glass for a second before dashing off into the alley, probably remembering the fresh dose of smack in his hand. Izzy lingered, glowering at his retreating back. On second thoughts, maybe it was the glower that sent him running.

“Um, have you seen-“ I began as he turned and said, “I should’ve beat his fuckin’ ass for that. Sorry.”

I blinked, taken aback by the ferocity in his tone. “It’s fine, Iz.” He eyed me dubiously. “Really. I would’ve said the same thing, I mean-“ I flounced a hand across my body, adopting a terrible imitation of a Californian drawl, “Have you seen this bod?”

He snorted and produced my lost mini-skirt from somewhere in his unmade bed, offering it to me as he changed the subject abruptly.

“How was my shower?”

“Uh... Functional?” That was… An oddly pointed question. “I’m clean as a whistle now, so…” I yanked a pair of tights up over my arse and stepped into the skirt.

“Hot enough for you?”

So that was what he was getting at. I smirked drily and rolled my eyes as I clipped up my bra. “Put Nicky’s to shame.”

“Good to hear.” He handed me a dark blue shirt and watched me slip it on with a smirk to match mine. “You ready to head out?”

I glanced up, pausing my buttoning, to raise an eyebrow. “Feelin’ impatient, Izzy?”

His hands covered mine to fasten the last few buttons up to my chest, surely feeling the way my heartbeat revved up a little in anticipation. He dipped his head, just enough to lock eyes with me, that wicked smirk still firmly in place, and practically purred, “Always.”

*****

“Y/L/N!”

Duff waved me down as he left his apartment block, leaping out into the road and racing over to meet me outside Izzy’s building, barely avoiding a motorbike as it whizzed past.

“Hey, man.” His grin was infectious, bright even in the persistent spitting rain, and it managed to take some of the bite from my grumbling reply.

“You’re a bit chipper for this time in the afternoon, aren’t you?”

“You left very early last night.” No time to waste on small talk, apparently.

I started walking purposefully in the direction of the Strip, not sparing him a glance as he plodded along beside me. I didn’t have to see his face to know that there was still a teasing grin plastered all over it.

“You weren’t the only one.”

“I wasn’t?”

He raised his eyebrows, almost managing to keep a serious expression.

I bit down a giddy smile (Jesus, where was that coming from?) and dug my hands into the pockets of Izzy’s coat. “Piss off, Duff.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

I narrowed my eyes at him pointedly, (yep, there was the grin) and stopped to help shield him from the wind as he lit a cigarette. He repeated it and passed one to me.

“Cheers.” We strode on, my hair whipping and snapping around me like a whirlwind. I huddled further into the leather, firmly ignoring the unmistakeably Izzy scent that was ingrained in the collar, and the heat it sparked inside me.

“Gee, that’s a nice jacket you’re wearing.” Duff continued gleefully, a generous helping of sarcasm injected into his voice. I sighed and shook my head in exasperation. “Now where have I seen it before?”

I shot him an amused look. “What’s up, McKagan?”

“Who, me? Ohhh, nothin’ at all, zilch. Just makin’ a couple of observations, that’s all.”

“Sure about that?”

“Totally.” He paused as I dodged a frenzied woman in a pantsuit. “So many different things to observe, don’t you think?”

I snorted. “I don’t know, Duff, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

“You and Izzy disappear together last night, now you’re wearin’ his clothes this morning,” I checked, a little alarmed to find that I actually was wearing his shirt again today, while Duff threw his hands up in the air. “God, what could it all mean?”

I spluttered, laughing, and ducked under the awning of the liquor store to take one last drag of smoke before heading in. Of course, he followed me.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The change rattled in my hand as I scoured the shelf in front of me, hardly paying attention to Duff swanning around on the side of the aisle.

“I’m just sayin’,” He called, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you two were gettin’ pretty cosy.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed another cheap bottle of rum, sidling past him to deposit everything at the checkout.

“Hey Al, how’s it goin’?” I sighed, counting out the last of my quarters on the tabletop.

“He givin’ you trouble, sweetheart?” He nodded gruffly over my head at the giant blonde softie behind me, currently inspecting the label of a bottle of red wine.

I laughed, trying to imagine what Duff might look like to an untrained eye. He could be pretty scary when he needed to, after all. “No, he’s fine.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Duff’s hands landed on my shoulders and I flinched a little despite myself.

“If you’re sure.” Al muttered under his breath, patiently divvying up my assortment of coins and dollar bills. “You got another fifty cents, honey?”

I winced. That was all the cash I had. Duff’s touch disappeared from my shoulders to delve into his jean pockets, rooting around hastily.

“Sorry man, that’s all I got. I’ll leave the-“

“No, no, don’t be silly. Owe me it, alright?”

“But hey, I have-“ I silenced Duff with a light stomp on his toe.

“Thanks mate, I really appreciate it.” I gathered up the bottles under my arm, promising to be back with the remainder soon.

“Hey, forget it Y/N. Tell you what, keep that fifty. Buy some fuckin’ breakfast next time, okay?”

I snickered and waved as we turned to leave. “Will do! See you later!”

The bell above the door jingled chirpily as we left and Duff paused to spark another couple of cigarettes for us before stepping back out into the street. I frowned as he continued back the way we’d just come. He hadn’t really just left his apartment to follow me to the shop, had he?

“Are you goin’ home?”

“Nah, I’m late for work.” He said, looking remarkably unfazed.

“Shouldn’t you be walkin’ the other way, then?”

“I’ll walk you back first.” I opened my mouth to protest but he forged ahead before I could. “Didn’t get to the bottom of my observations yet.”

I sighed and waited for him to continue, but he stayed quiet instead, even when Izzy’s building came back into sight.

“What do you want me to say?” I said finally. “I thought everybody knew already, we fuck now and then. It’s not exactly big news.”

We stopped outside the door and I puffed away the last few tokes of my cigarette as I waited for him to reply. He was smiling fondly at me, and I found it infuriating for some reason.

“And you’re sure it’s just sex?”

“Uh, yeah.” I frowned. “Is that not what I said?” 

He was still smiling and appearing quite entertained by my confusion, and I shook him off, wrinkling my nose, when he reached down to ruffle my hair. 

“You know, you’re a real dumbass, Y/N/N.”

I scowled. “Yes, thanks, I did know that.”

He rocked back on his heels to fix me with a calculating stare.

“What does Izzy think?” He said carefully. Huh? 

“What the fuck d’you mean, what does-”

“Shit!” Duff blurted, eyes widening comically. “I gotta get to work!” He turned on his heel and started sprinting back into town, shouldering through the midday stragglers and throwing out frantic apologies as he barged past people. In the space of about ten seconds, he was gone, flying out of view round the corner with a final shout of “Come see me when you get your head outta your ass!”

I stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell did he mean by that?

Curiously enough, he wasn’t the only one who’d suggested… Well, whatever it was he’d been trying to suggest. Axl had pulled me aside when we were out the night before last, bellowing in my ear that he was happy for me and Iz, of all things. If that wasn’t unsettling enough, him and Slash had taken to calling Izzy’s apartment ‘the love nest’ since I’d started hanging around there constantly, bedding down with Izzy every single night this week - as if I needed a reminder. I spent more time there than I did anywhere else at the moment, and it was getting a bit ridiculous. I’d been offered a roof to crash under for one night, and here I was, a week later, making myself a permanent fixture. He hadn’t mentioned it yet though, which seemed kind of unusual for someone normally so blunt.

I was still lost in thought as I twisted the cap off one of the bottles and gulped down a bolstering mouthful of whisky, trudging into the hallway to rap on Izzy’s door. The whole thing was very weird, I decided, screwing the cap back on. Very weird, indeed. And here I was, returning again. Bloody hell, what a disaster.

But then the door swung open, and I was greeted with a greedy kiss, emitting a pleased (if a little surprised) moan. Izzy was just as gloriously naked as I’d left him, with keen hands pulling me inside and pushing me up against the back of the door to kiss the breath out of me, already stripping me of his jacket and depositing it in a heap on the floor next to the booze.

“You were gone a long time.” He gasped, somehow still managing an air of nonchalance, even as he tore my (his) shirt up over my head. I wriggled out of it and launched myself back into his embrace, pressing up for another filthy kiss. His hands carded through my damp hair, and he broke away panting, confused. “It’s rainin’?”

I huffed, laughing a little, and dragged him with me towards the bed. “You wanna talk about the weather right now?”

His mouth stretched out to form a grin, and crashed back into mine - and all thoughts of Duff and his oddly foreboding questions swiftly evaporated.