#soundtrack of my july so far

[vlindervin7]

who’s gonna hold you while you sleep? well it’s brave to be nothing to no one at all… when it gets tough i disappear, warm-blooded and wild, i can sense the changes in the air… clear water, still water, we could both wade… love will always last, love will always hold me down… that night i had a dream you took me dancing, it was 92 degrees at 2am, twirling my hair, it’s not everything i wished for but i didn’t care, i just liked having you there… if i could stretch these hours into a lifetime i would stretch these arms and do it at the right time, i would, in spirit you were there, well, maybe next time… now all that we’ve had is all that we have… if the family’s happy, let ‘em laugh let ‘em have their fun, my sister’s raising a baby in the house that my mother grew up… what stops me from sending the call in a midnight paranoia, hey, that’s love after all, isn’t it?… i’m not seeking a shelter, but ill be gone for a while and i don’t wanna be found… no horizon’s ever promised, so while i hold my baby in my arms i’ll count on god to wake us up by sunrise… going through your jewellery, i smile but i know you see through me, you knew who i was before i knew me, on the very first day, now i know what you’re onto, you were just looking for someone to talk to, a beautiful life to belong to, now you’re getting your way, i didn’t think i’d want to be here, but something told me i should stay, so go on mother, hallelujah for a little faith…

[barrenclan]

idk if someone's said this before but July by American Murder Song is a very patfw-ish song. i can't pinpoint it exactly but a lot of it reminds me of cootstorm especially 's refusal to leave the territory but there's also the idea of going west, like the idea of leaving the territory and later moving further away from defiance, and the very last part of the song is reminiscent of Rainhaze to me, how he kills Asphodelpaw, and in doing that, kills his old self so to speak. just a thought

Oh, how did you know that I've been listening to 1816: The Year Without a Summer and specifically July on repeat for the past month? Are you reading my mind? Anyways, I do really love that song with Cootstorm, especially how the narrator curses everyone who is leaving and insists that he'll never leave this land. Though I do hope Cootstorm wouldn't go so far as murder.

Black in the cotton and rot in the lamb Ash in the windows Ash on the land Summer got spooked Went yellow and ran We ain't going nowhere We ain't going, going nowhere

Outside the tree coughed up blood 'Stead of leaves Coughs from the floorboards Coughs from the eaves I climbed the coughing tree Noose at my sleeves I ain't going nowhere I ain't going, going nowhere

Deepdark would certainly believe he was the protagonist of this comic, that's for sure. Will Wood isn't really my taste but I do like the tone of this song.

I'm that first-person they talk about in all the books I'm that perspective you cannot doubt, see how I look Control the narrative reliably, baby, it's all about me

So, God forbid I'm seen just as an average human being I mean, imagine if antagonists lacked any evil scheme I'm the gap between a tragedy and comedy

I see the vision!

So there's this Castle of Rats I mean a million of them, butchering each other As they try to get a window open Burying the new dead beneath the old dead

There isn't anything in this world could make you go back There isn't any meaning in the metaphor I'm weaving a series of words that hurt me more The more that I repeat 'em

I like it when people suggest OSTs, it's very vibes-based. Spooky songs are great soundtracks for this comic!

Lol, Nat, no people haven't sent me obscure Appalachian string band suggestions for music before. I do like this sound with the comic, though, I think it fits very well. If PATFW was a show or movie I was making, I'd score it with a lot of western/appalachian string music.

Ah, MNQN! One of my friends likes that band a lot. This is a very very Rainhaze song.

You've changed within Some selfish mutation A stranger I once called a friend

Man will almost certainly be replaced by a new order of intelligence Stop looking for monsters under your bed You are the monster

Oh, you've seen that Darkstripe video too... big fang. I love Ween, so any song of their you give me is good far as I'm concerned. Rainhaze being a Johnny on the spot fits him very well, always willing to break his back for other people.

I'll be your Jonny on the spot I'll be your Jonny on the spot My daddy died, and left me all he's got I'll be your Jonny on the spot

I get up early in the morn' I get up early in the morn' I slop the pigs, and momma shucks the corn I get up early in the morn'

[lily-s-world]

Julie and the Phantoms vs. Julie e os Fantasmas

I had recently been practicing my Portuguese and listening to music in that language, which lead me to the soundtrack of Julie e os Fantasmas. The original Brazilian version of the show. Funny how music works, because the more I listened to the songs the more I remembered about the show. Which is why I decided to make a list about the main differences between the shows.

First, the Brazilian cast and the name of their counterparts so you know who am I referring to:

Side note before we start, their music is also pretty cool. My favorite one is Essa noite somos um so (Tonight we are one).  You can find it on Spotify:

The Brazilian show lasted 1 season with 26 episodes, which were divided in two parts from 2011 to 2012. However, the show was always planned with one season only, so it had a proper closure.

In the original version, Julie isn’t dealing with the loss of her mother. Her mother is alive but decided to take a job far away from them, which leads to Julie resenting her because she feels that her mother doesn’t care about them and only shows when it is convenient for her. This makes Julie feel invisible across her life.

Both shows revolve around music and how much Julie loves it. Julie (BR) suffers from stage panic, one of the reasons she had never sing in front of people. The phantoms help her with this. Also, her preferred instrument is the guitar.

The phantoms had a more tragic death on the BR version. They were trying to replicate The Beatles’ Abbey Road cover, but where hit by a truck and died instantly. One member was alive, but he retired from the music industry after the accident. They had been dead for over 30 years and were trapped on a vinyl record instead of a CD.  

The phantoms don’t have their instruments like the new version. After they help Julie with her stage panic, she buys them new instruments and decides to form the band.

The name of the band on the show is Os Insólitos (The Unusuals). They play in different venues and parties across the season. Unlike the new version, they sing the same songs repeatedly across the episodes. There are some special episodes where they reveal a new song.

The Julies share basically the same personality on both shows. Martim and Reggie are also really similar, being a flirt and a little bit clueless. Felix is way more anxious and fearful than Alex, he was scared of ghosts since he was a kid and being turned into one didn’t help with that. Daniel and Luke are probably the ones with different personalities, while Luke is this cutie that falls for Julie almost immediately; Daniel is egocentric and cold at the beginning of the show. It takes a long time for him to warm up to Julie and is resentful against the world for what happened to them. He had a lot of character development during the season.

Pedro (Carlos) and Bia (Flynn) learn about the ghost right after Julie does. Pedro and Martim develop a friendship based on pranks and jokes.

Julie, Pedro and Bia are the only ones that can actually see the phantoms. Whenever they play in the band, they hide behind masks and keep the idea as a mystery to attract followers.

Julie and Thalita (Carrie) were also friends when they were younger. The reason their friendship didn’t lasted, was because Julie realized that Thalita was a bully that picked up on other girls. Julie cut out all communication with her, which Thalita didn’t took well and continued to antagonize her until they were teens.

The main difference is that Caleb doesn’t exist in this original version, there is an agent of the Ghost Police that looks for the boys because he is convinced they escaped the rules of death. They should have crossed over, but never did. There also some kind of ghostbuster that is looking for them.

 At the end of the first part of the season, the boy say goodbye to Julie because they are planning to cross over; however it is later revealed that the ghostbuster capture them. They manage to escape and return with Julie.

Daniel develops feelings for Julie in the second part of the season, Julie also starts liking him, but she also likes Nicolas who had been her crush for years. Nicolas and Julie start spending more time together after he broke up with Thalita, and he develops feelings for Julie. At the end of the show Julie ends up choosing Nicolas, because she had liked him longer and he makes this grand gesture for her at school. She has a talk with Daniel about what they feel, and they both decide to still be friends and continue with the band.

Some fun facts: The show was sponsored by Monster High, so you can see a lot of merchandise in the show; Julie even dresses up as Frankie Stein for a Halloween party. The show was super popular, earning nominations for Kids Awards in LATAM.

[hurpdurpburps]

Astoria: Fate's Kiss Is Getting Re-released On 25 July, Here Are Some Things You Should Keep In Mind

Most people don't know it (until now I guess), but I'm the founder of, and have been running the @ls-salvation-squad project since Christmas 2021. I hardly interact with the LS community outside of the project server in a personal capacity as I've largely left the fandom around 6 months before the announcement of the app's closure.

I was pretty late to the game (pun intended), having only learnt about the app in 2020, but managed to be around for 'milestone events' such as the writers' strike and the DMCA rampage on YouTube/tumblr. Thanks to certain friends and technology, I've also had privileged access to a quasi-'insider look' into Voltage's workings (and failings) as a studio, both in real time and through secondhand horror stories of the past.

This culmination of experiences has spurred me to make my first, and last, personal opinion piece regarding LS on tumblr, a corner of the community that I haven't really interacted much with.

While I understand the sheer joy, relief and excitement that comes with revived, legal access to some of the most impressive, unapologetically queer stories to have ever graced the internet, I want to point out the ugly truths that are intertwined with the revival of this troubled app:

Buying the game =/= supporting the creators. Not a cent of your money goes towards them. Even when Voltage USA used to be a thing, barely any of it went towards the employees in general either. The writers were paid 3 cents/word, and producers were working twice as hard but only paid around half of their counterparts in other companies. AFAIK the artists have kept quiet but it would be more of a surprise if they were treated any better than their peers.

Buying the game =/= supporting queer content/community. This might come as a shocker, but homophobia ran rampant within Voltage's management. The best evidence of this can be found in their history of 'peculiar' business or creative decisions - and they've made a fuckton of bad choices. Fun fact; the first queer routes were only made possible via sheer force of will of a particular producer. I'm not at liberty to share the nitty gritty on this public platform as the stories aren't mine, but maybe if you asked some of the former staff nicely, they might give you cryptic hints.

You're gonna be paying them a THIRD time. Many of us have already shelled out hundreds of dollars on heart choices - not once, but twice. Putting the whole version on Steam/Switch had always been a valid option from the beginning of the end, but they chose not to do it. Why? Because users scrambling to make bulk purchases of tickets and hearts to record routes as a last hurrah meant a last, fat cash-in. Not to mention the fact that they're selling the game at US$30 per series, for almost decade-old content, presumably without any new additions. At this point, throwing your hard earned money at them AGAIN is just rewarding scummy management and unscrupulous business models.

Do you really need to? Our team of around 100 archivists worked tirelessly in Q1 of 2022 to provide you high quality recordings of every single route. We've gone so far as to acquire recordings of pre-LS Voltage content such as Queen's Gambit and all of the soundtracks. We've put assets up for download. There are a dozen passionate creators out there who have been updating their Ren'Py recreations so that you can scratch your itch - and all for free!!! What more could you possible want or need that only the greedy bastards at Voltage can give you - apart from seeing your custom MC name on the screen and the absolutely inconsequential choices B & C that our videos didn't cover?

Is this a call for a boycott? I guess not really, or at least I didn't consciously set out to make it like this. Dissuading others from purchasing legal access to media when it's easily available goes against my general principle about responsibly and pragmatically supporting creators. And as one 'em Gays™, I know the preciousness of possessing Queer Stories Written By Queer People.

But I was concerned at what seemed to be a wave of happiness and eagerness at news of the revival, without any mention of the absolute shit show that has led us to this very point. There's a very big part of me that's absolutely pissed at being taken for a ride. News of the revival has been a bittersweet development for us all, especially those who have poured their time, money and energy over the past 2.5 years into salvaging what was thought to be a lost piece of queer media - only to find out that all that effort might only get them a slap to the face in the form of a DMCA from the grave. So yeah, fuck you Voltage.

TLDR: You should really save your money for more ethical, indie developers who have the decency to not mock your consumer intelligence. I don't think it's a crime against humanity if you end up buying it after all, but just think about it yeah?

[lonewolflupe]

I thought it would be fun to write a little bit about myself, so come over and get to know me! (As far as I know myself because I didn't come with a manual so I'm still figuring myself out..) If you have any more questions, feel absolutely free to ask them!

Expect a karkload of ramblings below the cut, this turned out so much longer than I intended I am so sorry, no one is probably going to read this but I'm just leaving this here anyway because I don't really have people to share my ramblings with

PERSONAL

My name's Julie (she/her)

Lupe is actually my OCs name, but I adopted it as a nickname here on Tumblr when I first started posting and I kinda stuck with it

Quickly approaching my 30s help

I'm from the Netherlands 🇳🇱 so my first language is Dutch

That obviously means English isn't my first language, so please excuse any errors in my writing

I am Dutch, therefore I love cheese 🧀 (like Gouda, NOT cheddar)

I am an archaeologist! I've been a history nerd all my life

I work in a museum (obviously one with a history collection)

My #1 all-time favourite animals are wolves

In RL, I am super introverted and people scare the kark out of me

I never got any diagnosises, but I'm pretty sure I'm neurodivergent

I prefer the internet over meeting people IRL, because I feel way more comfortable to be myself and ramble about the things I love online than IRL

I tend to switch between my several hyperfixations from time to time, but I really hope to stick around the Star Wars fandom for a long time <3

HOBBIES

Star Wars obviously ahahahaha what are you doing here otherwise?

Drawing, writing, photography, gaming, history, nature, collecting, listening to music

Drawing: has always been one of my favourite pastime activities. I used to draw wolves almost non-stop, until life happened I guess? I only recently picked up drawing again. Drawing humans is a struggle, but it's so much fun practicing with clones <3

Drawing: I'm currently drawing with my ergonomically irresponsible mouse in Photoshop CS6 (I've been using the same software for over 10 years now and I am too afraid to switch to something newer)

Writing: I used to write stories about wolves (shocker) but same as with drawing, life happened. Until I recently picked up writing again! I started writing fanfiction for the first time when I started posting on Tumblr around June 2024

Writing: publishing a book has been on my bucketlist for a long time but I'm not sure that's ever going to happen, so let's keep it with fanfiction for now (which I am REALLY enjoying)

Gaming: I prefer gaming on my PlayStation 3 and 4, but I occasionally play PC and Nintendo Switch games. I mostly play single-player games. Assassin's Creed got me into gaming and is still my favourite series. I also really enjoy The Witcher III, Red Dead Redemption I + II, LA Noire and Far Cry Primal. And others, obviously

Gaming: I play Pokémon GO! If you're a player as well, shoot me your friend code and I'll add you (:

Music: I'm a metalhead; metal is my favourite genre! But I also like (hard) rock and (folk) punk. My favourite metal subgenres are power metal and folk metal. But I can listen to movie/game soundtracks for weeks as well!

Music: Rammstein got me into the heavier stuff and is still an all-time favourite. I was a die-hard Volbeat fan for years, but I haven't felt drawn to their latest releases. My current favourite band is definitely Powerwolf (more wolves lol)! Other favourites are (among many others) Sabaton, Amon Amarth, Slipknot, Nightwish, Within Temptation, Dropkick Murphys, Flogging Molly, The Real McKenzies, Heilung, Wardruna, Eluveitie, and some amazing older stuff like Alice Cooper, Pink Floyd and E.L.O.

STAR WARS

This is where the fun begins

I've been a Star Wars fan for as long as I can remember

My brother and me used to watch the OT and Ep I on VHS when we were kids and were lucky enough to see Ep II and III in cinemas

I missed watching EP I in cinemas this May (due to its 25th anniversary) because I was moving homes during that time and I am still crying about that, see you in 5 years I guess

What I like about the Prequels: everything? Obviously the clones ahahaha. But kinda everything. The setting, the plot, the characters, the tragedy. I know there's a lot of hate on the writing, but I grew up with them and I think they're awesome. Definitely not perfect, but (and please don't hate me) I would choose the Prequels over the OT anytime. Also the meme material coming from this?? Legendary.

What I like about the OT: the story and the characters! It felt less complicated back then, more about good and evil (there's a lot of grey area now, which is obviously more realistic; but as a kid growing up with the movies, good vs evil was less complicated)

What I like about the Sequels: BB-8, porgs, and the Somehow Palpatine Returns-meme, that's it. Maybe Poe Dameron, but that's probably because it's Oscar Isaac.

I also VERY MUCH like Rogue One; what a wonderful and sad story. I won't shut up about how much I love how this story blends into Ep IV/the OT; I think this was so well done, I- aaaaaaah I love it

What I like about the animated shows: CLONES. Clonesclonesclones. And Ahsoka. And a lot more, but at this time, the clone brainrot is real. I actually really like how some things are further explained in the animated shows (I think they're a real addition to the movies/story). And the angst and the tragedy, ugh my heart. Also the animation style of course! And clones, did I mention the clones?

Favourite characters (non-clones): Ahsoka Tano, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi (prequel era), Plo Koon, Aayla Secura, probably Darth Maul too, Jyn Erso

Favourite clones: Hunter (he started it), Fives (I cannot put into words how much I love and feel for this man I just need to wrap my arms around him and tell him it's alright and that he and the clones deserve so much better and that I'm there to listen to him and it's going to be okay I'm going to make all his problems go away and also some adult stuff I'm not going to write here), Echo (my beloved), Wolffe (awooooooo), Cody (good man that Cody), Rex (obviously), Fox (you matter but please stop drinking caf and get some sleep), Vaughn (my love, my heart, my soul; I would die for you) (> I get obsessed over a different clone pretty often but it's safe to say I love all clones)

Favourite droids: R2-D2, Chopper, BB-8, Gonky, K-2SO, (also BD-1 is super cute), the droids helping out Ahsoka during Shattered/Victory and Death (R7-A7, CH-33P, RG-G1), mouse droids, (I haven't played Outlaws yet but I have normal feelings about ND-5)

Favourite animals: loth wolf (duh), tooka, massiff, varactyl, acklay

I used to collect Star Wars LEGO and Hasbro and I would love to put those on a shelf/into a cabinet one day

I would love to go to some sort of fan con one day but I'm afraid I won't survive all the stimuli/amount of people there

I did visit the Star Wars Exhibition in Brussels somewhere in the late 2000s/early 2010s; it was kriffing majestic

I used to play Star Wars Battlefront II (2005) with my brother all the time. We played it so much the disc got damaged by the PlayStation 2 itself and obviously we bought it again to keep playing

I played Jedi: Fallen Order (2019) and it was awesome! I really need to replay it so I can play Jedi: Survivor (2023) afterwards (haven't played it yet, I need to get myself a PlayStation 5 first, RIP)

Since we're talking about PlayStation 5, I'm dying to play Outlaws (2024) help (I need to know what is happening between Kay and ND-5??)

I really want to play Republic Commando (2005) (I even have a PS4 copy laying around) but haven't found the time yet

LASTLY

So one of my other hyperfixations is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002), the 2D-animated movie by DreamWorks. (I know, I'm super weird; I'm a metalhead switching between Star Wars and an animated movie about horses (and some other hyperfixations but let's not go there).) I even created a fansite, if anyone's interested (which has still lots of WIP-pages I'm sorry I'm into Star Wars at the moment)

Alright that was a lot of super random information no one asked about. If you've come this far, holy kark my utmost respect to you, please leave a comment so I can send over some cookies because you kriffing deserved them?? I might consider writing a ficlet for you.

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[palmtreesx3]

Seeing Stars

I don't often share the words that vomit from my own head, but from what started as Hot Tub Steve appreciation inspired by the artist formerly known as @willowherbal (*insert Hunger Games 3 finger salute in memorial*) and the masterpiece that was Be With You Everywhere - Hot Dog Steve emerged and I couldn't remove the bumbling idiot from the depths of my brain. So thanks for that @sweetsweetjellybean @crappymixtape @superblysubpar

Steve Harrington x FEM!reader

Summary: The crew finally decides it's time to start celebrating the 4th of July again, but Steve Harrington finds he can't stop himself from staring.

References to past trauma, a dash of NSFW, staring, glaring and illusions to a hot tub hook up

Part 2: A Girl Like You

_________

It was hot. Not oppressive. Not stifling. But the kind of hot that has you seeing stars at one in the afternoon. Sunbeams bouncing off pool water, sunglass lenses and sweat glistening skin - not sure if you're more desperate for the cold beer or sticking your hand in the ice cold cooler to grab it in the first place.

Honestly, it's everything you could want for a celebratory, classic, absolutely patriotic 4th of July, but things are different at this particular picnic. It's been a few years, but the innocent holiday full of sparklers, sweet watermelon juice running down your chin and late night fireworks just hasn't been the same since everything that happened that year at Starcourt. It was when everything you thought you knew about the place you grew up changed in an instant and this motley crew welcomed you into their fold. Since then, most have pretended it was any other day, hiding away trying to busy themselves with whatever they can to avoid the Americana laced trauma.

You don't know whose idea it was to finally put a pin in the escapism, and while most tentatively agreed that it was about time you knock down the walls you all built to hide away the day, everyone unanimously also agreed they didn't want to spend it with anyone else that wouldn't understand. So that's how you found yourself here, hiding away for the holiday in the backyard of the Harrington house, poolside with people you grew up way too fast alongside, and others who are now far too grown to be the kids you once cared for. It's still surreal to you to think you can find yourself comfortably sitting here at this house with any of these people - none of whom (save the kids) were you big fans of before that star spangled day from hell all those years ago.

You were splayed out now, towel rolled up under your neck, daydreaming. Trying hard not to have your thoughts float back to all that you've collectively been through and instead on all the things you wish would go right from here on out. Behind a soundtrack of laughing, splashing and American Woman playing loud on the radio, you were grateful for the comfort of these people who turned into lovely friends and imagining the potential of a fresh start ahead after just finishing up your college degree that past spring. Things feeling far enough in the past to even consider what a future could look like.

That sparkling, blinking sunshine brought you back to reality - sunglasses snatched from your face in an instant by a meddling Dustin dashing by. The kids all now playing hot potato with your Ray Bans, you sigh before calling out "After all these fuckin years, you still think you can get under my skin? You know you're not 13 anymore, right?!" They laugh and you smile, because your favorite pastime is giving them as much shit as they can handle.

You squint hard against the blistering sun and in that moment become blissfully aware of the sweat dripping down your body. You casually reach in your bag, grab a second set of sunglasses and pop them on your nose while you swing your legs over the side of the lounge chair, considering your next move.

In that moment, your eyes catch on the steam now rising from the grill on the other side of the yard, Steve standing behind it ready to throw on a round of hot dogs to feed the ravenous troops. He's in navy blue swim trunks slung low and cut high, sunglasses perched on his head and a scowl of concentration on his brow. You selfishly pause for a moment to take him in, standing there so much more a man these days than before, but you quickly shake it off like you always have and make your way back over to the coolers, reaching in for a new can of beer and a handful of ice.

Behind the grill, Steve is doing everything he can to hold it together. He's kept himself busy today, lucky enough to be able to hide behind playing host in order to avoid suspicion. His issue isn't even the holiday - he doesn't need the 4th of July to remind him of his torture. He has chronic headaches and a ringing in his left ear to take care of that. His issue is you. You and the new view he has of you now that he's standing there behind the steaming hot dogs.

He takes a moment to gather himself, running both hands through his hair. You've never been one to fall for his charms. Not the King Steve brand nor the genuine yet still cavalier one that came after he actually got his shit together. He never did shy away from poking and prodding and exploring what he could get away with, but you…you always threw it right back at him. Playing what you assumed was a game of banter meant to keep each other on your toes - what he assumed was your attempt to remind him that you never really chose to be his friend. Despite everything you have gone through together, your friendship still felt a mile away from him and any semblance of a chance with you arguably further. He knows how you feel - felt? - about King Steve and he's pretty sure you being in his life is meant to be yet another reminder of what a shit person he used to be. So instead he settles for teasing and friendly yet biting remarks all soothed by his own fleeting glances.

And God damnit if he isn't cashing in on those fleeting glances today. He's pretty sure he's had to duck away inside the house at least twice to hide his half hard cock as he caught a glimpse of you sunbathing, sweat glistening on your tits in your festive red bikini or bending over, ass on full display, leaning deep into the cooler to pass out another round of beers to the group, including the kids who are now old enough for no one to give a shit if they have one, too. It's a challenge he wasn't aware he needed to be ready for. A battle of wills that makes tossing a molotov cocktail at an otherworldly monster seem like child's play.

Yet here he stands, making himself as busy as he fuckin can at the grill while you pass back over with a group to sit down again on the lounge chairs. Someone turns the radio up while you and Robin stand up and start belting out Wilson Phillips' "Hold On" to whoops and cheers from everyone around you. It's in that moment he slides his sunglasses down off his head knowing full well he will not be able to pretend he isn't watching you intently without the safety of his dark shades covering his eyes. He's taking deep breaths counting the hot dogs back and forth and back and forth again to ground himself when you run up next to him, out of breath from the sprint over, the singing, the dancing or all three combined and shove a can in his face.

"Can't forget the grill master, huh? Do me a favor and don't burn the dogs."

" Uh, yeah. Yeah, thanks." He stumbled out. Normally he keeps his composure and plays his role giving you some bite in his responses, but you've already derailed him and he's pretty sure the sun is frying his brain while he's at it. So now you're here, standing there completely thrown off.

"You okay there, Harrington? "

He grumbles out a hum and you leave him be, figuring he may need a few more beers or a whole new personality, because every time you consider dropping the snarky act with him he totally blows you off and can't be bothered to speak to you in full sentences. He's come such a long way and you want to let the past be the past entirely, but you find that you're irritated with yourself for even looking his way when he acts like that, so you come to give it to him harder next time.

Everyone has settled in again with their fresh drinks and full bellies, some playing a card game on the pool deck, a group taking a break from the water spread out in the grass and others bobbing in the pool. You take the opportunity now that the pool is calm and all games of chicken are nowhere to be found and slide in too, deciding to be unbothered by whatever the fuck is going on with Steve. You grab a hold of a float and kick your feet up so you're floating on your belly, arms folded on your float and head turned to the side resting in the cool water. After a best of silence you spin yourself around, ready to strike up a conversation with Nancy about her own post-college plans when you catch it. The sunglasses are just low enough on the bridge of his nose to catch a glimpse of the direction of his eyes and you are one thousand percent sure that before you turned your float around abruptly, Steve Harrington was staring hard at your ass. Fuckin typical.

Your conversations continue to flow, you join in on games of Rummy and races in the pool. You find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Max on your towels in the grass giving the girl the kind of advice you know she needs. And all the while you feel his eyes. You thought the first one was a fluke - of course Steve Harrington would oggle any ass put in his view - but now you're not so sure. Because normally with you, he'd follow up his blatant stare with some kind of bite or tease, telling you to put your ass away before someone uses it as a flotation device. Instead every time you think you might be catching him staring you down behind his sunglasses he makes himself busy and jams another hotdog in his mouth. At this point you think he's eaten at least 6.

It's late now, and the group starts moving inside, picking a movie and settling in cozy spaces to wind down from the day. Everyone falls into their normal movie night rhythms, bickering over movies, Dustin talking through the opening credits and flicking the lights off for the ambiance. You find yourself in your favorite movie night chair, giant Hawkins High Tshirt slung over your now dry bikini, feet with red painted toes hanging over the armrest, when you're certain you feel it again - eyes on you in the dark of the room.

Robins first to fall asleep, unabashed snores falling from her for far too long before Steve nudges her and tells her to go the fuck upstairs and get to bed already. He leaves to set her up in one of the guest rooms and you can hear now that instead of returning to the movie hes clanging around the kitchen cleaning up from the day. The others also start, sun-beat and slightly buzzed, nodding off into a comfortable slumber around you, and you don't hear Steve padding around the kitchen any longer, so you also assume he has packed it in and went to bed.

When you quietly snuck back outside, walking while shedding your oversized t-shirt yet again in favor of a quiet moment in the Harrington's new hot tub under the stars, the last thing you were expecting to see when the shirt lifted over your head was Steve, already perched there in the bubbles.

" I thought for sure you had already gone to bed. " You say into the silence. He has yet to really acknowledge you so now you're even more confused than before.

At this point, you're fully committed, shirt already off so you climb in, with or without his permission to join. Dipping your toes in and lowering yourself into the jets, you catch him looking before he looks away and you've about had it. You know you might come off strong here, maybe a bit bitchy…and the way he's sitting there with shoulders freckled by the sun and his chest hair all on display under the jets has you second guessing your frustrated emotions, but you don't let what's in front of you distract you. You stick to your guns and open your mouth.

"What the fuck is your problem today, Harrington. I know we're not the closest, but I thought we were friends and I'm not sure what I did to offend you?"

" Offend me? I - uh, shit. What do you mean? "

" Well you won't stop staring me down today, so either I did something to offend you or you can't help yourself enjoying this fucking impeccable view. " And as you say it, you genuinely feel that it's just a normal bite back. A tease that is on par for your friendship. It's when you see the look on his face after you say it that changes everything. He looks like a puppy dog. One that's waiting to be kicked after sifting through the garbage. Like a little kid with their hand in the cookie jar. Like he's just been caught red white and blue handed at his own fucking 4th of July picnic because he wasn't able to tear his eyes away from your body. Oh my God.

"I-it's not, I mean...I...guess it is, fuck. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. Y-you just… . "

You watch him stumble over his words - a literal feat for someone who used to wear a crown like King Steve - and see him slowly slink down until only his eyes and nose remain above the bubbling water, shutting himself up without fail. Of course he acts like this with you. How is he supposed to ever convince you he's not an ounce of that old disgusting version of Steve if he can't act civilized around you even when you're in a bathing suit. His eyes closed slowly before he squeezes them tight. He can't will himself to look at you because he's so fucking embarrassed and he doesn't want to talk about it, but you - your not dropping it. You can't.

"Steve, you fucking look at me right now."

He slowly opens his eyes, keeping half his face still submerged in the water to ensure he doesn't say anything else so utterly stupid or make you any more mad at him than you clearly are. He looks at you so intently, directly in your eyes almost without blinking and you don't think anyone has ever seen that far into you before in your life.

"Were you spending the day checking me out?" you say, softer than he expected.

He slides up, ready to explain and admit his transgressions "yeah I mean, listen, I really didn't think anyone noticed, especially you... "

" Oh my God, you really were shoving hot dogs in your face to try and throw me off, weren't you? "

" Holy shit, yeah I ate like 10. Fuck, it was that obvious? That's so embarrassing. I really need to get a grip. You just looked so good today and I was probably just distracted and I'm sorry - " eyes closed again in utter shame, completely word vomiting his explanation to you across the water.

But before he could apologize again or continue his ramble, you moved quickly across the hot tub, slotting yourself low, down at his level and between his wide spread legs. He opens his eyes when he feels you floating in his space, noses almost touching, chins just under the bubbling water, and you are eye to eye now. He hesitates, thrown off by your proximity, before smashing his lips into yours. It's rough and sloppy and the water is sloshing everywhere as he brings you in closer by the hips so your legs settle in on each side of his.

And he can't help it, he breaks away and starts in again on it "I'm sorry, I - oh my God" he gasps out as you cut him off by grinding your bikini clad core down hard on his dick.

"I swear to God Harrington, if you apologize one more time I'm climbing off right this second" he nods, enthusiastically, fervently as you reach down into the water, between both of your legs and give him a nice firm squeeze. His eyes roll back in his head and he gasps.

"I swear I'm not apologizing, but Jesus Christ, I don't deserve this. You - I don't deserve you but not even this little bit - Fuck!" You grab his shoulder tight, holding on to give your hips another firm roll back and forth and decide to get a little soft and card your free hand through his hair as he babbles.

"I know what you see when you look at me - ah, sh-shit" you roll again but he reaches up and grabs both sides of your face to get you to stop and look at him "I know who I was, but I know you like to make me remember it too, so I never thought… I know I'm better. Fuck, I know it, but I don't know why anyone who knows how I was back then even gives me the time of day. "

You reach up and grab the sides of his face, too. Challenging his unwavering eye contact with your own, you lean in and give him the softest kiss he could have ever imagined, raking your hands back through his hair and tilting his head back a bit to look up at you. From this angle he sees the stars behind you and questions what kind of penance he did these past few years to deserve this moment.

✨

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 31

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Alcoholism, canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Captain America: Civil War and the Marvel Civil War comic, drunk Tony Stark, language, mentions of dead bodies, political discourse, shady government dealings.

✦ Word Count: 8.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Whoop, sorry about the lapse in updates and activity. I'm in the full school-prepping swing over here right now and I've spent the last three weeks deep in curriculum and lesson planning for my kids. But with a little bit of inspiration I was able to finish this chapter tonight - it may or may not have been sitting in my drafts since early July...

[Master List]

There’s a certain strangeness that occurs when one finds themselves in the shell of a once lively location. A place that previously held signs of exuberant life - joyous laughter ringing through warm halls, the wafting aromas of food laid out on a table, the busyness that occurs when people are constantly on the move.

You know that sensation; that eerie skeleton.

You’ve found it many times before. In the ruins of the Parthenon after the Germans invaded and raised their flag aloft. In the silence of Apollo’s temple, when you stood under the painted dome, staring up at a golden sun without so much as a wisp of familiarity to remind you of his existence.

That same feeling of abandoned life exists today as you walk the silent halls of the Compound. It permeates the walls and corridors. Sinking into the void of weeping guilt.

A tomb would be louder.

The far-reaching depths of space would make more sound.

Maybe that’s why it’s so unbelievably jarring when you enter Tony’s lab and are bombarded by the glass-shaking noise of heavy eighties rock music.

Without even asking, FRIDAY drops the volume down to a far lower level than what the lone inhabitant would like. He peers up over the edge of the workbench, his peace disturbed, as his red-rimmed and wild eyes meet your gaze.

“Fuuck offh!” Tony slurs inelegantly, pointing a bottle of alcohol in your direction before he sinks back to the floor from which he had emerged.

As the door swooshes softly behind you, you glance around at the state of affairs.

This was the billionaire’s secondary lab, his fuck around and find out lair. The main building held his most important and expensive instruments. This one was more similar to a forty-year-old man’s garage; the one that got tinkered around in for a few hours every weekend.

Average well-loved namebrand tools lay scattered around, while one particular mallet hammer seemed to have suffered a near-catastrophic blow somewhere around a smashed exhaust pipe.

As you meander through the destruction, you find yourself sidestepping glass shards and bits of shattered metal. The wall, opposite of the billionaire, has clearly suffered the brunt of his anger. There are an array of singe marks and concaved sections where something was obviously repeatedly thrown at it.

You find the bludgeoned torch a few feet away from Tony’s feet.

This hadn’t exactly been your idea of a somber morning. You didn’t want to come here.

But you had received a warning from FRIDAY, who had gone ahead and tried to contact both Pepper and Rhodes. But Pepper was trying to stay ahead of the media frenzy and Rhodes was tied up with far more important matters. Neither of them would be able to reach the Compound until at least early evening. And things were too dire to leave this unattended.

So, as Tony was refusing to see Steve and Natasha had been barred entrance as well, it was up to you to deal with the incredibly inebriated billionaire.

He tilts his head back at a severe angle, nearly slipping past the lip of the workbench - which would immediately send him toppling to the floor - as he blearily blinks at your presence.

“Thought I told you to fuck off.”

The unpleasant reek of bile and whiskey seems to glide from his lips to your nose as you peer down at the man.

“I’m not the best at taking direction from others.”

He gives a surprisingly thoughtful nod as he blindly spreads his hand against the concrete floor in an attempt - you assume - to find another bottle.

With a cursory glance at the far wall, you find a rather inconspicuous cupboard-style toolbox that’s been opened. Inside sits four shelves with varying amounts and brands of alcoholic beverages while the empty slots seem to be scattered around Tony’s feet.

Crossing your arms, you raise a tired brow.

“I’ve seen you in many states, Anthony. I think this one might just take the cake.”

He scoffs, scrambling to his feet. He has to grip the table behind him to keep steady as his legs seem to be made of some kind of gelatinous mixture as they wobble troublingly beneath him.

“Save me the pep talk, Double O. I could really give less of a shit.”

Popping the cap off on the edge of the workbench, he slurps back a violent swig of whiskey. A wet sound audibly pops as he pulls the lip of the bottle from his mouth and a dribble of amber liquid pools in the corner of his lips.

“Charming.”

Tony lounges against the table, resting on his heels as he holds his arms out as if to say it is what it is, a sort of wild look in his eyes. From here, you can see the smudges of grease and ash that coat his cheeks and bare arms. Something worryingly yellow sticks to the distinguished tufts of his unkempt hair.

“That’s me, Mister… Ch-arming.”

As he hiccups and belchs around his own words, you cross the lab and easily snatch the bottle from his hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Fuck,” he groans, eyelids heavy as he blinks up at you. “You’re acting like Saint Rogers now.”

As you settle the billionaire with a look, he lazily salutes you, a drunken smirk befalling his spit-slick lips.

“God damn, Rogers. Captain Idiot, fucking… running into shit. Can’t stop running into shit. Do you think it’s genetic?” he staggers out in front of you, his body seemingly more like a ragdoll than normal as his arms sway on their own accord.

“I don’t know,” you respond cooly.

Tony huffs a breathy laugh as he sways, tripping over his own feet before colliding into the opposing wall. He slams a hand against it, looking up as if surprised to find himself face-to-face with the concrete.

“Romanoff’s no better. Dragging kids into shit they shouldn’t be shitting with,” he laughs, but it’s a bitter tone. “Then you got Rumlow martyring himself like… like… who’s a good martyr?”

You tilt your head to the right, eyes squinted slightly as you try to ascertain his state, “Agnes of Rome?”

He hums, considering it for all of a second before he blows a particularly wet raspberry, “Naaah. We’re talking like… Guevara or something.”

As your brow raises in deep questioning, Tony staggers past you, collapsing half-bent over one of the metal workbenches.

“Should tell him that,” he spits.

Moving closer, you ask, “Rumlow?”

“Ross! When that fucker - ” he spins around, grinning wide though his eyes are hardly amused, “- comes here tomorrow and tries to tie us up and drag us out into the mob that’ll be waiting at the gates.”

“There’s no one at the gates, Tony.”

He balks, “A fucking miracle then! Cause there will be,” he nods, vigorously. “They’ll be coming and they’re gonna do worse than rip my suit away.”

Stark clutches painfully at the arc reactor as he backs away. Holding it just as preciously as Gollum did with the one ring.

“You’ll see, they’re gonna, they’re gonna drag our little Sokovian mutants out by the hair and string them up and Steve will do something noble and stupid and end up on the news and a fucking sniper will take him out. That’s what’s gonna happen, you got it?”

He trips over an empty bottle and you finally swoop down to catch him.

It takes a bit of adjusting, but you manage to convince him to drape his right arm over your shoulders as you grip him around the waist to hold him up. His head hangs heavily into his sternum as you heft the scientist out of his lab.

“I think you’re wrong, Tony,” you admit as you wait for the elevator to chime its arrival.

He blows out a huff of air as his head falls back against his shoulders, his dark eyes barely able to focus on your face as he lashes back, “You don’t know American politics, do you, oh dear Goddess?”

You did, in fact. You knew them quite well.

But for the sake of keeping him from stumbling out of your arms and knocking his head into a wall, you remain silent.

As you deposit him into an elevated chair in his room, a trash can near his side with a glass of water within reach, he blinks owlishly up at you.

“We’re fucked. You get that right? This… whole thing… it’s screwed whatever chances we had at negotiating.”

He’s oddly sober in his words.

Offering him the hint of a smile, you lean down and smooth a hand over his stubbled cheek, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“Whatever happens, we’re going to figure it out together. Sober, preferably.”

Tony guffaws into a fit of chuckles as you back away. When you’re at the threshold of the door, you remind him that Rhodes will be by later and FRIDAY will be informing you if he tries to nab another bottle.

Tony gives you a half-hearted, “Yes, ma’am,” before you finally take your leave.

Steve hovers in the doorway, staring down at the blank-eyed girl on the bed.

At least her door was still unlocked. No one had been able to get through to Pietro’s yet, even Vision was oddly repulsed whenever he tried to enter the space. According to FRIDAY, the teen was still in his room and remained in decent health, unharmed. For now, that had to be enough.

You had sat outside his door for the better part of the night and well into the morning. Steve had remained beside you for a portion of it, across from you for the rest. 

When you had gotten the urgent call from FRIDAY, Steve had finally forced himself to stand up. Fighting the twinge of pain in his back from hours spent on a hard floor. When he scrounged up a cup of coffee for himself, he returned to the hall and found Pietro’s door still shut tight. Wanda’s, however…

Tear tracks brighten her cheeks as she hastily looks up, catching Steve’s eye, before she wipes her nose with the fabric of her long dark shirt.

“Hey,” he sighs as he forces his feet over the threshold, breaking that imaginary barrier at last.

She hums in return, her eyes wandering over to the TV.

“What authority does an enhanced undocumented immigrant have to operate in the United States, I ask you today, Hannah? That’s what the people of Manhattan want to know. Where do the Avengers get off inviting known criminals into - ”

Steve kills the segment before the political correspondent can finish his tirade.

The girl turns to look at him, eyes tear-rimmed, “It’s my fault, you know.”

“That’s not true,” he immediately rebuffs, moving across the room to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.

She huffs, “Turn the TV back on. They’re being very specific.”

“I should have clocked that bomb vest long before you had to deal with it,” the soldier defends.

Let him take that from her, let him bear the weight of terrible decisions. He can take it. 

Wanda glances away, staring at the blank screen.

“It’s my fault,” he states, taking it back from her once again. “Rumlow said Bucky and… suddenly I was a sixteen-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn. And… people died. It’s on me.”

She shakes her head softly, staring down at her dark-painted nails.

“It’s on all four of us.”

Swallowing the words back down, Steve clears his throat.

“This job… we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes, that doesn’t mean everyone. That’s part of the reason we’ve kept the two of you from coming along. It’s the reason I should have sent you away yesterday.”

Staring up at him, as if searching his eyes for some hidden message, the teen says, “She’s right. You do do that a lot.”

When he makes a questioning tone in his throat, she looks away.

“Taking the brunt of everyone’s failures. Don’t take mine from me today, Steve.”

With a sigh, he leans forward, balancing a hand on his knee.

“Look… if we can’t find a way to live with ourselves after something like this… maybe next time? No one gets saved. We have to find a way to carry on and right now, your brother needs us probably more than ever.”

With a broken laugh, she wipes at her eyes, “I can try to break down his door if you want?”

The phantom sensation of a smile graces his lips as he shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Steve later finds you in the communal kitchenette around the corner from Wanda’s room. It’s about the width of an alleyway, with bright floors and dark counters. There’s enough room for a row of cabinets and a fridge on one wall and a small coffee bar and table setup on the other.

You’ve got your hands lodged in your hair as you stare up at the wall-mounted TV. An unsipped cup of tea sits in front of you on the table. Your gaze is unblinking as you watch the continuous news feed.

“Senator William Sharpe was considered a pillar in the Democratic Party, Andrew. Just three days ago, he publicly blasted his fellow senators in an interview with reporters saying: to protect the principals for which America stands, we must allow the Avengers to act unimpeded by the government. To do otherwise, would put us all at a great disservice.”

“At this time, both Mayor Marino and Governor Lennox have asked for the flags to be flown at half-staff while responders are still on the scene, aiding in the recovery of bodies. We’ll be going to our man in the field, Nick Rubio in just a minute to see how the cleanup process is going down on Wall Street. And shortly after, we’ll tune in to the White House as President Ellis is set to address the nation.”

As the segment moves to a commercial break, you finally blink away from the TV and lock eyes with him - as if truly seeing the soldier for the first time.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls out the chair beside you. Taking a seat, he leans forward and gathers your left hand into his combined palms. Tilting his head down, he kisses the smooth skin of your thumb as he desperately tries to blink back a surprising surge of unshed tears.

“Oh,” you sigh, using your free hand to card your fingers through the turbulent locks of his blonde hair. “Don’t start on me again, Steve.”

He snorts, warm breath puffing against your hand as his stormy eyes meet your broken expression.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just one of those kinds of days.”

“Yeah,” you nod, tilting your head forward - gently knocking your temple into his forehead as you both breathe in the mingling air of discomfort that permeates the space around you. “We’re really racking those up, aren’t we?”

He chuckles low in his throat, shaking his head as your fingers pull free from his scalp.

“It’d be really bad of me to offer a free trip to a God Realm right now, wouldn’t it?” your smile is crooked, but your eyes are deeply somber.

“Any other day,” he sighs, squeezing your captured hand, “I might have taken you up on that offer.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” you snort, ducking your head down.

“Tell me about them?”

Your face slowly peeks up from the hood of your hair, a curious lift to your eyebrows.

“What? The god realms?”

“Anything,” he admits. “So long as it gets you to stop watching that all day.”

As your gaze briefly moves toward the TV, you reach for the remote and gratefully mute the volume.

“Okay, any place in particular?”

Steve can feel the nudge of your foot as you lean back in your seat, facing him as you lounge out - your hand never leaving his.

“Where did you say your pal Thoth lived again?”

A true smile begins to break across your face and Steve can actually feel the unsettled feeling in his chest lift away for the first time in twenty-four hours.

“The Celestial Helipolis,” you enunciate with a slight gnash of your teeth.

As you proceed to describe the alien-like location, Steve finds himself leaning further onto his elbow - keeping your left and right hands intertwined on the table, blinking slowly, and his smile creeping higher. 

It takes two days for Tony to properly sober up. And at the end of those two days, he does something incredibly stupid.

Worst of all, it’s captured on live TV.

With a hand latched over your face, your fingers spread just enough so you can watch the news feed, you stare in horror as the news anchor repeats the footage for a fifth time - with the audio now on for any listeners just tuning in.

“Ma’am, please. We’re going to have to ask you to leave,” says the burly SHIELD agent flanking Tony.

The woman, Miriam Sharpe - the widow of Senator Sharpe and the mother of Adam, one of the children who burned to death in the International School just a few yards away from his father - stares up indignantly.

The cameraman zooms in on the grieving woman’s face as tears spring from her eyes. Leave it to the Bugle to get something so painstakingly personal on file.

“Leave what? My own family’s funeral? Stark’s the one you should be dragging away!”

Tony, ever the foot-in-mouth artist, presses forward, “Ma’am, I understand that you’re upset - that you’re grieving an unbelievable loss. But the Maximoff’s recklessness had nothing to do with me.”

She turns on him, voice chillingly cold as the cameraman moves in even closer to capture the crystal clear audio.

“Oh, yeah? And who finances the Avengers, Mr. Stark? Who’s been telling kids for the past decade that they can live outside the law so long as they wear a fancy suit of armor or colorful tights?”

As you finally turn away from the video - it cuts back to two anchors who continue to play it in the upper right-hand corner of the screen - you find your gaze sitting on the shrunken billionaire at the end of the table.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Natasha demands.

He splutters, “Fuck, I don’t know, Romanoff. I thought comforting a grieving woman and offering her a large sum of sorry we destroyed your family money from the Stark Foundation might help soften the blow of you idiots sweetly and decadently fucking up!”

From across the table, you watch as Steve’s knuckles flex so tightly that the skin becomes worryingly white.

“I don’t know, Stark,” she bites back. “A letter, or a private call - not fucking wandering your still drunk ass to a double funeral.”

“It was quiet,” he sighs, “until the cameras showed up. Like she got her second wind or something.”

“At her husband and child’s funeral, imagine that,” Clint remarks with a shocking sharpness.

Holding his hands up in exasperation, he exclaims, “I fucked up! Alright? That’s what you want to hear? I biffed it, royally. I made an ass of myself and came out looking like a monster.”

“And you successfully ruined whatever positive image we once had,” you add, voice light as your glare seers across the table to meet Tony’s eyes.

“It’s worse than that.”

All eyes turn to see Rhodes as he moves into the room, dressed in his regulation navy service dress clothes. Beside him, co-Director Hill stands.

Tony grumbles something that sounds like fucking wonderful under his breath.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, arms crossed as she faces down the two.

“Well, thanks to Wall Street and with a little help from Tony making a general ass of himself in front of a grieving widow and mother - ” Tony rolls his eyes, “ - you’ve got the UN in an emergency special session.”

“What?” Steve calls, turning in his seat.

“Yeah, surprisingly, they take offense when their children are killed and their general consulates are destroyed,” Hill barks, with her arms folded and her stare capable of killing.

“What does that mean exactly?” Clint questions, glancing between them, Steve, Tony, and you.

“That you’ve managed to piss off just about every government official you can think of. Surprised Ross isn’t here to drag you to prison as we speak.”

Tony glances at you, his eyes seeming to say see, what did I tell you?

On the TV, the anchor cuts off a seventh viewing of the funeral scene, with breaking news.

“We go live to the floor of the UN General Assembly where the Sokovian representative, Andrej Bezák has asked for the Secretary-General to convene this eleventh emergency special session.”

“Fuck,” Clint groans, hands balled up on the back of his head as he leans back in his chair.

It’s two hours of sitting, glued to your seats, as you watch the news switch between the debate in the UN and the anchors. At one point, they break away to announce another breaking story.

“Congressman DeRusso has asked the Senate Majority Leader to proceed through with the vote this evening. The Senators will be voting on the passage of the SRA, which has been a hotly contested piece of legislation in the past week. But with the events of New York that have left the nation reeling, one has to wonder how our representatives will come together. Is this the issue that will unite a nation?”

“We’ll be live tonight, on the Senate floor, livestreaming the vote as it takes place. So, make sure to tune in at nine to catch this moment-defining vote.”

As the news switches back to coverage of the UN, Steve begins to shake his head.

The majority of the time had been spent in near-silence. Too stunned, too ashamed to contest the facts and videos that were being thrown back in your faces.

As one analyst comes on, covering up the audio from the special session, you watch as Steve’s fist tightens once again.

“A ban on superheroes? Well, Adam, in a world with an insurmountable number of violent criminals and alien forces yet to be known, that’s obviously impossible. But, properly training them and making them carry badges? Then yeah, I’d say that sounds like a reasonable response.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Rhodes announces.

The colonel had taken watch behind Tony’s chair - his hands tightening on the back of the seat every so often.

Steve glances over at the man, brow raised and voice tight, “If we hand over control to the government, then we’re losing our ability to work as any kind of protective force.”

Rhodes turns on the supersoldier.

“117 countries, Steve. That’s how many representatives you have sitting in the room right now. How often do you get the UN to come together over international security? Yeah, so you know this shit is serious. We’re at that point now; the line’s been crossed. We need someone to keep us in check.”

From beside you, Sam shakes his head - looking up at the colonel.

“I can’t believe I’m seriously hearing this right now. You just want us to roll over and let the government turn us into some kind of supercops?”

“Are you kidding?” Rhodes questions, “We’re lucky people have tolerated this for as long as they have, Sam.”

Steve’s eyes meet yours, a troubling darkness rests in his usually cool irises.

“Man, how long are you going to play both sides?”

Before Rhodes can respond, Vision interrupts from the couch on which he’s been sitting for the entire session.

“I have an equation.”

“Oh, this should clear it up,” Sam mumbles.

Vision blinks at him once before continuing his line of thought.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And, during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying this is our fault?” Steve questions.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. The team’s very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight. Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

You glance back at the supersoldier. He looks away.

Natasha clears her throat, “Tony… you’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“Boy, you know me so well,” he grunts, shifting up from his seat. “Fact is… we need to do it - sign on to the Act. We need to regain control before there’s a witch hunt at our door and we’re dragged through the streets - tearing your bow from your hands, Barton, and Cap's shield, and my suit from my body.”

Shaking his head, he leans back against the kitchen island, “I’ve been there before. It ain’t happening again.”

Maria nods from the head of the table, “There’s really no decision-making process right now. If you sign on, you remain in control of yourselves. If you don’t… the consequences will be unthinkable. Especially, if the UN adds on and makes their own resolution. You have enough to worry about if the SRA goes into effect.”

Tony nods, pointing at Hill, “Yeah, basically if we don’t accept limitations, if we remain boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

The man across from you raps his knuckles on the table two times before he finally speaks up.

“Tony, if someone dies on your watch you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. The SRA is just going to shift the blame.”

Rhodes looks wide-eyed as he stares down at the supersoldier.

“I’m sorry, Steve. But that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA - ”

“No,” he cuts off the colonel, voice rising. “But it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“That’s good,” Tony announces as he rounds on the table. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

You can see the physical tension building up on Steve’s brow as he rubs his hand across his temple. He’s trying to keep his anger in check, but it’s growing. Soon, it will bubble over. You try to meet his eyes, but his attention is entirely fixed on the billionaire now.

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we agree to this, we surrender our right to choose. Wanda can’t just hang up her powers like you can your suit. We’re stuck the way we are. I can’t surrender the serum any more than you can the reactor. And as long as I have it, I’m going to use it for what I was meant to do.”

Clint sniffs from the end of the table, pulling the attention away from the two men.

“I mean, just spitballing here, but… what if these guys try to send us somewhere we shouldn’t go? Or, other hand, what if there’s somewhere we should go and suddenly they don’t let us?”

“Terms can always be negotiated,” Maria attempts to amend.

Steve sits upright in his seat, voice steady as he says, “We may not be perfect, but I still believe that the safest hands are our own.”

Tony sighs, severity in his tone “If we don’t do this now, it’s going to be done to us later. That’s a fact. It won’t be pretty.”

“You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

Whipping around in your seat, your eyes land on Wanda. How long she had been standing in the doorway, you’re unsure. But your heart aches as she glides into the room, rigid in her posture - as if already trying to shield herself from the team.

“We would protect you,” Vision answers, floating through the couch before landing in front of her.

“They have a point.”

As your gaze shifts from the teen, your eyes move toward Natasha. The Widow looks apprehensive as she shakes her head - refusing to meet Clint’s questioning stare.

“If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off - ”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam questions, voice incredulous.

“I’m just… reading the terrain,” her gaze fixes on yours for a moment before shifting over to Steve. “We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up,” Tony interrupts, leaning his hands on the table as he stares down at the redhead. “I’m sorry, did I just go temporarily deaf or did you actually agree with me?”

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no you can’t retract it.”

Too lost in the conversation now taking place at the end of the table, you miss the moment when it all bubbles to the surface. Steve’s chair screeches against the floor as he stands up.

“You’re really considering this?” he questions, looking between Tony and Natasha.

“Considerng? No, Cap. You’re mishearing me. The consideration period is gone. This is happening.”

“Tony - ”

“Steve,” Hill sighs, pushing up from her own chair. “It’s going to pass through. The question now is, what side are you going to be standing on when it does?”

The bristles of his anger surge down his tense shoulders into the quiver of his fists. He meets your eye before landing on anyone else in the room.

You find yourself tilting your head slightly as you stare up at the supersoldier. Surely, he understood the cards that were being stacked against the team. Surely, he must know the best path forward if anyone here wished to operate in any official capacity ever again as designated superheroes. Surely…

Steve huffs a breathless sound before he stalks out of the room.

Surprisingly, it’s you that everyone seems to turn toward in the silent aftermath.

“You, uh, going after your pal there or…?” Clint questions, pointing a finger between yourself and the doorway through which Steve had just left.

Rooted to the spot, the news playing in the corner - they had just uncovered five more bodies from one of the restrooms at the school, Wanda sitting silently on the couch beside Vision, Natasha’s gaze flitting between Rhodes and Hill and -

You shake your head, gaze also locking on Tony.

Sam snorts, “Unbelievable,” before he too is up and out of his chair, striding out of the room after the supersoldier.

Feeling the daze of indecision wiping itself clean from your mind, you shakily stand up, pushing away from the table, as you turn toward the hall leading down to your room.

“So, we just calling it quits now, or…?” Tony calls out from behind you.

But you just ignore his questioning tone as you head for the stairs. Maybe now was the time to snap Pietro out of his solemn mood.

“I thought I told you to dress the part.”

Steve cranes his head back slightly as the woman in question brushes up against him. Shaking his head, his sunglasses dipped down on the slope of his nose as he browses the opposite shelf, he retorts:

“This is how I dress.”

“Exactly,” Sharon sighs, moving a few feet down the carpeted aisle.

The meet-up had been his request. The location was entirely her idea. Some off-the-beaten-path bookshop in Washington Heights, where the shelves were overstuffed and haphazardous piles of literature reached up to the ceiling. The floor was a strange lime green, the fabric slightly sticky against the soles of his shoes whenever he walked.

He’s in the self-help section; a little too on the nose for even him to even pretend to look at right now.

“You worked with spies for how many years and still you can’t get a decent incognito look down to save your life. Pathetic, Rogers.”

“Hey,” he growls, spinning on his toe to capture her arms in his hands.

Her brow lifts in return as she shrugs out of his hold. Moving to stand next to him, glancing down at the shelf with healthy living titles, Sharon lets the silence permeate just a few moments too long.

Steve shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, not-so-casually glancing around at the rest of the shop.

They’re relatively hidden back here in the corner. His hearing tells him that the young cashier up front is on her phone, volume high enough for him to make out the make-up routine video she’s currently watching. No, back here they’re not going to be disturbed and he didn’t spy any cameras on the way down this aisle, so why the hell is Carter still acting the part?

“You make a move on your girl yet?”

He splutters.

It shouldn’t… he shouldn’t…

Okay, admittedly, he’s a little broken about this morning. You had just sat there during the entire thing, not saying a single word. His mind had been fucking reeling at the time and there you were just… blank, disengaged. And when he had heard someone heading down the hall, he had been expecting it to be you - about to tell him how you told Hill and Tony off in his stead.

But it was Sam currently scoping out the bookshop from across the street. Not you.

Steve clears his throat, “How’s the new job?”

He can almost hear the audible raise of her brow, but she hides it with a chuckle, “Work is fine. But I’m guessing that’s not why you wanted to talk to me.”

Rising to her feet, she draws him in with a crook of her finger.

“I don’t think you understand the extent of what you’re dealing with here, Rogers.”

Tilting his head to the side, he follows her further down the aisle until they’re jutted up in the corner of the poetry and biography section.

“I’ve got ears, you know. Feelers, if you will,” she begins, causally opening a book from the pile next to her left hip. Flipping unseeingly through the pages, Sharon continues, “The SRA isn’t just going to enact some kind of oversight committee for you guys and call it a day. It’s kind of in the name, yeah? They want to register you all to a database - anyone claiming the title superhero - ” she exaggerates this point by moving her fingers in pseudo quotation marks.

“Yeah, I got that much already,” he nods.

“Well,” she breathes out, tossing the book down onto the pile.

Steve straightens it out neatly, the way it had been resting before they ever walked into the shop.

Sharon blinks.

“Well, after that point you would be assigned to work alongside the general government entities, like SHIELD. I mean, you got Hill in a temporary position of power but they’re looking to place someone into the proverbial Director’s seat.”

“And she’s not it?” he questions, glancing down at her warm eyes.

With a teasing smile, she shakes her head, “Not likable enough, apparently.”

Steve lets out a short chuckle. Yeah, he could definitely understand that.

“So… please tell me you’ve at least read through it. I know Ross was up your way a week ago or so.”

The supersoldier shrugs, “Most of it.”

She huffs a questioning tone, “Skimmed it then?”

“Basically.”

“I bet Stark read the whole thing.”

He nods, knowing it was very likely.

“Well, if you had bothered you might have come across a few interesting clauses, such as…” she tugs on the fabric of his shirt, moving him even impossibly closer toward her, “That little itty bitty clause about mandatory tracking devices. Or, if you happen to be a star-spangled man with a distrust of authority and choose to not follow their lovely guidelines, you could find yourself being arrested and imprisoned without the chance of a trial.”

Pulling back, he searches her gaze.

“That can’t be…”

“Legal? Oh, Rogers. I assure you, it very much is. And when that emergency motion passes in the UN, and it will pass, the US isn’t going to be the only country with such laws. Pretty much every country on earth has mutual extradition laws in place. If they find you, you’re gonna get hauled back here.”

Taking a step back, Steve begins to pace between the two shelves - not much room to do so, admittedly - but he has to move.

“Hill and Ross were going on about this plan and negotiating terms, but that was never their M.O. was it?”

“Fuck no it wasn’t,” she beams, leaning back against one of the bookshelves, her eyes following his frantic steps. “I’m not sure if you girl told you - ”

Steve pauses midstep, looking back at her.

“ - but Banner was never really enough for Ross. Not after Iron Man came on the scene and dazzled the citizens. That man would love to lock up every enhanced individual he could get his hands on. Think Nixon and the war on drugs campaign. Whoever he can get. Anywhere.”

The air in the bookshop becomes impossibly restrictive in the span of a second as Steve gapes, mind zooming in to one singular thought.

Bucky.

Running a hand down his face, the supersoldier’s shoulder sag as he leans his weight against the shelf opposite Sharon. She tilts her head to the side, trying to piece apart his inner turmoil for herself before he offers up his actual train of thought to her.

At least at the Compound, the team would be safe if they stuck together. But Bucky was out there, somewhere, on his own.

“Ever since D.C., I’ve been trying to track him down, you know. Two years, not a trace. At least when this goes through, I can just worry about everyone here. If I haven’t found him with all of Tony’s tech, then Ross sure as hell hasn’t either.”

At least that was a thought that could ease his current troubles. He would need to find an escape plan for Wanda and Pietro, maybe with your help. Because there was no way he was going to let someone like Ross get to the twins. They were foreigners with never-before-seen powers and they were underage. They were the perfect people for the Secretary to zoom in on.

“Steve.”

He glances up, catching the absolutely devastating look in her eyes as she pushes off from the bookshelf to move across to him.

“I’m so sorry.”

Scrutinizing her gaze, he questions, “What is it?”

“They… they found Barnes. Two months ago.”

There’s a tightening sensation around his chest that has Steve pulling away from Sharon, stumbling into the main alley of the store. His vision glazes over for just a second before a hand is clenching over his wrist - tugging him back to their hidden corner of the shop.

“Hey, snap out of it. I get it,” she sighs, squeezing both of his shoulders in her hands - trying to get him to come back to Earth. And god does it take a second, but that wide-eyed look in his eyes finally settles on her face. “You’ve been unsuccessful and they haven’t.”

“So… they know where he is. What now?”

Taking a step backward, her hands falling back to her side, she replies, “They are literally just waiting for the SRA to pass so they can detain him legally.”

“Jesus,” he snaps, volume too loud - he knows it - but he can’t stop it. It’s all too fucking much.

She tries to shush him, finger to her lips and everything, but he just runs his hand through his hair - tugging on the blonde strands to the point of pain.

“Why the hell are you even bothering to tell me any of this anyway? Huh?” he questions, pacing once again.

God, he couldn’t trust Hill or Rhodey or even Tony. God only knows who else was on board with this legislation.

“Well, Steve,” Sharon stretches the letters in his name out as she crosses her arms before leaning against one of the shelves. “Frankly I find Ross to be an asshole and after the shit that went down with SHIELD and Insight, I’m sort of over the idea of the government jumping in to pick off random people as they please.”

He can almost feel that choking sensation ease as he fixes her with a somber expression, “Sorry.”

She waves her hand in dismissal.

“I’m telling you this because I know you’ll do something about it,” she admits. “I don’t exactly know what their plan is for him, I’m just sort of assuming the worst-case scenarios right now. And… I think we can agree that the guy has been through enough.”

With a small nod, Steve stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and asks, “Do you know where he - ”

“Rogers,” she sighs. “I wish I knew where he was. Hell, even if I did it would put me at risk for losing my job, and not to mention it would be considered a breach of national security…”

He understands, of course. It would be impossible for her to know that sort of intel when it was clearly being kept heavily under wraps. Lord even knows where she managed to learn any of this from.

A stroke of soft chuckles brings him back to her strange expression as she plucks a book out from the biography section. It’s a recent edition, with barely a scratch on the binding. Holding up the cover for him to see, Steve rolls his eyes.

Peggy Carter: In Her Own Words

“You know… even for all the shit she might have done back then, I sometimes still miss her.”

Steve glances away as Sharon begins to flip through the pages of the book.

“She was still family, even after everything,” he says softly.

Humming in return, the sound of moving pages halts.

“You know…” she laughs, shaking her head as her finger skims over the paragraphs of text, “She had a knack for imparted bits of wisdom every now and then. God, she wasn’t even American, but yet…”

“This nation was founded on one principle above all else,” Sharon glances up at him, a playful look in her eyes as she reads the quote, “the requirement that we stand up for what we believe in, no matter the odds or the consequences.”

Steve can almost picture the woman, hair tied back, straight-smart outfit, speaking in front of a group of reporters and journalists. Her accent scathing and beautiful as she commands their attention.

“When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world: No, you move! Director Carter, Congress, 1978. God, I don’t even know what this could have been about. It’s not like Reagan was elected yet.”

With a shrug, Sharon snaps the book closed and tosses it at Steve. He scrambles to catch it, giving her a strange look as she nods at him.

“Go on, buy it. It’s only a buck fifty, that’s practically a bargain these days.”

Steve stares down at the black-and-white image of Peggy, leaning against a desk, looking content in her position as Director. He sets it down on one of the stacks next to the biography section.

Sharon immediately snatches it back up, pushing it in his direction as she bites, “Take the book.”

Something about her shift in tone makes Steve take hold of the item, flipping it casually in his hand as if trying to decode a secret message.

Giving him a nod, as if pleased by his choice, Sharon takes off her jacket - turning it inside out, before bending down to roll down a skirt that was apparently rucked up around her waist - it goes all the way down to the floor. This is followed by her pulling a wig from her jacket, a curly brown thing, that she easily situates on her head.

“It was nice seeing you again,” she smiles a look that barely curls up at the corners of her lips.

“You too,” he says, a little too stunned by her entire wardrobe change to really comprehend that this is goodbye.

Giving the supersoldier a nod, she places a pair of sunglasses on her face 

“And, hey… good luck.”

“Thanks.”

With a final look, the CIA operative turns and sneaks through the Employees Only door.

Glancing down at the book in his hand, Steve carefully flips through the pages - stopping only when a scrap of paper tumbles away from the seam. It only takes one look, but by then he’s already got it shoved back into place - wedged against the inner seam.

“Find everything okay?” the young woman asks when he makes it to the register.

Feeling more on edge than before, he hums in reply, glancing out at the passersby on the street.

Catching on to the fact that he wasn’t in much of a talking mood at the moment, she easily checks him out and offers to bag up the item for him, but he says it’s fine and snags the book and receipt before she can even say “Come again,” to him.

Striding across the street, barely even looking to see if there’s any incoming traffic, Sam launches up from the patio chair he had been occupying for the past thirty minutes.

“What’d she say?”

His grip on the book tightens as he glances around at the sidewalk. There’s a woman walking her dog down the way, but they’re otherwise alone and out of earshot of anyone nearby.

“Worse than we thought.”

Sam nods, using his index finger to push his sunglasses up higher on his face, “So, what does that mean for us exactly?”

“They’re going after enhanced individuals and anyone out there like us,” he murmurs. Holding up the book, he begins to flip through the pages, “They found him, Sam.”

Even from behind the dark lenses, he knows that the other man’s eyes are wide. They had been searching for two years now, Sam more often than even Steve because he was always being pulled to help out on official missions.

“You’re kidding me.”

Shaking his head, his fingers continue turning each page over at a time, “I wish I was. Ross is going after him.”

“Course he is,” Sam balks, crossing his arms. “And I bet we got nothing from Ms. Carter over there.”

Pulling the scrap of paper free, he twists it between his index and middle fingers for Sam to see.

“No… we got it.”

A smile cracks his features as he looks around at their surroundings, “Man, I shouldn’t be impressed, but I am.”

Steve gives a nod in return as he folds the paper and quickly stuffs it into his pocket - right next to the cool weight of the compass.

“So…” Sam breathes out, “How easily are we gonna be able to operate under the radar with this one?”

Letting out an uneasy breath, Steve thinks about the team - back at the Compound, likely debating their next move in the signing process. His mind flashes to the image of you, but he quickly pushes it away before it can linger too long.

“I think… this is going to be the last mission for us before they sign things over. And, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need another hand if we want this to work out.”

The other man nods, mood somber as he takes in the unspoken consequences. The SRA was set to pass the Senate tonight, the House within the week. God only knows how long it would take for the UN to reach a concise conclusion. No, they had to get to Bucky first.

As they head down the street, his mind drifts back to his previous line of thought.

If he and Sam went to deal with this and things turned south - either on their end or over here, in the States - then at least he knows you would be able to handle it. If Ross, or anyone else, tried to come after the teens in their care, you would protect them.

“We’re sure, right?” Sam questions as they come to a stop at the crosswalk.

Sparring him a look, Steve lifts his brow.

“I mean… the dude kind of tried to kill us before and all,” at the supersoldier’s annoyed grimace, Sam laughs. “I’m… I’m just saying, man. The people who usually shoot at you, are also trying to shoot at me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he states as the light switches.

“Nah, you see, that’s the problem. I do. Cause god only knows what kind of nonsense you would wind up in if I wasn’t there to watch your six.”

Feeling a smile stretching across his face, Steve smacks the other man’s shoulder with the palm of his hand.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

“I gotta be,” he grins, “If I wanna keep up with you.”

The two of them disappear into the crowd of people exiting the subway before the CCTV cameras across the street can get a good look at either one of them.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

It was a documentary, not a series, that's why we were not satisfied because we wanted fiction, not a docuseries.

This only solidifies my POV, which I have already gone over on the Under The Table Podcast and in many previous entries on my blog, about the whole problem with S3 being in the WR. Coming from a very solid S2 and amazing S1 award season, only made matters worse, of course.

Viewers appreciate realism, as a matter of fact the kind of audience The Bear appeals to is the kinda public that digs realism and adult content, with lots of cussing, raw directorial style, fast-paced, etc. We are not the typical rom-com or even drama series audience. The Bear became a hit show back in 2022 because its eps were fast-paced, with a dramedy quality that made it original, lots of adult language, and with a hint of sexual tension that was "promising" if explored in future seasons, that at that point were not confirmed yet. S2 was ordered in July 2022 in the middle of the momentum the show was starting to get, and shot from February to April 2023, then it premiered in June 2023, only to compete now, in this award season that opened a few weeks ago at the 76th Primetime Emmy Awards.

Meaning: the reason why S3 didn't work as expected, and the numbers back that up that is why they haven't released them yet, is because the writers were not able to write a BALANCED plot. Yes, it hit all the realistic marks in terms of mental health struggles and fine dining 7th circle of hell, but at the same time, it lost every other "ingredient" that it used to have. THERE IS A WAY to write the best of both worlds, and I certainly expected that coming from who I considered the best script writer out there, the sadist. And his right hand wired for romance, Miss Calo. They didn't do it. They disappointed me. They went all in with the docuseries' raw realism style of Carmy hitting rock bottom, which if you were really paying attention in S2 was nothing but PREDICTABLE → as I proved even before S3 premiered here and here but they didn't build towards a cliffhanger that left you wanting more, actually, 03X10 is altogether hard to watch, there's no balance like in FISHES 02x06, for instance, just one punch after the other, all below the belt, no comedy, no breather, just tragedy and more tragedy and more sense of doom and more PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! THAT'S IT, END THIS, PULL THE PLUG, STOP IT! etc... Like I said: No balance.

Storer only focused on Carmy's background story, but didn't give us anything we couldn't have figured out on our own anyway, he didn't explore Syd's background story, which should be a collection of gems and absolutely Sydcarmy friendly because the more we know about her, the better we will be able to figure out how will Sydcarmy happen and when (I already know when, but still) and he also focused on Tina's background story, IMO that was completely unnecessary as T is not a central character, what he showed there was also easy to guess anyway and could have been summarised in a couple of scenes, not an entire bottled episode, not when other characters are UNEXPLORED after 3 seasons. So basically, all the decisions made in terms of SCRIPT were WRONG. The acting was perfect, the direction was too, the soundtrack, the cinematography, all of it, but the foundation wasn't there because in the WR the creative decisions made for S3 were completely fucked up, we were served a docuseries as opposed to the fictional show with a realism bouquet we were watching the previous 2 seasons.

WE WANT TO WATCH FICTION, write it realistically, sure! BUT DON'T LOSE WHAT YOU HAVE SO FAR, DON'T MUTATE INTO A DOCUMENTARY OF ALL THAT'S WRONG IN THE MENTAL HEALTH DEPARTMENT OR IN SOCIETY OR IN THE CULINARY INDUSTRY, we already know that and if we don't, we can always tune in the motherfucking news, not FX, and certainly not Disney+. Thank you very much.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14C: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go?

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

AA met every Thursday in a church hall not far from the studio. She’d borrowed Bobby’s Trans Am to drive Jamie, holding his hand the whole way, hearing about his chat with Alec – who had graciously agreed during their January trip to New York to be Jamie’s sponsor.

She kissed him when he went inside. Needing some peace and quiet of her own, in the car, as she waited.

She had tried NA off and on, but it hadn’t really clicked. She was so very happy that AA really worked for Jamie – it was always much easier for him to open up to perfect strangers – and she was grateful that he could get the support he needed, at a moment’s notice, in any city.

Not to mention that the Friends of Bill took the “anonymous” in Alcoholics Anonymous quite seriously – meaning, in those meetings Jamie was just Jamie the alcoholic, not Jamie Fraser the frontman of Print, not the rock star. Just a man who fought daily battles with addiction, who was trying to be better, who just so happened to have the number six record in the country today.

It was hard. It was always going to be hard. But he was worth it. The life they had together was worth it.

She pulled out the folded envelope. Smoothed the creases against the steering wheel. Reading and reading and re-reading the return address.

Listening to Guns N’ Roses and Def Leppard and Poison and Cheap Trick on the radio.

She didn’t see Jamie cross the parking lot. Jumped when he slid into the passenger seat, smiling, with a kiss.

“Hey.”

She offered a tight smile. “Hey. How are you?”

“Much better.”

His gaze found the envelope.

He didn’t need to say anything.

She couldn’t say anything.

But now that he was here, she opened it.

Held out the single sheet of paper.

They read.

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

via Colum Laird, Broch Productions

Dear Dr. Beauchamp,

Thank you for your letter and providing a forwarding address. Three months ago, the BMC board unanimously voted to terminate your employment. For legal reasons we will not provide further details, and the board’s decision is final.

However, we have communicated to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts that your medical license should be restored, with the provision that you no longer practice medicine in any kind of high-stress environment. You may contact the medical board at the below address to request a copy of…

Jamie watched Claire read and re-read and re-read.

“Sweet Child O’ Mine” played softly on the radio.

A long, long moment.

The song shifted to the bridge.

Where do we go now, sweet child? Axl Rose murmured.

Jamie took a breath. “Where do we go now, Claire?” he whispered.

She folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. Laid it on the dash. Reached beneath her shirt to pull the long chain up over her neck. Settled her left hand on Jamie’s thigh, skin hot through his jeans.

Jamie unclasped the chain, letting his grandmother’s engagement ring slide free. He slipped the ring onto her finger. Brought her hand to his lips, kissing so softly.

“I’d like us to have an extra day in Boston when we’re there next week. So that we can pack up my apartment.”

She was looking through the windshield, face turned to him in profile.

“Yes. What else?”

“I’d like a little house in the mountains of North Carolina. Not too far from The Ridge. It’s so beautiful and peaceful there. I’m sure Dougal and Gillian can help us find something.”

Gently he bit her knuckles. “Something small. Kitchen and living room. Bedroom for us. A room I can use for music. And a room for your medicine.”

She nodded. “I’ll transfer my license – I’ve already looked into how to do that. I can file the paperwork when we get to Boston. I don’t know if I want to be in a private practice, or just volunteer in a clinic, or maybe something else. We’ll get settled, and then we’ll decide.”

“We will. I – are you happy, Claire?”

She smiled tightly. “More…relieved. And yes, I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to be free. Happy to be marrying you.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Listening to the final notes of Slash’s guitar. And then the first two minutes of INXS and “New Sensation”.

Memory flared – the last time she heard this song was the one time she’d seen Jamie nude, changing into his leather pants backstage in Orlando, when she’d entered his dressing room without knocking.

She swallowed. “I want the house to have at least one spare bedroom.”

He laced their fingers. “Of course – for guests.”

She flushed. Finally met his eyes.

“Yes. And for children.”

He released a suddenly shaky breath. “Oh, my love. Yes.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m never taking this ring off again.”

He leaned across the console and kissed her. Kissed her. Kissed her.

[atiny-for-life]

Creative Spotlight #3: Jeong Yunho

Masterlist

Intro: With so many new Atinys coming in, I figured now would be a good time to shed some light on all the boys' creative solo projects over the years, big and small.

ANEWZ

Yunho once shared he wanted to be a news reporter/anchorman when he was younger which led to the inception of ANEWZ back in 2020:

That same year, he got to meet Jang Sung Kyu, an anchor he'd been looking up to, and interview him to get some tips and advice (yes, this was in the same video where Wooyoung sat so hard on Seonghwa's lap, Seonghwa looked like he was about to cry and that's why the view count is so high):

ANEWZ is by far the most consistent content we get from any of the members, with the most recent one being released on July 24th of this year:

We get Yunho talking to himself on the regular, interviewing other members, dropping the gossip about behind the scenes shenanigans and more. It's lovely.

Imitation Soundtrack

As a main cast member of the drama Imitation, Yunho was part of the fictional group Sparkling, together with Seonghwa and San, which means he also participated in various performances throughout the show, but let's highlight the most iconic one right here and now:

They made fun of Diamond for so long and still do sometimes ("FInalLY NOW, it's my tIME"). This performance is also where that dance move comes from Yunho is doing here (watch older content and you'll see Wooyoung doing that every five minutes - iconic):

Collabs

Around two years ago, Yunho, San, and Jongho were featured on a Pentatonix song called A Little Space which you can find here (it even includes a Korean verse!):

That same year, him and Hongjoong were featured in a Pepsi Commercial song together with Rain and members of Monsta X and Brave Girls (iconic):

On August 1st, 2024, Yunho was featured in an Eve Seo song called KkungKkungDda. The MV is very fun and goofy, featuring Yunho as the boy at school every girl wants:

Cover Song

The first cover he ever released on Ateez's channel came out 3 months ago, titled Even If It's Your Happiness:

Filmed on an old camera, the footage is grainy and in 3-by-4 format, giving it that nostalgic 90's feel. The song itself kicks off extremely pretty and cute, cozy and warm, perfectly fitting Yunho's voice and the self-shot footage which shows us the world through his eyes.

Then, reaching the halfway mark, the song explodes, drums kicking in, and we get to hear his powerful register, allowing him to really show off as a vocalist. It's really beautiful.

Original Song

On October 3rd, 2024, Be Alright was posted on Ateez's YouTube channel, a song written and composed by Yunho and Hongjoong together with Lakov and Balm. In a Live, Hongjoong claimed Yunho did 90% of the work on the song, but Yunho later denied this in his own Live (see below) and said he merely sang Hongjoong's song. Both are most likely stretching the truth a bit.

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A post shared by 쫑jjong 🧸 (@jjongxappleteez)

It's a beautiful song featuring a lot of piano accompanying Yunho's voice. (You can listen to Hongjoong's guide track here.) And as you listen, pay attention to the background vocals and you will ascend, I promise you. The lyrics are also deeply vulnerable, telling the story of a fight with depression and how much that can take from you.

The sadness, the loneliness, the isolation, the tiring struggle of rebuilding yourself as you make your way back out of that deep dark hole depression threw you into. Inch by inch, step by step, rediscovering your own personality and interests along the way, realizing only then everything depression took from you. Eventually, you start feeling hope for the future again. You realize you could survive all that pain and suffering your own brain put you through day in and day out for so long which means, no matter what else life throws at you now, you're strong enough to make it through. You'll be alright.

Fashion

Like Hongjoong and San, Yunho has now also made his debut in the fashion world. In his case, by attending Seoul Fashion Week for designer KWAKHYUNJOO, as can be seen on his Instagram:

On October 8th, 2024, the vlog for this event was uploaded to YouTube:

In the video, Wyatt from ONF also makes a quick appearance when him and Yunho bump into each other:

And we get to see Yunho take pictures with Kwak Hyun Joo herself, as well as with the lady he was seated next to during the event (whom I unfortunately don't know - sorry).

[tumblydovereviews]

Hamilton: Why it Worked

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your king, George III. Welcome, to Hamilton."

I've been in a Hamiton funk lately. In fact, while writing this post I was actually watching the Disney+ recording of the musical!

It's not just because today is the Fourth of July and Alexander Hamilton ultimately played a major role in helping America become what it is today. It's not just because Moana 2 is dropping in a couple of months, which Lin Manuel-Miranda won't be a part of, and I'm coping by listening to his music and work. I've always been a Hamilton fan, and while I haven't had the time nor the money to actually go out and see it myself, I have enjoyed it via listening to the soundtrack, reading the giant book I have on it, and generally appreciating the work itself.

A concept like Hamilton was fairly unique at the time of it coming out- after all, who has ever heard of an idea as abnormal as a sung-and-rapped musical about one of the Founding Fathers? In a way, though, Alexander Hamilton himself held many characteristics of a perfect protagonist for a show with this concept; he was restless, impulsive, and always moving, just as the show is paced to be. Lin Manuel-Miranda got the idea for the entire musical by reading a Hamilton biography. He was inspired by Hamilton's personality and compared it to that of a rapper; namely, Tupac Shakur, joining the past and the present together to form a new creation.

Any great musical would need to be propelled by music totally, and Hamilton is no exception; in fact, the musical holds a unique advantage over other generic shows- as mentioned before, it's a sung-and-rapped through musical. The majority, if not all, of the show is sung-through. Not only does this allow for a unique point-of-view inside of the personal issues of the characters, but it also allows the musical to be highly accessible. As I mentioned before, I haven't actually watched Hamilton in-person; my main way of consuming Hamilton media is by 'watching' the musical via its array of songs. Unlike other musicals, I didn't need to worry about gaps in the narrative not being able to be sealed by dialogue or body language.

And, speaking of the songs, they're great as well! In a variety of genres, such as rap, jazz, and pop, there's a Hamilton song for everyone, really. Lin, Leslie, Renee, and the rest of the class are amazing singers, and the orchestra and sound department also aids in elevating the play's most dramatic moments. Some are my personal favorites are the opening song, Alexander Hamilton, What'd I Miss, You'll be Back, and The Schuyler Sisters.

But, perhaps the main factor in the wide appeal of Hamilton was how well the writing and casting managed to humanize people that seemed so far away from our time, people who we'd usually think as being foreign to our modern-day issues. The cast of Hamilton are diverse in race, ranging from Hispanic to Black to Asian, and are given personalities that can relate to what people nowadays are like. Hamilton is ambitious and prideful, while Burr is more introverted but vengeful to a fault. Instead of random historical names, the two men, and all of the other characters in the play, become real. There's a reason that people of all ages, from young teenagers to fully-grown adults, have all managed to grow captivated by these characters. They are human. They are us. Hamilton is us.

And, ultimately, this is why Hamilton has become such a big success, in my opinion. Hamilton works because it doesn't just act as a play; instead, think of it as a river, using music, characters, and comedy to connect two oceans together- the past and the present. What started off as a random idea that was scorned down upon by others has ultimately become a global phenomenon, and with the feats mentioned above, it's no wonder that Hamilton managed to become such a success both on and off Broadway. To this day, the play still sells out tickets regularly, and is viewed, listened, and acted to by millions all around not just the USA, but the entire globe.

So, this fourth of July, you don't need to bolt out the national anthem while wearing red, white, and blue and bursting out oodles of fireworks everywhere you go. Instead, if you have the ability to, I'd highly recommend watching or listening to the soundtrack of Hamilton. Because, no matter the holiday or the country you lie in, there's something for everyone in this musical.

[hellsw0rth]

Here it is! Doomsday in the style of 1976.

TWO MINUTE PREVIEW. FULL TRACK ON MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL.

I was initially going to come up with a story to explain how the Doomsday scenario could happen in Season 14. Maybe Sarah-Jane was whisked away at the end of The Hand of Fear, as part of a backup plan by the Master and Chancellor Goth, and the Doctor found out about this, and talked with her at the end of The Deadly Assassin using Time Lord technology on Gallifrey.

But I thought it would be better to let you come up with your own ideas to explain how Sarah-Jane could get separated from the Doctor in a parallel universe, and how he managed to communicate with her. Feel free to share your thoughts about how this could happen, in the comments. I'd be very keen to hear how you think it could have worked!

I took inspiration from the soundtrack of The Deadly Assassin to come up with the instruments to use for this. There's heavy woodwind (oboes and bassoon's) and one of the backing instruments is an organ which featured prominently in that story. I tried to balance both authenticity with emotion and nostalgia - a balance I try to strike with most of my remixes. So, before anyone comments "this doesn't completely sound like it's from 1976", this is why. Tracks like this would not have featured in Classic Who, and to strip it down and make it as authentic as possible, much of the emotion and nostalgia would have been removed (in my opinion, anyway) that means it deviates massively from what I'm trying to do.

There are some brilliant creators out there who do an incredible job of making 'era authentic' music. @HudsonMedia and @GeorgeCMusic are two examples of creators who do a phenomenal job of this, and deserve infinitely more praise than they get for their efforts. I admire their work immensely, and would encourage you to subscribe to their channels.

My approach is to echo the nostalgia and emotion attached to the original track while making it sound like it *could* have sounded in the era being channeled. This is done by taking the original track and 'plugging in' the instruments or sounds of the era. My work has been described as "bombastic", "fun", and "emotional", which is what I try to prioritise with my mixes. That's a long winded way of saying that if anyone says 'it doesn't sound like the 70's' that I KNOW!

Also, I know someone is going to comment "this, but the 1960's" or something similar. I'm receptive to suggestions for future releases, but lately the suggestions have been more like a demand or insistence than a suggestion for the future. I've been getting a bit uncomfortable with the degree to which people have been saying 'do this', like they have the right to demand something from me. Like I said, I'm very receptive to suggestions, and several of my releases have been the result of a suggestion, but please don't phrase it in a way that shows you have the right to tell me what to do. I don't claim any monetary reward for this work, and I'm very unlikely to ever start some sort of monetary reward platform for these, for ethical reasons (it's copyrighted music, and I use sheet music and/or MIDI files made by other people). So, this work isn't rewarded by money, and it's something I do in my spare time, both as a therapeutic distraction from a tumultuous personal life, and as procrastination from my PhD. So, please phrase your suggestions a little more respectfully.

Lastly, I wondered about releasing this in July, being the 18th anniversary of Doomsday. But it seemed too far away, and as the Majestic Tale (1970s) is taking a lot longer to work on, I thought this would make for a decent release in the meantime.

Enjoy!

[sophiethatchersource]

Who do you trust most with the aux? Myself… or my twin sister Ellie. What’s a song that reminds you of your hometown? “Scatterbrain” by Radiohead I would listen to this on my iPod on repeat. Who is Pivot & Scrape for? Anyone who would like to listen. I don’t like the idea of having a target audience.  What led to your pivot to music? I’ve been making music since I was 14 just by myself. My mom was a piano teacher and I grew up taking voice lessons since I was 9. I started off writing melodies with my omnichord then started using Ableton and experimenting with different sounds and textures.  What makes an iconic bang? A nostalgic melody.  Who are your style icons? Zoe Lund, Beatrice Dalle, Nina Hagen, Lizzy Mercier Decloux, Nastassja Kinski, Anais Nin, the list goes on and on. So many iconic, stylish, and outlandish women out there.  Who is your muse? Stina Nordenstam and Kazu Makino.  Name your favorite artist no one knows about: Grim. Jun Konagaya is a legend and I try to show everyone I know his music. It’s truly magical and from another time. You can find him on YouTube. His solo ambient/experimental work is amazing too. What does your notes app look like? Lyrics that don’t make any sense, me constructing texts to bail on people (I’m very good at that), breakup texts, if you really scroll far back. Basically, any social interaction that gives me anxiety is in there.   Hot Girl Summer or Sad Girl Fall? Funky Monkey Fall. What was your coming-of-age soundtrack? Anything Elliott Smith. I grew up on his music and listened to him every day for about ten years when I was in school. He got me through a lot of times when I felt like a total loner in school.  What was on the moodboard for the “Black and Blue” music video? The canoe scenes from Celine and Julie Go Boating were my biggest influence. I’m a huge fan of Rivette and Berto and anything they do together. The stop motion Wolf House was another huge inspiration on Ellie’s behalf.  What album is playing in heaven? Dark Island by Pram. Best movie-needle drop: “Spoon by Can” in Morvern Caller. Hands down best movie soundtrack.  Favorite song to listen to while lying on the floor? “Trains Across the Sea” by Silver Jews What’s your go-to karaoke song? Anything Carpenters or Pulp. If I’m feeling risqué, I’ll sing something from Cabaret.

Actress-Turned-Musician Sophie Thatcher Endorses Funky Monkey Fall | Sound Advice | Interview

spotify playlist made by sophie

[poorlittlegreenie13]

Scenes From an Italian Restaurant:

WC: 2,000

Syd/Carmy falling in love to the soundtrack of Billy Joel, idk

It's past midnight, but Carmy & Syd still haven't finished closing. It might have something to do with the fact that neither of them can sleep without nightmares at home, and that there's something uniquely comforting about having another person with an equally fucked up sleep schedule to silently work with well into the early hours of the morning. They rarely talk while they're working like this; a blurry, unfocused period somewhere between opening and closing, things that do not strictly need to be done, but that they both take pride in doing anyway. It's their fucking restaurant, they both seem to enjoy treating it like a child they're co-helicopter-parenting.

This particular night, Carmy is in the kitchen doing food prep & Syd is sweeping up the dining area. It's quiet enough to hear herself breathe in, and the silence is getting annoying, so she finds herself sweeping toward the kitchen, peeking through to look at Carmy. As she gets closer to him, she hears him... muttering to himself, maybe? No, that's not it. She walks closer, slipping into the kitchen as quietly as she can, and realizes he's... singing. Carmy Berzatto. Singing. In the kitchen.

Her first impulse is to laugh but she stops herself.

He's kind of... good.

She listens for a little while, mesmerized, trying to make out the lyrics.

A bottle of red, a bottle of white. It all depends on your appetite. I’ll meet you anytime you want, in our Italian restaurant.

She moves slightly and Carmy freezes like a scared deer in the fucking forest, of course. His eyes are so wide and scared, Syd almost feels bad, so she tries to break the tension.

“Didn’t realize you moonlighted as a singer,” she says with an awkward smirk, leaning on her broom. “Did you write that?”

Carmy’s eyes narrow. “Did I— did you just ask me if I wrote that?”

Syd shrugs slightly, sensing she’s made an error.

“It’s Billy Joel,” Carmy says, looking genuinely concerned that she’s lacking this crucial piece of information.

“Okay, sorry, I’m not, like, Italian… and into 70’s music,” Syd says, with a dry, sarcastic smile.

“No, no, but this is a classic song,” Carmy says, “I mean, this is just a good song.”

Sydney just stares at him blankly. “I wouldn’t know,” she says.

“Alright, something’s gotta be done about this,” Carmy says with a disapproving shake of his head, tone as serious as it might be if he was noticing a typo on a menu or a smudge on a plate. He unplugs his headphones from his phone, walking to the restaurant’s sound system and connecting his phone.

A jazzy piano song overtakes the speakers, Carmy pausing to crank up the volume to far above their normal level before turning back to Syd with a smile on his face.

“Cold beer, hot lights, my sweet romantic teenage nights,” the voice of Billy Joel (apparently) sings out over the speakers of their restaurant. Carmy looks at her expectantly. Syd raises an eyebrow.

“It’s… loud,” she says.

“No, no, no,” Carmy says, rolling his eyes, infuriatingly smooth Italian-American vowels softening out as he speaks, an unquantifiable accent that Sydney is pretty sure is going to actually kill her one day. “It tells a story,” Carmy insists, turning back to his prep, chopping vegetables to the beat of the song, talk-singing along with the song, back turned to Sydney. “Brenda and Eddie were still going steady in the summer of ‘75, when they decided the marriage would be at the end of July.”

Sydney can’t help the laugh she lets out. Carmy spins around, an indignant smile on his face.

“Stop looking at me like I’m crazy,” he says, “you’re the one who doesn’t know Billy Joel.”

“I do know some Billy Joel,” Syd says. “Just not this Billy Joel.”

“Well I'm showing you this Billy Joel,” Carmy says. “Listen. Come on, you’re not listening to it. This is good music.”

He sets down his knife, walking over to her, holding out a hand.

Something in the pit of Sydney’s stomach fires off like an over-excited fire-cracker.

“Are you seriously trying to dance with me right now,” she asks flatly, glancing between his face and his extended hand, trying her very best to hold her sarcasm out in front of her like a shield against whatever fuckary this is.

Carmy’s smile fades, just for an instant. Sydney can’t stand it. She rolls her eyes, and takes his hand. Immediately, he grins, spinning her around him. She can’t help but smile. Carmy reaches out for her other hand, pulling her in on one side and pushing her away on the other, awkward high-school-dance moves that a grown man should probably not be pulling on her right now, and should certainly not be working as well as they are.

She meets his eyes, wide grin, slight flush, hair even more disheveled than usual. For a second, she just stares at him, forgetting to dance, forgetting to smile. Carmy, oblivious, is still singing.

“They parted the closest of friends, then the king and the queen went back to the green, but you can never go back there again, no no.”

Fuck.

She shakes her head ruefully, spinning him around to break their eye contact. And okay, maybe she spun him away from her slightly too hard because his hand slips out of hers and he stumbles a few steps away from her, laughing, and then, in a flash of movement, moving back to her, one hand coming to her lower back, the other settling around her shoulders pulling her into his chest, still laughing, still red in the face, breathing slightly heavier than usual, vocalizing Billy fucking Joel right into her ear.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck?

Is she slow dancing with Carmen fucking Berzatto in their kitchen right now?

He’s ridiculously warm in a white tee shirt and jeans, solid and impossibly, weirdly soft, leaning heavily against her, breathing against her neck, smelling like kitchen spices and sweat. This is simply not fair. This is… seriously outside anything normal or manageable. Carmy’s hand on her lower back is keeping her in place against him, stomach to stomach, fingertips splayed out across her back.

She’s stopped moving, she realizes. Carmy stops too after a moment, but he’s still pressed against her, still smiling slightly. Syd lets out a short, nervous laugh.

“Is this weird?” Carmy asks, voice low, unsure, still holding her close—maybe so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye, maybe so he can just rest his chin against her shoulder for a little longer.

Very slowly, Sydney brings a hand to the space between Carmy’s shoulder blades, just resting it there. “Kind of, yeah,” she says. “But not bad weird.”

“Fuck, sometimes… it’s like I forget to be nervous in front of you,” Carmy says—quick, breathless words, slowly pulling back from her, an embarrassed little smile on his face. “And I make a fuckin’ fool of myself before I realize I’m doing it.”

Sydney smirks back at him. “Well it’s kind of too late to fool me into thinking you’re cool,” she says. “Might as well stop being nervous about it. I mean, that ship has sailed.”

Carmy laughs, shaking his head, going a bit redder in the face. “I just really want you to like Billy Joel,” he says.

Syd smiles. “No, I do,” she says. “I totally do like him. I really like him.”

“He has other good songs,” Carmy says. “I always liked this one though. I was like fourteen, thinkin’ I was gonna meet a girl and take her to an Italian restaurant and get… fucking married at twenty. Talk about a ship that’s sailed.”

He goes quiet.

Over the speaker, Billy Joel is still singing.

“A bottle of red, oh a bottle of white, whatever kind of mood you’re in tonight. I’ll meet you anytime you want, in our Italian restaurant.”

“It kind of did work out though,” Sydney says, over the last few chords of the song, “I mean, you do in fact own an Italian restaurant.”

“Yeah,” Carmy says, a boyish smile crossing his face. His expression lingers on her for a long moment.

The song ends, and abruptly, loud guitar chords blare through the kitchen.

“Oh my God,” Carmy says, grinning, the tension of the moment entirely shattered. “Fuckin’ love this one.”

He crosses back to his prep station, picking his knife and returning to his work like nothing happened, bobbing his head and singing, “You had to be a big shot, didn’t you?”

Syd watches him for a little while longer before going back to her sweeping, making a mental note to never think of this night ever again. She’s not sure she could withstand the sheer force of her own stupid fucking yearning. Minutes pass. Half an hour. Carmy cycles through ten odd Billy Joel songs, and then—

“Hey, Syd!” Carmy calls from the kitchen.

Sydney turns, white-knuckling her broom handle, collecting herself for a moment before walking toward the sound of his voice.

When she reaches him, he gives her a crooked, slightly unsure smile.

“If it’s not bad weird," he says, "can we keep doing it?”

Her face burns. She stares at him for a long moment, trying to gauge whether he’s joking or not.

“I mean, can you come here again?” Carmy says, quieter, sounding slightly desperate, while she’s still trying to gauge his sincerity.

Wordlessly she steps toward him, heart pounding. He wraps his arms around her waist, exhaling heavily, chin returning to its place on her shoulder, An Innocent Man playing through the empty restaurant.

“Some people live with the fear of the touch, and the anger of having been a fool.”

Sydney’s not entirely sure how the night ends. It sort of blurs together; Carmy holding her against him, clasped hands, kitchen knives, food prep, sweeping, laughing, blushing, Billy Joel and Carmy’s singing voice. Eventually, Sydney in the doorway, bag slung over one shoulder, Carmy flushed and breathless from laughter, Sydney mentally filing away exactly how it sounds when Carmy says her name, out of breath and slightly desperate.

“I feel like I should apologize to you,” he says, but he's still smiling.

"Yeah you should apologize for not finishing your prep," she says, clinging to the remaining shreds of her self-respect as she stares at him. "Get that done. I need some fucking sleep."

"Yes, chef," Carmy promises softly, with a rueful look on his face. She turns to leave, but he speaks again. "Hey. "Thanks, Syd."

She turns back.

"For what?"

He shrugs, looking down at his feet.

"I just had a nice night."

"Yeah, me too, Bear," Sydney says, and then forces herself to walk away from him, out the door and into the Chicago cold.

Maybe the sleeplessness is making them both crazier than she realized.

Or maybe it's not just the sleeplessness.

Because she's pretty sure she's going to be thinking about exactly how Carmy's arms felt wrapped around her for the rest of her fucking life. And if that's not insanity, she doesn't know what is.

[fairytale-poll]

PRELIMINARY ROUND! MATCH 2 OUT OF 5 - BATTLE OF THE RODGERS & HAMMERSTEIN'S CINDERELLA ADAPTATIONS!

Propaganda Under the Cut

Julie Andrews as Cinderella (1957 Movie):

((This movie is the Julie Andrew’s one.))

Lesley Ann Warrens as Cinderella (1965 Movie):

tbh I think that both other films for this version are superior to this one, but I want the full 128 bracket so I might as well submit this. Starring Lesley Ann Warren as Cinderella, it's a distinct remake of the Julie Andrews version (which was incredibly popular, but hadn't been filmed in color, thus the studio's decision to make a new one). It is admittedly more similar to the 1957 version than the 1997 version was, so if you don't want to accept it as its own story that's fine; but there *are* some differences in the script, songs, and acting choices for the characters. I haven't seen this version of the film since I was VERY young, so I can't speak on the quality or anything lol, but I remember that I really really liked it when I was five, before the 1997 version came out and consumed me lol. I had briefly considered submitting it earlier because it felt unfair to have Julie Andrews and Brandy Norwood both have a slot while poor Lesley Ann Warren was left out, but ultimately decided she probably wouldn't get very far. But now I'm reconsidering lol sooooo yeah. A third version of Rodger's and Hammerstein's Cinderella for your consideration XD

Brandy as Cinderella (1997 Movie):

Because she is so cute in this, I love her outfits before and after the transformation, and this movie is just such a good adaptation of Cinderella.

the 1997 cinderella movie is the best one ever to me like. you have whitney houston as the fairy godmother and brandy is so so so pretty and she's such an amazing cinderella. 10 minutes ago the best cinderella song of all time ever she sounded so good <3

does this movie even NEED propaganda?

Brandy Cinderella with Whitney Houston! Need I say more?

Brandy plays one of the best iterations of Cinderella actually.

I just think she's neat. Also she looked the best in the ball gown.

One of the most iconic Cinderellas of all time, Brandy brought tenderness, earnestness, and heartfelt poignancy that transformed the story and emphasized its humanity and themes of dreaming for the future. Her voice is celestial! The power of her performance is undeniable! As a lifelong Cinderella fan she was always one of my favorites.

A lot of children grew up watching this movie around the holidays.

This is my favorite version of Cinderella and Brandy absolutely KILLS IT as Cinderella!! Her voice is so sweet and beautiful. And her dress!! I love her peplum. ALSO HER BRAIDS MAKE A BUN AND ITS SO ADORABLE. just look up the soundtrack for this movie PLEASE.

Various Actresses as Cinderella in the 2015 Musical:

[No Propaganda Submitted]

[hypersomniagame]

HYPERSOMNIA JUNE DEV LOG : “FASHIONABLY LATE”

Hi! I already wrote this entire dev log but I closed the tab by accident, so it's now 10:55pm and I'm going to try and speedrun writing something that took me an hour to write.

For all of you who follow HYPERSOMNIA, you should already know what the gist is here I've been saying this for 6 months.

if you don't know what this is or are confused on what HYPERSOMNIA is read the other dev logs i've said this like every time lol

So, just as a heads up this log isn't going to be super long with new content because I have been insanely busy these last few months! I just graduated High School and the last few months have been me cramming to make sure I pass and could graduate and now I am!!! Yay!!!

I won 2 awards at my grad (One of them being excellence in arts :D) and the other I was given a check for 200$ so I snagged one of these!

Super happy I finally got a display tablet for drawing, I've wanted one of these since I was like 14 and it feels awesome to have one now. I got this thing super cheap too, this thing usually goes for like 300-350 Canadian and I got it for 130! Super super happy about this.

That's all from me personally, but I would like to say just as 1 last thing before the updates, Happy Pride Month to all who identify as LGBTQ+, I myself am queer and just want to remind all of you that you are loved and accepted. Hopefully I can get this out before midnight so it's still pride month LOL

OK! NOW FOR UPDATES! I don't have too much to share today but I do have somethings I want to show off.

First things first, I've been respriting some characters! Ross and Jack are the biggest edits I've made so far so I'd like to show them off.

(Left is old, and right is new!)

Ross' walking sprites were updated! I was kind of dissatisfied with how Ross looks like he's struttin' everywhere so I redid it to give him a more casual walk. I'm very happy with this change and I plan for it to be the base walking animation going forward. I also updated his side profiles slightly to look closer to the key art I illustrated.

Jack also had his idles redone! He I think was the biggest thing I needed to resprite, his old sprite is kind of cluttered and poorly detailed so for his new one I simplified a lot of the shading and reshaped his hair and mask. I think it came out really well.

Also, just earlier I was working on music for the game.

I'm really happy with how this came out, I just got high and made Half-Life music (Which is what I was aiming for LOL)

Hopefully I can get to a point where I can finish off the soundtrack for the demo and post it all. Some friends of mine were a bit sad I delisted the tracks I had up initially so I hope to get those up again soon.

I've also been storyboarding out some early game cutscenes, I can't show a lot because it's all a bit spoiler-y but I will put this in the log.

And one last thing too, THE MOTHER DIRECT!

on July 27 at 6PM ET, MOTHER FOREVER will be hosting the MOTHER Direct, which HYPERSOMNIA is a part of!

There'll be a ton of indie games, fan projects, and other things relating to or inspired by the MOTHER series! Please give it a watch if you can. If you can't make it, the event will remain on MOTHER FOREVER's YouTube channel, and I'll be uploading HYPERSOMNIA's trailer on YouTube, Twitter, Steam, and here. If you do catch the stream or end up watching it after, leave a comment! Tell 'em Ferris sent ya. Do it, or I'll cry. I'm expecting at least 1 "Ferris sent me!" or I'll cry. I swear, I will do it!

If this is your first log you're reading, or even your first time seeing ANYTHING relating to HYPERSOMNIA, I got a whole bunch of links for you to check out if you wanna know more about me and my stupid little game.

TWITTER

YOUTUBE

STEAM

UNIQUE INDIE RPG'S [SHOW US YOUR GAME!]

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