#this is a ref to 2 songs at the same time

[piowasthere]

`i N S a N i T Y`

finally got this one done it was in the making for like a week, i'm just procrastinating for no reason lol

i also used only the thumbnails as ref cuz if i'd have to stare at his ugly mug for so many hours i would either explode or start to like it and neither is a good option.

anyway alts under cut, don't go insane <3

glitchless, no txt, alt

[hum--hallelujah]

like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid

Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.

Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.

"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.

"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.

Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-

"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."

Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."

Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.

There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.

"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.

"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.

In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.

"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.

Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.

In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.

"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.

Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."

Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.

Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.

"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."

Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.

"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.

He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.

He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.

Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.

"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.

"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.

It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.

Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.

The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.

He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.

"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"

Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.

"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."

Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.

Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.

Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.

The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.

"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.

"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.

"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."

Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."

A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.

"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."

"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.

Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."

"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.

"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"

Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.

Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.

It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.

He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?

If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.

There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.

"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.

Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.

"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.

Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.

Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.

"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.

"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.

"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"

Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."

It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.

Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."

"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.

Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."

Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.

Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."

[mpathicoracle]

tbh imma do this even tho its gonna take a while (again, all songs go to their og owners, u wanna see harbinger inferno's "albums" here)

this is gonna be hella long so imma just put this under a keep reading

songs eira wrote solo:

True Colors (started writing this at age 12) ("Harbinger Inferno" album")

Blood & Water ("Harbinger Inferno" album")

Obey ("Harbinger Inferno" album")

Pass the Nirvana ("Harbinger Inferno" album")

Stitch ("Harbinger Inferno" album")

Ex-Mortis ("Horrorwood" album)

Middle Finger to the World ("Horrorwood" album)

Extermination ("Horrorwood" album)

B.M.F. ("Horrorwood" album)

Two Years ("Horrorwood" album)

My Curse (this was a play at Raine and their so-called "ex from school," eira had no idea it was the one and only Owl Lady asdjfjsg) ("Horrorwood" album)

Ghost ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Chronos ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Soul Searcher ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Death Roll ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Farewell II Flesh ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Everything of the "Rage of the Southern Isles" album

Thunderheart ("Thunderheart" album)

Scream ("Thunderheart" album)

Backbreaker ("Thunderheart" album)

Unleashed ("Thunderheart" album)

We Stand ("Thunderheart" album)

Reignite ("Thunderheart" album)

Vendetta ("Thunderheart" album)

Tower of Pain ("Thunderheart" album)

Like Napalm ("Thunderheart" album)

Annihilation ("Thunderheart" album)

Reinventing Hatred ("Thunderheart" album)

Code of Honor ("Thunderheart" album)

Without Walls ("Crownless King" album)

The Crownless King ("Crownless King" album)

Stacking Bodies ("Crownless King" album)

The Empirical American Nightmare ("Crownless King" album)

The Resistance ("Crownless King" album)

Who Am I ("Crownless King" album)

The Signal Fire ("Crownless King" album)

Daylight Dies ("Crownless King" album)

Nightmare ("Crownless King" album)

From The Heart of Darkness ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

Shepherd of Fire ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

Afterlife ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

The Greatest Fear ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

Darker Still ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

Imperial Heretic ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

Circle The Drain ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

Scoring The End Of The World ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

songs eran wrote solo:

Blood Runs Cold (his very first song) ("Harbinger Inferno" album)

Ophelia ("Harbinger Inferno" album)

When Everything Means Nothing ("Harbinger Inferno" album)

Wreckage ("Horrorwood" album)

Alive ("Horrorwood" album)

Don't Let Me Fade Away ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Engraved ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Oblivion ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Nothing Left ("What You Left Behind" album)

Cutting It Close ("What You Left Behind" album)

Let the Bridges Burn ("What You Left Behind" album)

Holy Diver ("What You Left Behind" album)

In Due Time ("What You Left Behind" album)

Hurt ("What You Left Behind" album)

What You Left Behind ("What You Left Behind" album)

Slow Burn ("Thunderheart" album)

Teeth ("Thunderheart" album)

Critical Acclaim ("Crownless King" album)

The Abyss ("Crownless King" album)

Dark Divide ("Crownless King" album)

Hell Above ("Crownless King" album)

I Can't Be The Only One ("Crownless King" album)

No Evil ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

If Tomorrow Never Comes ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

I Feel Alive Again ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

songs dartak wrote solo:

Premonition ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Land of the Lost ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Death Inside ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Soul Bleach ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

The Price of Agony ("Ghosts and Premonitions" album)

Bleed Me Dry ("What You Left Behind" album)

There's Fear In Letting Go ("What You Left Behind" album)

Make Believe ("What You Left Behind" album)

Relapse ("What You Left Behind" album)

Ground Zero ("What You Left Behind" album)

Glitch ("Thunderheart" album)

Manic ("Thunderheart" album)

F.L.Y. ("Thunderheart" album)

Hollow King ("Crownless King" album)

Meltdown ("Crownless King" album)

songs the three wrote together (belak doesnt write songs he just likes playing the drums dgjdgh hes just in the bg supporting them all)

Now Let Them Tremble ("Harbinger Inferno" album)

Bulls In The Bronx Hills ("Harbinger Inferno" album)

Welcome To Horrorwood ("Horrorwood" album)

Bat Country ("Horrorwood" album)

A Little Piece of Heaven ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

This Means War ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

My Last Serenade ("Scoring The End Of The World" album)

[604to647]

Strawberry Shortcake (part 1 of 2)

4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You thought working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club would just be a way to make some easy money - you didn't expect to meet him.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Private room shenanigans, longing, ref to f!masturbation, nicknames as always, reader is a single parent (mentioned briefly in the this part), TF boys make a quick appearance!

A/N: In this part, reader only knows Frankie as "Francisco", but for the purpose of the narrative, I refer to him as Frankie most of the time. This came out of nowhere and I wrote it in one day instead of editing the next chapter of SwY 🫣 procrastination fics are a thing, right? Barely proofread, please excuse all my mistakes!

Series Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰 The moodboard Frankie pic is from Pinterest but after a wee bit of sleuthing, I believe it’s a screen grab from this gifset by @uuuhshiny - please correct me if I’m wrong!! 😊

Swaying seductively to the club’s upbeat remix of an old school RnB song you’ve always loved, you hit each bass beat with a little pop of your hip so that you lightly knock your knees into the widespread thighs of the man whose legs you’re dancing in between.  The combined movement lends a little bounce to your naked tits, and as you raise your arms above your head and continue to move to the music, you have to bite your lower lip to prevent from smiling and chuckling.  Even with your eyes closed, you know the man’s large, calloused hands, ever respectful of the private room’s ‘No Touching’ rule, are spread, straining with superhuman restraint and digging into those same meaty thighs that you keep rubbing against.  You might be doing it on purpose.  Afterall, the rule is that he can’t touch, but you can.

Trailing your fingers down through your hair, then down, down along your face and neck until you reach your chest, your hands grab and grope your breasts the way you know the man before you wishes he could.  Letting yourself pretend that your desperate touches are his, you let out a little whimper that’s meant to try his resolve.  As you bend your knees while rolling your hips, the lascivious show you’re putting on is lowered to his eye level, and you continue to palm your tits, rolling and pinching your nipples between your fingers – pretty peaks hardening as the fan of his heavier than usual breath hits them just right.  You know you’re being terribly teasing and unfair, but here in this dimly lit room, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, you’ve never felt safer.  Or sexier.  And it’s all because of this man.

Francisco.

Never one to break the private room’s cardinal rule, or even cop a feel while out on the main floor, this man is nothing but respectful.  And that makes you wish even more that he would just break – break all the rules and have his way with you.  Touch you.  Grab you.  Manhandle you to his liking and take you right on the faux velvet couch that lines the wall behind him.  With a low and wide swivel of your hips, you ghost over the growing bulge of his jeans and you hear him groan - a deep guttural sound from the back of his throat, and this time you don’t fight the smile that spreads across your face.

Francisco.

He’s probably been your favourite part of working as a club cocktail waitress these past few months.  You have a job as a research assistant that you love, but earlier this Spring, a small accident in the lab led to a temporary closure that had you looking for short-term work – you needed something where the hiring process wasn’t drawn out and that you could quit when the lab reopened without any negative consequences to your career - the waitress opening at The Midnight Palace had fit the bill.  The money was good and the work wasn’t arduous; it wasn’t as if you were one of the onstage dancers who had to perform some of the most incredible feats of acrobatics you’ve ever seen.  Even the later hours turned out to be a blessing, allowing you to spend your now free days with your son, a welcomed opportunity to fill his carefree summer days with activities and play before he started kindergarten in the Fall.  The girls, dancers and waitresses alike were incredibly friendly and welcoming, many of them single moms themselves.  All in all, you think you might even miss the club when the newly renovated lab reopened.  And still, even with all your unexpected fondness for this job, the thing you unequivocally look forward to most when coming in to work is Francisco Morales.

Every two weeks without fail he came in with a group of army buddies on Friday night.  The first time you encountered them had been your second week at the club, amused at how the other girls had been excited for their arrival; the group was known for being fun loving and rowdy, but never disruptive or disrespectful.  And generous - very generous.  As a waitress, your dress code was lingerie of your choice - not any more or less skimpy than what the dancers wore on stage or when they came to the floor for lap dances, but it could invite the occasional butt slap or waist grab from some of the bolder club patrons.  But never Francisco’s group – you served them drink after drink after drink, and they were only ever sweet and charming, nothing more than a polite touch as thanks, and generous with their words of praise and tips to every one of their servers and dancers.  You come to learn that they usually end their evenings with a round or two in the private rooms, sometimes one-on-one, other times as a group.  On that first night, you served the drinks in a private room that the group commandeered with three gorgeous dancers - all giggling and having the time of their lives.  As you put down their drinks, the dark-haired man that you come to think of as the group’s leader, smiled at you with his piercing hooded eyes and laughing, “Hey hunny, why don’t you stay?  We’ll pay for your time and you can keep Fish company.”  He tilted his head back to indicate to his friend who sat a bit further back from the group in a chair, leaning back comfortably, arms crossed, with no stripper to call his own.

You had smiled politely, not sure of your answer even though Tiffany had nodded encouragingly at you; most patrons didn’t know, but any girl could be invited to a private room – not just the dancers.  It was rare for a waitress to spend time in a private room – while there was no obligation, there was some expectation to strip and most waitresses didn’t; when you took the job, you didn’t have any intention of spending any one-on-one time in the private rooms, despite the rate and the tips being quite good. 

As you approach the odd man out to serve him his drink, he gives you an almost bashful shake of his head, as if to say ‘You don’t have to’ – you’re not sure what it is, maybe it was his almost boyishly shy smile, or the glimpse of those soft brown curls you caught when he lifted his cap to nervously run his hands through his hair, but on a whim, you decide to stay.  Afterall, it’s not as if you were alone – there were six other people in the room with you.

Putting his drink down, you slide into the handsome stranger’s lap, perching your scantily clad bum on his thick thigh, you blink bright-eyed and throw him a cheeky grin, “So… you’re a Fish?”  The wholesome chuckle and crinkle of his captivating eyes that follow your question warm your chest more than they should and that’s how you meet Francisco Morales. 

That first night, Frankie spends the remainder of the time that Santi pays for with you in his lap, arm thrown around his neck to keep from slipping off, just talking about nothing and everything.  You learn that the men are old army buddies: Santiago (call sign: Pope), Will (call sign: Ironhead), Ben (no call sign, just Benny because he’s the baby of the group) and of course Francisco, call sign: Catfish.   You giggled at this and Frankie thinks the sound is more than adorable.  You get a chance to run your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and find them to be as soft as you thought they’d be.  Ultimately, you find yourself spending an inordinate amount of time staring into his warm brown eyes as Frankie tells you about himself and his work as a helicopter pilot and mechanic.  When the little melodic bell chimes to indicate that the private room times are almost up, you can’t believe how fast the time has gone - you leave Francisco with a light kiss on the cheek and thank him for giving your tired feet a rest.

Two weeks later he returns and asks for a private room slot with just you.  And again, two weeks after that.  And again, and again – now a regular occurrence for the past few months, every time the boys came in to the club.  Your time in the private room with Francisco is comfortable, fun, flirty, and always, always safe.  A man of honour, he never touches you - his hands stay by his sides, on the table or on his own body, but never yours.  With time, you give yourself permission to be bold, growing more and more unrestrained with your touches. 

Taking off his cap, you’ll card your hands through his hair and lightly massage Frankie’s scalp – the first time you did this, you earned a soft ‘Baby’ from his plush lips that had your face feeling hotter than hot.  It fills you with something akin to pride and possessiveness that you know those same lips are pillow soft - you’ve run your fingers over them a hundred times, just as you have his cheekbones and jaw line, tracing over every firm line of his handsome face with featherlight strokes.  Nothing compares to feeling of his cheeks cupped in your soft hands as you scratch his patchy scruff, except maybe the swell of your chest when this affectionate gesture secures you another nickname, hermosa. 

But by far, your favourite nickname comes during your third time together.  Having looped both your arms around Frankie’s neck after making him laugh with a funny observation about a TV show you both watch, he closes his eyes once his laughter subsides and murmurs, “You smell like strawberries.”  Giggling, you confess that it’s the glitter gel you borrow from one of the dancers; you were still too new to the club scene to have any of your own body glitter, but you liked the smell of this one so you kept borrowing it and Sasha didn’t seem to mind. 

“Smells good, baby,” Frankie declares, “That’s my favourite dessert, you know?  And you’re just as sweet, Shortcake.”  Shortcake.  The petname had stuck and made you feel giddy every time the endearment slipped from his lips.  You don’t tell him that when you have to buy body wash the following week, you choose a strawberry scented one on purpose.

Sometimes your time with Frankie feels almost like taking an unsanctioned break – some misguided concept of proper work ethic finds you volunteering to dance for him even though it’s not in your job description; to both your delight, you discover you actually enjoy it, greedily drinking in Frankie’s lustful gaze as his eyes follow every dip of your waist and sway of your hips.  More recently, you’ve progressed to massaging his tense shoulders and back when he tells you about his rough days at work; as you push and pull at the corded muscles under his shirt, the deep rumbling groan that drops from his chest shoots straight between your legs and you can’t help but salivate at the idea of making him feel good in other ways.

But most of the time, you simply sit in Frankie’s lap, the two of you chatting and getting to know each other as if you were just two people that met under totally normal circumstances and found the other to be attractive.  You learn that he’s kind and giving, and he makes you laugh so very easily – some nights your face hurts a little from smiling so much, content to just listen to Frankie talk while absentmindedly rubbing his large, paw of a hand with your much smaller ones.

You think about his laugh and the way his entire chest shakes with it all the time.  On the nights between his visits to the club, you go home and think about his soulful eyes and the way they can flicker from a soft puppy dog look to a darkened, gripping expression of want with just a single touch from you.  After the nights you spend with him, he stars in all of your bedtime fantasies and you come to his imagined touch, hard and desperate with his name curling over your lips.  You wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.  If he would smile at you in the morning daylight the way he does when you kiss his cheek goodbye in the dark private room, all soft and almost disbelieving.  You wonder if he ever thinks about you at all outside of your nights together at the club.  You try not to let yourself get too lost in your longing for what might never be, but as the summer goes on, you start to ache for him, missing the little you have of him every day between your rendezvous.

Sadly, as much you cherish the time with Francisco in your little bubble within the safety of the club’s private room, you know it’s a fantasy that can’t last.  While Frankie knows you have a separate career outside of the club, he doesn’t know that your time together is nearly up.  The original timeline for the lab to be ready was end of summer, but an email you received last week indicated that the renovations were ahead of schedule and all lab and research staff could expect to return to work soon, though the exact date was yet to be fixed.  You don’t say anything to him - unwilling to spoil the mood of your limited remaining time together, and moreover, unwilling to broach the topic of what this is and if it could be anything else.  Anything more. 

Afraid, really, of what Francisco’s answer may be.

You have a feeling that your call back to work will come any day now, and that’s how you find yourself in the position you’re in now: topless and gyrating, cunt positively dripping while you touch your breasts salaciously for Francisco’s enjoyment.  Earlier tonight, when he had you sitting on his lap like that first time, the two of you drowning in the other’s eyes and longing looks, you had realized just how much you were going to miss him when you left.  The thought that this might be the last time you’re able have Frankie like this - all to yourself, able to soak in his adoring gaze while drawing a deep sigh of contentment from his chest as you study the strong features of his face, makes you bold and brave.  You rise and stand in between his legs, tilting his face up with your fingers so he looks at you while you reach behind and start to unclasp your bra.

“Hermosa, you don’t have t-” Frankie starts to protest, not sure where this might be coming from.  He’s been perfectly happy with how the two of you have been spending your private room time together.  In no way has Frankie ever wanted you to feel like he was pushing for more than you were giving him.  He won’t pretend that he doesn’t dream about your soft curves and the way your gorgeous figure nearly spills from the drool worthy lingerie you always wear; his nights alone in bed are spent imagining how you might feel writhing underneath him, what sounds he could pull from you while he explores your body – he’s willing to bet you taste sweeter than the strawberry scent that always seems to linger on his skin after he visits you.  But here in this room, it’s only the pleasure of your company and the opportunity to make you laugh and smile that he will ask from you.

Pressing a finger to his lips, you assure him, “Shhhhhh, Francisco.  I want to.  You’ve been so good to me these last few months.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you make me feel so special – it’s been a long time since anyone has made me feel this way.”

“Baby, I want to make you feel special everyday,” breathes Frankie.

You sigh, “And you’re so respectful.  I appreciate it so much, baby.  Please. Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”  Letting your lacy black bra fall to the ground, you watch as Frankie’s pupils dilate until his eyes turn jet black with want, jaw dropping.

“Holy fuck, Shortcake,” Frankie practically growls, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.”  His unblinking gaze lingering over your pert and bouncy curves, bare and presented for him – a sight he didn’t even dare allow himself to dream.

Cocking your head to the side, you can’t help but feel your heart burst at his admission, “You think about me, Francisco?”

“All the time, baby,” there’s no use playing coy with you, not when you’re so perfect and vulnerable before him.  Frankie manages to tear his eyes away from your nearly nude body only to be met with what he thinks is the most beautiful sight on Earth, you smiling at him sweetly, radiating pure happiness.  Did he do that?  Did he make you happy?  He can’t help but feel a burst of pride - he wants to do it again and again.

Almost shyly, you tease, “Would you let me dance for you?”

Finding himself at a loss for words, Frankie can only assent with a quick nod before he watches, mesmerized, as you start to sway you body to the beat of the music pouring in from outside the private room; every line and dip of your figure moves rhythmically as if to hypnotize him.  Frankie doesn’t know how long you dance, but every brush of your legs against his causes his dick to twitch and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning.  When you move your hands to cup those perfect breasts of yours, he stares as you fondle and play with your nipples and thinks he might actually rip holes in his jeans with how hard he’s digging his fingers into his legs.  He’s painfully hard and he wants to touch you so bad.  But, of course he won’t.  You trust him not to cross that line, and he would never want you to feel anything but perfectly safe with him.

When you finally open your eyes, you see Frankie gazing at you - eyes glued to your face with an almost pained look of reverence, devotion etched into the handsome features of his face and it makes your heart sing.  “Francisco,” you tut playfully, “I finally get half naked for you, and you’re looking at my face?”

“Prettiest view in the room, Shortcake.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr, and then as if taking off your top for him wasn’t bold enough, you close the little distance left between your bodies and kiss him.  Soft and tentative at first, but when you feel Frankie’s mouth chase yours for more, the kiss quickly becomes needy, hungry.  Frankie’s hands remain on his legs, so you touch him for the both of you – running your hands through his soft hair, you cradle his head in your palms and tip his face to yours, pulling him up so you can press your lips more greedily to his.  Frankie’s tongue finds yours and he matches its every brush and stroke with equal fervour; as he map the inside of your mouth, the needy groans that vibrate from the back of your throat make his teeth rattle and his heart soar.  You gasp for air, but don’t take in enough because you can’t bear to be parted from his perfect, plush mouth – trading air for the dizziness that comes with the way Frankie devours you.  You kiss him like it’s everything you’ve been wanting to do for the last few months because it is; you kiss him like it’s the last time because it might be.

You break apart to the chime of the bell that warns the private rooms that their sessions are almost over.  Arms still around Frankie’s neck, you’re flattened against him – your knees pressed against his groin where you can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, your now heaving breasts tucked right beneath his chin, but he only has eyes for your face – the two of you grinning like lovestruck fools, though Frankie swears your eyes look a little sad.

“Time’s almost up, Francisco,” you whisper.  Backing away, you grab your bra from where it fell earlier and thread your arms through the straps.  Turning, you hold the cups to your chest and throw over your shoulder, “Do you mind?”

Wordlessly, Frankie expertly hooks your bra closed; when the backs of his thick fingers brush against your skin to buffer the snap of the band, that iota of contact sends an electrical current straight to your throbbing core.  And just when you think that’s all you’ll ever have of Francisco’s touch, you feel it: a soft, tender kiss to your lower back.  It’s so sweet you have to choke back a sob. 

Leaving him at the curtain to the room, you kiss his cheek lightly as you always do.

“See you next time, Shortcake.”

“Goodnight, Francisco.”

As if you were clairvoyant, the call from your old job comes the following Wednesday, and by that Friday you’ve worked your last shift at The Midnight Palace.  Saying goodbye to your co-workers, you know you’ll genuinely miss them and truly hope to keep in touch.

You wrestle briefly with leaving Francisco a message, but the truth is, you don’t know what you’d say or what you’d be asking for.  What you shared in the private room had seemed so precious and real, but was it really?  Could it ever survive in the real world?  The real world of kids, and long work days, and mundane chores?  If the magic of your time together with Frankie was marred by reality or if he never even responded, your fantasy of him would be shattered and then you wouldn’t even have the memory of him.  So, selfishly and somewhat cowardly, you opt to keep your little fantasy of Francisco for yourself and your lonely nights, and you leave knowing that in a week’s time he’ll show up and find you gone. 

The return to work is unremarkable and your schedule quickly normalizes to what it was before the lab incident; you’re happy to see your team again and easily delve back into the work you enjoy.  The remainder of the summer passes quickly, and before you know it, the first day of kindergarten is upon you.

Walking hand in hand with your son, you can’t help shedding a few tears seeing your child take this monumental step.  He’s nervous, but is taking a lot of big kid pride in being brave like you talked about.  After helping him find his cubby and putting his backpack away, you step into the hallway to say your last goodbyes as the teacher has instructed.

Burying his face in your neck, your son murmurs, “I love you, mama,” before striding confidently back into the classroom, waving back to your tearful, “I love you, Ray-ray! See you after school!”

Behind you, you hear the sniffles of a young girl who is having a little more difficulty separating from her parent; the low rumble of her father whispering words of reassurance and love transition to a louder and clear, “I’m proud of you, mija!” as the little girl walks tentatively towards the open door of the classroom.

That voice.  That calm, deep baritone is oddly familiar to you but you can’t quite place it.  You might puzzle over it a little if it wasn’t for your son reaching out his hand to the little girl at that moment and saying, “Hi!  I’m Raynor!  I’m in your class!” and the little girl smiling back wide, “Hi Raynor!  I’m Valentina!” before they walk hand-in-hand towards their new teacher.

Proud of your son and slightly relieved that he might have just made his first friend, you turn around to beam at the father of the little girl. 

You can only imagine the look of brief recognition quickly giving way to shock that the tall, good-looking man gives you, mirrors your own.  How was this possible?

Francisco.

Part 2

[akingdomscrypt]

War is Over (and what have we done?)

Part One

Paring; Graves x m!reader

Word Count; ~3.3k

Warnings; slight mention of s/h in beginning. For like 2 sentences. A side character is in a coma.

A/n; Another installment already? So soon? It's more likely than you'd think. (also the title was orig. something else, but it was too long so I changed it. So enjoy this ref to that one depressing Christmas song lol.)

--- "code orange" ---

You were the acting Commander of Shadow Company. After the retreat from Las Almas, you and the other Shadows had been left without a leader. So, seeing as you had been second in command since the company had begun, you were indirectly assigned the position. It wasn't exactly something the others gave much thought to; you just happened to be there, barking orders of retreat when the fire caught.

Eleven months later, and here you were. Sitting at a cold, metal desk in a chair that squealed with every movement.

Almost forty-seven weeks after that nightmare had landed you back at home base. A little duller than you remembered, but it was still standing and it wasn't born from the seeds of betrayal. It was yours, it had always belonged to you and the others. That's all that mattered, you told yourself. They were still standing, just like this old, dusty facility, and that is all that counted.

Three-hundred-thirty-four and a half days since you had dug a virgin blade into the back of someone almost considered a friend, and had withdrawn sin instead. You fiddled with that blade now. Between burnt fingertips, singed with the flames of betrayal. Your usual gloves were discarded for this.. ritual of sorts; balancing the knife from finger to finger, slipping it between webbing. Watching it, feeling that cool metal against your mutilated skin, seeing your hidden reflection thrown back at you. You should have left it buried in his flesh, left it back in a whole other country. You hadn't.

Over eight thousand hours have passed, and you hadn't gotten far. Lounging in your familiar yet foreign office, the sharp edge of a blade pressing much too close to scarred, unfeeling palms. The only evidence that it was even there was found in the crimson droplets landing in muted thud's on your desk.

Four hundred and eighty-one thousand, eight hundred and one minutes after the fact and you had an untouched stack of recruitment papers piling up somewhere to your left. Forms you had yet to even make a conscious effort to flip through, even though the choice to reopen enlistments had been your own. Just the mere sight of that new, friendly face smiling on top of the mountain of documents had you grimacing. The bright image plastered there, far too optimistic for your taste, only brought back memories. Memories of other faces. Other names. Names that are lost, but never forgotten. Not to you. One shiny-new recruit could never fill the void of dozens of expertly trained, heartbreakingly familiar war-hardened soldiers.

An ungodly amount of seconds later and here you sat, in all your unholy, defaced glory. With burn scars traveling from the tips of your fingers and along your forearms. Over time you had found that a particularly nasty scar covering parts of your throat and consuming the edges of your jaw often brought back memories you weren't too fond of. It wasn't unusual to wear a mask when on a mission, all the Shadows did, but these days you would never be caught alive without that secure piece of cloth. Concealed and buried deep under, just like your disfigured hands.

So much time had passed, but it never felt like enough.

The first call of a mourning dove is what kick-starts your morning. Sleep wasn't a thing you did often these days, so you would wait in your office after tossing and turning in your bed for who knows how long. Doing the same little ritual every day before daybreak, before that first sorrowful trill.

Then, now that it was socially acceptable for you to, you would exit your office. Chin held high and every inch of skin–apart from the, thankfully, untouched flesh of your upper face–covered, shrouded in black.

Now that your Shadows were beginning to stir, the first part of your morning routine started with you making rounds. Giving a light knock to each metallic door, rousing them from the lingering remnants of sleep.

Once you were finished with that, you'd swing by each place where an exhausted Shadow was stationed. And–with the knowledge that they'd be replaced pretty soon–you would quietly relieve them from their duties. Allowing them to get a few more hours of sleep before the liveliness of the facility was in full swing.

With a murmured; "thanks, Lt." They'd be on their way.

After that, you'd swing by the mess hall and grab a protein bar. Making your way down to medical you would try your damnedest to keep the paranoia-ridden thoughts at bay. Thoughts like he was probably dead. Had died while you were away and you weren't there to see him pass. You ignored them because, just like every other day, when you made it back to his bedside; he was still breathing.

Shadow 0-9. Or, to his friends, Viper. One of the few from your original squad who had made it out of that godforsaken city alive. Well, barely. He was hooked up to various beeping machines, numerous tubes running in and out of his body. You weren't well versed in the knowledge of medical terminology, but you knew the main tube stuck down his throat was hooked up to a ventilator. The main thing keeping him breathing. Assisting his weak lungs in the seemingly daunting task.

Other than the medical tools keeping him breathing and his body stable, there was the–in your humble opinion–excessive amount of medical tape and bandages wrapped around practically his entire body. A near-fatal concussion. Several broken bones. Including, but not limited to, ribs, a wrist, mandible, femur, and humerus. In other words; the entire left side of his body was a mangled mess. A light dusting of his own fair share of burn wounds littered his body, but they weren't extreme and most likely wouldn't scar too badly. The same couldn't be said for you.

Some of the medics had joked that it was a miracle he was still alive. You hadn't laughed.

So there you sat. Watching his comatose sleeping form, nibbling at the protein bar you'd taken from mess. You'd sit there watching waiting for a few hours, guarding him from nothing in particular. There was nothing here that could hurt him. You trusted your medical staff, and they knew how important he was. How important all of your Shadows were. So, really, there was no reason for you to worry. No reason for you to sit here, watching over a man who barely even thought of you as a friend anymore.

But there was a tiny portion of your brain that told you as long as you were here, protecting him, he was untouchable. As if your mere presence was enough to keep the hands of death from reaching out and claiming his already half-dead body.

You could only sit there for so long before the intrusive thoughts became too much and your backside grew numb from sitting in that, frankly hard as hell, metal chair. With one last glance at him, you'd stand, turn around, throw your half-eaten protein bar away, and leave. Not even uttering a goodbye to the fresh morning staff before you were halfway through the door.

Next on your daily schedule was supervising afternoon drills. There had been a prolonged period of time after you all's return that these fields had been empty, the shooting range void of any life, and even the well-frequented gym was dead silent. With over half of the crew injured and the other half too shell-shocked to pick up a weapon or throw a punch, training had come to a standstill. But now, several grueling months later, the grounds were filled with bodies once more.

You didn't join in on the activities much these days. Preferring to train alone, usually when everyone else was asleep and under the blanket of night. But you found a bit of reprieve in watching. A small part of you settled at the sight of your Shadows performing their old drills, laughing and joking around with each other during breaks. It felt almost like old times. It reminded you that–while you'd lost more soldiers than you could sanely count–there was still good here. That they were alive and well, and not attached to an ungodly amount of life-stabilizing medical equipment.

You preferred them laughing without restraint–even if that meant you were a little lax on the rules he had put in place–over the sight of them bed bound to a thin, uncomfortable cot.

When afternoon training lulled to an end, you would silently take your leave. Not even glancing at the now-crowded mess hall–you should probably hire more staff, especially if there would soon be fresh recruits joining in soon–you would head straight for your office once more. Head up in the clouds–rainy, dark grey clouds.

You hated how familiar these walls were. How you could still hear the laughter of long-since dead soldiers lingering behind every corner. Their voices haunted you. It's what kept you up at night. Well, that and the unrelenting burn of your otherwise dead flesh.

The med team had said it should stop soon. They had even sent you on your way with a tube of burn cream. Something about nerve endings needing to scar over. That, besides an itching now and again, your marred skin should heal over pretty well over the course of a few months.

That had been a week after your return to base, and the tube had long since been used months ago. It still burned, still felt like you were surrounded by that scalding metal. Like you could still feel those flames melting your skin, even through your uniform, that acrid smoke scorching your heaving lungs.

You didn't think to mention this to the med staff. They had enough on their hands as it was, they didn't need you taking up their valuable time on top of it.

They had had to peel the cloth off your body. The mixture of nylon and cotton had melted, welding itself to your burning flesh. You'd been bed-bound for weeks. After that, though it was strongly encouraged you stayed still, you had had enough and we're walking around the base with the top half of your body wrapped in an excessive amount of gauze. It's not like they could stop you, after all.

Since you and the others had returned, missing a large chunk of the team that had gone with–including a certain someone no one had dared to mention–, not a single person had said a word against you. None of them questioned your authority. Not even the most hard-headed, he-who-shall-not-be-named loyal soldiers had opened their mouths. You had that going for you at least.

Now, pushing open your office door, it was time for the most dreadful time of your day. You had spent months getting your team back together and making sure everyone was at an acceptable level of okay before you made the company's presence known again. You had begun reasserting your credibility with other organizations, strengthening ties with old allies. No one else was going to do it, so it may as well have been you.

It was several, several more months after that when you had taken the step to reopen communications with the very team you had backstabbed. More time after that for their leader, the Captain himself, to even acknowledge your attempts at lending an olive branch.

After all of that, he had finally agreed to speak to you. And only you. His only prerequisites were that you were only to communicate with him directly and that you had no connections with the supposed dead man and the General. The Captain had required proof that the old commander was no longer in your ranks–you couldn't offer confirmed death, but several invasive questions later were enough for him. Failure to comply with these demands–and on the impossible chance he was alive–was followed by an unspoken threat of your untimely death.

Insurance. He'd called it.

So, here you were. Sitting in front of your laptop and waiting for that god-awful video call, hoping you would be able to salvage the shredded remains that were your allyship with task force 141. A bond that had been clawed apart and mutilated by your own sinful hands.

The ringtone pierced through the deafening silence of the room, ice-cold dread clutches at your chest and your body seizes. It takes you far too long to uncurl your clenched fist–a blank icon along with the phrase Capt. Price blinking on the screen–and urge a gloved finger to press that button and accept the call.

The fuzzy, pixelated screen eventually smoothes out and suddenly you have lost the ability to talk. You had never spoken to this man before, outside of encrypted emails.

"Evening, Lieutenant." His graveled, British voice echoes through the speaker. You had never even directly traded words with him in person, a silent shadow–hah–behind that arrogant man. An observer. Not much of a talker.

"You alright there?" He's obviously sitting in his own office. That wooden desk and warm-toned background is a high contrast to your own metal desk and dull, grey theme. "Lieutenant?"

"Jus'-" your accent had a habit of sneaking out of that latched box of professionalism when anxiety flooded your veins. You cleared your throat with a small cough to correct it. "Just peachy, Captain."

An awkward silence lulls on. This is why you didn't do this. You had always been a trusted soldier, well-versed in various strategies of combat. You could clear a room of unfriendlies with only your favorite blade without breaking a sweat. But this? You didn't do this. Communication. The very idea of it sent your mind reeling, all coherent thoughts scrambling.

"Good." Ohthankgod. "Now, are you ready to begin?"

"Affirmative, sir." Ew. Why did you sound like that? All… strained and unnatural. As if you were a robot imitating a human, or an alien occupying a body for the first time.

"Very well." The sound of some papers shuffling and a chair adjusting emit from his side of the call. "So we have already established that Gra-"

"The old commander." You quickly, and unthinkingly, interject. You internally cringe at your reflex reaction and you're about to apologize when the Captain says;

"Right. The old commander. The hopefully deceased commander."

"I cannot say for sure that he is, Captain." You really can't. There was a lot of fire. A lot of blood. "But I can confirm he does not reside with us any longer."

"And where would that be?"

"I'd rather not discuss this topic, sir." Ah, yes. Tell him the location of you and your Shadows. That sounded like a perfectly safe and wise decision.

"Of course." A beat of silence. "On to other matters then. Would you say your team has-"

A frantic knock at your door halts his question. You don't mute the call, but you do give a slight raise of your hand. For professionalism's sake, you wouldn't typically answer the door. But this sounded urgent. Hardly anyone ever knocked.

Looking up from your laptop, you call out a clipped; "Come in."

Venn opens the door quickly, barely catching it from slamming against the wall behind it. Her eyes are wide with panic, breathing slightly labored. Fear grips your heart and your already tense body goes eerily rigid.

She's about to open her mouth when you give a pointed look back down at your laptop and the in-progress video call. Venn nods slightly in acknowledgment and takes a moment to calm herself.

"Lieutenant." She says, voice level and stiff.

"Is there something wrong, 2-1?" You do your best to keep your own tone even but damnit it's taking everything in you not to launch to your feet and into action. You don't even know the problem yet.

"There's…" Venn takes a second to think, breathing deeply through her nose. "We've got a.. we've got ourselves a code orange, sir."

You inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

"A code orange. Are you certain, 2-1?"

"Yes." Her quick reply. You nod and look back down to the waiting man on the screen.

"Sorry, Captain." You grit out. "But I'm 'fraid we'll have to reschedule."

"Tomorrow then?" He looks suspicious of your behavior, even more, concerned with the words you and your Shadow had shared. You couldn't worry about that right now. Not with a fucking code orange.

"Sure." You slam the end call button with a little more pressure than necessary. Poor keyboard. It was a surprise the damned thing was still running.

When the Captain's image closes and disappears from your screen, you jump to your feet.

"Are you sure?" You ask again as you stalk around your desk. Venn moves out of the way to allow you to exit your office, hurrying to catch up to you as you don't stop. You don't even know where you're heading.

"Where?"

Those implemented codes had never actually been used before. This was a first. No one knew what to do with themselves.

"The front gate, sir." Her voice trembles–hell, her whole body is shaking–and there's obviously something she's not telling you. You don't press for more. You will find out soon enough.

"The front gate?"

A fucking code orange.

"Yes."

An intruder.

You both more or less start jogging after that. She doesn't expand further. Simply half walk-half running by your side.

It takes a few minutes to make your way down to the first level of the facility–and that's far too much in your opinion. Every second that went by was a second you didn't know what was happening. A second out of your control. What if someone was hurt? Dead? Was the intruder attacking? Was it someone you knew? An outsider? Maybe just a lost tourist. This far away from the city made that last one very unlikely.

You push through the final door that leads to the front lawn and slow your pace to an assertive walk. It wouldn't do you well to let the unknown subject know their presence was a major concern for you. You didn't want to give them that pleasure.

Venn leaves your side to join–when the hell did they all get outside??–the alarmingly large grouping of your Shadows at the gate.

When she gets there and announces your arrival to the first Shadow she sees, they all turn to look at you. It takes you being a couple of feet from the group for the man she had whispered to to speak.

"Lieutenant." Kip sighs, raising both hands out in a placating manner. There's a certain wariness in his tone you aren't too fond of. "Don't panic. Lemme just preface this by saying-"

"Show me." You had no time for pleasantries.

Another sigh. "As you wish."

The sea of soldiers parts, giving you a front-row seat to the person standing in the middle of the opened gate.

A person you had never thought you'd see again. Never wanted to see again. Especially not smiling.

"Hey, there, Pha-"

"Detain him." It's a simple command. And your Shadows follow without a second thought. As you had mentioned; no one questioned your authority.

He lets himself be grabbed. Excessive ties around his wrists, strained a little more roughly behind his back than necessary. They herd him away quickly and silently, not uttering a word.

"What are you gonna do, sir?" Venn, very hesitantly–shifting her weight from side to side–asks.

"Whatever is necessary."

So much time had passed,

Midnight laughs, shared glances, desperate touches, breathy gasps, skin on skin-

But it was never enough.

___

Masterpost | Next

___

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

I figured I'd tag y'all just in case. I know it's probably not the fic you were expecting, but it's a part of the same AU and their paths with eventually cross. If you don't wanna be tagged for this fic in particular let me know! ^-^

[gemharvest]

wyd!Boyfriend (Beef) Reference Sheet

Extra info will be under a cut to spare y'alls dashboards, but here the guy is. The Beef Bastard. For anyone who desires to draw him.

-----

Design Notes:

Palette is flexible; can be drawn in this palette, with canon BF's palette, or given a custom palette. Colored lines are not a requisite, but if you do pure black lines while using the ref's palette, please keep everything using that color the same color (ie; his piercing, opt. nail color, sweater on Christmas outfit, etc).

Shirt does not have to be tucked! I mostly drew it like that just to have the belt visible; up to you if you want to draw it half-tucked or untucked. idc

Shading colors are optional, I just have them there because I like using them; I personally still draw the shade in on his hat/ hair, but that's just how I like doing it. His hair base can be either color tbh it doesn't matter much to me, I just have it marked as the lighter color bc that's what feels right to me personally.

Would have a square face shape & brown eyes when not as stylized as the ref. I do not have a specific eye color picked out, as I do not see myself drawing it, but anything works as long as it's a darker brown.

-----

His playlist is at the end of this post (both Spotify and YouTube versions), but if you just want to hear his sample songs, here are links (+ 2 honorable mentions):

(fw + eyestrain) WHOKILLEDXIX - Kismet

Marina - Are You Satisfied?

(fw + insect & xray clips) Will Wood - Cicada Days

Twenty One Pilots - Fake You Out

100 gecs - 745 sticky

-----

Base Info:

Cisgender bisexual (he/him); polyamorous.

Has: ADHD with RSD; anger issues that usually come out to “protect” himself (can be to “protect” others as well, tho); an inferiority complex that makes him highly competitive & masks as a superiority complex.

Astraphobic (fear of thunder & lightning) as well as having a fear of abandonment. Other than that, he’s comically fearless; acting on impulse rather than any sense.

Has a bad acne problem; some on his face, but the worst of it is on his back.

Wears loose clothes, and kinda just throws on whatever he finds first. (Which tends to be his usual outfit.)

Slightly chubby, but his clothes make it harder to tell.

Street-smart, in spite of his general stupidity. Able to hold himself pretty well in a fight, as long as he’s thinking clearly.

Fairly strong as well, though he doesn’t make an active effort to work out. Stupids his way into being able to lift shit, I guess.

Shaves his face (prefers the look) but doesn’t bother with the rest of his body. 👍

-----

Headcanons:

(there is a lot here, I do not blame you if you don't read all of these 🙏)

Stims with a lot of repetitive hand movements (shaking, snapping motion w/o sound, opening and closing); beeps are sometimes vocal stims as well.

Would benefit from chewlery dear god, but would also need high strength ones. Maybe one day someone will get him a chew stim.

Enjoys high energy & loud music. Obviously a rap fan, but would enjoy breakcore/ speedcore/ hyperpop and similar genres, as well as things like YTPMVs or stupid mashups.

His beeping is not a language, as is the same in canon, though it generally has enough of a rhythm to it that people can get the gist of the intended words the longer they're around him.

95% of the time he speaks in beeps, and if he needs to relay info to someone who doesn't understand it, he'll write his words down (as long as it's an option).

Not comfortable speaking regularly, but can do it if the situation calls for it. Takes a lot to get to that point though, and was way less confident in his words when he was younger.

His beeping can also be a vocal stim, as mentioned previously, which can throw conversation off. Beeps will also lose their proper rhythm if he's upset/ super excited and etc., making them harder to understand.

Loves small animals, rats being a particular example, and is also fascinated by insects.

Usually just ignores insects, but picks up a catch & release habit w/ ones that get inside from GF.

When they get a shared apartment, he's the one who spends the most time in it, usually alone and working on music. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed by missing his partners being around, but manages it well knowing they'll be back soon.

Likes involving his partners with his music. Most of his album covers are art by GF, and will ask Pico for input on mixing or just general thoughts on how it sounds. Will sometimes get them to do vocals as well (takes a lot of coaxing for Pico to agree, so GF features more often than he will).

Usually prefers his nails unpainted, but will let GF paint them to match with her and/ or Pico.

Before Pico entered their relationship, he had his nails painted more frequently to match her. Went down in frequency because Pico really likes it & it became something the two do together. BF is not excluded, he’s just more indifferent about it whereas Pico and GF actively like painted nails.

Prefers black above all, then blue, but also enjoys red or green for his partners.

HUGE issue with picking at acne/ scabs. Has tons of little scars from doing it.

Clingy as shiiiittt to those he’s close to. Will not be the first to let go of a hug and will be content to cling to someone for hours; need to take care of his body be damned.

Related; he has issues wanting to stay up to work on projects instead of get proper sleep, but is pretty easily convinced to go to bed if his partners are around. Because cuddle time babyyyyyy.

Can’t cook for shit. Is like a Sim with 0 cooking skill and insanely bad luck. Best dude can do is make a sandwich/ salad/ anything that doesn’t require the oven or stove, and even then he sticks to simple things because he wants to do other shit.

Relied a lot on fast food/ pre-made meals when on his own. Once moved in with his partners, Pico cooks a lot of the meals & eventually is able to teach BF and GF enough of the basics to where they can prep stuff on days he’s gone.

BF is way slower to take to cooking than GF is; ADHD partially at fault (not finding it “worth it” = not going out of his way to cook still = learns way slower, which also makes it more frustrating). He gets it eventually tho it’s Okay.

Can be kinda an ass to those he doesn’t know, though more because he’s not thinking about it than actually being malicious. Though if he realizes he’s coming off rude he doesn’t quiiiiteee care. This behavior bites him in the ass w/ how he thinks about himself but whatever he’s not thinking in the moment.

Can sometimes be hostile when first meeting people, though usually isn’t too bad.

(RGBFverse exclusive, he is super hostile to the other BFs out of confusion, and then lashes out to keep himself from getting close, because he assumes he will be let down if he does. This later feeds into a fear that, after he becomes calm around them, none of them really like him, because why would they, after how he acted?)

Has spirals related to his inferiority complex where he begins lashing out at others to push them away, because he feels they’re going to leave anyways. These don’t happen often, but it’s really hard for him to pull himself out of it when they do. Feels he’s wearing others’ patience thin, but he appreciates those who stick through it nonetheless.

List subject to change, most likely w/ new additions as I remember things I forgot, or just clarifying anything I may have worded poorly.

-----

3 songs didn't make it to the Spotify playlist because they aren't up on there. Otherwise, both have the same songs & are ordered the same.

[exnoiafork]

Hello can you make sum valk x alt reader, the reader is also in a small underground band, AND has a one sided hate-love relationship with valk (like enemies by day lovers by night type) sorry if im asking too much ×_×

OH MEY GEOSOSHSHWIWBhhAAAAAAAAAAAagausshGJBAJAAAAA

Valk x ALT!Reader

INFO:

- reader is about 23-25 and they/them pronouns

-unlike valk, who does pop, you do metal with your band

- so um. You and Valk met at this music convention where you sell music stuffs . Basically albums, merch, etc

- you guys were kinda ignoring each other at first and then started talking. you both were in a band / make music and all, soo yeah

- it started out one sided at first… but you guys started becoming pookies as he calls it

- after a few months of talking, you and Valk started to become friendly rivals. like you guys tease each other about music a lot and joke about your songs sounding like “that guy’s new song” that the internet is meming about /ref

- oh yeah worth mentioning. assuming you’re above 5’2 , you tease him for his height. Sometimes you pick him up teasingly or…. Yeah yeah

- you 2 usually attend each others concerts with vip tickets.. what you think is funny is that you always have to reserve the flipside’s tickets even before it has access to the public. Cause like they’re crazy popular and they sell out in god knows how short, probably 30 minutes.

- you both are obviously rivals, so you two start “petty drama” as a joke too. Dom couldn’t care less, but it’s a bit of a pain up his gyatt dealing with you both at the same time.

- to Firebrand, you always use gen alpha slang in front of his face, teaching gen alpha slang to the GOD OF PHIRE. crazy and he does not understand any stuff you’re saying. though he kinda finds it funny and he’s just a chill grandpa soo.. you don’t die don’t worry

- half platonic half romantic relationship

“Valk! C’mereee..”

Valk hears you with those tiny ears of his (?), and he runs up to you like a he’s a puppy and you’re holding a bone or something similar.

“Y/N!!! Pook— ah no.. Y/N! nice ‘ta see you here!”

“C’mere, shortie..”

“Anyway, uh, how’s that new song doin’?

“Oh, it’s doing greattt! Don’t worry, you’ll get the tickets first, as usual..”

“Alright, see you there.. hon.”

*winky*

exnoianote I’m so sorry for taking like 4 days to finish I’m lazy + school 💔💔 I guess when you ask be ready to wait for 4 days

[robobarbie]

Hey robo! 2 asks in one I guess

If u don't wanna answer both u can flip a coin i'll label them heads/tails

Or just pick one yknow the boring way but chance is more fun

Heads: is the scorpion tat on ur neck a ref to every time you blink or did u just vibe with the design?

Tails: song good grief by bastille: Major vibes? If not who from aai is closest? That song makes me think of aai every time I hear it

Anyway thanks hope all is well (and that u had a coin, who has change anymore fr)

looking forward to decimating ur notifs if u do angst/romance hour this weekend!!

HELLAUR!!!

the scorpion tattoo on my neck IS from every time you blink! good catch lol -- i like to do tattoos for most of the games i work on. tho i tell most people i meet on the street that it's just a tattoo for arizona (the state where i live that also has a lot of scorpions). mostly tho i just get asked if i'm a scorpio LOL (i'm not) (but i'm starting to say yes)

good grief by bastille is probs, in my mind, the most AAI song out there (it's one of the first tracks i put on the dev playlist LOL). only one character in the game has a route that deals with the loss of someone else, but everyone else has a route that deals with another kind of loss -- the loss of a dream, the loss of who they used to be before trauma, etc. mourning/loss/grief are feelings felt by more people than just those who lose others to death, albeit the scale of those feelings is quite different.

i also like this song a lot in general, because it's a mournful song while also being frank about the feeling of loss. and there's still some hope in it, somewhere. one comment on that youtube video says something like "it's a happy depression", which i like. i hope adonia ai is able to embody that same feeling for others.

[doggoneloser]

so i just binged hazbit hotel and i’m sure this has been talked about before but i can’t get over how lucifer’s two songs are so different, but particularly how different lucifer is in them both. it’s obvious how sincere More Than Anything is but his part in Hell’s Greatest Dad is really all over the place and i think it’s very interesting how this is our first musical introduction to him. now, i don’t know music theory or terminology well, but i will do my best anyway.

for a reference point, comparatively alastor’s part in Hell’s Greatest Dad is consistent to how he sounds in Stayed Gone. he might be more competitive, sure, but his tone stays entirely his. that’s just how alastor sounds, and how i expect most if not all of his songs to sound.

lucifer, though—it’s like he doesn’t know what mask to put on, what’s going to work. which makes sense, given how distant he’s been from his daughter (and seemingly the entirety of hell?) and how we saw how he didn’t even know how to answer the phone call. but he goes through so many vocal changes just in this 2 minute song. which i will try to list because i can:

the growl on “from the big boss of Hell himself” which returns in “because I’m the ref” and “who happens to be your blood”

the puppets with “(five stars! flawless! greater than great!)”

the onomatopoeias

this sort of tongue-in-cheek type singing with “usually I charge a sacrificial lamb” and “thanks dad!”

the french accent

the vibrato (I think?) in “champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that’s just the staaart” and “pure angelic power”

the background chorus in “pure angelic power”

hearing it for the first time, i could not get a read on what his singing was really like, and i feel like it’s absolutely intentional.

and in More Than Anything there is none of that. there’s some growl at the beginning when he is expressing pain/desperation, but in the actual singing, zip, zilch. it’s just his normal voice, no pizazz, no quirks or bravado or funny accents, not even really vibrato, it’s just. him.

and ofc that’s what gets him and charlie to connect so well. (and don’t get me started on charlie saying “i’ve been waiting, wanting the same thing” in response to lucifer’s “i’ve been dying to find out who you are”) (i could probably also go off about the growl in Hell’s Greatest Dad and how it’s repeated the most, but that is for another post)

anyway. i’m sure this has been noticed by now, but my brain is hooked on it. i want to sink my teeth into this little guy

[apath3t1c-pr1nc3]

Choir Ralph redraw LOL

The description is kinda important-

@noctilucaa Take a lookie 😼

YAYY

he's sad.

..

His body IS facing sideways, so uh, the cross on his cloak would not be showing. I didn't want to draw the hat, either.

I need to stop changing his hair style...

⬇️⬇️ Alright now the other important stuffiez ⬇️⬇️

REF PIC:

I do NOT know who made it, but credits to whoever did.

Aaaand....

I am LOVING these new brushes.

This one has a bit of an opacity problem, but I try to manage 😔

As for these... they're great for like little detailing and background effects or whatever yeahh :]

Silly variants

1 - No clipping and brush effects ig 🧍‍♂️

2 - 🐱

3 - lil angel guy

He's so silly

I don't know how to name links yet but this is my first choir Ralph 💀💀 ugly ahh bitch

And I think I figured out an issue- the longer I take on something, the better it'll turn out. I'm just looking at this redraw of choir Ralph, and I'm like- 😗 damb

LIKE. I SPENT 5 HOURS ON THIS- (I think) all while listening to the same song the entire time which I LOVE doing for... uhm.. days...

The "you promised me" parts remind me of Piggy and Ralph ngl 🧍‍♂️

Silly song

I'm not sure if anyone has already made a choir Ralph AU yet, but I'd sure like to be the first. :> I've seen hunter Ralph before, but I wanted to just throw the choir uniform on Ralph. HEHEHEH

Anyway... CHOIR RALPH YIPPEEEE

[notyourmajesty]

Henry's Dog David, and How RWRB (the Book and the Movie) Explore the Meaning of His Name.

(GIF by @andysapril)

CW: Mentions of deaths, murder attempts, mostly from Bible verses.

An Easter Egg from the book that the film managed to incorporate in an entirely different context.

Henry naming his dog David is one of the things Alex comments on both in the film and the book. He finds the name particularly odd for a pet, and when Henry tells him later that the inspiration was David Bowie, Alex remarks that he could have just used the surname instead.

This is basically just me overthinking the way the book and the film added "David and Jonathan" to two totally different scenes haha.

David Bowie

There has been a lot of debate over Bowie's sexuality since the 70s, and possibly conflicting statements from Bowie himself over the decades, but he did leave quite an impact on queer people in his time (ref: this article). Henry both in the book and in the film has often turned to literature and art for inspiration, and solace, when it came to exploring his own identity as a gay man. All kinds of historical queer identities - both debated and confirmed - show up in the tapestry of people and ideas that have influenced Henry's own thoughts and ideas (Alex's too). So it definitely makes sense that he would name his beloved pet dog after one of those inspirations.

(notably, during Henry's dramatic entrance when Alex comes down to the UK for damage control, the song playing is Bowie's "Up the Hill Backwards". You also see him choose a Queen song for karaoke, which makes me want to really headcanon him as a 70s prog rock fan 😄)

David and Jonathan

In the book, Alex goes over the details of Henry's fact sheet with Nora and his sister June. When he mentions the name of Henry's dog, he claims his dislike for the name is because it sounds more like a "tax attorney" than a beloved pet (Ch 2).

In the film, it's his SS detail Amy who quizzes him. She responds to his quip about Henry's choice of name for a pet by telling him what she's named her own dog. It's a tiny, fun detail with no lasting importance in the film, but I feel it does work within the larger framework of how the film incorporates queer readings and figures too.

I see this as a reference to a popular reading of the Hebrew/Biblical story of David and Jonathan from the 2 books of Samuel. David was a shepherd anointed by the prophet Samuel (through orders from God), to succeed King Saul, and Jonathan was Saul's son who was extremely devoted to David and even saved him from his father's wrath. They were known to have made a covenant to each other soon after they met, and the first Book of Samuel gives us a picture of an immensely close bond between the two:

After David had finished talking with Saul, Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself. From that day Saul kept David with him and did not let him return home to his family. And Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him as himself. Jonathan took off the robe he was wearing and gave it to David, along with his tunic, and even his sword, his bow and his belt. (1 Samuel 18, 1-4)

Interpretations of their relationship have ranged from close friendship to a romantic relationship, and there have been many, many queer readings on this pair.

In Casey McQuiston's RWRB too, Alex references both a saying from the Book of Proverbs (24:13), and the story of David and Jonathan in the same paragraph. This is in Ch 10, when Henry takes Alex to the V&A museum. This particular sequence is in the inner chamber of the museum, shortly after the couple dance to Elton John's "Your Song".

He compares himself and Henry to "a lost David and Jonathan", and it's pretty obvious why when you think of their devotion, and the tragic end of the relationship of the latter. Like Jonathan, Henry is a prince utterly devoted to one man, and sure that his family too will be against their bond. Like David, Alex is an outsider who the royal family may view as a threat to their stability, and therefore must be kept away. David's love for Jonathan is immense: he makes the covenant with Saul's son soon after they meet, and when he mourns Jonathan's death, he says "Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women." (2 Samuel 1:26).

This amazing post from @elipheleh explores this metaphor more in detail (as well as St. Chiara, and a quote from Oscar Wilde, who is referenced both in the book and the film as a writer Henry is fond of). It also speaks about the verse from the Book of Proverbs that Alex remembers, partly in Spanish, partly in English - Eat honey, my son, for it is good; honey from the comb is sweet to your taste. (Proverbs 24:13-14)

(Jonathan in 1 Samuel also has his own reference to honey - there is a story that chronicles a tense moment between Jonathan and his father, King Saul, due to Jonathan eating wild honey on a day when the troops were bound by an oath to fast (he had not heard the oath himself). He almost faces death by Saul's hand for breaking the oath the latter had made, but is saved by the other people in the troops. (1 Samuel 14: 24-46). I've seen different ways of this passage being interpreted - as either Jonathan being judged for disobeying an oath even though he was not around when it was announced, or Saul being viewed as foolish for making such an oath in the first place. The main point is, Saul is ready to kill his son for breaching a certain protocol, and it is the people who save Jonathan.

Similarly IMO, Henry is prepared to live his whole life in the closet viewing his sexuality as something that would bring shame to his family, but eventually recognizes that he has support. Both within his family (in the form of his mother Catherine and his sister Bea), and in the public eye)

At this point in their lives, Alex and Henry see very little hope that things will get better soon enough for them to unite. It is more than likely that - in their minds - this one romantic visit will be their last for a long, long time. Of course David and Jonathan - who parted ways in the hope of being reunited after the battle with Jonathan's father, and whose friendship/love met a tragic end - would be considered a fitting parallel for the situation Alex and Henry find themselves in.

The book has the space and scope to explore many, many images and symbols that could fit Alex and Henry. Whether it's in the letters they send each other, the references Alex learns more about as he figures out his sexuality. The book can - at the V&A museum - describe the statues the two men linger at in loving detail, making us more aware how poignant their temporary separation will be and how bittersweet this last dance is.

The movie's focus is different - the V&A scene is a (presumably) final, deeply intimate moment that lets Alex see for real the weight of his role in Henry's environment, and how little he expects to see his dreams come true. It also lets Henry see how determined Alex is to make his every dream a reality.

Most moments of highlighting queer literature or history are pocketed away in smaller sequences in the film, as small references and Easter eggs (eg. the books they recommend each other), as the film focuses more on the relationship and it's effects both on the men and the world around them. The V&A is more a visual backdrop for that bittersweet last moment where the two can find equal ground and truly understand each other. I think mentioning the names of the statues would take away from that.

The movie didn't need to include David and Jonathan. Why is why I'm truly, truly grateful that they still did. Even as a tiny, cute Easter egg that is supposed to be banter about weirdly specific pet-naming protocol 💖

[mizuruifan9]

My mizurui au!!! Time-changer

okay so I think my mizurui au was pure trash so I'm remaking it!!! With more info!!!

now time to info dump!!!!

It takes place in the 1600's, Rui is a simple villager in Europe, she is 19 years old, and sick, in this AU she also has long hair, she is best friends with Tsukasa, another villager who writes plays in his free time, and has 2 younger siblings who he adores(Saki and Toya live with him in this AU). Due to Rui's sickness, she needs to be taken care of by Doctor Kusanagi. Kusanagi guesses that Rui will die soon due to the disease. When Rui is about to sleep, her heartbeat stops and Kusanagi thinks Rui has finally died, but no. Mizuki is the goddess of life, with her strings she controls how long mortals live, she sees that Rui has a lot of things left that she can do, and doesn't feel like letting her die quite yet, and so, she doesn't cut the string, letting Rui live, but she is now less human, as her heart still doesn't beat, and the only reason she is alive is because of Mizuki, basically living in a corpse now, like a zombie. Kusanagi reports that Rui is somehow alive to Emu, and rumor spreads that Rui has been cursed by a witch and is a zombie. Ena, the goddess of beauty and death, sees this happening and doesn't like Mizuki's decision, and wants to let Rui die like she should've.

Bonus info on characters!

Mafuyu is the goddess of memories, winter, and the past and Kanade is the goddess of rebirth, future and desire.

Tsukasa is a young man(20) with a younger sister(Saki) and brother(Touya). His parents died 3 years ago of natural causes (the life expectancy wasn't that long back then) and so Tsukasa has to take care of his family himself. He met Rui while bargaining on the market for bread. Tsukasa enjoys to write poetry and plays when he is bored under candle light.

Emu is a young maiden, she is part of the Otori family who rules the village, sometimes she gives her extra money to the poor. Shes expected to be the next ruler when her father dies. Emu is also 20 years old.

Nene is a doctor, and the best one in their town, she serves the royal family and all the villagers if they pay a price, she is 21, and lives in the royal quarters. She currently takes care of Rui and Emu's father.

Rui is a young villager, she is very bright. Rui is 19 years old and horribly ill. She has long purple hair and is friends with Tsukasa. When they were kids, they would play together at Tsukasa's house.

An is Touya's friend, and her family sings songs for the royal family.

Mizuki is the goddess of life, she has a basket of strings, inside there is an endless amount, each representing a humans life, when she cuts the string, the human dies.

Ena is the goddess of death and beauty, she makes sure the balance of dead and alive is always kept, but there was once a maiden she favored...she doesn't wish to speak of what happened, but she will make sure Mizuki doesn't make the same mistake, and balance is kept.

also might make character ref sheets when I get the motivation, but for now @kaedahara-kazuhas-leaf has made some very great designs for Ena and Mizuki which you should totally check out if you are interested!

YEAH!!!!!!!

feel free to ask questions

I rewrote this at 3am so there might be some mistakes!

[usaigi]

Modern Blue Lions headcanons

Dimitri

Has difficulties with fine motor skills following the car accident that killed his family and Glenn. Has to use accommodating tools like specific silverware and a laptop to take notes in class. Kids used to be jealous that he got use a laptop in class but he just wanted to be normal

Regular member of his school GSA but everyone assume he's just a straight ally because look at him. Look at his hair. He's straight. His classmates don't discover he's actually bi until a week before graduation when they see him kiss Felix

Also a regular member of the BIPOC solidarity club. Dimitri, Dorothea, Ashe and Constance are the token white allies.

(mental health spiraling) "haha puberty/hormones :) No need to discuss these new symptoms with anyone, it's just normal teenager things" (it is not normal teenage things)

Annette

banned from home ec after starting a fire while making a salad... She's was trying to make homemade croutons...

girl ADHD :)

she got a B on a chem test one and cried about it for 2 days straight

"Maybe if I get all A and get this many awards and get this many scholarships, my dad will love me :)" (girl.. :( )

Frenemies with Lysithea. They're buddies until it's time for exams. Then it's war. There can only be one valedictorian. (death note's "I'll take a potato chip and eat it" songs plays in the background)

Olivia Rodrigo stan

Sylvain

Hasn't said "okay i'm sorry that I looked at Mrs Riley and lightly grazed her left tit" but has said that exact same thing

friend with a car. "yeah we can all fit into my Audi; Annette and Ashe are tiny, just squeeze in and pretend you like each other. We can stick Felix in the trunk" "I'll kill you."

He's in Lacross AND theatre. Ice hockey AND Ice dancing and figure skating. He can do both, he's bisexual

Has to pick between a major sport game and his theatre show. His dad wants him to follow his dream and do the game but Sylvain is getting ready to tell him "no dad i'm giving up your dream." He backs out. He goes to the game.

"You got a perfect score on the college entrance exams?" "Why is it hard?" (he studied so much)

Ingrid

"Gay people are real??? They don't just exist in San Francisco and on Glee???" /gen confusion. Not in a homophobic way, she's just raised in a conservative environment and instead of going on the internet, she hangs out with her horses (Just wait till she finds out about trans people)

When her family was going through a particularly hard financial time, her friends started packing extra lunch. They all know she doesn't accept handouts but Ingrid will never say no to leftovers.

So chronically offline. Who's Billie Eilish? What's Succession? What is Rizz?? They're making another Spider-Man movie!?

Dedue

Vice-president of the BIPOC solidarity club. The school gives them club money and he uses it to make food for the members.

"..." "Go on" "Down with... gringo?" *Claude, Petra, Felix, Cyril, Hapi, Constance, Dimitri, Ashe and Dorothea all clap*

Football/Basketball/Hockey couches keep trying to recruit him. He just wants to garden.

(Tw racism and ref to violence to poc men) "I don't want to antagonist white people. As a large brown man, I'm already perceived as a threat." "That's ok! Your safety comes first. I got this," Dorothea says as she throws eggs at someone's car with a confederate flag.

Mercedes

"I'm joining the war on liberation theology on the side of liberation theology."

"Mercedes! Can you explain your tardiness?" "Forgive me, professor, I was at morning mass." (She was. But she's late because she stop to smoke a blunt.)

In her most angelic, big sister voice, "fuck TradCaths 😊"

Somehow still failing her religious studies class

(tw cults and implied anti semitic conspiracy) Raised in a religious cult where her step dad was the leader until she and her mom escaped. Because of this, did not know Jewish people were real. "I knew they were people in the bible but all I knew was [redact]" (Don't worry, she knows better now that she's not in a literal cult)

Felix

"I fucking hate my dad" "why? Is it cause he didn't accept you being queer/trans?" "No, he was cool with that. He's just fucking annoying."

"Ingrid, what the hell, I'm literally trans. You know this. We've been friends since we were in diapers." "Oh. I forgot." "YOU FORGOT!?"

Wasian. (tw sui joke) @ Dimitri and Sylvain "stop joking about killing yourself--you're appropriating my culture, assholes."

Secret Olivia Rodrigo fan. He only listens to her music on youtube + incognito mode. Only Annette knows. Annette manages to get them concert tickets were they run into Lysithea.

Ashe

Spider-Man stan on main. Somehow he convinces Dedue to be his Ned Leeds to his Peter Parker for Halloween

He knows Ingrid would like the MCU if she watched it, but she's scared of needing to watch 10000 movies

*slaps Ashe's back* You can pack so much anxiety in this guy

Started school in the middle of the year because he's a foster kid. Rumors started spread about him being a harden criminal because he went to juvie. He keeps tries to correct them and say he's never been but Caspar keeps fueling the rumors

"Caspar! Stop telling people I went to juvie! That never happened!" "...You... lied to me? :(" "You made it up!" "Oooh. Right."

[grealishy]

LOVER - Jack Grealish

summary - while visiting your best friend from high school, you run into and old friend, but things aren’t the same between you two.

pairing - jack grealish x fem!reader

warnings - slight uses of profanity, mentions of alcohol cunsumption

song inspo - lover, taylor swift

word count - 2k

this is my first fic and i hope you enjoy it!

I also have to make this multiple parts, so sorry about that!

can we always be this close, forever and ever?

after four long hours from London, you had finally arrived in Manchester. You stepped off the train and headed to the arrival area to meet your friend Maddie.

You and Maddie had been best friends since primary school, but ever since you moved to London three years ago, and Maddie living in Manchester since University, you had barley seen her, although you try to make time to see each other at least once a year, however every year she had come to London. This was your first year visiting her in Manchester, and you were eager to finally see Maddie.

After walking around the pick up area for a good 10 minutes, you finally see her car. Excitement fills your body and you can't help but rush over to her with an embarrassingly huge smile. As Maddie sees you run over she gets out of her car and spreads her arms out wide.

You two meet in a hug, both not wanting to let go. It had been so long since the two of you had been together.

"MADDIE!"

"Y/N!"

"It's been forever! How are you!"

"I'm good, how are you? How was the train ride? Good?"

"Yeah, it was really good. Although the breakfast sandwich I ordered really got me through it" You said with a chuckle.

Maddie helped you with your bags and brought them to the trunk of her car. Once you both got settled in the front seat, Maddie turned the radio on and she started driving to her place.

Once you pulled into the driveway to Maddie's house, you brought your things inside, being met with barks of her little toy poodle, jasper, and the smell of apple cinnamon from a candle that was burning. It was a warm type of feel, like a warm hug.

There was a Manchester City v Liverpool game on the tv which was fitting since Maddie was a HUGE Manchester City fan. You were a Chelsea fan since living in London, but all in all, you didn't keep up with football as much as you used to when you were still in school, however when you were an avid football watcher, Manchester City was naturally your team.

"OH! Y/N! I forgot to mention, I got us tickets for a Man City v Tottenham match on Friday! Should be a good game!"

"Oh my God! Thanks Mads! I'm sure it will be"

The two of you ordered Chinese food and sat down, watching the game carefully, getting frustrated with the ref, and cheering when possession would change back to City. Just as the game was coming to an end, your food had arrived.

"ANDDDDD...... END, 2-1 CITY!! LETS GOOO!" Maddie screamed, giving you a high five.

It was like you and her were never separated.

-

You and Maddie spent the whole week going shopping, eating out, and watching movies.

"Y/n, did you bring your City jersey? Because if not we NEED to get you one to wear to the game. And, I mean, I could lend you one of mine, but why not use this as an accuse to get another. In fact, I'll just buy you one!"

You both make your way to the Manchester City fan store and you are met with an overwhelming amount of light blue everything. Surrounded by numbers and standard blank jerseys, you look around picking out one you would wear for the game.

"How about Haaland? He's the best on the team I'd argue. Or, oh my God, you need a Grealish jersey!"

Jack Grealish. Star football player. Midfielder for Manchester City and England's national team. Who didn't know who Jack Grealish was.

The funny thing was that he was an old classmate of Maddie and Y/n, from primary school all the way to high school.

"Very funny Mads."

"No, I'm being serious. It's not every day that your best friend, after me of course, from school becomes a professional footballer who is loved across the nation and plays for one of the best teams in England! You need his Jersey Y/n, you two used to be so close!"

You fool your eyes. It's true, the two of you were close, but you live very different lives now and it's not like you are still friends with him.

"I'll just get the Haaland jersey Mads."

"If you say so."

-

"NEXT!"

You and Maddie step up to check into the match, excitement flooding your body. The energy at matches were always so electric.

As you were walking towards your seats, you realize that you keep walking, getting really close to the pitch.

"here." Maddie says. You are one row from the pitch, sitting on the end of the second row.

"Maddie, what the fuck."

"What?" she says cheekily.

"These seats are insane, I mean really fucking insane"

"Only the best for the best"

You hug her and take a seat.

Before you know it kick off is happening and the game starts. The stadium is rumbling from cheers of mainly Man City fans, and the energy is something that is like a drug. You catch a sort of high from the pure adrenaline.

The game stops for half-time and you are excited to see the players walk by as your seats are right near the tunnel to the locker rooms.

As the players walk by you are met with a familiar face.

It is none other than Mr. Jack Grealish. You make eye contact with him as he walks by. You don't think anything of it, until he does a double take and smiles widely. But that was just a friendly smile, right?

-

Was that? Can't be... Unless.. No, she lives in London... But it looked just like her...

"GREALISH! ARE YOU LISTENING BOY?! WE ARE DOWN ONE-NIL, FOCUS UP DAMMIT" Pep yells.

Pep finishes giving his speech, which was honestly more like screaming at the squad until they feel threatened enough to make a difference in their game, and Jack is eager to get back on the pitch, especially seeing a girl that looked a little too similar too his childhood best friend.

The boys run back onto the pitch, and Jack makes a point to look closely at the girl. Although she was preoccupied at admiring Tottenham's Son who was already on the field, Jack could tell that the girl was definitely his old friend, however he noticed that she had a sparkle to her, something he had never noticed before, or something she gained while in London. Whatever it was about her, Jack could tell that she was still the same. Same best friend, same hair, same style, and even the same winter coat. It was intriguing.

-

The final whistle blew, indicating the match was over. Cheer erupted in Etihad Stadium. Both you and Maddie snuggling together as you clapped and cheered.

Just as the two of you were about to leave you heard you name being called.

"Y/n! Y/l/n!"

You looked around to see Jack Grealish coming over to you. The surrounding fans tried getting the Midfielders attention, but he was only concerned with you.

"Hey, Y/n! It's Jack!"

You smiled at his recognition of you.

"I know. How are you Mr. Grealish? Great game today!"

He smile warmly at your slight teasing tone. You felt like you were talking to a close friend of yours, not a Manchester City player., even though technically, it was a friend.

"How about you meet me at The Pen and Pencil after for a drink, you too Maddie."

You agreed and said your goodbyes as he ran back to his team.

"Well would you look at that. Looks to me that double trouble is back"

"Shove off Maddie" You chuckled.

-

As you pulled up to the pub your stomach starts to turn. Yes, Jack was an old friend, yes, you two were extremely close, but he also looked more mature and handsome than he ever had before and you found yourself a little attracted to him. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him in a while, or maybe it was because he was in his football kit that fit him ever so perfectly. Regardless of attraction, you were in Manchester to have a good time with your best friend and to let loose.

"Ay, you made it" Jack said as he noticed you walking through the door. He comes over to give you and Maddie little hugs.

"Can I get you a drink, it's on me of course!

"I'll take a Cider"

The three of you catch up, sort of getting to know each other all over again. It was a natural conversation, no awkwardness or silence. It was truly like high school days again.

within the next hour, Maddie was off with some guy flirting, leaving you and Jack by the bar, still talking.

"So, how's life in London. I feel like that should have been the first this I asked, but y'know, I got sidetracked with other topic of conversation."

"No, it's alright. And, I love it. I've been there for about three years now. Don't get me wrong, I really miss Birmingham, but there is just something about London that I am so drawn to, and I have never looked back since moving. I just feel at home there, y'know?"

"Yeah I feel the same way here in Manchester"

-

It was nearing 2 in the morning and you were getting tired, especially since you and Maddie had stayed up late the night before.

"I think I'm gonna find Maddie, I'm getting pretty tired."

"Alright then, I see you on your way out?"

You nodded and headed to find Maddie.

After searching for a solid 15 minutes you couldn't find her. It was a relatively small pub, but trying to find someone in a dark crowded pub was not the easiest. You soon came to the conclusion that Maddie wasn't here. You open your phone to see a text from her.

Maddie: Hey girl! So I met this cute guy and we are going out to this other pub. I was trying to give you the car keys so you could drive since I know you were only having one drink, but I couldn't find you. Anyways, I'll pay you back for a cab since I know you'll need one. The garage code is 1234. Sorry, luv u

crap.

"Find her?"

"She actually left.."

"Oh damn. You need a ride? I was thinking of leaving anyways, I could just drive you."

"You sure? I can always get a cab or an uber."

"No need to waste money, I can drive you, I only had one drink so I'll be fine."

Jack closed his tab and you both left the pub, getting into his car which was parked out front.

-

You were fighting the urge to fall asleep in the car, but your tiredness took over, and before you knew it you were at Maddies place, and Jack was waking you up.

"Hey, Y/n. We're here." He says as he nudges you awake.

"Oh, God, sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep"

You get out of the car and straighten out your clothes before shutting the car door.

"Thanks Jack. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime. Before I leave though, how long are you staying in Manchester?"

"Um, I think a week more? Why"

"Here, give me your number, I want to hang out with you again before you go back to London."

You exchange numbers and Jack get back in his car to leave. He rolls the window down and gives you a wink before driving off.

-

You had just gotten changed and grabbed a granola bar and were just about to turn your light off to go to bed when your phone dings.

(0161)111-1111: Hey, it's Jack. You busy tomorrow afternoon? Was thinking we could go to this one local restaurant that is the BEST. What do you think?

PART 2 (coming soon)...

[folkwhore1998]

It's flawless, really something. It's Fearless.

Let us take a moment to talk about Fearless (stolen) as well as Taylor's Version- Taylor's very first re-record.

Something that makes me so excited about the releases of Taylor's Versions is the vocal progression. Taylor has always been talented, but listening to the growth in her voice from when the album first came out to when it was re-released was astounding.

Fearless is still very much country but shifted into more of a pop scene. We do not get the twang that debut had.

Major highlights about Fearless: You Belong With Me and Love Story. Both songs are ones that even people not invested in Taylor's discography can recognize anywhere. No one talks about the fact Love Story was written in what...20 minutes? I can't even write some of my best essays in a span of a week. The ability to compose a song that has so much gravity in such a short amount of time is absolutely mind-blowing. Not to mention, she accomplished this right in the beginning of her music journey.

The album itself just leaks and radiates nostalgia, and as Taylor has said, "are you ready to go back to high school with me?" ((For me, we are technically going back to middle school))

Here are my rankings of every song on Fearless (Taylor's Version) **NOTING: THERE IS NO BAD SONGS. I RANK ON HOW THEY RESONATE WITH ME. That is the beauty of music!**

1. The Way I Loved You 2. The Best Day 3. Don't You 4. Fearless 5. You're Not Sorry 6. Breathe 7. White Horse 8. Fifteen 9. Forever and Always 10. Love Story 11. You Belong With Me 12. The Other Side of The Door 13. Untouchable 14. Mr.Perfectly Fine 15. Jump Then Fall 16. Hey Stephen 17. Today Was a Fairytale 18. Come With Me in The Rain 19. You All Over Me 20. Tell Me Why 21. Change 22. Superstar 23. We Were Happy 24. That's When 25. Bye Bye Baby

*Does not include Forever & Always on piano- it falls within the same realm as the non-piano version*

I'm going to start linking Small Business Swifties in these! The patch included in this photo dump was made by LongStoryShortMarket. Photo credits of the heart-hands patch comes directly from Michaeline https://www.etsy.com/listing/1413978938/taylor-swift-13-heart-hands-iron-on Shop link: https://www.etsy.com/shop/LongStoryShortMarket?ref=shop-header-name&listing_id=1413978938&from_page=listing

Important honorable mentions:

These Fearless Era videos:

#TaylorSwift #TaylorsVersion #FearlessTV #FearlessTaylorsVersion #Fearless #TS #Rerecording #Swifties #TaylorNation #13 #LoveStory #YouBelongWithMe #Eras #TheErasTour #CertifiedSwiftie

@taylorswift @taylornation

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

A few things on my couple of days in the Scottish Highlands, as I lie in bed not wanting to get up yet, for my first full day in Edinburgh (I woke up early but I'm tired).

It was, of course, incredible. Better than I imagined, in my imagination where I tried to temper expectations. There was no need to do that. I didn't do any social media posting while I was there, mainly because I was so genuinely in the moment that I didn't feel any desire to look at my phone. During the rest of the trip, I've been posting during the down time, when nothing else is happening. During the last 2 days, I had almost nothing but down time, as I was just sitting on trains, but the down time was for enjoying incredible views.

I rode the train London-Edinburgh-Glasgow-Fort William on Thursday, stayed in Fort William overnight, then on Friday got a train that went Fort William-Mallaig, then stayed in my seat while that same train went Mallaig-Glasgow. Then got another train Glasgow-Edinburgh. Since I got here, I've been thinking the train rides are so cool but too short because everything on this island is too close together. Yesterday I did not have to get up from a train seat between 8 AM in Fort William and 3:30 PM in Glasgow, so that was nice. Though with views like that, I could easily have gone longer.

I took some pictures while I was there, but not too many, because I knew pictures don't do it justice. The internet is full of pictures of those places, I've been looking at them a lot for the past year. And they're pretty, but the reality was obviously much better, and there's no way to keep that so I didn't try too hard. I also sort of don't want to reduce them to a post on social media, so I won't put those pictures here. Just trust me, mountains and ocean and train in the same place is incredible. Most incredible scenery I've ever seen in my life. The only thing that comes close is when I read tripped around NZ, but this was better because it was from a train, instead of from a van that I kept being afraid my Kiwi friends would drive off those precarious cliffs.

Recommended music pairings: it turns out that listening to the entirety of the 1993 album North Country, by Canada's Cape Breton band The Rankin Family, goes nicely with the rail journey from Fort William to Mallaig, rated on the internet as one of the most scenic train journeys in the world. For the ride back from Mallaig to Fort William, may I recommend the 1993 album Closer to Paradise, by Canada's Cape Breton band The Barra MacNeils? Something as cool as this was no time to mess around with music I'm unsure about. Have to go with Nova Scotian folk music that came out when I was three, that mybdad purchase from folk festival merch tents that year so hearing them in the living room are among my earliest memories and they're still among my favourite albums today. I've had 30 years of testing those albums enough to be sure they're the right thing to play during one of the most scenic train journeys in the world, and I was right.

...I also like saying this because I feel like I only reference music by men on here, but I do sometimes listen to women, I promise! Rankin Family and Barra MacNeils are two bands with a mix of genders, but both dominated by female vocals. And the Rankins, at least, had their membership change a bit through the years but always had more female members than male ones. Jimmy Rankin might be the only one of them who went on to a major soli career (I don't mean to disparage that, I love his solo albums), but Raylene's vocals really carried that band.

Every time I listen to the Rankin song Leis an Lurgainn, I feel like I should be listening to it while riding trains through incredible mountain scenery. I finally got to do that and confirm that yep, I have found a situation that matches the soaring sensations this song invokes.

During the bits between Fort William and Glasgow, I went with David O'Doherty's Live in His Car During a Pandemic album, for it's nice reflective vibes that pair well with mountains, it turns out. Every time I listen to this album, I feel like I should be lying on my back at the top of a hill near the ocean, in the middle of the night in a wind storm. But trains through mountains are a close second for the best environment in which to listen to it.

I mixed in some Bobby Watt, and a bunch of that song that goes by many names - Go Lassie Go, Wild Mountain Thyme, Blooming Heather, Purple Heather - and I have so many versions of it on my phone, because it's my favourite of those folk songs that everyone has covered (best versions are Kate Rusby, Bruce Guthro, and Buddy MacDonald). It's about the purple flowers that grow on Scottish mountains, and I got to listen to it while seeing the purple heather on Scottish mountains for real, and that was so fucking cool!

Then for the last couple of hours of the journey, I listened to the recording of the last night of Late 'n' Live from Edinburgh 2007, featuring Andy Zaltzman, 2/3 of We Are Klang, 4/3 of Pappy's Fun Club (Crosby, Parry, Clark, & Dodds), and David O'Doherty with Kitson compering. One of my top few favourite bootlegs and for good reason. My God was that ever funny. And such a classic that it's one of the very few bootegs I feel like it's okay to reference directly. It was 17 years ago, it counts as ancient history at this point. I am so grateful to the person who preserved that one. Every time I listen to it (which is quite a lot), I feel like I should be listening to it while arriving by train you Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival. Didn't think I'd get to actually do it one day.

All right I'm going to go have breakfast now and them go watch some comedy. Hope everyone's having a good day.