#though. while we’re here… a little thing i liked about the chorus was how the lyrics drifted onto the screen

[visanni]

Overview of my fame realities

Here I’ll be talking about my musician, nepo, and youtuber fame realities :)

My musician fame reality

It’s 1895 and I currently work as a maid, living in philadelphia and hoping to build my music career. My employer is a rich guy named Conrad Blackwood who is actually pretty chill. His wife and child passed away not long ago and when I was first hired he seemed really lonely and depressed :/ He was a little rude to me at first but he softened up, especially because we both dabble in witchcraft- since he does summoning stuff for his wife and baby. This used to just be my reality but my s/o shifts here now with me too, working as Conrad’s butler. There’s other staff in the house, but they avoid Conrad and (by proxy) us like the plague because they think he’s creepy and mean.

On my days off, I go to the orchestra or theatre and practice my piano and violin, but there’s also a piano in Conrad’s sitting room and him and my s/o listen to me play sometimes in my free moments. I also want to learn to play the harp once I master the piano and violin :D And hopefully I can manage to afford or rent one on Connie’s pay lol

I’m not famous yet but my script for this basically just entails a rags to riches story. When I’m not working or practicing, I pretty much just stroll around town and eat out, catching up with some friends from my old women’s only apartment- one in particular who works at a seamstress’ shop luckily so she helps me a lot with my fashion sense. My s/o and I usually leave and go out for supper or to this little duck pond to give Con privacy when he does his summonings/ channelings, then we ask him about it when we come back. The food overall is not nearly as good as some other places I shift to, but I really like getting hot sandwiches the most when it’s around lunch time, or ice cream from vendors. Also his wife apparently told him once that she’s very happy we’re in his life to keep him company? And I just think that’s the sweetest thing ever.

My nepo came reality

Here my name is Lee Sanna. My cousin is Lee Donghyeok, or rather Haechan from NCT, and my aunt/ his mom is a sort’ve talent scout/ smtown manager. In this reality, the year is 2013 and I’m currently in college just studying history and literature, so none of us are really famous yet. My roommate is Roh Jaewon and he’s really just my bestie lol. Whenever he gets small acting parts or I get small modeling gigs we always hype each other up. I’m also friends with Tyler the creator from some internet shenanigans and Mark just by proxy because he’s besties with Donghyeok. I’ve only shifted here once and it was before I was with my s/o so I’m kinda unsure of how to approach it for next time. It would be fun if he face claimed as Jessica Simpson (because you guys, he literally looks just like her if she were a guy, plus she’s a model so it would be perfect) but ofc I wouldn’t care if he preferred to not face claim for this reality.

My youtuber fame reality

This is one of my FAVORITE realities and is sorta a mixture of a childhood star life too, just because it was originally scripted as a modern hollywood reality. Here I’ve kinda been semi famous my whole life, starting out as a literal giber baby because my mom thought I was a beautiful child. I’m going to try to quickly speed run this tho because it’s kinda a lot: From ages 4- 5 I was in an allergy and trix cereal commercial, got the voice part of Gunther from adventure time, and played Tina the little angel on wizards of waverly place. Then I made my first post to youtube which was a cover of “No one” by Alicia Keys. I was then recommended to join my school chorus and I did for like seven years then which was neat. When I was six though, I got ‘promoted’(?) to voice lumpy space princess. For a while one of the producers had been doing it, but I would like to copy the voice a lot in the booth because she was one of my favorite characters and I thought she was hilarious. I would always make everyone go red in the face from laughing and it would make me feel like a whole ass comedian ngl. So eventually they just changed her voice to mine since it was similar yet slightly better. They changed the actors though for a couple other characters too like Finn and cinnamon bun and I think it was a good choice in the long run. Love Jeremy Shada to this day, we were usually like the only minors in the booth lmfao that’s my brother from another mother fr. On the side I was also doing a little bit of amazing world of gumball as well because I’m unusually good at making my voice deep and crackle-ly like a demon which they loved to do on that show.

Amidst all of this, I made my second notable post to youtube which was an original bubblegum rap that got turned into a commercial. I didn’t get nearly as much as the people who actually produced it since they just paid me a little for creating the rap but it was still cool to eight year old me.

For a while then, I just did my voice acting until around 2016 when I more officially got into the internet. I started late on vine but even so it was one of my favorite places to be. There I met Finn Wolfhard, and then eventually Sadie, Caleb, Gaten, and even Maitreyi Ramakrishnan through him. I also had a crazy popular kpop finsta fan page, but no one knew about that until I told people years later lmfao. Then in ninth grade, tiktok started to gain traction and I made a shared account with my math class which also got scarily popular. THEN finally, in my freshmen year of college, I started a youtube channel with my two best friends from elementary school and highschool. I scripted out the youtubers enya and drew, as well as hamzah and martin because we make really similar content to them (plus I don’t really like them…) and yea that’s about it :p

My s/o is here with me too but to my viewers he’s just my beefcake boyfriend <3

A couple other people I’m friends with are Andrew Barth Feldman, Xolo Maridueña, Clairo, and the streamer/ youtuber partyarlie: all through the magic of the internet ✨

[deus-ex-mona]

for the record, this is a ✨nagisa safe space✨

~~please dni if you dislike nagisa and/or nghy~~

[penvisions]

step by step {frankie morales x reader}

Pairing: Boyfriend Frankie Morales x Girlfriend! Reader

Summary: Frankie has something planned for you and you have no idea.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: just fluff, nervous frankie, overthinking reader, that's it

A/N: just a little thing i put together for the thoughtful bouquets of pedro challenge by hosted by the lovely @happypedrohours! my prompt was no. 5 -> frankie morales and public proposal

-> frankie morales masterlist || navigation

Frankie isn’t sure where his sudden nerves come from. He knows his plan, painstakingly detailed and accounting for everything would all play out with the help of his friends. He knows that the conversation has come up in passing, little dreamy ‘well, when we’re marred’ or ‘for our anniversary’ what ifs exchanged between you both gives him the confidence in the decision he’s made. From heavy sleep mumbled words uttered in complete safety to asides while out shopping together, full of laughter and bright smiles- he knows he’s doing the right thing.

The restaurant is booked, one of your favorites.

The guest list is small, just your best friend and your group of mutual friends.

Favorite bottle of wine chilling behind the bar, though he isn’t the biggest fan of wine.

Something is off, despite everything working out perfectly. The weather is clear, the sun is shining warmly on the patio that shoulders up to the beach. Waves lap gently at the shoreline less than a smile out. His nerves rachet up his heart, making him feel like he’s just run a mile and it all makes sense when his phone is suddenly ringing.

Your name and the photo he snapped of you smelling flowers in the garden you cultivated together brightens his screen.

“Frankie, baby, I’m so sorry. You know I love you and love our nights out but I have to bail last minute.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s my dickhead of a boss,” You voice raises, though there’s no bite to it, no real heat. You aren’t mad so much as you are frustrated. “He sent everyone home thinking it would be a slow day, but now we’re swamped with late pickups. Crabby, tired kids fresh from an overnight fieldtrip plus frazzled parents is so not how I planned to spend my afternoon. I’d much rather be with you.”

A muffled chorus of long drawn out teasing o’s can be head over the line, he can practically picture you waving you hand at them and shushing them gently to get them to stop. They were all young, your class and another two spending the last two days together at the observatory for a lesson in astrology. A fourth grade class full of squiggly kids that you loved and loved you back. Science teachers are still cool at their age.

“Mi amor, it’s okay. I completely understand,” Frankie’s words garner the attention of his best friend, who’s head whips up from where he’s adjusting the flowers in the bouquet resting on the table. “We can always go out another night, you know me, I don’t mind.”

“You’re too good to me, Frankie,” He can hear the smile in your voice, and his heart stutters. One hand reaches into his pocket and toys with the velvet box there. He wants to make you smile for the rest of his life. “I promise I’ll be done by six, do you want me to- oh! Mrs. Callahan, thank you so much for letting us know you’d be late! Jamie is in the restroom, but his bag is here and he’s all set to go once he gets back.”

“I’ll let you go hermosa, don’t worry about dinner!” His voice is heard, he’s sure in the way you rush out a quick goodbye before the connection clicks closed.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Santiago says with a pout, fingers twirling a piece of ribbon on the bouquet. “I wanted to see my two favorite people be ooey gooey saps for each other.”

“Hey, what about me?” Benny shouts from the bar, the open air concept for the restaurant allows him to hear his friends words.

“You’re like my seventh favorite person, don’t fool yourself Miller.” Santiago smirks over at his friend, raising his own glass in salute before taking a sip. The ice clinks against the glass as he sets it down. Your best friend and his girlfriend sidles up and plops herself sideways in his lap, hands naturally rising to hold her steady while she wraps hers around his neck.

“What about me?”

“You, of course.” And then they kiss. Frankie would make a jab at him, but he’s a little crestfallen that his plan got derailed by something so simple as afterschool pick up. Something he did not account for, though he probably should’ve. Breaking away from the quick peck, Santiago helps her back to her feet and begins to gather the stuff they brought along with them. “Alright, let’s get a move on.”

“What, where are we going?”

“We’re gonna surprise your girl at the school. You can pop the question there as well as you could’ve here, no?”

“She’s working…”

“Francisco Morales.” His strict tone is echoed by three other voices repeating his name. “We are going to take this wine, the food we ordered to go, the decorations and pretty up your living room for when you return home with your fiancé and then we can celebrate.”

Half an hour later, you’re sitting cross legged in the grass beside the three remaining students when Frankie’s truck pulls up into the empty parking lot. You know you don’t look your best, feeling haggard and barely able to entertain the three small bodies surrounding you with a game of cards. The brightly colored ones in your hand blur together and you hand over the one asked after.

“Yes! Look, Miss Fish, I won!” One of them exclaims while the other two groan in annoyance. Despite it all, they all share wide, bright smiles that has your heart fluttering. You wanted a baby so bad, but the agreement was marriage and then baby. Frankie’s upbringing inspiring him to be proper about the way things happened and you couldn’t deny him the structure he longed for. He was worth it, he was worth everything.

“Mr. Fish! Mr. Fish!” The trio chants as Frankie steps out of his truck across the small strip lot with a bag hanging from two thick fingers. His smile is gummy underneath his dark sunglasses and worn hat, watching him approach the three children rushing him cause butterflies to swarm in your tummy. He reaches into it as they clammer for it in his grasp, only chuckling at their overzealous enthusiasm.

“Alright, alright, here ya go you lil monsters,” Once they all have a small bottles of juice and little wooden puzzles, he heaves a small grunt and settles in the grass beside you. He lowers the shield over his eyes and winks at you in greeting.

“And how is Miss Fish holding up?” His hand reaches for yours and he tangles his fingers with yours. But you don’t answer, too enamored with the way he looks with the late afternoon sun shining down on him.

A car pulls up, a late parent and you slowly get to your feet to greet them and help load the happy child into their backseat. Turning back, you see Frankie typing something into his phone with a small frown on his face. You feel a stab of remorse, knowing that your own low mood is affecting him.

He patiently waits for you as the remaining parents arrive, patting the grass beside him where he’s stretched out one leg while keeping the other propped up and leans back onto one elbow. He’s the picture of ease and you wish you had more energy for him as heat sparks behind your hips. His plush lips stretch into a smile when you hold the skirt of your dress close to your body and settle back down.

“You seem a little low energy, everything okay?” His sunglasses are tucked into his collar, brown eyes on display as he looks you over.

“Just worn out, forty kids need way more supervision than two teachers and two parent volunteers,” You can’t help the sigh that carries the words.

“Well, let’s get you home, we can pick up something on the way to my place for dinner.”

“Baby, I kind of just want to crash.” You can’t help but feel like it’s just a damper on his good mood, he probably wanted to go out with the guys, have some drinks and enjoy his weekend. “I’m sorry, I think I’m just going to go home. Let you have the night to yourself.”

“I don’t mind staying in and looking after you, you know that,” His brow furrows as he watches the emotions play over your face. He’s confused and you feel even worse.

“Frankie, you missed last week’s fight because I was stuck in bed with cramps. Go spend some time with your friends, please.” You trail a nail over the scruff of lining his jaw, press the pad of your index finger to his lips and offer a half smile.

“If you really want to be alone, I won’t push.” He leans over to press his lips to your forehead before getting up and offering his hands to help pull you up. “I just want you to be okay, bebita.”

“I’ll be okay with some rest,” You let him wrap you in his arms, guiding you over to the truck where he opens the door for you to load into the passenger seat. He kisses you chastely before you hop out with your bag over your shoulder, waving as you turn to offer him one last smile before you unlock your apartment door.

Frankie paces in his living room, aware of Santiago’s hard eyes watching his every move.

“You can’t back out, hermano. She’s the love of your life.”

“You should’ve fuckin’ seen her, Santi,” Frankie groans out as he drags a heavy hand through his curls, worn hat hurled into an empty armchair. “She looked so down, saying she kept me in the house when I’d spend every fucking minute with her if she’d let me. But maybe…maybe she’s getting tired of me asking her to come over or me over at her place? What if she’s going to break up with me?”

“Okay, deep breath, let’s not start that.”

“Santi, she-“

“Fransisco.” Santiago stands up and grips Frankie’s shoulders tight to face him head on. “Tomorrow morning, you are going to take that little velvet box and walk into her classroom. You are going to propose to her and she is going to say yes.”

“But-“

“I will be here at seven sharp, be ready.” And with that Frankie is alone and gazing at the ring he picked out with your smiling face in mind.

You turn around from the whiteboard when giggles burst into the air. The dry erase marker in your hand squeaks as you slowly put the cap back on, a little distracted by the form of Frankie and Santigo standing just inside the doorway to your classroom.

“Mr. Fish! Are you here for class today?”

“Uh, no, sorry.” He walks further into the classroom, between two rows of full desks where the children begin to titter amongst themselves. “Mr. Fish is here to ask Miss Fish…if she’d like to be Mrs. Fish.”

His voice is even despite the way you see his fingers tap against his thighs, his eyes trained on you as he approaches. He reaches into the front pocket of his khakis for a small black box.

“I’d gladly spend every moment with you, no matter where we are or what we do. I love our time together and I want to be the one you choose to spend forever with, if you’ll have me.” He kneels right in front of you even as you feel your heart race behind your ribs, fingers tingling as you resist the urge to reach out for him. You have to let him finish the words you know he prepared and went over again and again. He opens the box and holds it up high. “Baby, will you make me the happiest man and be my Mrs. Fish?”

“Say yes!!”

“You have to say yes!!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Fish!”

A chorus of high pitched voices call out as you watch the nervous expression on Frankie’s face. His eyes are so wide, hope flickering in them as you trail a hand down the side of his face. His eyes flutter shut and you can’t help smile as your own flicker to Santigo still by the door. He nods his head with a wide smile, encouraging you because he knows the insecurities you harbor. He is your brother after all.

“I would be honored to be Mrs. Fish, Frankie.” Your face breaks out into a wide smile, heart jumping as you look down at the man you love. And he’s up in a second, trembling fingers pulling the beautiful ring from the box and slipping onto your finger. His laugh shakes you both as he pulls you into his chest.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fish! That’s so cool!” They giggle and chatter as you lean back and firmly press your lips to your fiancé’s.

“Does this mean we get the rest of the day off?” Frankie holds you tight even as you aim a faux stern look over the entire class. You have a feeling he’s never going to let you go and you have absolutely no complaints about it either. Your heart is full and the ring feels right on your finger, glittering as you hold up your hand and gaze at it along with Frankie.

banners and dividers by the lovely @cafekitsune

[goldenwilliamson]

back in training | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

summary: ridiculously fluffy. leah is back in training after doing her ACL and reader is just very proud of her. showering together after training. general domestic sweetness.

a/n: thought this might become smut, but still doubting my abilities there. we're working on it. requests are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 1.9k

What would have been a standard day at training in London Colney was made extra special thanks to the fact that Leah was out on the grass with you for the first time since her ACL injury. The entire training session Leah had a smile plastered on her face, and you did too. After almost a year of recovery and rehab, you were both itching to be able to share this part of your life together again. Leah being amongst the training sessions again was also one huge step towards playing games, which was what she wanted more than anything. 

While you harboured some secret concerns about whether Leah was ready to return, purely coming from a place of love and worrying about her injury, she proved you wrong. She was in full form, slipping into her role in the team with ease. There was an energy in the air having her authoritative presence around, and it seemed like everyone was taking their performances up a notch. Her loud supportive voice cheered everyone on, and you felt so much better because of it. In your opinion, Leah was the glue of this team, and you knew you weren’t alone in feeling that. When she did her ACL it was heartbreaking for the whole team, knowing they were losing one of the most valuable and dedicated players the club has ever seen. But now that she was making her eventual return, it felt as though things were returning to their natural order. 

At one point you and Leah jogged past each other and you lightly smacked her on the bum, unable to help yourself. 

“Oi,” Leah reprimands you with a grin on her face as you innocently shrug your shoulders. 

“What?” You respond, acting as though you had no clue what she was talking about. 

When training finished you and Leah came together and wrapped your arms around each others waists slightly leaning into each other as you and the girls did the walk back to the gym. 

“I can’t even tell you how good it feels to look up and see your face out here,” you tell your girlfriend, and she squeezes your waist just a little tighter. 

“I’m just buzzing,” Leah says, giggling a little bit. 

“So proud of you,” you say, kissing her on her cheekbone. You know how hard she has worked for this moment, and how difficult the mental journey has been for her. 

“Thanks baby,” Leah says, moving her hand up from your waist to stroke the back of your head. 

Back at the gym some girls stretch, some go into some strength training, but some also decide to call it a day and head home. You and Leah, not wanting to leave each others sides decide to head on home together. You go and grab your bags from the changing room, but before you go Leah tells you she just wants to talk to the girls for a minute. 

You walk back to where most of the others are working out and Leah grabs their attention.

“I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for the support you’ve given me over the last year, and for the love I felt out there today in training. It’s been one of the hardest moments of my life, but it was made so much easier thanks to you lot, so yeah, I appreciate you all, and I’m just so proud to be coming back to this team.”

She’s met with a chorus of love and support, as well as everyone coming over to give her a hug. 

“The look on your face,” Katie nudges you with her elbow, pulling your eyes away from Leah and towards your Irish teammate. 

“What? I’m proud of her,” you say, playfully defensive. 

“You’re so in love,” she says rolls her eyes with a smile on her face, “Go enjoy a romantic night together while we’re all here training.”

“Oh, we will,” you assure Katie, making her laugh. 

“Of course you will,” she shakes her head as she walks over to Leah to embrace her before finally the two of you head off. 

Leah reaches for your hand as you step out of the building and into the car park, happily swinging her arm as you walk towards the car. Before you move around to the passenger seat, you pull on Leah’s hand so she steps closer to you and you lean in to give her a quick kiss. You step away to find Leah looking at you like a lovesick puppy and you shake your head.

“That face kills me,” you point your finger at her as you begin to walk around to your side of the car, making Leah laugh. 

As Leah gets into the car and starts it, connecting her phone to choose the music for the drive home, you sink into the passenger seat. 

“I’m bloody exhausted,” you say, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good after training,” Leah says.

“I’m so happy for you Lee,” you say as she begins to reverse out and get on the road.

“Thanks. I was going to say something back in there, but I didn’t want to put you on the spot, but I hope you how much you helped me through all this,” she says.

“I’m glad to hear that, sometimes I felt so useless,” you say honestly.

“No!” Leah immediately counters moving her hand to hold your thigh, “You’re the reason I was able to stay positive through it, you were the biggest help, not useless at all.”

“Good, that’s good to hear,” you say, resting your hand on top of Leah’s on your leg, tapping it lightly. 

When you get home you walk into the kitchen first, opening the fridge to work out what you can have for dinner while Leah steps in behind you, grabbing glasses from the cupboard and getting you both some water. She hands your glass to you and then stands behind you, leaning down to rest her chin on your shoulder and peer into the fridge with you. 

“I’ll sort something out here, you can have a shower first,” you murmur to Leah. 

“Mm,” Leah hums right beside your ear, “Was kind of hoping you’d shower with me.” 

A smile spread over your face instantly, “I can do that,” you close the fridge door as Leah stands up straight, “You go get the water running, I’ll come up in a minute,” 

“Great plan,” Leah pecks you before making her way upstairs to the bathroom. 

When Leah goes up stairs you make a quick decision to call her favourite Italian restaurant to order some takeaway for dinner. Once you know that is on the way, you move your way around the kitchen and lounge room to light some candles and pour two celebratory glasses of wine for you two to have when you’re finished rinsing off the day. Finally you switch off the overhead lights to allow the space to be filled with candle light, looking awfully cosy. You could almost hear the voice of Kate McCabe telling you to enjoy your romantic night, and you knew she would get a kick out of knowing that you followed through with that. 

Moving quickly up the stairs you walk into your shared bedroom and can hear the water running in the ensuite. You strip out of your clothes from training and throw them into the dirty clothes basket before pushing open the door to the bathroom. 

“Finally,” Leah smiles, openly looking you up and down as you step into the shower with her. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say, pushing your hair out of your face as the water runs over your skin. Leah steps to the side, allowing you to take up some space under the shower head to warm up and rinse your body. 

“It was worth the wait,” Leah says, running her hands down the sides of your torso, letting them settle onto your lower back which allows her to pull you close to her for another kiss. This one is deeper, more passionate. 

“Spin round,” she tells you, and you know what’s coming. Your showers together is one of your favourite routines. Leah pours some shampoo in her hands and begins to smooth in onto your hair, running her fingers through your scalp and massaging your head as she does so. 

You sigh at the relaxed feeling settling into your body, “You’re so good at this, you could be a hairdresser in another life,” you tell Leah and she laughs. 

“Just want to make you feel good,” she says in her simple Leah way and she’s got you melting with her words in a matter of seconds. 

“Well you definitely know how to do that,” you assure her as she drags her fingers through the length of your hair, letting the shampoo rinse out. 

“Your turn,” you spin around to face her, motioning her to turn around too with a rotation of your hand. 

You imitate her movements, massaging the gel into her hair, letting your fingers trail lightly down her neck and over her shoulders. Leah’s head rolls back slowly and she groans slightly. 

“Does that feel good?” You ask.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, and from her lack of words you know that it must. 

When the shampoo rinses out next you both takes turn washing each others body’s with the shower sponge, taking extra care and much longer than you would on yourself. When you rinse the last bits of soap off of Leah’s body you remember the little surprise you have for Leah downstairs. 

“We’re starting to waste water now,” you say and Leah laughs at you. 

“Alright, out we get then.” 

You step out first and grab two towels off the rack, passing the second to Leah and loosely wrapping the first around yourself. You quickly pat yourself dry and then move out into your bedroom, going to your drawers to pull out something comfortable to slip into. Leah does the same, getting into some trackies. 

While you move back into the bathroom to comb through your hair, Leah tells you she’ll meet you downstairs. 

“Alright,” you smile, knowing what she will see when she walks downstairs. 

About five seconds later you can hear Leah calling out your name, and you go downstairs to join her. 

“What’s all this for?” Leah says sweetly, watching you as you move towards her. 

“For my girl being back in training,” you say and Leah can’t contain the smile on her face.

“Come here,” she opens her arms and you step into her embrace, finding solace and comfort in the way your bodies melt into one another. 

“There’s some pizza on the way too,” you inform Leah and she moves to kiss your neck.

“How did I get so lucky?” She says, her words muffled against your skin as she kisses you again. 

“Yeah I ask myself the same thing from time to time,” you say, placing a kiss against the side of Leah’s head. 

You suggest that you go lay down on the lounge, and Leah agrees, grabbing the two glasses of wine and setting them down on the coffee table. Leah lays down first and opens her arms for you to crawl beside her. As you lay together, arms and legs wrapped around each other watching telly for the remainder of the night, you realise it’s the first night in a long time that you haven’t felt a vague sense of separation from Leah. Finally, she is doing what she is meant to do again, being back in the team at Arsenal, with you, and everything feels back to normal. 

[42dragonsarecooler]

The aha bit the Southlanders group was the hardest I’d laughed in a long time when I saw it. I was genuinely concerned I’d wake my housemates at the time. I made them watch it with me the next day and they didn’t find it nearly as funny as my reaction. Which is fine.

But then I went to visit family for a while and I came back to sticky notes with aha puns on absolutely everything I owned. It was hilarious. I was literally finding them for months.

So anyways. I wrote about the Southlanders for the groups and co-labs day.

The games were always exhausting, though the reason changed as each season went on.

Later the paranoia would start to set in. Alliances would strain. Trust would fade. For that sleep would suffer. Fights would get more frequent and severe. The threats would get bigger as people built up their gear and bases and traps.

But early in the game like this, before the Watchers really sunk their claws into them and began their manipulation, the exhaustion was just mundane new world stuff.

Grian had run back and forth across the entire map before finding a hobbled together group that would take him. Their bond formed of ridiculous puns none of them could seem to stop. They laughed and chopped down trees to build themselves a place in the southern most part of the world. If they ignored the impenetrable wall of magic locking them in, they could just pretend they wanted to be there. They could pretend they were having fun, before the reality of the game really sank in.

Here in this little bubble of time before they knew who would turn on who. Before they knew some of the people they promised now to keep alive, would be the ones to end them. In this time where the canary still sang and there was still peace, they could forget why the canary needed to sing for them at all.

And lying there, head still fairly clear for being involved in their game, Grian lay awake among his allies. There hadn’t been enough time to finish secure bases for all of them, nor enough wool for enough beds. So the five of them had settled down in a hole carved into the side of the hill.

Jimmy and Mumbo had drawn straws to share the bed, though being the two tallest of the group, there was quite a bit of lanky limbs hanging over the edge. Impulse, Martyn, and Grian were curled up on the floor nearby, the stone hastily swapped out for slightly softer dirt. Impulse was sprawled out on his back, volunteering himself to be the pillow. Martyn had his head resting on one shoulder and Grian the other. In return they cuddled close to Impulse to help fend off the chill of the night.

And despite their best efforts, and a long exhausting day of work, and somehow play, none of them were asleep. Though none of them spoke.

And Grian found himself fighting back a noise of disappointment as his thoughts dredged up a truly terrible idea. His stomach still hurt a little from how hard he’d been laughing earlier. And really he shouldn’t but his mind was on it now. And really what kind of ally would he be if he didn’t inflict some harmless suffering on his team. They were his allies too. They were supposed to share this sort of thing.

So, with a heavy sigh, “Sounds like we all have a bit of ins-aha-mnia.”

He grinned at the chorus of groans and tired, begrudging chuckles he got for it.

“I thought we we’re done with th-aha-t.” Martyn fired back anyways.

“Guys please.” Jimmy was pleading, while Mumbo was just laughing his endless stream of uncontrolled aha’s. Impulse wasn’t much better. Grian and Martyn’s heads bounced with his laughter.

“You guys are the wo-hurst.” Impulse’s accent didn’t lend itself as well to the bit, but the inflection itself was contagious and worsened by laughter and exasperation, which he carried in spades.

“I’m s-aha-rry.” Grian wiped at the tear forming in his eye. “I had to.”

“It’s n-aha-t even that funny.” Mumbo nearly wheezed. “W-aha-y is it so funny?”

“You’re not even doing it on purpose anymore are you?” Jimmy accused.

“No!” Mumbo fired back. Probably the longest sentence he could get out without laughing more and accidentally aha-ing.

“Gods why can’t I sleep.” Grian lamented. “I’m exh-aha-sted.”

“Please.” Impulse wrapped his arm around Grian and dragged him up to lay more on top of him. He held Grian hostage there, still mindful of his tightly bound wings.

“It’s your own fault this time, Birdy.” Martyn, showing extreme self restraint, skipped out on the pun opportunity. “I was nodding off.”

He brought his hand up to pet the fine feathers at the back of Grian’s head, remembering the times back on Evo together. So many of them had little tricks to get the others to sleep. It had been one of the only tools they’d had to try and keep each other from completely loosing it in the face of the Watchers meddling. So when better to use it again than there, in the Watchers’ game.

Mumbo and Jimmy were settling down again, rearranging themselves a bit. Jimmy had sprawled out across Mumbo’s chest in protest of his aha’s, but now neither of them seemed particularly inclined to re-separate. Impulse was beginning to doze off again as well, having pulled Grian and Martyn both closer to him. And Martyn relaxed as he continued massaging the feathers at the back of Grian’s head. He watched his old friend’s eye droop, as he too relaxed and quickly fell asleep.

With the last of their giggles worked out of their systems, the Southlanders drifted off into a deep dreamless sleep that matched the present peace. Temporary.

Soon enough these peaceful nights would dwindle. They’d be driven apart. They’d turn on each other. They’d fight and kill in a world made up only of friends. Friends who, for the moment, wouldn’t be. But for now,

They slept.

[dilfmobius]

Sliding in while I recuperate from that smoking snippet to ask about “Don’t lie to me.” (And alligator tears if you’re feeling generous!)

Thank you for the ask! <3

Don't lie to me is set right after s2e1, and I just really wanted some sweet h/c and to write about Loki's time slipping. I started this so long ago and I hadn't even looked at it until I was going through all my WIPs, and re-reading what I have I really want to jump back into it.

Snippet time:

“How painful was it? Slipping through time?” “Mobius, we’re past it, it’s over — I’m fine—” “Just answer the question. And don’t lie to me.” Loki opens and shuts his mouth, his usual chorus of I’m fine and I can handle it dying in the back of his throat. Mobius has done so much for them — risking life and limb, and skin. Mobius has taken his chances, again and again, with Loki, saving them more than once. Loki owes Mobius so much. They can start with a little honesty. “It was one of the most painful things I ever experienced.” “Worse than the pruning?” Loki pauses, trying to choose their words carefully. Was there anything worse than being rapidly disassembled and then reassembled? Was there a difference between getting pruned and having your entire body break apart and snap back together in a matter of moments?  “Different. Still awful, but,” Loki draws a shuddering breath, “different.” “Oh, Loki,” Mobius says softly. He reaches out but quickly stops himself, stuttering in his movements. “Can I — can I hug you?” Loki feels their heart clench at the mere consideration. Mobius just stares at Loki, nothing but concern bleeding through his gaze. Loki shuts their eyes as they begin to sting. They nod and lean in, silently pleading for Mobius to catch them, hold them close, keep them together.  Mobius doesn’t hesitate, scooting closer to gather the god before him in his arms.  Loki presses forward, hiding their face in the crook of Mobius’ neck. They feel arms wrap around them, careful not to be too rough. Mobius holds them as if they were something fragile, but precious — not broken. Something to be cared for. Loki’s muscles still ache, a dull throbbing coursing through their entire body. They couldn’t believe they survived being disassembled and promptly reassembled — being ripped apart and scattered through time and space.  And the time slipping felt as though they were being stretched in a million directions, only to rubber band back, snapping them into place. Loki could feel their bones cracking in and out of place, their muscles expanding and twisting in inconceivable ways.  Loki doesn’t think they’ll ever forget what that feels like. “I got you, Loki,” Mobius says, voice as soft as his hold but just as secure. A promise.

Alligator tears is simply an idea for now, and it's not dacryphilia?? but it does have to do with Mobius' being obsessed with how beautifully pathetic Loki looks when he's crying and how he longs to swoop in and stop those tears. 🤭 (it was also first inspired by the song alligator tears by beyonce lol)

I don't have much written for it, but here's this:

To see it on a screen was something else, and to have the actual thing sitting at his feet like this, well, Mobius would have never considered himself so lucky. But here he is, with Loki looking up at him with wide, wet eyes, trembling against his legs, miserable and hopeless, begging for a morsel of tenderness. It claws at Mobius’ sensibilities and dissolves his self preservation. A scheme or not, he’s seen enough of Loki to know that there is always more than meets the eye. After watching Loki scramble and fight for acceptance, affection, for a kind of warmth that could be tailor made for him, here comes Mobius, ready to take the god into his arms and offer him what so many have refused him for so long. Mobius hears a whimper as Loki presses his face into his knee, and then a choked off sob, and he can’t take it anymore. “Hey, c’mon now,” Mobius says softly. He reaches out to run his fingers through Loki’s dark curls, pulling the god’s attention back to him, deciding to play into it. When Loki looks back up at him with tear tracks down his face, Mobius just tuts and moves his hand down to wipe at Loki’s face with his thumb.

WIP list here!

[blissfulalchemist]

WIP Wednesday

I got tagged for last line by @statichvm (which is just below from and Alma piece) but considering the last wip piece I had I figured I'd follow it up with the good parts. I will have to report that sadly Clídna will never get revenge on those men. But she can in our hearts and frankly that counts for something. Tagging: @shallow-gravy @shellibisshe @chyrstis @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @belorage @voidika @lasersinthejungle and anyone else that wants to! allusions to sa

Knowing that her family has moved on finally in peace doesn’t help either, their absence more acute and making her want to reach out for anything to keep them close to her, and performing the blessing could help in that…if only for a little while.

She coughs up blood sliding down the wall, finding it hard to catch her breath as the throbbing begins again. The world spins, stomach rolling with it, as the shaking begins in her arms and legs. As the tears begin Clídna can’t decide what hurts more, her half attached nose or the confined sobs. The sting from whatever piss poor excuse of what could pass as wine Wyvern’s poured on her face doesn’t register with the flashes of the men in Ironholm mixing and worsening what just transpired. The memories of when they first captured her and she found out she wasn’t that strong. How that first week was one man after another, but her screams were one in a chorus of them as they decided where each woman would end up. How she ever managed to convince them to put her in their army when she could hardly fight any of them off….

She smacks the gloved hand reaching for her, and nearly biting it when it tries once more. “Clídna, I need to hold your nose back in place,” he says, removing his gloves, holding his hands up for her. “I’m not going to hurt you, see? I just want to help.” Eyes flit back and forth between his exposed hands and level blue gaze, the black brand on his cheek coming into focus. “If you want to hold it in place that’s okay too, but I will need to get closer.”

“Wyvern,” she exhales, watching as he nods, choking back the sobs and fear that come too easily in this state she let herself get in. “I-. I don’t-.”

“We can talk about it more once I’ve fixed your nose.”

Fingers delicately touch the hanging appendage wincing at the pain. He moves slowly, her eyes never leaving his hands and their movement. She grimaces with the setting of her face, teeth grinding as warm fire begins to surround his hand. The orange and blue tendrils braid and latch themselves onto edges of skin, spreading beneath the surface as they seek out bone. Slowly some pain returns as his healing magic stitches skin to skin and bone to bone together. When he lets go of her face the pain begins to dull, though not completely as the fire retreats. She touches around her nose finding it warm and swollen still, left in the bruising stage. A welcome outcome, especially considering that her breaths are laced with copper and will be for some time she suspects.

“There.”

“Thank you, Wyvern.”

“You’ve yet to see how it looks.”

“I don’t give a shit so long as I still have a face to look at.”

“What even happened, Clídna?”

“A lot. Mostly told him to fuck off in quite a few different ways these past few days.”

“Clídna-.”

“Listen, you are most of my impulse control and you weren’t here.” Knees brought to her chest suppressing the pounding of her heart she begins to rock, “I’m sorry. I just-.”

He lets out a deep breath, gathering their things with a small shake of his head. “Come on. We’re both done for the day.” Wyvern leads her to the barracks, limbs getting heavy with each step, the cots looking like clouds as she overlooks the room. Wyvern grabs a pillow and what hardly passes as a bed roll, merely fabric that was a single step away from what they used as blankets, lighter clothes and the softer of the two threadbare blankets rolled inside. He looks around, putting a finger to his lips leading them out the back door. Flat against the outside wall, alert eyes scan while held breaths further shadow them as a few soldiers make their way to their bunks. Grabbing hold of her hand, he pulls her towards the rear shadows of the storage house, watching as those on duty there leave for the night out the front. They slip inside, finding their corner stacking a few more crates to shield them from prying eyes.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he whispers, sitting her in the corner. She nods letting her head fall against the wall, eyes fighting to stay open while she’s alone. She has to stay awake, just until he gets back. It doesn’t matter that no one knows of their little haven. Doesn’t matter that Wyvern never keeps her waiting for long. Has to stay awake just….in….case…. 

A blink slips through and he’s reappeared holding onto a rolled bunk mattress. Not the cleanest and nothing new, but still more comfort than the thin fabric that kept her from the ground in their barracks. “Saw they got new ones and tossing some of the old ones out.”

“A life saver….” He gives a snort laying it out and handing over the lighter clothes to sleep in. “Think we’ll be able to sneak it back to our beds.”

“Don’t know. Maybe.”

She fluffs out her hair once the weightless linen shirt and shorts are on, “Aren’t you going to change?”

“I will.” He pats the bed, eyes scanning the sunsetting storage house as she settles herself next to him, back to the wall. Her eyes finally lose the battle as he covers her with the blanket. The darkness is instantaneous and steady, feeling his warmth leave only briefly before laying next to her the rest of the night. A warmth she reaches for and something he indulges in, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer. It's not the first time she’s allowed him to hold her like this, but it is the first time in years that she does not relive one of the many nightmares of her past. A rarity to wake with the morning light feeling slightly refreshed, and before Wyvern awakes.

Despite the calm neutrality of his features Clídna can see the way his eyes dart back and forth. Similar pattern to the one she’d see on Jill’s face when keeping watch, always there was crying to follow no matter how much comfort Clídna gave to make them stop if only for a few minutes. She doesn’t suspect Wyvern would wake in tears, or even wish to talk about it, but its still hard to watch him suffer all the same. Will you feel comforted the way she did, Wyvern?, Clídna wiggles to have their faces directly across one another, arm wrapping around him, putting her forehead against his. Lips brush one another as she quietly sings a Northern lullabye, ending it with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He shifts and she finds herself guiding him to lie against her, fingers running through his hair. Wyvern finally settles with slow exhale, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he does so.

[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 54: Tempting

Warnings: smut, strong language, mentions of grief

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

Your head lies, full of fire

I'm risin' up, risin up

My heart loves, full of fire

Love's full of fire, love

Six months had passed since Alice and Steve first slept together. Since that day, Alice basically lived with Steve in his apartment. They had a happy life – during the day, Alice went to work at the coffee shop while Steve helped those who were affected by the Snap, including going to a support group near his apartment. And the nights were filled with late night movies, cuddles, and sex. It all seemed perfect. Steve might not be Bucky, and Alice might not be Peggy, but it was great, nonetheless. They had to move on, or at least try.

At those support group meetings, Steve never talked about Alice. He didn’t want to make it all about him, or make the other members feel bad.

“What about you, Steve?” the leader of the group, Jimmy, asked him since he had been quiet since the beginning of the meeting. “Got anything to share with us?”

“Umm…” Steve hesitated for a bit. “Yeah, I uh… I’ve been seeing someone,” he finally admitted, his gaze fixed on his clasped hands.

The group perked up, exchanging glances of surprise and curiosity. Jimmy leaned forward, his brows raised in interest. “That’s great, Steve! Moving on… that’s why we’re here. To help each other move on, to give advice and share our experiences.”

The others were already buzzing with excitement, throwing out questions like rapid-fire. Sarah, a young woman with bright eyes, chimed in, “Come on, Steve, give us something! How did you two meet?”

Steve sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this easily. “Uh, we… I guess you could say we met at work,” he mumbled, feeling the weight of the group’s anticipation.

“And how long have you been seeing each other?” Ron, another member of the group, asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin.

“About six months,” Steve replied, his voice a little firmer now. “But it’s… it’s still pretty new.”

“Six months? That’s serious!” Sarah exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. “How did you know she was the one?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. “I… uh, I don’t know if she’s… the one, per se,” he stammered. “But she’s… she’s special.”

The group erupted into playful teasing, urging Steve to spill more details about his mystery girlfriend. And despite his reluctance, Steve found himself smiling, warmed by the friendship of the group. Maybe it was time to start opening up a little more about Alice.

Steve cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. “Well, uh… she’s… she’s really into movies,” he began, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “We have these movie marathons, and she always falls asleep halfway through, but she insists on staying up till the end.”

A chorus of chuckles rippled through the group, and Steve continued, feeling a bit more at ease. “And, uh… she’s got this… this laugh that’s just… contagious, you know?”

Sarah sighed dreamily. “She sounds lovely, Steve.”

“And she… she loves to cook,” Steve added, a fondness creeping into his voice. “I swear, every time I come home, there’s something new on the stove. And even though… even though most times it’s a disaster, she always insists it’s the best thing she’s ever made.”

The group laughed again, nodding in understanding. Jimmy leaned forward, a gentle smile on his face. “Sound like you’ve found someone pretty special, Steve. We’re happy for you, really.”

Steve nodded, his gaze softening. “Yeah… yeah, I think I have. Thank you.” And for the first time, he felt a sense of gratitude for the support group, for giving him a space to share, even when it felt uncomfortable.

As the support meeting drew to a close, Steve felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Opening up about Alice, even just a little, had been surprisingly liberating. He exchanged farewells with the other members.

As he stepped out onto the city streets, Steve’s thoughts drifted back to Alice. Maybe it was time to take the next step, to let her in completely. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found her name.

With a deep breath, Steve dialled her number, his heart racing with anticipation. After a few rings, Alice’s voice filled his ear, warm and familiar.

“Hey, Steve,” she greeted, her tone soft with affection.

“Hey, Alice,” Steve replied, a smile spreading across his face. “Listen, I was thinking… how about dinner at that Italian place downtown? My treat.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Alice didn’t know what to answer – on one hand, she liked being with Steve, it brought her comfort. On the other hand, she didn’t want to move fast too soon. But maybe it was for the best – it was no use waiting for Bucky, he was not coming back. “Sounds perfect, Steve. I’ll meet there in an hour.”

But Steve sensed slight hesitation in Alice’s voice, a hesitation he couldn’t ignore. “Hey, uh, Alice… would you like to go as, you know, a date?”

There was a moment of silence before Alice responded, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Steve, I... I would love to go on a date with you.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat at her acceptance, his smile widening. “Great! I’ll see you there in an hour then?”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Alice confirmed, her tone more assured now. “Looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Steve said, feeling a surge of excitement. “See you soon, Alice.”

As they hung up, Steve couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Maybe their relationship started off a drunk night, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Alice had accepted, and he couldn’t wait to spend the evening with her. With a lightness in his step, Steve set off to meet Alice, his heart full of hope and anticipation for the future.

Steve made his way to the Italian restaurant, his mind was abuzz with thoughts of Alice. Despite the initial uncertainties, he was eager to take this step forward with her.

Arriving at the restaurant, Alice scanned the room, her eyes lighting up as she spotted Steve sitting at a cozy corner table, his smile radiant as he waved her over.

“Hey,” she greeted as she reached his table, a nervous yet excited grin playing on her lips.

“Hi,” Steve replied while getting up from his chair, helping Alice sit on hers, his eyes never leaving hers as she took her seat. “You know,” he began, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips, “I can’t believe you’re wearing the same dress from that night.”

Alice chuckled. “I figured it was fitting,” she replied, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

Their conversation continued late into night, each moment spent together feeling like a treasure. And as they shared a plate of tiramisu, Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that Alice had worn that dress to mess with him. His suspicions were confirmed the moment he felt Alice’s foot slowly caress his leg, then his thigh, and finally his groin. This action almost made him spit out a bit of tiramisu, which made Alice chuckle.

“You okay there, Cap?” she teased him.

Steve’s heart raced as Alice’s foot continued its tantalizing exploration under the table. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure despite the unexpected sensation.

“Yeah, you just caught me off guard,” he managed to reply, his voice slightly strained as she shifted in his seat.

Alice smirked. “Maybe I should have warned you,” she teased, her foot still tracing light patterns against his leg. “And maybe you should punish me once we get home.”

Steve’s mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions and desires. He couldn’t deny the thrill coursing through him. Leaning in, he whispered, “Maybe I will punish you later. You’re dangerous, you know that?”

Alice’s grin widened, her gaze smouldering with intensity. “You have no idea,” she whispered back, her lips brushing against his ear.

As they left the restaurant, Steve couldn’t resist the urge to reach for Alice’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked side by side.

“You look really handsome tonight,” Alice began, keeping her gaze on the path in front of her.

Steve stared at her, curiosity showing in his eyes. “What’s up with you tonight? First you decide to wear that dress, then you decide to mess with me at the restaurant, and now you’re complimenting me? What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything…” she replied nonchalantly, a small smirk playing on her lips.

The rest of their walk was silent, with only sexual tension coursing through the air.

As they reached Steve’s apartment building, she turned to him with a playful glint in her eyes. “So, Captain,” she said, her voice low and husky, “are you ready to deliver that punishment you promised?”

Steve’s pulse quickened at the suggestive tone in her voice. He couldn’t deny the desire that burned within him, the need to lose himself in her completely.

With a smirk, her pulled her close, his lips brushing against hers in a tantalizing kiss. “Oh, I think I can come up with something,” he murmured against her lips, his hands trailing down her back.

The elevator ride to his floor seemed like an eternity, even though it was only five stories. Steve couldn’t wait to get home and finally have his way with her, the way she wanted him to. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he rushed to his front door. Always the gentleman, he let Alice in first, but once he closed the door, he pushed her against the wall and kissed her passionately, grabbing her hands and pinning her.

Alice gasped at the intensity of Steve’s kiss, feeling a surge of desire as he pressed her against the wall. His hands, strong and steady, held her wrists firmly above her head. She couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as his lips moved from hers to her neck, trailing hot kisses along her soft kiss.

“You’ve been very bad tonight,” Steve murmured against her ear, his voice low and commanding. “And bad girls deserve to be punished.”

Alice’s breath hitched, her eyes darkening with anticipation. “What are you going to do to me, Captain?” she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement.

Steve didn’t respond. Releasing her hands, he moved them down her body, savouring the feel of her curves through the thin fabric of her dress. He took a step back, his eyes locking with hers, filled with a mixture of lust and determination.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Alice complied, her heart racing as she faced the wall, feeling the cool surface against her flushed cheek. She heard the rustle of fabric as Steve slowly unzipped her dress, his fingers grazing her skin with tantalizing slowness. The dress slipped off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her lacy underwear.

Steve took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, his gaze intense and hungry. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hands caressing her back before settling on her hips. “Now, bend over.”

Alice’s heart pounded in her chest as she bent over, pressing her hands against the wall for support. Steve’s hands traced a path down her spine, lingering at the small of her back, making her shiver with anticipation.

“Good girl,” Steve whispered, his voice a deep, commanding growl that sent a thrill through Alice. His hands moved to her hips, gripping them firmly as he positioned her just right. He could feel her body quiver under his touch, a response that only fuelled even more his own desire.

He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear. “Tell me, Alice, do you know why you’re being punished?”

Alice’s breath hitched. “For teasing you,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s right,” Steve murmured, his hands slipping around to her front, tracing the edge of her lacy underwear before tugging them down. “And do you think you deserve it?”

Alice bit her lip, her body trembling. “Yes, Steve. I deserve it.”

A satisfied smile tugged at Steve’s lips as he straightened, his hands returning to her hips. “Good,” he said simply, delivering a sharp, stinging slap to her right butt cheek. Alice gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through her body. He repeated the action on her left cheek, her soft moans filling the room.

“Do you like that?” Steve asked, his voice a husky whisper as he continued his ministrations, each slap making Alice’s body arch in response.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice shaky with need. “I like it.”

Steve’s hands soothed over the stinging flesh, his touch gentle and comforting. “Then let’s see how much you can take,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice. He continued to spank her, alternating between sharp slaps and soft caresses, driving Alice to the edge of her control.

Each strike sent waves of sensation through Alice, her body straining against the onslaught of pleasure and pain. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, her arousal growing with every touch. Steve’s name fell from her lips like a mantra, each gasp and moan a testament to the effect he had on her.

Finally, when he sensed she was nearing her limit, Steve paused, his hands soothing over her reddened skin. “You’ve done well, Alice,” he murmured, his voice filled with pride. “I think you’ve had enough punishment for now.”

Alice’s body quivered with relief and lingering desire. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Steve turned her around to face him, his eyes dark with need. He lifted her chin, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “Now, let me reward you,” he said against her mouth, his hands slipping between her thighs to find her wet and ready.

Alice’s knees nearly buckled as his fingers expertly teased her, her body aching for release. “Please, Steve,” she begged, her voice a desperate plea. “I need you.”

Steve didn’t need to be asked twice. He scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her to the bedroom where he laid her down on the bed. She watched him, eyes wide with anticipation as he undressed, his movements deliberate and controlled.

Steve’s gaze was intense as he joined Alice on the bed. He kissed her deeply, his hands exploring her body with a mix of tenderness and urgency. The room filled with the sounds of their desire, each touch and kiss heightening the connection between them.

As he positioned himself above her, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and husky, laced with need.

Alice nodded, her breath hitching as she felt him press against her entrance.

“I need to hear an answer,” Steve said in a serious tone.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she finally managed to reply.

He entered her slowly, savouring the sensation of her warmth enveloping him. They moved together in a rhythm that felt both new and achingly familiar, each thrust deepening their bond. Alice’s fingers dug into his back, her nails leaving marks as she pulled him closer, urging him deeper.

Their pace quickened, the intensity building with each passing moment. Steve’s breath was hot against her ear, his whispered words of encouragement and love driving Alice wild. She felt the pressure building within her, her body responding to every movement, every touch.

“I’m close,” she gasped, her voice breaking with need.

“Me too,” Steve replied, his own voice strained with effort.

With one final, powerful thrust, they both tumbled over the edge, their cries of release mingling in the air. Waves of pleasure washed over them, leaving them breathless and trembling in each other’s arms.

For a few moments, they lay entwined, their bodies still humming with the afterglow of their climax. Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Alice’s forehead, his heart swelling with affection.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

Alice smiled, her eyes shining. “So are you.”

They spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms. As they drifted off to sleep, Alice couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. With Steve by her side, she would never be alone again.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm flow over the room. Steve woke first, his body comfortably entwined with Alice’s. As he watched her sleep, memories of the previous night replayed in his mind, a mix of pleasure and concern settling over him.

Carefully, he disentangled himself from her embrace, not wanting to disturb her rest. He lay on his side, propping himself upon one elbow, and gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. As if sensing his gaze, Alice stirred, her eyes slowly fluttering open. She smiled sleepily when she saw him, a look of contentment on her face.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” Steve replied softly, his brow furrowing slightly. He then noticed the faint purple bruises in the shape of his hands on Alice’s butt cheeks. Guilt twisted in his stomach, and he quickly approached her, his expression turning serious.

“I’m so sorry. Look at these bruises… I didn’t realize I was that rough.

Alice placed a finger on his lips, silencing his apology. Her eyes were warm and reassuring. “Steve, you were perfect. I loved every moment of it.”

“But still,” Steve insisted, his voice tinged with worry. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Alice’s eyes sparkled with affection as she took his hand and led him to the mirror in the bedroom. “Let me show you something,” she said, turning him so his back faced the mirror.

Steve’s eyes widened when he saw the angry red scratches running down his back, courtesy of Alice’s nails. “Wow,” he breathed, a mixed feeling of surprise and understanding.

She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “See?” she whispered. “We both got a little carried away. You don’t need to apologize.”

Steve turned to face her, his hands gently cupping her face. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Alice smiled up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “I know,” she smirked, leaning in for a tender kiss. “Now, how about breakfast?”

With a lighter heart, Steve nodded, allowing himself to relax. “Breakfast sounds perfect,” he agreed, slipping into his boxers and grabbing a t-shirt while Alice just put on a big shirt.

As they moved to the kitchen, Alice playfully smacked his backside, making him jump. “And remember, next time is me who does the punishment.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at Alice’s playful remark. “Deal,” he replied with a grin, pulling her into a tight hug. “But just so you know, I might not enjoy being punished as much as you did.”

Alice chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Together, they set about making breakfast. As they cooked and joked, Alice couldn’t shake the feeling of contentment that settled over her. Maybe Steve wasn’t Bucky, and she wasn’t Peggy, but in each other, they had found something special.

“I’m gonna meet Natasha later today,” Steve shared as he ate one of the pancakes Alice had made. “You could come with me, she misses you.”

Alice smiled at the mention of Natasha. “I’d love to see her again,” she replied, a warmth in her voice. “It’s been too long since we last saw each other.”

Steve nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it has. She’s been through a lot too. It’ll be good for both of you.”

Later that day, Steve and Alice made their way to meet Natasha at the compound. It had been a year and a half since Alice had last seen her. During that time, they would occasionally text each other, just to say they’re okay, but they hadn’t seen each other.

Steve was the first to enter the briefing room of the compound, with Alice following behind him. Natasha was sitting at a desk, typing something into the computer.

“Hey there,” Steve greeted her.

Natasha rose from her seat, returning Steve’s smile with one of her own. “Hey,” she replied, stepping forward.

“I brought someone to see you,” Steve announced before the scootched to the left, showing Alice standing behind.

Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise as she took in Alice’s presence. “Alice! Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s you!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to envelop Alice in a tight hug. “It’s been way too long!”

Alice laughed, returning Natasha’s hug with equal enthusiasm. “I know, right? It’s so good to see you, Nat.”

Natasha pulled back, studying Alice with a mix of curiosity and affection. “You look great,” she said sincerely. “How have you been?”

Alice smiled, a warmth in her eyes. “I’ve been good, thanks. Just taking things one day at a time.”

Natasha nodded, her expression understanding. “I hear you. Well, I’m glad you’re here. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well, I’m gonna give you ladies some time alone,” Steve began as he grabbed his bag. “I’ll be at the gym if you need me.”

As Steve left the room, Alice and Natasha settled into comfortable chairs. When Alice sat down, she moaned in pain due to her previous night spent with Steve. This made Natasha raise an eyebrow in suspicion, but she didn’t say anything about it.

Their conversation was flowing easily as they caught up on each other’s lives. They talked about everything.

“So, how did you and Steve find each other?” Natasha asked. “You guys had a pretty bad fight, I thought you were not gonna speak to each other for years.”

Alice chuckled, remembering the argument she had with Steve. “Yeah, we did have a rough patch,” she admitted. “But we both realized we said some pretty bad stuff. We accidentally met each other at a bar a few months ago.”

“A few months ago?” Natasha asked in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it,” Alice replied. She didn’t know if she wanted to tell Natasha about her and Steve. “We apologized for the stuff we said and then drank together. But enough about me. What about you? What have you been up to?”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. “Well, you know, same old, same old,” she replied with a small smile. “Dealing with the aftermath of the Snap, trying to keep things together. It hasn’t been easy, but we’re managing.”

“I can imagine,” Alice said softly. “But you’re strong, Nat. You always find a way to make it through.”

Natasha’s smile softened. “Thanks, Alice.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing, her expression growing serious. “Listen, I know things have been tough for you too, especially after… after everything that happened, and loosing Bucky…”

Alice’s heart clenched at the mention of Bucky’s name, a pang of sadness washing over her. “Yeah, it’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m trying to move on, you know? Trying to find some semblance of normalcy.”

Natasha reached out, squeezing Alice’s hand in a gesture of comfort. “I get it,” she said softly. “And I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

Alice smiled gratefully, feeling a surged of warmth at Natasha’s words. “Thanks, Nat. It means a lot to me.”

Their conversation continued late into the afternoon, the hours slipping away as the shared stories and laughter. By the time Steve returned to the briefing room, shirtless and sweating from the gym, Alice and Natasha were deep in conversation, their bond stronger than ever.

“I take you ladies have talked about everything you needed to,” Steve said as he wiped some sweat from his forehead with a towel.

“Yeah, we did,” Natasha shared a smile with Alice.

Steve turned around to go to the kitchen and grab a cup of water. This made Natasha see his back, filled with scratches.

“Steve, what happened with your back?” she questioned suspiciously.

Steve froze, caught off guard by Natasha’s question. He glanced back at her, trying to think of a plausible explanation. “Oh, uh…” he stammered, his mind racing. “I, uh, fell yesterday. Nothing serious, don’t worry.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her expression sceptical. “You fell, huh?” she said, her tone teasing. “Looks more like someone got a little too carried away.”

Alice’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she realized Natasha had noticed the marks on Steve’s back. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure of how to respond.

“Well, you know how it is,” he said with a nervous laugh, trying to play if off. “I just slipped and fell.”

That was the moment Natasha put all the pieces together – the scratches on Steve’s back, Alice moaning in pain when she sat down, and they arriving together at the compound.

“Oh my gosh,” Nat’s eyes widened as realization dawned her. She glanced between Steve and Alice, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “You two…” she began, her voice filled with amusement.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. “Nat, it’s not what you think,” he protested, though his tone lacked conviction.

Alice couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “Yeah, it’s exactly what you think,” she admitted.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you two are sleeping together,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, I’m happy for you both. It was time to move on. And you make a cute couple.”

Steve and Alice exchanged sheepish glances, their embarrassment quickly giving way to amusement. “Thanks, Nat,” Steve said with a sheepish grin.

“We’re still figuring things out, but we’re happy,” Alice added.

“Well, I won’t keep you two lovebirds any longer,” Natasha said, standing up from her chair. “But we’ll definitely have to catch up again soon.”

“Definitely,” Alice agreed, a smirk tugging at her lips.

As they said goodbye to Natasha and made their way out of the compound, Steve couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the awkwardness of being caught, he was grateful to have Natasha’s support and acceptance.

“So, that went well,” Alice commented as they walked side by side down the street.

“Yeah, surprisingly well,” Steve agreed, a hint of relief in his voice.

Alice bumped her shoulder against his playfully. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s only a matter of time before Rhodey, Carol, Okoye, Nebula, and Rocket know about it.”

Steve chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted.

tags: ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​@capswife

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[lex-munro]

[More Like Grand-Ish: Part 11] Wednesday

OPLA ZoSan randomness, misplaced for a while when I set it down in the middle of formatting it for HTML posting…

Sanji’s POV and speech use UK English.

Some people get too much in their own heads and get so tangled up in inadequacy that they miss their partners doing exactly the same thing.

Timeline…ah…somewhere on the way to Water 7.

Canon divergent/universe alterations, gay!Zoro and anything-that’s-pretty-enough!Sanji, the surprising amount of water that can get into (and back out of) a ship during a big storm, magic/soul-bonds, secondary sunshine-child of our lives Vivi, off-screen spice and some spicy conversation, Sanji’s broadly-accepted lingual frenulum piercing, ubiquitous bad language.  Recognizeable characters belong to Netflix, Oda, Jump, etc.

P.S. a bar mop is a type of towel made of moisture-resistant fabric that allows you to sweep liquids off the top of a bar and into the drain below.  They are rubbish at absorbing spills, but brilliant for shoving things around on a slick surface (also great for placing under a cutting board to keep it from slipping and for using as a trivet or potholder).

***

Wednesday

  A hurricane between two islands blew them so far off-course that none of the Poses in Nami’s growing collection were particularly useful.  She waited for night and plotted their position solely by the stars, which impressed everyone but Zoro (to whom most maps honestly just looked like senseless scribbles).

“It’s amazing, though,” Nami muttered as she measured and drew at a feverish pace by the light of a hooded lantern.  “None of the local charts have any of this marked—it’s just a blank for miles until the Calm Belt.  We may be the first ship to sail this stretch, let alone chart it!”  She set out her Poses on the edges of the map.

Crouching, Luffy peered over the edge of the table they’d put out on the deck for her to work on.  “So if Alabasta is that way, and Jaya is that way, and our next Log is that way, we must be…”  He stuck a grubby finger right in the middle of her calculations and immediately got his ear twisted in punishment.

“You’re not wrong, but don’t touch my map!”

Chopper peeked from a different angle.  “A summer island on the chart means we were probably passing a spring island to hit such an impressive hurricane.  We don’t have much detail of our new Log Line, huh?”

“Our most detailed information is from the Log Line we broke, that passed through Little Garden,” Nami agreed with a rueful nod.  She tapped a spot on her map.  “Our current line is full of old data and hearsay, just like when we had to go on rumor alone to get to Skypiea because Jaya got broken in two.  This minor island here should be visible by dawn; then we’ll know we’re on track for our Log Stop, which seems to be an archipelago of sorts.”

“There used to be an Alabasta trade route this way,” Robin said.  “That minor island should even be a territory of the Alabasta Kingdom.”

“Wonder what kind of food they have…” Usopp whined, and a chorus of growling stomachs echoed agreement.

Nami huffed a sigh.  “You idiot boys are always thinking with your stomachs…”

“Rude,” Zoro grunted.

“Yeah, you just think with your…swords,” she said with a pointed look at his crotch.

“When did I ever—”

“Two or three times a day, going by how often Sanji tells Chopper to put on earmuffs.”

His face felt flaming hot, which put an annoyingly smug look on her face until he turned away from the lamplight.  “Give me the Log Pose—I’ll keep us pointed that way while the rest of you get some sleep.”

“You can’t be trusted to walk in a straight line through the woods.  I will take first watch, and if I start to get drowsy, I’ll wake Robin.  Go see if your husband actually managed to find salvageable food in all that flood damage downstairs.”

Zoro scowled.  Sanji was always serious about food, but the odds were pretty high that he’d detoured to clean the girls’ cabin first.

They’re ladies, they’re more delicate than you oafs, they need creature comforts, blah, blah, blah.

Curiosity prodded him through their match bond, and he set his jaw before resigning himself to whatever wreckage the storm had wrought below.

He was actually a little embarrassed to find Sanji dutifully checking crates and righting upset barrels.  “Hey.”

Sanji smiled at him in the flickering lamplight.  “Hey, you.  Come to put those strapping arms to good use?”

Wordlessly, he took over putting things back while Sanji focused on assessing any contamination or damage.

“Ah, shit, there was a hole in the wax cloth for the fucking flour…ooh, but the sugar is still good.”

“Kinda surprised you’re not collecting Robin’s laundry or something.”

“Nah, I did that right after I made sure the ladies’ books were all right.”

Zoro scowled.

“Don’t,” Sanji said.

“I didn’t say anything,” Zoro muttered.

“Nah, but you’re thinking it, and if you keep thinking it, I’m gonna kick you in your lovely face.  They work hard here, too, and maybe you don’t give a flying tit whether your underwear is filthy and crusted with salt, but they don’t deserve that on top of putting up with a boatful of idiot boys.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t think they deserved clean clothes or whatever.

But what had Sanji done for him?  He wasn’t…wasn’t needy, or whatever (okay, maybe he usually was, but not this time), he just felt a completely reasonable level of left out.

“Nobody asked you to do it,” Zoro pointed out.

A jolt of anger warned him in time to dodge the kick that was aimed at his nose.  “What did I literally just say?”

He stared into the shadows, and breathed, and pretended he didn’t think it would’ve hurt less if he’d just let it hit him.  “The first thing I did after I saw your injuries weren’t severe was to go check your knives,” he said bitterly.  “I hadn’t even checked my swords yet, past whether they were still on my hip.  I made sure you and your precious things were fine first.  So I’m not just being selfish or some shit.  You’re girl-crazy.  Verified fact.  Sorry if I think there’s something a little humiliating about my husband digging around in girls’ underwear and yet again accusing me of not valuing members of our crew just because you spend a really insulting amount of your time spoiling them like they’re children but basically no time noticing the things I try to do for you.”

“This again—”

“This still,” Zoro snapped.  “This always, for as long as you wear that ring and ignore me until there’s no girls around or until you wanna get your rocks off.”  He turned to face his husband, and he didn’t care if his hands were shaking from the shame of knowing Sanji could feel how spoiled and stupid and insecure he was being.

Slowly, Sanji put his hands in his pockets.  He didn’t seem to feel anything.

Zoro felt cold, and alone.  “I don’t know why I thought you’d change,” he said, defeated.  “I’m sorry I wanted to change you; that’s shitty.”

“I was looking for my fucking wedding ring, arsehole.  Most of the flood wash ended up in the lower stern.  Half our shit was on their floor.  Fucking—Usopp’s spare ammo in Robin’s bras, and our lube under Nami’s desk, and my ties wrapped around the bed post.  When I woke up from hitting my stupid head, my ring was gone.  Must’ve come off when I grabbed the hatch to secure it…God knows I couldn’t feel my fucking hands by that point.  So I checked the stairs, and then I saw everything had flooded to the stern, and if I was gonna be picking through their things anyway, I figured I might as well sort out the laundry.”

Zoro felt even worse.  “Oh,” he said.  “I’ll finish here.  Nami’s taking first watch, then Robin.  You should get some sleep.”

“You idiot.  You fucking idiot.”

He closed his eyes and waited for his well-deserved punishment.  A kick or two would be far preferable to more recriminations.  He already knew he’d been too greedy.

Sanji pulled him into a fierce embrace, arms crushing him close and fists clenching bruises into his skin.  “I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad.  I told you because I should’ve told you straight away and I don’t know why I didn’t, except that I guess I was embarrassed to lose something so precious.  And I guess that’s why I snapped at you, too, darling.”

“It’s fine,” Zoro said.  And it was—he’d rather have Sanji snappish than cold and distant.  Cold and distant was too close to the nightmares that had returned after they tangled with that crazy ballerina drag queen in Alabasta.  (What were the odds, coming across some mad scientist’s artificial Devil Fruit and the natural version?  Well, pretty good, actually, considering their general shitty luck…)

“It’s not fine,” Sanji told him.  “I promised you better, and I thought we were doing great—but here you are, saying I’m just the same as ever.  I’m still neglecting you, still hiding things from you, still admittedly very much admiring the feminine scenery in a way that hurts you.  I wish you’d stay mad about that instead of going all sad and hopeless.  Kick my arse when I’m stepping out of line.  Don’t just let me have my way.  Fight back, so I don’t fuck up badly enough to lose the greatest treasure in the Grand Line.”

There was a quiet knock at the door of the storage room.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just found this wedged under the door to the other cargo bay,” Robin said.

Sanji turned, then whipped back around to give Zoro an elated kiss.  “My ring!  Thank you so much, Miss Robin!  I was positively frantic looking for it.”

She smiled, and Zoro usually hated her face, but that sad little pitying smile made him hate it a little less.  “I know you treasure it and what it stands for.  And I know you feel you need a reminder that you hold someone’s fragile heart and should be careful with it.”

If there was more to her speech, Zoro couldn’t hear it over the rushing in his ears as he was kissed very, very thoroughly.

  -

  They arrived in Alasanda Port just after noon that day (approximately two hours after fisting Zoro into a blissful stupor).  It was a Wednesday, which felt slightly prophetic, and Sanji had high hopes that their shitty week would turn around.

“Stay close?” he asked, hand firm but not tight around Zoro’s.

“Wouldn’t want you to get lost,” his husband said casually (as if they didn’t all know Zoro would be the first to get lost at any given port).

Hm.  Then again, with their bond, they always knew distance and direction to one another.

‘Wouldn’t want you to get distracted with pretty girls,’ was the more likely meaning.

And this after all the fuss he’d made over just the idea of Zoro looking at another man.

Apologetically, Sanji raised their joined hands and kissed Zoro’s knuckles.  They were rough, and scabbed, and beautiful.

“What’re you doing?” Zoro grumbled, blushing.

“Reminding myself,” he replied, and stole a kiss.

“…stupid,” Zoro said.  He felt extremely pleased through their bond, even if his face was scowling.

Sanji smiled fondly, stroking his thumb under the shark-leather bracelet.

“Hurry up with the shopping so we can get a drink somewhere.”

His smile widened into a grin.  Zoro liked to use sitting down to a drink as an excuse to spend time together in public.

It was while they were browsing a stall of fruits and nuts that someone reached for the same cactus fruit as Sanji.

“Ah!  Mister Sanji!” exclaimed the hooded figure.  “And Mister Bushido!”

“Miss Wednesday!” Sanji replied, and felt the warmth of Zoro’s happiness bounce back at him.  The big grump really did like Vivi…

Vivi laughed brightly.  “What good fortune, meeting again.  Are you following a different Log Line now?”

“We are indeed.”

“And I see you got married—to Mister Bushido, by any chance?”

Sanji stammered a bit, flustered to have been seen through by a woman.  “W-well…that is…”

“Yeah, he told me he couldn’t wait to grow old with me,” Zoro bragged.  “Isn’t that the sappiest thing you ever heard?”

“Wow, I’m so happy for you!”

“Tell her about the dream—tell her about the restaurant.”

Sanji laughed at his husband’s enthusiasm.  “Let’s get out of the street, dearest.  I’m sure Miss Wednesday wouldn’t be wearing a hood if she wanted to draw attention to herself.”

Vivi giggled behind her hand.  “There’s a discreet little teahouse just around the corner.”

Zoro followed her lead so energetically that Sanji just grinned and let himself be pulled along.

They were seated by a little old woman who called the princess ‘Miss Vivi’ and brought a pot of tea without needing to be told the girl’s preferences.  It was something floral and tangy, brilliant red in a way that made Sanji think of apples.

“Hibiscus,” Vivi informed him.  “Common along sandy shores where coconuts can grow.”

He filed the information away.

She ended up pestering him for the whole story, from the romantic dream to the fight about giving cake to Robin, to the wedding on Match Island.  After that, she wanted to know everything she’d missed, including Skypiea and the escape from G-8 and the various daring ship battles.

And the whole time, his dear husband—who napped more than a cat and got bored only slightly slower than Luffy—was positively rapt.  If it seemed like Sanji might leave out part of a fight or something interesting about an opponent, he’d chime in like a little kid listening to his favorite story.  Gradually, as cups were emptied and refilled, Sanji managed to coax Zoro closer and closer, until their chairs were bumping and he could curl his arm around Zoro’s shoulder to make his wedding ring chime against Zoro’s earrings.

“Have dinner with us on the ship tonight,” Sanji suggested after an hour or so.  “I’m talking myself hoarse, and Miss Robin’s a much better storyteller.”

Zoro grunted in annoyance, which Sanji soothed with a kiss to his jaw.

“Is Mister Bushido still not a fan of Miss All-Sunday?” Vivi teased.

“Hate her face,” Zoro said.  “Plus, she meddles.”

Sanji chuckled.  “He doesn’t like many people.  You’re among the illustrious echelon of Chopper and Luffy, Miss Vivi,” he said.

“Don’t make it weird,” Zoro said, leaning away from Sanji’s insistent embrace in that cat-like way of his.

“I love how much you love her, dear,” Sanji said honestly.  “It’s a treat to see you so happy to be around someone.”

And, mollified, his green kitty turned just so.

“Ah, I can’t help but spoil you,” Sanji admitted, giving Zoro the kiss he was asking for.

Vivi giggled at them, but neither of them minded.  “I have some diplomatic errands—the main purpose of my visit to this island—but I’ll come see you on the Going Merry this evening.”

  -

  They finished their shopping and told the others that Vivi would be over for dinner.  Luffy was ecstatic, naturally.

Zoro put things away while Sanji ran off to start whatever probably-extravagant meal he was planning for the princess.

And Zoro was almost surprised at his own lack of jealousy.  If it were for Robin, he’d be picking a fight right now; he’d be at least annoyed if it were for Nami.  Vivi was different.  It wasn’t because she didn’t want to sleep with Sanji…Nami had made it pretty clear she was actively disinterested in most men and definitely Sanji, and Robin teased them a lot but seemed much more interested in books and dusty ruins.  It wasn’t because he liked her…he and Nami were best friends, according to what he knew of the subject.

It was probably because she was nice.  No, what a vague word…  Kind.  Giving, in little ways that were easy to miss.  Dutiful.  Forbearing.  Patient.  Terribly aware of her place in the world and all the weight of associated responsibilities.  At her core, a good person.

Yes.

It was only natural to want to treat Vivi well, so of course Sanji was pouring his heart into something over-the-top.  She would swear he hadn’t needed to trouble himself, and he’d say he was thrilled to cook for someone who could appreciate fine dining.  He’d make some jab about the boys being savages, and she would giggle but not disagree, and maybe if Zoro was there he’d tell some lie about all of Sanji’s food tasting the same, and Luffy would thwart his teasing by saying, “Yeah, it all tastes delicious!”

A yawn interrupted his train of thought.

Well, ports were rife with seagulls, ready to shit on any sailor naive enough to nap on deck, so he made his way to the galley.

“Come for your afternoon nap, dearest?”

Sanji had left him a pillow on the sun-warm bench.

Sleepy and happy, Zoro propped his swords beside him and stretched out.  “Love you, too,” he said before he could change his mind.

He dreamed of the walk to Yuba, with Ace’s quiet steadiness and Usopp’s whining and Luffy’s hallucinations.  He dreamed of sitting close enough to Sanji to share warmth while the idiots nearly singed themselves on the fire and the girls whispered secrets to each other.  He dreamed of tipping his chin for a kiss and actually getting it—back then, Sanji hadn’t quite figured out Zoro’s cues, and there’d been a few bickering matches (‘why won’t you kiss me’ and ‘what are you talking about’ and ‘it’s just Vivi and Ace’ and ‘I think we’re not having the same conversation’).

He dreamed of the way the sand glittered in the morning breeze as the sun rose pink and purple, and Vivi’s laughter as Luffy had to be dragged upright to start hiking while it was still cool out.

He woke suddenly and completely, as usual, but kept his eyes closed.  Clinking plateware, a smell of…broccoli…ginger…tomato…mutton…

“You were having nice dreams, for a change,” Sanji said.

“Camping on the way to Yuba,” he replied.  “Even with Luffy stealing my food, it was…”  He shrugged.

“Simple,” Sanji suggested.  “Carefree, in a way, because all we had to do was get from point A to point B in good time.”

“Yeah.”  He sat up and stretched, blinking away the last lingering bit of sleep.  “Vivi here yet?”

“Not just yet.  You must’ve woken ‘cos your sunbeam left, moss-cat.”

“Do not make that a thing,” Zoro warned, even though he loved it.

“I can always go back to bird jokes.  But I’m thinking the naps and the nonverbal affection cues are definitely more cat than crow, even if you are fascinated by the shiny thing in my mouth.”

Zoro turned to face his husband.

Sleeves up, ring sparkling as it moved, unlit cigarette between his lips.  The line of plates, each portioned according to its intended recipient, sauces drizzled in decorative patterns for the three ladies.

“Come get yours so Luffy can’t steal it.”

Zoro shook his head.  “I wanna eat with you.”

“Don’t, darling—it’ll be cold.”

“You definitely don’t listen when I tell you things,” Zoro scoffed, thinking of the time he’d told Sanji exactly what his (extremely sappy and romantic) favorite food was.

Sanji was pleased but annoyed.  “I want you to have it when it’s perfect.”

Zoro huffed a laugh.  “Stupid waiter…you asked me what I’d pick if I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life.”

Sanji frowned in confusion.

“Have you misremembered it just because you thought it was a line?” Zoro teased.

And now Sanji was embarrassed instead.

Zoro grinned.  “I said—”

“You said my mediocre cooking.”

“Because it means you took care of everybody else first,” Zoro explained.  “Feeding a kid with at least two more growth spurts, a bottomless pit, three girls, and a reindeer with a picky stomach?  Sounds like hard work.  I’d be proud to eat exactly what a man like that would eat.”

Sanji turned a fascinating shade of bright pink, which he quickly hid behind a bar mop.  “You bastard.  I love you so much.”

“So.  I’ll eat with you.”

“Go see if Miss Vivi’s here; if she is, summon the idiots.”

Zoro paused at the door and thought very hard about how much he loved his idiot cook.

“Stoooop!” Sanji growled, still hiding his face.  “Get the fuck out of my galley, shitty swordsman!”

It turned out that Vivi was just arriving, so everyone gathered in the galley.  They ate and shared stories and laughed, and Sanji and Zoro drank a bit while they watched plates and glasses for refills.  And when everyone was done and Luffy had noticed the lovely smells were coming from two covered plates, his strangely knowing eyes went to Zoro and Sanji.

“Vivi!” he exclaimed, jumping up and taking her hand.  “Let’s go look at the stars—Nami’s been using them to help with her charts, so she taught us about them!”

When the table had been cleared and wiped, and the dishes set to soak, they ate.  Elbow-to-elbow at the kitchen island, quiet and peaceful and content.

Zoro must’ve forgotten himself and leaned a little too close or felt a little too strongly, because Sanji chided him, “We’re sleeping separately tonight.  I’m not sleeping on that floor until we’ve cleaned the ship thoroughly, and sharing a hammock usually ends in disaster.”

Practical.  But it still stung, so Zoro straightened up and took his dishes to the sink.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Zoro interrupted.  “And you’re right; it makes sense.”

“But it makes you sad.”

“Thought you would’ve noticed since Match Island, but I spend a lot of my time being sad.  I’m used to it, so you shouldn’t worry about it.”

“What kind of dick likes it when people are sad?” Sanji countered.

Zoro gave a wry smile as he turned back.  “I guess you do listen to me.  Sometimes.”

Sanji felt apologetic and a little hurt.  He had a pretty little furrow between his brows and a pretty little pout on his stupid perfect mouth.

Zoro frowned back at him.  “What?”

“You never said anything.”

“What good would it do?  The person I aspired to died an undignified death, I let her down on a regular basis, I don’t live a life that lets me sleep next to my husband most nights, and I’m so needy and so shitty with words that we fight as much as we fuck—which is basically all the time—even though we can feel each other’s emotions.  None of that can be helped, at least right now.  So.”  He shrugged.  “There’s no point in telling other people about it if it can’t be helped.  It would just be a needless burden.”

Sanji hugged him tightly, like he had that morning.  “Never needless.  Burden me sometimes, all right?  Rely on me.  I’m your husband, and I love you.  We’re a team, you ‘n me…and a pretty damn good one, when we put our minds to it.”

Zoro considered that.  “What if I scrub the floor?”

“Let’s do the dishes first,” Sanji countered, and kissed Zoro’s jaw.  His hair smelled like smoke and melted butter (Zoro couldn’t completely stop the stupid fond smile that tried to twist its way across his mouth).  “Then we can scrub the floor together.  Sound good?”

Zoro nodded.

The next thing he knew, he had two hands down the back of his pants, squeezing and lifting.

“Sanji—” he huffed (not protesting, really, but certainly questioning), but was cut off by a kiss.

“One of these days, I’m gonna see if I can get you off just by squeezing all this glorious real estate.”

He laughed—cut short by another distracting squeeze.  “You have weird kinks.”

“Mm, says the guy who gets hard when I click my tongue ring against my teeth.  Perhaps we ought to be past judging.”

“Perhaps,” Zoro mocked, “you should gag me with your dick while you finger me.  Unless you want the whole town to hear me.”

He could almost hear Sanji’s brain grind to a halt.  “Ah.  How, uh.  How d’you want me?”

“Don’t care, as long as one hand is in my hair and the other is in my ass.”

Obviously, it took them a while to finish the dishes.

  .End.

[aristocratic-otter]

Hello all! I've been tagged on so many lovely things the last couple of weeks and, while I've been writing, it's just been one step to far to post with everything else I've got to do. But I've got time today, hooray! So first to thank all the lovely folk who keep tagging me even when I disappear:

@ivelovedhimthroughworse, @katmiscellanious, @prettygoododds, @messofthejess, @j-nipper-95, @rimeswithpurple, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @wellbelesbian, @alleycat0306, @hushed-chorus, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @whatevertheweather, @ileadacharmedlife, @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @nightimedreamersghost, and @shrekgogurt.

On to the sentences!

From Westward Son:

“Mistress Penny!” he shouts. “My little brother is coming, and my mother wants your help!”

We all straighten. We’d thought Chapa was heavily pregnant months ago, but she’s only gotten more immense since. She’s had to ride in the wagon for the last two months, once her bulk meant she couldn’t keep up with the slow pace of the wagon train. Penny is certain that she’s carrying twins, given the size of her.

From my Age of Sail AU:

When I emerge onto the beach, blinking rapidly against the sunlight, the tide has gone out, and the rock spur our ship is hung up on is surrounded by prolly only a foot or so of water. 

“Ah, there you are, Simon lad,” Davy appears at my elbow, and I turn obediently to listen. “The tide’s low enough,” he tells me. “We’ll take the raft out an’ you and the Pitch boy can climb around the ship like the monkeys you are and retrieve anythin’ that’s of use.”

“Aye, sir,” I tell him. I’m bone tired, but we’ll need those barrels and boxes of goods on the ship if we’re to survive here.

From this year's COTTA: Snow Fox

Penny’s horse was done in from her wild ride to Snow Island, so she’s mounted up behind me, clinging to my waist, and Shepard is riding behind my second in command. Which would be fine were she not using her position to hiss angry rebukes in my ear. 

Finally, I’ve had enough. “Fine, I get it, Pen. I’m an arsehole! What can I do about it now?”

“Now?” she shouts back. “Now you can save my brother. Later? You’re going to train me, and Shepard, so that we can defend our family and make sure this never happens again!”

From To Heal A Broken Mind (final chapter!):

His head is tilted down, his hair loose and falling into his face. He tends to do that when he feels vulnerable, I’ve noticed. Like his hair is a mask that will protect him from a harsh world. It’s odd..I never used to think of Baz as someone who’d ever need or want protection. But I know better now, and I’m glad for it. Glad that he lets me see this side of himself. 

And From Saving Simon Snow

“Now grab Baz’s hand, Simon, and think about what I told you to,” she directs. Simon does. I do my best to clear my mind, though when Simon closes his eyes and concentrates, I can’t help but think about how erotic he looks, with his closed eyes turned towards the roof of the car, his lower lip sucked into his mouth, his forehead tense with concentration. Crowley, he looks like he’s in the midst of an orgasm! 

And that’s when I feel a surge of excitement, mixed with joy and incredulity. The feelings aren’t completely at odds with my own, but I still report them dutifully to Bunce.

Yes, only five WIPs! Except actually there's a secret project going on that I can't share yet...and CORB choosing starts soon...so, yeah.

Tag Backsies to everyone above for Wednesday, along with these folks:

@artsyunderstudy, @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @ic3-que3n, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @moodandmist, @frjsti, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @yellobb-old.

[jackalsinthekitchen]

pop report #5: endless summer edition (9/16/23)

a sundazed glance at Billboard’s top 20 from two weeks ago – bitch, I said what I said

Summer’s over, the heat from the proverbial kitchen and literal sun still burning the other cheek I feebly turned to both. Per tradition, we’re bidding the season goodbye with a smattering of typical plaints that it wasn’t long enough, or felt like it didn’t happen. But here in Texas, it’s in full swing by early May, with not much mystery over what we’re in for beyond what degree (Fahrenheit) of punishing. So yeah – we’re pretty sure it happened. Yet again, we thought we were ready for it, and yet again, it went a little harder on us than it needed to. Whatever else went down, that lucky old sun made it cruel enough to justify a now-ancient Taylor chorus shooting up the pop charts. Like anything else that shoots up the pop charts these days, reasons why were imperfectly clear. One more testament to the inimitable inhabitability of the One True Pop Star’s catchy canon, perhaps? My summer wasn’t my fave; I can still feel it from here.

I’ve barely touched this new blog o’ mine, which I dreamt of putting up for years – the present you ogle at through the shop window for ages only to take it home and unwrap it, and see all that built-up desire instantly brown with oxidization. While Jackals! still doesn’t have a hook, for the first four weeks of 2023, at a rate of productivity that was ultimately to no one’s benefit, I looked at the pop charts and decided to think out loud about what they meant. But the thing is, in a year when people are thinking about it more out loud than usual, nobody seems to know exactly what they mean. There are analyses trenchant and muddled, and scattered rebuttals to both, strewn throughout comments sections we’ll never read. I’m too bored to even try to recap what I think I know about how these numbers are measured. Even my late best friend’s agitated analyses resisted my comprehension. Why dull the aesthetic with the statistical?

Suffice it to say, there are so many theories about “gaming the system” floating around, it feels a bit like last election year. Most of the people on my radar are in some way convinced that one Oliver Anthony Music’s “Rich Men North of Richmond” won its surprise Billboard victory through nefarious right-wing interference – comparable, you hear, to that Jim Caviezel movie about (fighting) child trafficking, where people bought out whole theatres just to stick it to Brandon. It’s not about the music, they say, it’s about waving a righteous-anger rag, and the rallying cry might as well be coming from any red-faced red-haired Bible-belt boy with a banjo who caught the Qanon virus at très-unmasked family get-togethers. A more neutral friend points out that “Rich Men North of Richmond” hung in at a basically ungameable top 3 place on Spotify for a bit. It was all great industry all around: for MAGAfolk, thinkpiecers, Billy Bragg.

Times change fast, though, so even if a few people are still reeling from them, the Billboard chart – much less Spotify’s Today’s Top Hits, where Anthony has vanished – has moved on to its latest single-star infiltration. That star is Queen Zillennial Olivia Rodrigo, whose guts are is filled with readymade hits, and who may portend a long-awaited pendulum swing back to a more rockist zeitgeist. But because it still literally does not matter what I do here, I wanna warm up these lazy fingers some by casting an eye back to two weeks ago, a whole world away, when the charts looked a bit more like they did in the middle of swelter season. At the ground floor of that top 20 was the indefatigable fatigue-pop of “Anti-Hero”, my most favorite song, which does not seem to have engendered a self-reflection revolution here on earth. But hey, maybe people are just keeping quiet about it. Even Taylor is going through some shit.

#19 is “Thinkin’ Bout Me”, by Morgan Wallen, the, uh, hot-button country artist about whom many folks certainly have thoughts. I haven’t heard this song as of this point in this paragraph, and I suspect it’s not as good as Frank Ocean’s pillow-pop classic “Thinkin’ Bout You”, which is the next song you get when you type “thinkin bout” in the search bar. Mr. Wallen, a reformed butt-rocker, has a harder edge than many of his southern-pop peers, and an excellent article I linked to earlier in this piece, written by a (non-right-wing) writer who’s spent just a little more time with young Wallen’s proudly endless albums than I have, suggests his lyrics even bespeak hip-hop (gasp!) influences. Perhaps this explains some words he enjoys using. The beat of this one is ripped unaltered from hip-hop; the lyrics might pass too, if rapped, though not in what I perhaps unfairly call “truck nuts voice”. Wallen is feeling upset, and entitled, about a recent breakup in this enduring hit, not helping his case by singing the song like an asshole. (More on this later.)

Country really is in its butt-rock era, in a sense – the guitars are amped-up and grinding, the (male) vox are growly and real-ass proud about it. “Need a Favor”, by something called Jelly Roll that’s miles away from Morton, was cited recently in an AA meeting I attended by someone it caught unsuspecting on the radio. We’re a very talk-to-God crowd in AA, and contra Wallen, there’s a humility in this song that’s not matched at all by its sound, but which pushes its stridence into something resembling passion. I’ve just found out via Google/Wikipedia that Jelly Roll is apparently an “American rapper”. He looks like a heavier Post Malone – also an “American rapper” even though everything he puts out sounds just like a pop song – and has a narrative about being incarcerated many times, which also lends some poignant complexity to his hit’s hook. Verdict: annoying if you’re in the wrong mood, but not necessarily bad for your health.

Next in my discovery journey is finding out who the War & Treaty are – they’re a Black husband and wife who weave country and rock into more traditionally Black styles like soul and blues. It makes sense that they’d team up with Zach Bryan, one of the better and, dare I say it, more soulful heavy country hitters hanging out in the high end of these charts. “Hey Driver”, which doesn’t trouble you with electric guitars or even drums at the top, is really stirring. The juxtaposition of tW&T’s full-bodied harmonies against Bryan’s voice, which crumbles once it hits the air, is gorgeous, and the lyrics boast a complexity rarely troubled with on most of these hits. It’s all sincerity, but for the most part, I feel like it earns it. Though the Billboard charts continue to exhibit a kind of separate-but-equal mélange of genres, this sort of crossover still feels rare – even if so much pop, R&B and country takes production cues from hip-hop.

At #16 (we’re at #16 btw) is the ever-restless, currently-somewhat-exhausted Miley Cyrus, whose tired but empowered “Flowers” is already one of pop’s great breakup anthems and stands as one of the songs of last summer. I spent some time in Ms. Cyrus’ canon last spring for a piece I’m proud of, but it didn’t dispel the impression I’ve always had that behind that fabulous voice and insouciant demeanor is not a very clear artistic vision. Cyrus swings from new tack to new tack, and unless she’s put a truly fantastic single together – she does this every so often – there’s always a trace of “unconvincing” there for me. “Used to Be Young” is scarcely different. A piano ballad, something she seems to personally favor, it has an air of reflective weariness (cf. “Malibu”) and light penitence (perhaps for She is Coming?). The media was rarely kind to her, but the hurt only comes out in her songs. The hook is solid, if a little programmatic (“you say I used to be wild, I say I used to be young”), and the music narrowly avoids sappiness with an atmospheric, beaty arrangement. And the fact is, when she starts to belt, she thins out her competition.

“Religiously” by Bailey Zimmerman – I would’ve typed “Blake” based on his face and sound if I hadn’t looked twice – is another revved-up, growly country song about having been deserted, and unlike Mr. Wallen, Zimmy doesn’t wink at you that she was super wrong to leave. The chorus – “I ain’t got the only woman who was there for me/religiously” – skirts patriarchal discomfort, but the lucky among us have had a deeply patient, unwaveringly supportive partner, so the regret is broadly relatable. The religious content is also rather muted – not like this is worship music or anything, though I guess it could pass if it were cornier – weaving the spiritual and secular in a seemingly seamless way. But it’s not not corny. It’s not clear if BZ has a sense of humor, and while his voice has some nice gristle to it (a la ZB), like most of country’s current heavy hitters, the music sounds straight from the factory (a factory with mandolins).

Lil Durk (feat. J. Cole)’s “All My Life”, #14, is also corny, but not enough to drag it down. The slow unfurl of its polysyllabic ruminations (there’s an element of hip-hop the rest of pop would do well to absorb), the classic-Kanye style kids’-choir hook, the simple, gorgeous chord progression: this is a song that aims to make you cry, and more or less earns it. Cole’s climactic middle section about slain young rappers is the highlight, of course; never were more brilliant pop stars cut down too soon than in the modern rap era. But the whole thing has a humility and sense of dynamics that arrests you the whole way through, even the verses you’re not following perfectly between choruses. There is a problem here, though – the single’s sweet sugar was harvested and glazed over by none other than Dr. Luke, one of music’s accused whose charges seemed credible enough to strip him of his license to practice. Can’t Ke$ha count on us?

#13 is “Flowers”, and #12 one of three fantastic hits from the indisputable movie of the summer. Barbie was fainter for me than I wanted, though I’m not sure how much more subversive – it’s quite subversive! – it could’ve been while still nailing the something-for-everyone thing. And anyway, what do I know? I’m just a Ken (or perhaps an Allan). “Barbie World”, the #12 in question two weeks ago – remember, this is all two weeks ago, I make the rules here – is the weakest of the trio. It’s a trap-haze interpolation of the old Aqua hit, a great song which nevertheless felt so aggressively hyper back in the ‘90s, it could hit like a form of torture in the wrong mood. Nicki Minaj, my original 2010s hero, hasn’t helped herself personally for a bit, but her effortless, earth-scorching command, even at a low temperature, is a perfect vessel for the universal empowerment this theme and its film intend – “all of the Barbies is pretty” indeed. #6 on this chart is Dua Lipa’s mint-condition, made-to-order disco anthem “Dance the Night”, the sort of banger that feels like it’s been around forever. The last Barbie hit, Billie Eilish’s startlingly canny “What Was I Made For”, a ballad that astounds a little harder every time it languidly unfolds, hung in at #22.

Oliver Anthony Music had dropped just outside the top 10 at this time. Part of my picking an earlier chart is that I wanted to write about him; that said, I don’t know that a single song has had more written about it in the recent past, and all in one week. Much was made of Anthony(whose beard conceals his build)’s irritation with people who use taxpayer-funded welfare to buy cheap treats. In fact, his fatphobia is the clearest toxicity in the lyrics, though the reference to “minors on an island somewhere” – as if the U.S. government did a thing to keep Jeffrey Epstein from hurting people – codes conspiracy theorist. But all the carping about his fishy success belies the fact that the song sounds great. Mr. Music’s voice is searing and powerful, the stark banjo and the outdoor ambience a production coup, and if it wasn’t so clear he was coming at this from the wrong place (though to be fair, he’s abjured any party affiliation), it would speak to the great open secret of U.S. politics, which is that bullshit pay is everybody’s problem, and these wedge issues, however serious, are there to distract us from uniting against our oppressors. As Billy Bragg put it in his pitch-perfect rebuttal, “join a union”. We’ve just been reminded strikes still work.

Having already touched on #6, I’ll breeze through 10 to 7. 10 is Rema & Selena Gomez’s “Calm Down”, an Afrobeat-graced pop hit with a vibe much resemblant of Bad Bunny and other recent Latin pop. Gomez’s post-Waverly Place penchant for coming on like she’s absolutely done with everything and is too tired to be bothered anymore suits the single’s quiet storm perfectly. “Vampire” is Olivia’s current piano-kissoff coup, and you already know how much it doesn’t suck. Gunna’s “Fukumean” gets stuck in my head here and there – well, just the “Fukumean” part – and I always subsequently wonder what it sounds like on the radio, where you still can’t quite say exactly what the fukumean. The music feels generic if peppy; the lyrics are conventional hip-hop aggro-bravado. SZA’s “Snooze” is no snooze, but also no “Kill Bill”.

I went through a breakup this summer, right around the time Morgan Wallen’s “Last Night” blew up. His music is insistently catchy and melodically brawny, so for a short time “no way it was our last night” was sort of a pet chorus in my head. But this deteriorated quickly, paying attention to the rest of the lyrics – said night was booze-fueled, not the most relatable or charming thing for a grateful recovering alcoholic, and once again, Wallen’s greasy cockiness is an automatic turn-off. There’s very little indication that his ex wants to stick around, much less that Wallen, whose cultural function is primarily as a “cancelled” superstar half of the country is propping up in retaliation, has done a lot of self-interrogation about it. The song really does sound great, and its hook is invincible, but once again, it isn’t exactly good for you.

The late-breaking triumph of Taylor’s “Cruel Summer” would also leave a bad taste if the song weren’t one of her best. I say this because of the recent scenario in which our new pop hero Olivia Rodrigo had to pay Swift, whose business acumen seems genuinely frightening, for a touch of inspiration from this song (a chanted section…?) that could be ungenerously interpreted as some sort of theft for which some sort of repayment is in order. Their lawyers worked it out, but bad blood feels inevitable; Swift famously supported Rodrigo in a deliberately maternal way when “Drivers License” (sorry, “drivers license”) hit, but it’s not impossible to imagine that zillionaire cipher feeling a twinge of jealousy from which a few petty things might result. Rodrigo’s evasive responses in interviews seem to give credit to this suspicion.

Into the top #3, and here sits one of my favorite curios, Luke Combs’ musically beefed-up but lyrically unaltered cover of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”. Combs absolutely has truck nuts voice, and I’m still not clear what people who prefer that voice above all others do when he drops the line about his time as a checkout girl. It’s hard to pinpoint anything nefarious here; Combs has just sent an influx of money into the bank account of a more-or-less forgotten Black female singer-songwriter – though that song endures, and is now living in the high reaches of the charts, because it’s fucking fantastic. But then, I haven’t read any thinkpieces about it, and I’m getting about as tired of writing as you are of reading, so we’ll move on.

My boy Zach Bryan and our girl Kacey Musgraves are (well, were) at #2 with their gently broken collab “I Remember Everything”. With its soft bass-drum pound, quiet strumming, slowly sawn violins and swaths of echo, it sounds a bit like mists floating grimly over fields (antebellum, perhaps? Nah, not for Kacey). Here are two of our deftest, most openhearted country stars, and, finally, a country breakup hit with not a kernel of corn, setting its scene through pure suggestion instead of beating you over the head with a big new cliché in a sack full of old ones. Its magic dispels a little the closer you look, but it really works. So does the unflappable Doja Cat’s “Paint the Town Red”, noted by chartwatchers as the first rap hit atop the hot 100 in a hot minute. As with “Dance the Night”, once DC rolls in over the music, the song feels classic and eternal. Not unlike Dionne Warwick’s “Walk on By”, the source of its sample – a 60-year-old hit of such intense and incongruous fragility, it’s astonishing how well they worked it in. In the Spotify age, all pop is eternal. To that end, any summer whose soundtrack is woven into your soul is endless.

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Le prophète (Karlsruhe, 2015): Reactions, Part I

new (ish) filmed production of le prophète just dropped??? there go any other plans i may have had for this friday night

no loitering allowed

this chorus is essentially just “thank fuck that it’s sunny and not storming” which…i get it bc i live in tornado alley, but also as we come out of a VERY hot summer…storms are nice every once in a while

also: no room for sun in a neon capitalist/oligarchist hellscape

berthe’s got rocker girl vibes!

the waitress: “eh might as well listen to your story not like i have anything better to do on company time”

this does not feel very heterosexual on berthe’s part

edit: scratch that apparently that was fidès, in which case…why have her come in before she’s supposed to be there, director

also though: as a friend said, (paraphrased) “if y’all ship filippo and rodrigo i should be able to ship fidès and berthe bc it’s basically the same thing”

“tomorrow this place is ALL YOURS!!!”

(we love women business (co) owners)

she got all her papers in order, she’s done everything RIGHT, and yet…

THE ANABAPTISTS ARE HERE

also: i’m sorry but i find it so fucking funny that they’re dressed up like mormons. idk why that’s so funny to me but i saw a production of the barber of seville once where one of almaviva’s disguises was as a mormon missionary and i lost my shit laughing. anyway back to the opera

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THEY WENT TO FIDÈS’ PLACE THAT MAKES THIS EVEN FUNNIER

(on the other hand, though: why is everything such a huge problem if fidès and jean live in the same town as berthe??? a big part of it is that berthe is asking to LEAVE oberthal’s domains. i wonder what the modern equivalent is)

“nah not interested” *slams door in their faces* yes you go fidès 

weird cuts but THIS CHORUS NEVER FAILS TO BLOW ME AWAY

the power of community organizing! (unfortunately done by people with…less than great intentions)

fun activities with friends: doing acrobatics and breakdancing on police cars

everyone reading each other for filth. it’s fun but they all suck

also, no picture but: LUCIA LUCAS IS IN THIS??? (she plays Mathisen) NICE!!!!!!!!

two brave women supporting one another we love to see it (also: one of the prettiest duets you ever did hear)

oberthal you little bitch

you’re just gonna leave her chained to that? 

WAIT OBERTHAL WAS IN THE BACK SEAT WITH BERTHE THE WHOLE TIME OH FUCK

talk about mood whiplash! (also: this chorus BOPS)

uh oh (also especially with the mormon missionary-esque costumes, their being at more or less a sports bar is hilarious)

jean is a tenor with no brain cells and he’s able to admit it, unlike most tenors with no brain cells

his dreams could be prophetic for real, or a fluke…but either way they are GOING to be manipulated 

“no sports. only our warped version of Jesus”

“guys. stop kneeling before me. i’m not Jesus or any warped version thereof”

(also i REALLY want them to start singing “hello”)

THE WAY HE LAUGHED AT THEM YES JEAN GET ‘EM

“DUDE, we’re not supposed to have beer”

“oh sorry”

he’s just a guy who really loves his mom and his rocker girl fiancée! 

so jean. about that marriage tomorrow.

oh HONEY

HOW DO YOU NOT SEE HER OH MY GOD

i’ll try to put the rest in a reblog bc apparently you can now only put in 30 images per post, which is STUPID and DUMB and i HATE it

[dailykoreanpop]

Music Fans Think G-Eazy’s Verse on ATEEZ’s ‘Work’ Remix Is a Callout to Halsey: ‘This Was Not on My Bingo List’

G's mention of Libras raised eyebrows in his new remix to the K-pop group's No. 1 hit.

With the newly released version of ATEEZ’s No. 1 single “Work” poised to make crossover impact for the K-pop group via the all-English remix featuring G-Eazy, the rapper’s verses have also sparked speculation among fans online that he used the track to take a jab at his ex-girlfriend, Halsey.

Released Friday, Aug. 9, the “Part 4” remix of “Work,” which topped World Digital Song Sales in June for ATEEZ’s first chart-topper on the ranking, features G-Eazy delivering a verse that has fans talking: “Actin’ innocent, no, it’s not your first time/We’re far away if Libra is her sign/ Oof, danger, danger (Danger, danger)/Don’t be a stranger (Don’t be a stranger)/ She said no one can save her.”

This particular line has drawn attention due to Halsey’s Sept. 29 birthday, making her a Libra and leading to widespread speculation that the lyrics could be a thinly veiled reference to his experiences and their past relationship. The stars were in a highly publicized relationship from 2017 to 2018 before an abrupt breakup in July 2018. While neither has spoken up directly about what ended their time together, both artists have released music that fans believe alludes to their breakup. Halsey has also previously mentioned being in an “abusive relationship,” though she has never explicitly confirmed if G-Eazy was involved.

After the collaboration’s release, one user on X (formerly known as Twitter) wrote that they “got weirded out when he sings that [because] I immediately remember Halsey…this is ATEEZ’s song why tf did u make it about u.” One X user added, “A collab of all things to make a little diss at your ex,” with another saying, “G-Eazy shading Halsey in a K-popcollab…this was not on my bingo list AT ALL.”

As some fans have noted, the particular lyrics in G-Eazy’s verse stand out against the backdrop of ATEEZ’s original message in “Work,” which is about focusing in on pushing toward your goals and achieving success. One fan on X wrote, “We’re talking about clocking in and he’s over here harassing his ex.”

Indeed, the K-pop group sings about the hustle in lines like, “I like to party when it’s a party/That’s payin’ me to pull up” and the addictive chorus of “Gotta work, gotta work / Gotta make that money, make purse.” G-Eazy later adds, “Work, flex, work, flex, always in the lab/ How I earn checks/ Hundred thousand dollars for a verse, yes/Wouldn’t lift a finger if it were less.”

The collaboration comes after ATEEZ’s established admiration for Halsey. The K-pop group’s fans, known as ANTINY, know the members frequently share music recommendations: Both Wooyoung and Jongho have shared their fondness for “Boy With Luv,” her hit collaboration with BTS, Yeosang has recommended Halsey’s chart-topping Billboard Hot 100 hit “Closer” with The Chainsmokers to fans. Mingi has also praised G-Eazy’s work, notably his Hot 100 hit “Me, Myself & I” featuring Bebe Rexha, and previously recommended Calvin Harris’ Funk Wav Bounces Vol. 2 album, where Halsey features on two tracks.

Representatives for G-Eazy nor ATEEZ did not return Billboard‘s request for comment at press time.

Even if the potential diss has dominated most of the conversation, it’s important to recognize the latest steps in ATEEZ’s barrier-breaking 2024 that includes multiple “Work” remixes, being named an “Up Next” star in Variety’s Young Hollywood Impact Report, and the ongoing [Towards the Light : Will to Power] in North America arena and stadium tour that just took over New York’s CitiField on Saturday, Aug. 2. This year has also been momentous for G-Eazy with the June 21 release of his seventh studio album, Freak Show, marking his first full-length project in nearly three years, which precedes a world tour hitting North America, Europe, Australia and New Zealand through this and next year.

Listen to Part 4 of ATEEZ’s “Work” with G-Eazy below:

Credit: Billboard

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Chloé Sautereau’s new bare-faced acoustic-pop single ‘Ten Thousand Stories’ merges warm guitar with a narrative of finding your place in the world

The Swiss born and raised, New York based singer-songwriter Chloé Sautereau has slowly but surely finding her place within the music scene, sharing bare-faced pop that blurs catchy hooks with intimate storytelling. With influences such as artists like Amy Allen, FINNEAS and Julia Michaels, Chloé is a familiar but uniquely striking force to be reckoned with, and she only continues to grow with every new release. Since her debut ‘Get to Know You Game’ earlier this year, Chloé now shares her latest offering ‘Ten Thousand Stories.’

As songwriting lies at the heart of everything Chloé does, ‘Ten Thousand Stories’ spills out with admissions of her ever-changing environments and headspaces, coming to terms with her new reality based within New York city and the way her life has shifted both internally and externally. Consumed by the big city, the endless faces, thousands of apartments and passing cars, bright lights and nightlife, the world Chloé now finds herself in is one that never stops moving, and that causes a lot of introspection. As she sings ‘sleeping here can get a little lonely’ , it’s almost like the masses of crowds and bustling streets can emphasise the loneliness of her solitary apartment, surrounded by so many and yet spending every night alone. The chorus hook continues ‘I’m ten thousand stories tall but I’m falling… I’m trying to keep up with the city lights’ , expressing how Chloé’s new life leaves her feeling a little lost within the world, constantly in a cycle of needing to be moving and doing something just like everyone around her. Just like we all experience and put on, there’s an inherent external pretence buried within her words, with Chloé feeling she must keep her emotions within to save face but allowing herself the freedom within her lyrics to come clean: ‘when I think about tomorrow, is it okay if I say I’m a little scared.’ As we’re all constantly pushed to grow, learn, make money and progress in our lives, ‘Ten Thousand Stories’ really flows out like the internal monologue most of us have buried within us, trying to make peace with the reality of life’s consuming needs. But littered within her self-analysis is just as much light as there is turmoil, as Chloé sings ‘have you seen how the morning sun makes every little thing so lovely’ , finding a new home in a place that glows with endless life. Erring between overwhelm and a newfound appreciation, ‘Ten Thousand Stories’ is here to give you an anthem for those days it all gets a little too much, guiding you through while Chloé’s figuring things out just as much as we all are.

Between the breathing lungs of her lyricism is a soundscape that’s both tender and warm, extending a welcoming hand to anyone needing to find the strength and familiarity of a friend to get them through and feel a little less alone, even if that’s in the distant form of Chloé from afar. Beginning with gentle acoustic guitar strums and intermittent plucks that ring out into the vastness of the sound, ‘Ten Thousand Stories’ captures an immediate intimacy that you can’t help but resonate with, built up with occasional dreamy electric guitar twangs. The chorus surrounds you with a cloudy haze of soft instrumentals, layering differing guitar strums and plucks within each other, showing more of a strength in their delivery than the verse’s more melancholic hums. Chloé’s vocals truly take centre stage though, soaring through a clean and airy higher range with a haunting delicacy, bridging the gap between powerful vocals with a lighter edge. Towards the track’s closure, radiant backing vocals make her words all the more engrossing, creating an atmospheric aura before things calmly fade out. All in all, the soundscape of ‘Ten Thousand Stories’ is intentionally minimal, there to soothe but not to take the focus of a narrative that Chloé is determined to have heard.

Check out ‘Ten Thousand Stories’ here to journey through Chloé’s heartfelt storytelling and whimsical sound!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[mythica0]

Reddit is being stupid so I’m writing this here to link there- this is inspired by a writing prompt.

“Hey guys!” I called out to my friends-Kyle and Jane- who were sitting at the lunch table.

As usual, my *other* friends were following me. The imaginary ones. I slipped up sometimes- spoke to them in front of other people. They always called me crazy.

But that’s not important.(yet.)

“Hey Gabby!” They called out in sync, waving at me.

I sat down at the table, the dragon siblings( there are eight ,all based on an element. Can be tough to deal with.) laying next to my tray. Gaiya sat on the floor, while Harley and Dazzle elected to stand.

“Oo! Lunch time is always fun!” Ollie spoke, his mermaid-like tail flopping next to him, his wings settled on the table.

“I don’t agree. Too boring.” Fiona sneers from her spot across from him. Her tail, Fire-tipped, crackling but not alighting anything.

I tried to ignore the chatter my friends couldn’t hear.

“How are you guys?”

“We’re awesome!” Jane exclaimed ecstatically.

“Damn right we are.” Kyle replies lightly, with a smug grin on his face.

I roll my eyes and scoff. “Maybe we are. You? Not so much.”

He gasps over-dramatically. “How *dare* you!”

We all dissolve into laughter.

——————

In biology, Gaiya helps me. Her vine-like hair and antlers blocking my view as she looks at my paper. Her gentle, quiet voice is hard to hear in the loud room, but i hear it all the same.

“Oh, actually you flipped those two.” She says, gentle and non-judgmental, pointing to the diagram if environmental progression I was drawing.

I don’t know how she know things I don’t. Considering she, and all of the others, come from my imagination. But sometimes I talk to her about biology and ecosystems late into the night. Or let her talk in her soothing voice until I fall asleep.

—————

In chorus, Dazzle sings along with me. We harmonize together, her thin, ribbon like tails swaying with the music. Her voice is a little higher than mine, she a soprano and I an alto. Her glittery freckles and pink skin shine in the light through the window. She would be an excellent stage performer were she real. Her curly purple hair and bright pink skin might get in the way though.

—————

After dinner, I sit out on the porch. It’s Friday, so I can stay up as late as I want. Harley sits with me. Harley is an odd one out amongst my friends. While the rest are very colorful and bright, Harley is more dark and subdued. He has piercing green sclera, and white irises. I don’t really know what he is. He has the body of a werewolf, but he also has bat wings and a snake as a tail. I suppose he’s the manifestation of my love for Halloween.

We look up at the stars.

—————

The dragon siblings fight a lot. It makes sense, theirs eight of them. All of them are ampitheres(meaning dragons with no legs but two wings)

Ollie is the water dragon. Scarlet is the air. Ellie the lighting, Tourmaline the earth, Fiona the fire, Ivan the ice, Leviathan(or Levi) the light, and Dahlia the Dark.

“Are w-we going anywhere fun today?” Ellie asks, her stutter getting in the way of her speech.

“Maybe. Might go for a walk later.”

My mom here’s me speaking. “Are you talking to yourself again?”

I sigh. “Yes mom.”

She doesn’t see them. Only I do. It makes sense, they’re imaginary after all. (…right?)

Tourmaline flies slowly up to me, his tail weighed down by the large stone attached to it.

“I wonder what she made for breakfast.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s go and see.”

“I’m cool with whatever. Pun intended.” Ivan flies up as well. He loved making puns about everyone’s element, but especially his own.

“Yeah! Race you down!” Scarlet said, quickly zipping away.

“No one is racing you!- and she’s gone.” Ollie replies.

“I keep telling her no one will race her because we all know she’s the fastest, but will she listen? No.” Dahlia rolls her eyes, following down the stairs.

“I hope we can find something colorful!” Levi pitches in, completely missing that the topic had moved on from what we were doing today.

I chuckle a bit. “Yeah, bud. Me too.”

————

The next day I go to the park with my friends. The real ones this time.

We have a blast together, that is until-

“Ugh, I want expecting to be in the presence of losers today.”

Great. Harold. The name of my entire existence.

He chose me and my friends as targets, I suppose. Bullies us for no reason.

“We may be losers but at least we have friends!” Kyle replies, snarky.

“Yeah. This guy is such a jerk.” Gaiya whispers next to me.

Dazzle shouts: “Oi! We may be strange but we’re also awesome! And unlike you, we have *good* opinions.”

Harold’s head perks up. “Which one of you bozos said that?! I have amazing opinions!”

I startle. He heard her?

He stares in our direction for another moment. “Who are all of you? ***What*** are all of you?”

My friends look at him, confused. Internally, I’m panicking. We’re they real this whole time? How does he see them?!

“We’re dragons!” Ollie calls. “Not that we care about you. Jerk.”

Dazzle glares at him. “Cooler than you, that’s what.”

Harely stares at him, Ears back, the snake that’s attached to him hissing. “That’s none of your business, buddy.”

“….what is going on?” Jane asks, completely befuddled.

“Your loser of a friend is surrounded by *freaks* that’s what!”

“Hey, we are not freaks…” Gaiya whispers, sounding disheartened.

“Don’t listen to him Gaiya, he’s just a jerk and an idiot.” I whisper back to her, holding her hand for a moment.

A pause. “Gabby? Is there something you’re not telling us?”

As Kyle speaks, my other friends chase Harold away. I have a feeling he won’t bother us for a while.

“…. I thought they were imaginary.” That’s the only thing I say at first. Jane prompts me to elaborate.

“I have..apparently not-so-imaginary friends. I don’t know how, but Harold just saw them. And heard them.”

“Really? Wow!” Kyle exclaims.

I whip my head up to look at him. “You believe me? You don’t think I’m nuts?”

Jane spoke this time, amusement in her voice. “I mean, we all saw what just happened, I think the evidence is there.”

“I wish you could see them…”

“Well, tell us about them!” Kyle pipes up.

“Alright! So there’s the dragon siblings, Dazzling, Harley and Gaiya….”

Maybe they would see them one day. Maybe they wouldn’t. Who knows. All I know is that *all* of them are my friends, real or ‘imaginary.’

[theeverlastingshade]

Girl with Fish- feeble little horse

Philadelphia has been the epicenter of indie rock for roughly a decade by this point. Brooklyn was the indie rock mecca for the first decade of the 21st century, but after becoming financially unsustainable for the vast majority of artists who aren't bankrolled by family, Philly swiftly became the de-facto feasible alternative. The scenes there have flourished, and have been a home base for forward-thinking iconoclasts like Alex G and Spirit of the Beehive as well as timeless-sounding singer-songwriters like Kurt Vile and Waxahatchee, and musicians of all sorts of stylings in-between. While much has been made of how absurdly high above their weight class Philly has been punching throughout the last decade, I haven't been privy to nearly as much coverage w/rt to the cross-state indie rock scene that's developed in Pittsburgh. And hopefully I'll see that start to shift following in the wake of Girl with Fish, the excellent sophomore LP from feeble little horse. While steeped in the DIY sensibilities of Philly indie (most obviously Alex G) flh have managed to carve out a lane for themselves by playing a style of noise-pop that fuses the delicacy of twee with the brutality of shoegaze, resulting in a sound that feels familiar but is ultimately unlike anyone else making music right now. Their first LP, Hayday, and their lone EP, Modern Tourism (both from 2021) are promising records that showcase the seeds of the sound that they would go on to develop, and on GwF those seeds have begun to blossom into some of the sharpest indie rock that I've heard all year.

Fbl consists of guitarists Seb Kinsler and Ryan Walchonski, drummer Jake Kelley, and bassist/vocalist Lydia Slocum, and throughout the course of GwF they play with genre conventions while slyly upending them. They've described their music making aspirations along the lines of what they call Ableton-core (they've acknowledged SotB as a guiding force in this realm) and it's not hard to hear that sort of chaotic discipline guiding the music here. Opening cut "freak" opens to a trail of feedback before massive guitar chords flailing into the red emerge, and within short order the band are delivering honeyed vocal melodies that see-saw between relatively clean playing and effects-laden guitar passages rounded out with bashed cymbals. The whole song is barely 1:45 long, but the intoxicating effect lingers much longer and sets the stage for the proceeding 25 minutes of melodic mayhem. While the band don't deal in outright abrasion on every single song, everything here exudes some kind of off-kilter presentation, whether we're talking about the pitch-shifted warbling guitar on "Paces", or the mountains of distortion that threaten to steamroll the gentle vocal melody on "Steamroller" but never quite do. Nothing here exceeds the 3.5 minute mark, but nothing ever comes close to sounding slight or tossed off either. Fbh wisely give their ideas plenty of room to breathe, but they change course before anything ever wears its welcome. The result is a lean album overflowing with ideas that contains enough momentum to work superbly in any way that you want to experience it.

The ingenuity on display ensures that GwF is an engaging listen from start to finish, but even though everything here works there are still a handful of clear standouts that are just as strong as anything that I've heard this year. The aforementioned "freak" kicks things off on an extremely high note with its infectious juxtapositions, and mid-album highlight "slide" plays a similar trick. Throughout "slide" the band alternate between jangly acoustic guitar passages and an otherworldly 16 bit synth melody that lulls the listener into a sense of tranquility before thick slabs of in the red guitar distortion and one of Slocum's tightest vocal melodies yet come barrelling into the frame. The quiet/loud/quiet verse/chorus/verse structure is one of the most well-worn tropes in all of rock music, but it's rarely executed with this kind of immediacy and stylistic variation. It sounds remarkably fresh and inspired despite its colossal precedence. And there's no way to do a conversation about this band justice without mentioning the absolute showstopping "pocket", which isn't just their best song, but easily one of the best songs that I've heard this year. On "pocket" the band open with a twee melody over softly strummed guitars, lush synth chords, and a tender baseline, they slowly build up steam with faster strumming and bird chirps, transition into a funk bridge, turn up the amps for an abrupt pivot into hardcore, and then close things out with the initial twee stylings all in less than 3 minutes. It's an astonishing statement of purpose that deftly showcases their bold approach and somehow doesn't collapse under the weight of its ambition. The forms may well-worn, but on GwF fbl are taking them to bracing new heights.

Essentials: "pocket", "slide", "freak"