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hier--soir · 6 months

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a lover's pinch | five

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: you and your professor enjoy a day in new york. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, oral [m receiving], a smidge of cock worship, spoilers for antony and cleopatra by shakespeare lol, flirting, these fuckos kinda go on a date, prof joel is man of the arts idgaf, a tlou2 easter egg, oral [f receiving] and then oral [f receiving] again, sex acts in public, jealousy, sexting/nudes, unprotected piv sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light choking, overstimulation [f], pain kink, kinda dom!joel, describing men as pretty and beautiful because I LIKE IT, soft!joel. word count: 8.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: so this whole thing is almost entirely sucking fucking and flirting, and i hope you enjoy it before we encounter angst. all credit to willy shakes for the passage from A&C that joel reads in the opening scene. thanks king for inspiring the title of this series lol xo this is part five of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four.

Sunday.

The sound of paper rustling wakes you. Muted scrapes of page shifting against page.

Through your lashes you can see a thin reed of sun streaming in the window, flaring across the end of the bed to warm your skin. And there’s a dull ache between your legs; a rhythmic throb that dances and twists through your core, through the muscles in the inside of your thighs. The type of pain that is warm – soft in its caress, like the trail of a lover’s fingertips down your spine. A sort of remembrance, or celebration. And you welcome it eagerly; delight in the sharp reminder of how it felt to welcome his body inside yours again. The hot sting of every third second, the meticulous pulse and ache of flesh that you hope stays with you for days.

Another page turns.

You tilt your head to the side, eyes open a mere crack, and smile at the secrecy of it. At the private sincerity of this man who lies awake, sporting nothing but the thin veil of a sheet, gaze fierce and focused on an endless stream of text that raps his attention. It’s a type of heaven for him, you realise. This resting place, as calm and tranquil it is. The only weight that bears down is in the place where his wrist bends, hand coiled around the spine of a book, fingers poised, flicking impatiently against the corner of a page, begging to turn it, to see more.

You take in every ripple of muscle, every dip and curve and freckle and scar. The jut of his elbow. The hard line of his jaw. Watch pink lips part and purr as he whispers the words on the page to himself, and think about how perfect that mouth felt between your thighs.

His fingers pinch the corner of a page, pressing it down into a dog ear before he moves onto the next. You wonder what piqued his interest, what collection of words made him want to mark it, to leave a trail for himself to come back one day and remember.

You break the silence finally. “What are you reading?”

Joel flinches, glasses jolting to the tip of his nose.

“You’re awake.”

“I am,” you hum. When he stares at you for a moment you just smile, snaking a hand out from the sheet to tap the page of his book. “Tell me.”

“Shakespeare,” he murmurs, a faint blotch of red rising at the base of his neck. You want to kiss that blush—taste it. Want to know if his skin smells like you. “Antony and Cleopatra.”

“I love that one,” you yawn. “Where are you up to?”

“Act five,” he says. “Cleopatra’s big scene.”

“Will you read it to me?” you smirk.

There’s an upward shift of an eyebrow. The spark of a curious glint in his eye.

“Really?” he drawls, unimpressed.

“Please?” your smile softens into something kind, something honest.

With a sharp sigh, and a quick adjustment of his glasses, Joel begins to read.

“Give me my robe, put on my crown,” he begins slowly, as if unsure. “I have immortal longings in me: now no more. The juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist his lip: yare, yare, good Iras; quick.”

His voice is a low vibration, a honeyed sound that drifts through the air and has goosebumps raising across your skin. You watch his mouth shape the words, enamoured. Savouring every glimpse of his teeth, every slip of his tongue between them.

“Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act. I hear some mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come. Now to that name my courage prove my title.”

His hair is a mess. A shock of greying curls that have flattened against his scalp after a night of being pressed into his pillow, threatening to spring up again. That dull pain flares in your core again and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. But something stirs there—low, prowling just behind the pain. Something wet and wild that whispers his name.

“I am fire and air,” Joel continues obliviously, licking his thumb to turn the page with ease. “My other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done?”

Slowly, listening—hanging—you shift against the mattress. Allow the sheet to fall down to your stomach, exposing your breasts to the morning air. Your nipples stiffen, chest tightening as he glances at them from the corner of his eye. He pauses, mouth ajar. Swallows. Brown eyes return to the page, and he continues to read.

“Come then, and take the last warmth from my lips.”

Your hand drifts across the mattress, hidden from sight as it traverses the soft plains of the sheets, the blankets, and then the skin of his thigh. Bare, but smattered with soft hairs that tickle your palm and fingertips. Goosebumps tear across his skin and his breathing hitches; the faintest cracks in his calm façade. You surpass where you can see him hardening, fingers floating up his side to rest against his stomach. Gently, you feel across the soft slopes and curves of his tummy. Glide your finger over the dip of his belly button and smile when he clears his throat, legs shifting in a restless dance. And then your hand shifts down. Past his happy trail, past the dark curls at his base, to wrap your fingers softly around his length.

“Farewell, kind Charmian,” Joel’s voice deepens. “Iras, long farewell.”

You lower yourself on the bed, dragging the sheets with you until they rest wayward and wrinkled around his knees. Your cheek nuzzles against his thigh as you stroke him, humming in delight as his cock stiffens in your palm.

Joel sighs. “You don’t have to—”

“Keep going,” you hush, glancing up. He watches you over the top of his glasses, gaze darkening. There’s still sleep in the corners of his eyes, and it’s so soft, so domestic, it almost hurts. You look down, simpering as you admire the sight of his cock, now fully hard and leaking in your grasp.

The head is swollen, a flushed shade so reminiscent to that of his lips that you want to kiss him. But his skin is warm and smooth, like silk as you nuzzle his length against your face. Feel his wetness streak across your skin, over the closed line of your lips, the apple of your cheek. “Joel,” you urge him quietly when he still doesn’t speak.

“Have I the aspic in my lips?” His voice is hoarse when he continues; wanton, rough with sleep and desire. “Dost fall?”

You lathe soft kisses against the tip, along the vein that pulses along the side of his shaft, against the tight swell of his balls, taking your time with him. You giggle when he sucks in a sharp inhale, the muscles in his thighs tightening beneath your cheek.

“Such a pretty cock,” you whisper, swiping your fingers over his weeping head.

“Yeah?” he exhales and drops the book against his stomach, fingers reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Gonna show me how much you like it?”

“Mhm,” you bat your eyelashes up at him.

Joel raises the book again, slowly, eyes unfocused and glassy but still watching—still devouring—the way your lips purse around his tip. His stomach tightens when your tongue leaves soft kitten licks against the slit, lapping at the salty precome that rests there.

“If thou and nature,” he murmurs. “Can so gently part.”

And it’s almost painful, the way he sounds. Exhalations of tragic Shakespeare mixed with soft gasps, with curses loosed beneath his breath. The occasional revered whisper of your name, spurring you on.

His free hand settles at the back of your head, thick fingers curling in your hair as your lips part to take him deeper inside your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, hips shifting against the mattress. “That’s it, baby, god you’re good at that.”

You hum around the weight of him, stomach warming at the praise. Swirl your tongue generously around his girth, lathing saliva over his skin until it’s dripping down to his balls. You cup them gently in your palm, massage him as your lips drag to rest around his tip again, paying close attention to the way he gasps and sighs when the point of your tongue dances along the ridge at the underside of his head.

“Sensitive there?” you ask quietly, eyes flitting up to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed, eyebrows furrowed as he nods.

“S’good,” he confirms, fingers tightening in your hair as you rub that spot again. A fresh bead of precome oozes from his slit and you smile, fingers curling around his length to tap his tip against the flat of your tongue. “Jesus,” he mutters, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah, good girl.”

You shift down on him eagerly, letting the heavy weight of him slip against your tongue, inside the warmth of your mouth, until he’s pressing against the back of your throat and you can hear him moaning.

“Got the prettiest fuckin’ mouth, baby,” Joel whispers. “S’like a fuckin’ dream, seeing those lips on my cock again.”

You whimper and swallow around him. A tear squeezes out of the corner of your eye, trailing a shiny path down to your chin. In steady, measured movements, your head bobs up and down on his length, guided by the gentle press of his hand.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Take it all, baby, yea—yes.”

You relax your throat and take him deep enough to feel your nose brush against the rough hairs at his base.

“The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch,” he reads, the cadence of his words stilted and breathy. “Which hurts, and is desired.”

Suddenly, his hips jut upward and you gag, throat constricting around him until your eyes are wet and blurry. He tugs gently on your hair, pulling you backward until you part from him with a splutter, messy strings of saliva dangling between your swollen mouth and his cock.

“God damn,” he swipes a finger across your lower lip. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. So so good."

You think your eyes water more at that. Sweetheart.

“I want it,” you slur, lids heavy as you make eye contact with him.

“What do you want?” he pushes, cupping your jaw in his large palm. “Tell me.”

“Want you to come in my mouth,” your face warms and you lick your lips, fingers stroking him slowly. “Want all of it.” Everything.

“Okay,” Joel soothes, and then his hand drops from your hair so he can grip himself. Gently, he glides the tip along your bottom lip, trailing his salt across the skin of your chin, your cheeks, your nose, before finally pressing the head back against your tongue. “Take it, come on. It’s yours.”

He presses between your lips, jaw tensing, and his eyes drift back to the book as you begin to move.

“Dost thou lie still?” he reads. “If thus thou vanishes, thou—Christ—thou tell’st the world.”

Your lips are tight around him, mouth sucking and moving in tandem with the strokes of your fingers, wrapped loosely around his base. Carefully, you shift to straddle his shins, forearms resting heavily against his thighs as you bring him to the brink of his orgasm. Yours.

“Fuck,” you hear him spit, and then he’s arching forward, the splay of his palm moving down the length of your spine until his fingers slip into the crevice between your ass cheeks. Gripping and squeezing the flesh there until you’re moaning too, the vibrations of your voice muddling with the wet sounds of your mouth against his cock.

It doesn’t take much longer for coherent thought to evade him, Antony and Cleopatra flung to the wayside of the bed as his broad hands cradle your head, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. Your entire body is hot, slick with sweat, the musky scent of Joel filling your nostrils with every rushed inhale. The sounds he’s making turn rougher, deeper; raspy grunts and exhales that are almost animalistic in their intensity, and then—

“Fuckin—look at me,” he bites out, and watery eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. “Need to see those pretty eyes when I fill you up.”

And fuck you’re wet. So wet that it’s seeping onto the skin of your thighs, drooling out of you as you clench around sweet sweet nothing, cunt desperate and begging to be filled again. Tightening your fingers around his cock, you drag your mouth back to suck gently around the pulsating head, and when he comes it’s with a drawn-out, laboured groan that fades into harsh mutterings of your name and fuck and so fuckin’ good at that god damnit and that’s it, swallow it all baby, it’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours.

You pull off him with a gasp, sucking in deep desperate breaths as you fall onto your back beside him.

Soft sheets stick to the sweat on your skin, and you close your eyes, vaguely aware of how the two of you breathe in sync; a high-strung cacophony of sharp inhales and heavy exhales.

After a few quiet moments you ask, “What time is it?”

“Eighty thirty,” he answers. The mattress jostles and tilts as his large frame shifts on it.

“Probably time to start the day,” you grumble, throat raw and tired.

But you can feel hands on your waist, nudging you backward until your head is slumped amongst the soft pillows again. And when your eyes peak open Joel is getting comfortable between your legs, glasses forgotten somewhere out of sight, hands pressing your thighs into the mattress to reveal your glistening sex to him.

And he says, “No,” shaking his head slowly, near-black eyes piercing as his lips lower to meet your cunt. “Not yet.”

You were unsure, initially, whose idea it was.

Unsure of who spoke first; if you or him brought up the idea of the museum. Unsure if he mentioned the bookstore or you mentioned The Iliad. Unsure, unsure, unsure.

But as you stand on the outskirts of Central Park—showered, dressed, sure—eyes scanning the front window of the shop, the glass overflowing with newspaper cuttings and novel covers and author profiles and ads for signings – you are certain that it was him. Certain that he asked what your plans were for the day, head resting on your thigh, lips and beard still glistening with your come. Certain that you mentioned going to the museum, and that those brown eyes lit up, mouth splitting into a smile as he revealed that he had plans close by. Certain that he introduced the idea of going together.

A bell tinkles and your gaze sharpens, watching as his broad frame slips out the door with a brown paper bag tucked under his armpit. Joel ticks his head wordlessly to the side and you fall into step next to him, two sets of shoes scuffing against the pavement in a perfect rhythm.

“Can I see it?” you ask, eyes roaming curiously around the street.

“Sure,” Joel holds the bag out and you take it carefully, fingers peeling back paper so you can take a peak inside.

“The cover is beautiful,” you breathe, fingers tracing vibrant swaths of gold and red, the white lettering that spells The Iliad. You balance the spine in your palm, curious to flick through to the first page. To see the acknowledgements, her author photo, anything. And as your eyes skirt over the very first page your feet stutter to a stop, pulse increasing as you spot the black marker on the page. A messily scrawled signature.

“Joel.”

Joel says your name, pausing a few steps ahead before turning back to face you. “What’s wrong?” he frowns.

You hold up the page, brows lifted in awe. “She… how did you get a signed copy?”

“We’ve met a few times in passing,” he admits sheepishly, eyes glancing between the book and your face. “I’ve always admired her work, and she offered to set a copy aside for me here. She’s very impressive, the first woman to—”

“The first woman to publish an English translation of The Odyssey,” you interrupt. “Yeah, Joel, I know exactly who Emily Wilson is.”

“And now she’s published The Iliad,” he hums. You begin walking again, the museum in sight now. “I’m lookin’ forward to readin’ it. Especially now that I’ve heard all your thoughts about how women and men translate differently. I’m sure it’ll be on my mind as I go.”

The skin on your face prickles and tightens under his attention. You’re still smiling, a wide and satisfised flash of your teeth, when the two of you reach The Met. Still smiling when he pays for your tickets and leads you toward the Cloisters.

You wander together through the exhibit. Medieval, Bohemian, Byzantine. Jean Pucelle, Robert Campin, Tilman. You catch Joel staring at the Bust of the Virgin, one hand on his hip, knee jutted out as he admires her elegance, the tenderness with which her face was carved.

“You like her?” you tease.

His shoulders stiffen and then relax into a sort of indignant laugh.

“I like terracotta,” he smarts, reaching out to pinch your forearm. When he pulls his hand away you see his eyes dart over your shoulder – a quick glance around the room to see if anyone noticed.

“Oh of course,” you nod, a mock serious expression on your face. “Me too. Terracotta virgins.”

“You know,” he huffs, turning to face you head on. “You oughta start showin’ me a bit of respect. Where’s your reverence for an authority figure, huh?”

“Authority?” your eyes widen, smirking broadly as you take a step forward, the material of your jacket brushing against his. “And what authority might that be?”

“I could fail you,” he murmurs, glancing down at your lips. “Tell everyone you’re the worst student I ever had. Never does as she’s told, always talkin’ back.”

“Oh, Professor,” you whisper back, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, your snark emboldened by his. “I hate to say it, but you’re not very convincing in your distaste.”

You don’t wait around to see his reaction, turning on your heel and heading into the next room. Your cheeks are sore from smiling at the end of it, eyes tired from reading, and then you reach the courtyard gardens. See the cloisters. See the Romanesque columns with their fluting grooves that lead into arches, see the vast green garden with its flowers of yellow and pink and purple. Herbs and flora border the walking paths, filling the air with the scent of thyme and rosemary, and you can’t help but grin.

“Not bad right?” Joel’s voice comes from behind you.

“Not bad at all,” you turn to smile at him. “Would’ve been cooler if they had some dinosaur bones around here though. A museum should always have a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur,” he repeats, quietly amused. “Of course, you like dinosaurs.”

“I thought, uh,” Joel clears his throat then. Glances away for a second. “Thought you might like it here; that it might remind you of your time in Greece.”

The words make your chest go all warm and tight. He looks so handsome, so easy in the middle of it all. Dark features and broad shoulders softened by the smell of flowers.

“It does,” you nod. “A little bit.”

“What was it like?” he asks.

“Greece was…” you trail off as you remember it. White sand beaches, turquoise waters, boreks and Doric columns, seemingly endless nights spent translating sheets and sheets and sheets of ancient texts. “It was wonderful, really. I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity, and Professor Samaras was a phenomenal instructor.”

Joel nods, fingers looped and resting across his stomach as he digests your answer.

“Good,” is the response he settles on, finally. “I’m glad. You… you deserve that. You work hard, and your presentation was solid.”

And it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but those words bring you calm now, not frustration like they did last night. So you smile, and thank him, and don’t stop yourself from asking him something in return.

“Have you really never been?” you ask, eyes squinting inquisitively as you watch his face, searching the emotions that flitter across it – near impossible to decipher, as always. “You said you weren’t interested, that first night when we spoke about it… but I would’ve thought… I don’t know, maybe a semester abroad or… or a fellowship?”

“Never,” he looks away. “Always too little time, too little money, too many responsibilities.”

You nod slowly, watch him curiously. You wish you could peel back his skin and see inside of that gorgeous brain, that heart. Understand every trouble, every missed opportunity that weighs on his shoulders.

“There’s still time,” you offer. “You’ve got so much time, Joel.”

Joel looks at you and you can see in his eyes that he’s grateful for the words. See that the earnestness with which you speak brings him some kind of solace, some kind of hope.

His fingers graze the skin of your wrist, curling around it to hold you in place beside him. Your body stills, eyes training carefully on the garden; the green of the grass, the pink of the flowers that bloom amongst it all. One of his fingers searches the skin at the inside of your wrist, swiping and rubbing over the tendons and veins there until he finds where your lifeline pulses. And then he strokes that spot, a calm, meticulous glide of his fingertip, over where blood thrums and rushes inside your body.

The tickling sensation has a painful knot of want curling in your chest, but you don’t stop him. Don’t pull your hand away, don’t take a step back. And with every stroke against skin, you feel it as if it where between your thighs—the soft curling of a finger between your folds, against your clit. It feels feverish, like a steady flame that spreads across your skin, up your chest to lick at the inside of your ribcage.

“Soft,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “You’re so soft.” And it sounds painfully like, you’ve got so much time.

And you look at him and he knows. Your face says it all.

Says, let your hands wander wherever they like. Says, if you touched me here—now—I wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t tell a soul. Says, everything I have to offer is yours if you could only bring yourself to take it. Says, and if your hand won’t wander, won’t stray, I’ll take it in my own and show you where to touch.

So you lead him back inside. Quiet, discreet, slipping past patrons and staff and guards until you find a bathroom. Tuck him inside and smile at the snap of the lock shifting into place behind you.

Joel’s knees meet tile with a soft thud, and dark eyes hold yours as he peels your trousers down, as he drags the slick fabric of your underwear to the side, as he presses the soft cut of his mouth between your legs. He watches you, steadfast, cheeks ablaze and pupils blown as his tongue works you open, calloused fingers holding your left thigh over his shoulder.

And after you’ve come, face pinched and hidden behind your palm, he pulls away. Skirts wet kisses down the inside of your thigh, against the shell of your kneecap, to the bruise that colours your shin.

And he whispers, “Does it hurt?” with his fingers tracing tender splotches of purple and blue.

And you whisper, “No.” with your fingers brushing the curls off his forehead.

Afterwards you walk through the park, pressing through streams of tourists and locals alike; a lively crowd that parts and flurries around the two of you as you push forward. He fields your questions about Emily Wilson, about the years he spent doing his PhD, parrying seamlessly with queries about the West coast, about your undergrad, your roommates.

The bubble doesn’t break until Joel gets the text. Cursing softly, he turns away from you, eyes focused on his screen.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, yes,” Joel says, fingers flying across the touch screen, typing out a response before he tucks his phone away. “I, uh, look I actually forgot that I have somethin’ I need to do tonight.”

“Sounds mysterious,” you smile, eyebrows raised expectantly. But your smile wavers when he doesn’t match your teasing, face relaxing as you wait.

“Rachel and I planned this dinner a few weeks ago,” he explains. “When we both agreed to attend the conference.”

“Oh,” you blink. “That’s nice.”

“It’s this thing we do,” Joel offers, shifting on his feet. “A tradition, I suppose. To celebrate another conference done.” And you remember, I’ve been to twenty of the damn things. His twenty to your one.

“That’s nice,” you repeat, and hold your smile when he checks his phone again.

Hold it when he tells you he should go, that he needs to get ready to meet her. Hold it when he hesitates, staring at you for a moment. Hold it when he presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head, lips meeting your temple, the weakest point of your skull, before turning to walk away from you.

Only when you’re alone do you let the smile fall.

After a lonely dinner, you find yourself back in your hotel room, thinking about Rachel.

Folding your blue dress into a neat square, and then a smaller square. Tucking it into your duffel bag, thinking about the rough sound of her laugh. The soft curve of her jaw, the sparkling greys that curl through her dark hair. You fold your underwear, pack that too, and think of her fluorescent toenails and her dangling earrings. Think of how sure she is; how intelligent, how charismatic. And then you think of yesterday – of her hand on Joel’s arm, soft fingers curling around the sleeve of his blazer, carting him around the conference. Leading him. Standing by his side, making him laugh.

And it burns, this hot feeling in your chest. Something dark green and scalding, fiery enough that you feel the need to sit on the edge of the bed and press your palm against the skin above your breast to tamp it down. Feel your heartbeat there, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, and tell yourself that this feeling is cruel and unforgiving but that it is wrong. You lay out your clothes for the airport, wrap yourself up in the coarse hotel robe and push away the images your mind creates of them at dinner together. Push away the thought of her foot nudging his beneath the table, the thought of them sitting beside each other, thighs brushing like yours had on the bench last night. Because it’s wrong. Joel isn’t like that. Joel wouldn’t do that.

When Nora calls, you pick up on the second ring.

“How did it go?” she squeals, and you feel your shoulders relax at the sound of her voice.

“It was good,” you respond. “I feel good about it. Glad it’s over though.”

“You never answered my text—" the line crackles a little, muffling the last word of her sentence. “I was worried something bad might’ve happened.”

“Fuck,” you apologise. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, I—I got caught up with something, I… I wasn’t looking at my phone.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. Another fried, crackle over the line.

“Oh you cheeky bitch,” she gasps then. “You could’ve just said you were getting some!”

“Nora—” you try, stomach dropping.

“Who the fuck was it?” she continues eagerly. You can almost picture the way her eyes would widen if she were here with you, hands clenched excitedly at her sides as she pushes for all the gory details. “Was it someone from the conference? Oh my god, was it someone from UNE?”

“No, no,” you rush, feeling an anxious heat rise in your chest. “It was just a random guy, we… I met him at a bar afterwards, it’s no one from Maine. No one from the conference.”

Another pause.

“And?” she asks finally. “How was it?”

You consider her question for a moment. Remember the way he undressed you in the dim light of his hotel room – slow, cautious. Remember the way he looked at you. Those dark brown eyes feasting over every inch of flesh, every mark, every freckle, every scar. The feeling of his hands on your breasts, his bare chest against yours as he pressed inside of you.

Quietly, earnestly, you say, “It was amazing,” and smile when she hollers down the line.

And this feeling is so much kinder, you think. The relief and the warmth that comes with being able to tell someone. To talk about him, even if you’re not really talking about him. Even if she can’t really know the truth.

You put her on speaker, still listening and laughing as she rattles off question after question. Did he go down on you? How big was he? Wait he was older?! You bitch! How old?! That’s hot. Fuck, I need to get laid.

“You really do,” you chuckle, laying down against the pillows and typing out a text to Joel.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

He replies within minutes.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

“Hey Nora?” you interrupt. “I actually need to go.”

“Oh,” she huffs. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re gonna go get fucked again. Good for you bitch.”

“I love you,” you laugh, already typing out a response to him. “See you tomorrow when I get home.”

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

You watch the text bubble appear, disappear, and reappear over three times before it vanishes completely. Minutes go by; maybe ten, maybe fifteen, and then—

Show me.

Grinning, you loosen the tie around your robe to reveal a flash of the skin across your chest; the curve of your left breast, the peak of your nipple. Take a picture and make sure he can see your finger snagged between your lips, resting against the softness of your tongue.

For a moment you worry. Feel a spike of fear in your chest that if you send it someone else might catch a glimpse of his screen – that Rachel might see it. But then another text comes through, and you feel that fear melt into a warm pool of liquid.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

So you do. You click send and wait, teeth catching against the nail on your thumb.

The response is almost instant.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am

Are you touching yourself?

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

You send him the address of your hotel. Call the lobby and tell them to let him up. And when he arrives, you’re waiting for him on the balcony. You hear the heavy pad of his footsteps crossing the room, and then the slide of the glass door. Feel the broad span of his chest press against your back; outstretched fingers that glide around the curve of your waist to settle over your stomach.

Joel doesn’t say a word, nosing at the frizzled kinks of hair at the base of your neck. One of his hands drifts upward, fingers curling beneath the neckline of your robe, just grazing the curve of your breast. You let your eyes fall closed and think this feels like coming home. Think, if this moment could last for hours, for days, for ever, that would be enough, and I’d never ask for another thing. Think, where have I been all of my life, and why was it not here with him?

You say, “Let’s go inside,” as he touches your nipple, and feel him shake his head.

“No,” he says. Presses his hips against your ass, rough denim brushing the backs of your knees. “Want you here.”

You start to say Someone might see, but Joel pushes you forward again and your stomach presses against railing. Your eyes dart down toward the street, the road. To cars and pedestrians and tourists.

“You don’t want that?” his lips brush the side of your neck as he speaks, the softest pressure. He tugs at your robe, guiding it down past your shoulders, elbows, until it pools around your feet. “Don’t want them to see us together?”

“That’s not—” you gasp as his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, hot tongue gliding over already bruising flesh. “Fuck, Joel.”

He groans against your skin, lathing wet kisses past your neck to the top of your spine. His hands are on your waist and your stomach and your tits and his jeans chafe against your bare ass, zipper catching every now and then. But your mind is hazy, a blur of thoughts that can only focus on the feeling of teeth and lips, on something long and firm pressing through the material of his pants, rutting slowly against you.

“You’re hard already,” you breathe, surprised—delighted.

Joel grunts, distracted. “Been hard since you sent me that picture.”

A shaky breathes leave your lips as his hand skirts down your stomach, your hipbones, until his fingers slip past the glistening seam of your cunt – tender and swollen and aching.

“But that’s what you wanted, hmm?” he rasps. You whimper as his fingers circle over your entrance, collecting your slick and dragging it upward. A flinch rips through you when he touches your clit, the nerves fraught after being given so much attention throughout the day. “You like knowin’ how much I want you? How badly? You like that I’d leave dinner early just to come here and fuck you?”

Face on fire, you nod; caught out. And then he takes another step forward, bending you further over the railing and pressing himself against you, hard enough that you can feel his cock between your ass cheeks, denim scraping the sensitive skin there.

“That is how much I want you. All the fuckin’ time,” he says. “Get it?”

“Joel,” you stutter urgently, voice almost a squeak. Your thighs shake, knees close to buckling as his finger rubs slow circles against your clit. “S’too—fuck, Joel, it’s too sensitive.” It burns, too much – but his touch only serves to stoke the fire in your belly until it’s a roaring, raging thing, begging for more of too much.

“I know, honey,” he groans, and you think you can hear the sound of his zipper coming undone. “You sore?”

When you don’t answer immediately Joel’s fingers still, body straightening as if he’s about to stop, about to pull away.

“Don’t,” you say quickly. “Just—”

“M’not goin’ anywhere,” Joel hushes. “Does it hurt?”

You hesitate, stomach tightening when his fingers start to move again. “It’s… yeah a little, but it’s…”

“But you like it? Like it when it hurts a little?” he fills the silence, and you can hear the change in his voice. Hear how it deepens, a gravelly effect that has your cunt tightening. You cringe, turn your head to the side in the hopes that he won’t see your reaction. But he doesn’t let it slide. Of course not. “Talk to me.”

“Yeah, yes, I like it,” you admit, exhaling a relieved sigh when you hear his belt hit the ground.

“Good,” he says, and then you can feel him, hot silken skin on your own, the wet glide of his cock against your ass check.

His knuckles brush against you as he adjusts himself, and the weight of his tip at your opening is not unlike the brush of his fingers along your bruised shin. Tender, careful – the touch of someone that would never hurt you. Not unless you asked him to.

When Joel rocks his hips forward, cock splitting you open around his weight, the stretch is long and deep. A sweet, searing burn that has you balancing on the tips of your toes, mouth hanging open as you grip the railing and take it. The night air is cool against your skin, but warm hands land firm on your hips, thumbs circling and rubbing away the goosebumps there

“God,” he grunts into the hinge of your jaw, teeth nipping at the muscle there. “You’re so wet, so needy. Want this cock all the time, don’t you?”

You can only moan in response – a choked, whimper of a noise that scratches its way out of your throat as he bottoms out. His thighs are warm and thick against yours, body practically moulding itself to you as you squirm, cunt pulsing around the thick length of him.

He gives you a moment to adjust, waits to feel you relax against him, and then he’s moving. Slow, powerful thrusts that have you feeling him in your stomach, and wishing you could see his face. Wishing you could watch his nose scrunch up, his lips curl into a snarl as he fucks you. Wishing that everything you’re feeling could be reflected back to you in his face, the way it was last night.

“Thought about you all night,” he says in your ear, a dirty little confession, whispered only for you to hear. “You know how sick that is? At dinner with my colleague, my friend, and I couldn’t get this perfect cunt out of my head. S’drivin’—me—fuckin’—crazy.”

And it’s sick, it’s awful, but you feel your lips peel back, face breaking into a toothy grin at the words. That envy, that jealousy, that dark green sticky feeling - all of it for naught because you were right. Joel Miller is yours.

“Yeah?” you pant, pushing your ass back into him and smiling even wider when he grunts, blunt fingernails digging into your waist. “What were you thinking about?”

“’Bout how tight you always are,” he kisses the side of your neck, tongue flicking incessantly against the skin there. “How perfect you felt around me last night. How you take it so well.” He bites down, sucking until the skin throbs, another mark left in his wake. “How, if I can help it, I’ll never wear a condom when I fuck you again.”

You curse, head lolling back against his shoulder. The confession makes you ache. “Please,” you mutter desperately. “Joel, please.”

“Thought about fillin’ you up,” he continues eagerly. “Fuckin’ you so hard, so deep with my come that you’d feel it for days. And you’d be mine.” His hips snap forward in a particularly harsh thrust and you grunt, cringing as the railing bites into your ribs. Mine mine mine.

“I’m yours,” you moan as he fucks you, a steady smack-smack-smack sound filling the air as his hips collide with the meat of your ass, over, and over, and over again. “You know I am.”

And you want to know what he thinks of that, want to know what comes next, but the sound of laughter echoes up from the street suddenly, and you tense, eyes snapping wide open. Joel doesn’t slow down.

“Look at them,” he hushes, voice quietening some.

His hand raises to point somewhere over the balcony, but you don’t see where; eyes trained on his fingers, his skin, the blue veins that swell and pulse beneath it. Your eyes try to follow it, but you’re looking the wrong way, following the hard line of his wrist, the corded veins in his forearm, his bicep, trying desperately, shamelessly, to catch a glimpse of his face.

“I said look at them,” his voice deepens, an authoritative tone taking over as his long fingers grip your jaw, angling it down until you do as he says.

You can see three of them. Squinting, you try to make out their faces from four storeys up. Stumbling down the street, laughing loudly, bumping shoulders as they walk.

Joel’s hips press forward and you gasp, eyes rolling back as his swollen tip nudges the deepest, softest place inside of you.

“Wait,” you whisper hoarsely, body jerking forward with every practised thrust of his cock. Say again, “Someone might see.”

“I hope they do,” he growls, hand falling to drape over your neck.

His fingers press gently against either side, cradling your pulse point in the palm of his hand. Your brain goes foggy with the pressure, mind buzzing and blurring. The sensation of his broad grip against your throat mixes with the drag of his cock between your thighs and it’s intoxicating; a high that you’ve never experienced before, and never want to end. You don’t realise how loud you’re gasping, moaning, keening his name, until you hear him laugh. A rough, elated sound.

“I knew it,” he chuckles, and you tighten around him, fingers fumbling backward, seeking purchase at the soft flesh of his hips as he continues rocking into you. His hand drops from your neck to your tits, and he squeezes.

“Admit it. Admit you fuckin’ love it,” Joel pants, every word punctuated by a white-hot press of his cock and a heavy exhalation against your neck. “Dirty little thing—you want them to see. Say it.”

“Fuck,” you cry, spine arching as you push backward, meeting the movements of his hips.

“Fuckin’ say it,” he snaps, all hints of laughter gone now, his rough drawl only offset by the fond way his hands play with your tits. Careful, kind; every pinch, every squeeze, every caress a generous and tender display.

“I want it,” you blubber, sight blurring into a mess of streetlights and skyscrapers and strangers on the street. “W-want them to see how you fuck me, how you take care of me.”

“That’s it,” he groans, and you can feel the way he twitches inside of you, cock jerking against your walls in hot fast movements.

“Want them to know,” you continue, and there’s tears streaking messily down your cheeks, your lips moving faster than you can control. “Want them to see us, see how good it is, how perfect.”

And it’s too much now, you think. Finally, too much of too much. The railing is bruising against your stomach. Every stroke of his cock, every graze of your nipples – Joel’s touch akin to the end of a frayed wire, sparking and spitting embers wherever the two of you come into contact. Your cunt is on fire, every inch of sticky wet flesh throbbing and smarting.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby, you gonna show them how you come for me? Gonna let them hear it?”

“I can’t,” you choke out, shaking your head numbly. Yours lungs are on fire, mouth dry as you try fruitlessly to suck in breath after breath. “Fuck, I don’t think I can—”

“Hey,” his voice calls. A rough finger wipes across your cheek, smearing the salty tears further across your skin. “You can, you can, I can’t—I fuckin’ need this, need it.”

“It’s too much,” you gasp frantically. But your words aren’t matched by the desperate grind of your hips. Aren’t matched by the way you twitch and shake between him and the glass, abdomen tensing tighter tighter tighter with every thrust. “Fuck, I’m—I’m close but it’s too much, Joel, it’s too much, I can’t, I can’t—”

He pulls out quickly. You gasp wetly at the loss, at how your walls clench and suck around that empty warm space in his absence. Deft hands grip your waist, tilting and turning you until your back is against the railing now, and his mouth is between your legs, wet lips and tongue so soft in comparison, so soothing against that burn.

There’s no shying away now, no stuttering or whining – you simply melt, thigh softening around the curve of his shoulder, allowing him to hold you up as his tongue teases and coaxes you to the edge of your third mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm that day.

And you don’t notice at first how his bicep shifts and flexes beneath your thigh. Don’t notice how he groans and sighs against your messy cunt, panting and muttering your name as he strokes his cock in tight, wet jerks. And when you come, gushing into his mouth, his eyes snap open, endless spheres of deep brown gazing up at you, desperate to see. Your legs tremble with the force of it, hands grappling for purchase on his shoulders, in his hair. And with your lips parted, tears drying on your cheeks, you watch the way his face crumples—wrecked. How eyebrows furrow and eyelids flutter shut. Joel’s mouth slips away from you, teeth sinking into the flesh of your thigh, something to ground him as he grunts, a low, ragged sound, before you feel him come in warm, thick spurts against your calf.

“Fuck,” you mumble deliriously. Can hardly hear yourself over the roar of your pulse in your ears. “So good, you’re so beautiful.”

Joel’s face is flushed, skin tinged with a deep red that settles across the highest peaks of his cheekbones and disappears into his beard. And when his eyes open again, drowsiness swimming beneath those heavy lids, you can see the way they shine. Glistening with something wet, something earnest. You thumb gently at his waterline, swiping away the tears like he’s done for you.

His lips press a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb, tongue snaking out to lick his tear from your skin, and you think you must repeat it, So beautiful, because he smiles. Breathing heavily, eyes wet, he grins for you. A flash of white that he quickly smothers against the skin of your leg.

After catching his breath, Joel leads you inside and helps you shower. Stands outside the glass door, hand gripping your elbow to brace your shaking frame as you glide soap over your arms, down your legs. His fingers dig in firmer when you slip a hand between your thighs, whimpering as warm water streams over the sensitive skin there. He doesn’t flinch or shy away when specks of water flick out and dampen his shirt.

“You okay?” he asks as he helps you out, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

You nod, mind still foggy, and let him rub the coarse fabric over the skin of your arms, your legs, drying you off before he tucks you back into your robe. And when he leads you back into the room, helping you carefully onto the bed, a flash of concern splits across his face. He takes a step back, a step away, until his back is brushing against the wall.

You lay down on the bed, heavy limbs splayed haphazardly across the soft blankets and pillows. Your robe is open, the tie still forgotten somewhere on the balcony, revealing the skin of your stomach, your thighs, still dotted with warm droplets of water.

And Joel's not far, not really; tucked away in the corner of the room, unsure, arms hanging listlessly by his sides as he stares. Takes in every inch of you as if it’s the first time all over again. Perhaps, as if he’s worried it will be the last.

“I should go,” he says, painfully unconvincing.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, eyelids heavy as you stare back at him.

Your lips part in a soft yawn as you scratch languidly at the skin over your ribs, and dark eyes follow the movement of your fingers. Watch how your skin smarts and pulls beneath your fingernails until you sigh in contentment, the itch disappearing.

“You gotta be up early,” he says.

“I do.”

“And it’s late,” his eyebrows raise.

“Is it?” you smile. Raise your eyebrows in return and laugh when he sighs, hands twitching at his sides.

“Are we really doing this again?” you ask, smile slipping when you notice his frown. The twisted furrow of his brows, the curl of his upper lip. As if all of the features on his face have pinched together in the middle. Something churns in your stomach; a sick feeling that rises to lodge at the base of your throat. Waiting. “Talk to me.”

“M’tryin’,” he admits quietly. “Tryin’… tryin’ to be good. I want to be good.”

Your heart drops. And then, driven by some emotion that you can’t name, don’t want to name, it climbs its way back up, lurching forward in your chest. It claws and scrapes and tears itself out through a crack between two of your ribs, flinging itself across the room at him.

“You are good,” you whisper. Feel your bottom lip wobble, unsteady but sure. Certain of nothing but this as the words slip out. “You’re good, Joel. We are good.”

And when he smiles you think you can see it in his teeth. Little fragments of your heart; the beating core of you, dark red and macerated in the cracks of his canines, the lining of his gums.

Joel closes his eyes and repeats the word. A softly murmured, Good, as if the word itself confounds him, and you think you must be imagining the red smeared across his chin. Your blood seeping out past his lips, dribbling down to stain the skin of his neck.

“I hope you’re right.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. One that shakes the planes of his broad chest, makes it rise to its fullest potential before he sucks another in, shoulders relaxing, and walks across the room towards the bed.

Towards you.

thank you for reading! x

#i hope you wanna know what happened at the dinner with rachel #cause i'm gonna tell you #my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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01zfan · 3 months

Text

baby sugar daddy | j. sc

sd!sungchan x older!fem. reader | 4.3k words

the anon who requested a fic about sungchan and an older reader he’s obsessed with i wasn’t familiar with your game. seeing him sing replay to lee hyori woke something up inside of me. i added a little twist with making him your sugar daddy heh

contains: sugar daddy sungchan, reader is antons older sister, dry humping, sub sungchan, sungchan is a little freak and is obsessed with the reader

sungchan remembers the first time he met you. it was like a dream or a the reomantic part in a show where everything slows down. you wore a beautiful dress and had a smile that lit up the room.

you were holding the cake for his bestfriend; your little brother. you were in the kitchen all day making everything by hand. sungchan remembers anton explaining to him that although he wasn’t a child anymore, it was a tradition you couldn’t give up. it had also become a big deal because you let anton move in with you while he studied at college. living with you helped anton spread his wings, not having to worry about his parents disapproving of anything. so sungchan had already known of your caring personality. but when he saw your face, he didn’t stand a chance against you.

at first, sungchan thought he was good at hiding it. he would come over a little earlier than his friend just in hopes of catching a glance of you. it was hard getting you alone. anton had talked about where you were at in life, the busy hectic schedule of post-grad while sungchan had barely started college.

he would be studying for a final with anton and get a glance at you through a door opened a little too wide. he thought his glances were subtle, but they slowly turned to stares as he took the time to remember every part of you, what headphones you liked to wear, what shows you liked to watch, and what music you listened to. each time his eyes met yours he would look away and clear his throat. something about you was so mature and put together, it was something sungchan couldn’t pinpoint. your confidence had become an aura, permanently etched into your body like a tattoo. even if sungchan happened to catch you stumbling through the house early mornings in your pajamas you still seemed poised.

sungchan liked how mature you were, how sure of yourself you were. how you took care of yourself and dressed perfectly. how you pranced around in shorts and a camisole. it was awful because sungchan knew you didn’t mean to be a tease, you were just wearing what was comfortable around your apartment. but the way your soft skin was visible, the outline of your breasts peaking through the shirt. how you called him a “good boy” after hearing he aced his final. you were never embarrassed to let sungchan see you at any part of the day. sungchan on the other hand had to make sure he was wearing his best clothes when he went over to his friend’s house.

“why are you dressed nice?” anton would ask him curiously.

sungchan had to pretend like he didn’t know what his friend was talking about each time the question was asked. sungchan had to act cool when you passed by him, when you offered to get him or antonie food while you were out. you still managed to be a caring older sister to your brother while being cute in your own way. sungchan found himself wanting to be on the receiving end of a precious nickname. sungchan wasn’t good at hiding anything.

because of your confidence, sungchan was caught off guard when he saw the overdue bill on your counter. he blamed his nosiness, snooping around while anton was getting ready to go out. sungchan was meandering around your kitchen like a planet in orbit. he saw the bill tucked underneath your laptop on the counter. he looked around, making sure he was alone in the kitchen.

sungchan slowly picked up your laptop to free the bill. he saw the outstanding amount, other things in red ink that told you what the consequences would be if you didn’t pay. sungchan was so confused. if anton knew you struggled to pay the bills he kept it to himself, never indicating that you were struggling in any way. anton never hesitated to ask you for pocket money on his way out, and you never hesitated to give it to him. if anton knew you were struggling, he wouldn’t have asked. he knew who anton was, he would’ve put everything in his life on hold to get a job to help you pay the bills.

sungchan was thinking so hard that he didn’t notice you come into the kitchen.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

sungchan whipped around so fast to look at you he almost knocked himself off balance. this was the first time you addressed him in this manner. you sounded indignant, rightfully upset about your privacy being invaded.

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have looked.” sungchan apologized immediately as you made your way to your laptop.

still composed, you took the bill and closed it in the screen of your laptop. it wasn’t in view at all. you kept your eyes trained on a sticker that embellished your plastic case. you were both silent for a moment. sungchan was terrified at the thought of you snapping at him, saying you were disappointed in him for snooping. he figured he should leave. as sungchan was about to leave you spoke quietly.

“did anton see?” you said.

“no. he went straight to his room to get ready once we got here.”

like a switch had flipped, the same signature smile appeared across your face. you were the same bubbly older sister that anton talked about in such high regard.

“that’s a relief. i don’t want him to be worried over nothing.” you said.

you grabbed your laptop and started heading towards your room. sungchan couldn’t stop himself from following you out of the kitchen.

“bills aren’t nothing,” sungchan said. he didn’t realize how loud his voice was under you looked at him with wide eyes. sungchan immediately changed his voice level, clearing his throat. “it said that your power could be shut off.” he whispered.

“sungchan, it’s okay. i always figure it out.” you continue to walk into your bedroom. sungchan doesn’t follow you all the way inside, staying in the doorframe.

“this happens often? i thought you had a job?” sungchan asks.

sungchan is very confused by your situation. he thought that you had a well paying job like anton had described a million times before. he never saw you go out or go shopping because he thought you were saving money. he had no idea you were barely scraping by.

“well i’m in between jobs,” you admit quietly. “please don’t tell anton.”

for the first time sungchan saw worry flash across your eyes. you looked worried, as if you were in denial too about your situation. everything became so real so quickly it almost knocked you off your feet.

sungchan could hear anton turn off the shower. he didn’t have much time until anton was walking around the apartment, looking for sungchan. he was aware his time with you was running through his fingers, he had to think of something quick. you still stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“i can help you.” sungchan said quickly.

you looked at sungchan again wide eyed and speechless.

“w-what?” you asked.

sungchan was relieved you didn’t slice off his head then and there for assuming you needed help. he didn’t want to offer his help in a demeaning way, implying you can’t make it. he didn’t doubt that you had a plan, or that the moment you get a job again you’ll be all set. sungchan wanted to offer his help under his belief that no one as beautiful and kind as you should ever struggle.

“i can pay for all your bills,” sungchan said. before you could open your mouth to reject him he kept going. “i can pay for anything you need me to. i don’t mind.”

sungchan was realistic, he knew he couldn’t take all your pain away. but taking care of the material things like clothes, rent, and fancy food was the least sungchan could do for you. it was no secret that sungchan was well off. he had the type of money that was from generations before him. he wasn’t too sure of the lore, but sungchan was positive that it was all about dumb luck and cashing out at the right time. that’s how it usually was. he drove a fancy car and never had to check his bank account when going out. his bills were taken care of, and sungchan wasn’t much of a spender to begin with. he didn’t know what you were like with money either, but sungchan found himself not caring if you used his very last cent.

“sungchan i can’t use your money with a clear conscious. you’re my brothers friend.” you say.

“anton doesn’t have to know.” sungchan pleads.

“you’re younger than me.” you say, ashamed.

“that doesn’t matter. it’s the least i can do. i see the way you take care of anton. you deserve to be taken care of too.”

for a second, sungchan can see you thinking about it. when your face suddenly lights up, sungchan is expecting to hear a yes. instead, you look past sungchan at someone standing behind him.

“tonie! your outfit looks so cute!” you say.

you pass by sungchan to pinch antons’ cheeks. sungchan can’t help but smile seeing anton pull away from you, bashful that you’re doting on him in front of his friend. he was so embarrassed it that he didn’t ask when sungchan was almost in your room, or what you guys were possibly talking about.

“stop please.” anton said it in his signature soft voice with a smile on his face.

“where are you two going?” you asked.

sungchan was amazed at how you carried on, as if he wasn’t practically on his knees begging you to take his money.

“we are going to the movies and then meeting up with some friends at a party.” anton said.

“are these friends i know?” you asked.

sungchan found himself looking down and kicking his feet at you being a protective older sister. you had your hands on your hips, with a raised eyebrow. you technically couldn’t stop anton from going out, he was an adult. but he listened to you and answered your questions like a good little brother does. anton playfully rolled his eyes as you pestered him with questions about his plans for the night.

“yes you know them. it’s the guys from school. and it’s a birthday party for my other friend.” anton says.

“which friend?” you ask.

anton audibly groaned and you laughed at him.

“i’m just messing with you anton. you two have fun.” you say.

sungchan turns his heel to leave but anton stays in the same place. sungchan knows anton is about to ask you for money by the way he playfully hits your arm and smiles. now it’s your turn to roll your eyes as you grab your wallet from your room. you pull out two twenty dollar bills and give it to anton. he smiles, bringing you into a big hug.

“thanks big sis.” anton says smiling.

you groan and jokingly push him off of you.

anton follows behind sungchan towards the door and you shoo them out of the house. sungchan can’t get a final look at you when you close the door behind anton.

when sungchan and anton make it to the car, anton puts the money in his pocket. sungchan looks at his friend, thinking about the unknown stress he puts on you. sungchan tries to push it out of his mind, turning the keys. you are grown, you got it under control.

he doesn’t even make it halfway out the driveway before he’s putting his car in park. sungchan can’t bring himself to answer anton’s question on where he’s going and why he is leaving the keys in the ignition. sungchan is focused on more important things, moving up the stairs two at a time. he’s at the door in an instant, opening it to see you still standing in the same place.

wordlessly sungchan takes his black card out of his wallet and grabs your hand at your side. he’s lightheaded that this is the first time he’s touched you and he gets to touch your small soft hand that fits in his perfectly. he doesn’t get too much time to revel in the fact he gets to touch you, this mission is supposed to be fast and quick. sungchan turns your palm is upright and puts his card right in your hand. wordlessly he closes your fingers around the metal card, letting his large hand clasp over yours in emphasis. sungchan nods and smiles to your shocked expression, urging you it’s alright.

just as fast as sungchan came inside he was back out, stepping down the stairs casually. he goes back to the car and gets inside with a smile on his face. he smiles even when anton asked what he went inside for.

“i just forgot something.” sungchan says, putting the car back in drive.

he has never been like this before, begging someone to use his money. it was thrilling and sungchan couldn’t stop imagining how fulfilling it would be to see you enjoy his wealth. it made him extremely happy, he couldn’t stop smiling at his phone seeing the notifications of his card being used. the more money you drained from the card the happier he got. he imagined you smiling as you paid all your bills, if you took a look at all the clothing sites you never had the chance to buy things off of. it was intoxicating and sungchan was glued to his phone the whole night. if you hated asking for money he would slip it under your pillow like the tooth fairy. sungchan made up his mind then and there that he was going to give you anything you wanted.

you helped sungchan set up the ground rules. they were put in place by you not him. his attitude towards money was alarming to say the least. he didn’t seem to care how much of his money you used or how you used it. he didn’t want anything in return either. he just smiled and nodded listening to your every word and reading everything you wrote. you saw the words on the paper as rules but sungchan read them like it was a love letter written directly to him. he saw it as a testament to your self control and caring nature for others. you didn’t know but that night sungchan put your name on the card as well. it was all yours. anything you wanted was yours.

it had also started out innocent, but turned into something more. it started when sungchan started thinking about you enjoying asking for him money. if he begged you enough would you come up to him with your hand out and an annoyed look on your face. he wanted to hand you cash and have you tell him it’s not enough, being mean to him and asking for more. it made sungchan fall to his knees thinking about you reprimanding him for not coughing up enough cash. he didn’t know what came over him when his hands went into his pants that night. he came over his knuckles at the thought of trailing behind you holding your shopping bags of all the designer stores, calling him a “good boy” each time he swiped his card.

something changed in you too. you found yourself compelled to ask anton where his friend was more, if he would be coming over. sungchan would never be the type to ask you for actual “sugar” in exchange for the money. it was an odd arrangement, but it was one that excited you nonetheless. despite sungchan financially supporting you, he was obedient to you the same way a puppy was. he hung off your every command, driven by praise and the thought of making you feel good. you wanted to give him something, a little treat for all the clothes you have been able to buy and fancy dinners you attended recently.

so when sungchan would come by, you would wear something for him. it wasn’t over the top, something subtle. it would be something simple like not wearing a bra or wearing tights with a shirt that didn’t cover your ass. it was exciting, almost like sneaking around. sungchan was so shy, hesitant glances at you. you knew he was wondering if you were doing it on purpose, showing him what he could touch if he only asked you. you were becoming impatient, thinking that he didn’t want you. you were thinking this while sungchan lost himself every night. he was thinking of you in bed under your new high end sheets while you touched yourself. he had it so bad, thinking he’s never get a chance to relieve that pressure that built up in him every night.

it all came to a head when anton called him. sungchan answered on the first ring like he always did.

“are you busy?” anton asked over the line. “i need you to drop off this thing at my sister’s place.”

sungchan suddenly had a completely clear schedule. before he knew it he was meeting anton in between his classes and going to your place. anton had been able to pick up food you wanted, but his busy work day and hours of the place made it nearly impossible. you could’ve driven of course, but you simply didn’t feel like it. lucky for you, sungchan was more than willing to be your errand boy. sungchan made his way from campus to you, arriving in time for the food to still be hot.

you answered the door knowing who it would be on the other side. you planned out everything so anton would still be at school and you could be alone with sungchan. you answered the door in designer shirt and jeans, courtesy of the black card that still sat in your wallet. you grabbed sungchan by the hand, your second time ever touching him to pull him inside.

“i got you the food.” sungchan said, holding up your bag.

you took it and placed it on the counter. you don’t think sungchan would’ve moved from that spot if you didn’t grab him by the hand and lead him to your bedroom. he was stiff as a board when you closed your door behind him.

this was his first time fully in your room, just the two of you. stolen peaks inside couldn’t compare to seeing your room laid out before him. all of your trinkets and furniture came together. it was all you and sungchan was surrounded by it. your smell, your plushies, everything was in here. sungchans stomach was doing flips when you touched his face. blush creeped across his cheeks as he looked down at you.

“you’re such a cutie.” you said with a smile on your face.

sungchan couldn’t stop his shy smile from taking over all of his features. he thought he had reached the height and age where no one would ever call him cute ever again. but here you were, calling him cute in the same tone that you would coo at a puppy. sungchan’s pants were starting to become uncomfortable as his dick strained against the fabric. he prayed you wouldn’t look down and see how easily he was turned on by the praise.

“are you this sweet to all your friend’s older sisters?” you asked, tracing over sungchan’s collar. sungchan shook his head.

“only you.” he said.

“good boy.” you patted his cheek before walking away.

sungchan watched your every move. you sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to you. as sungchan walked over to you he could see your eyes flicker from his face to his crotch. a different smile adorned your face and sungchan slowly stalked over to you. everything about you had him on head over heels. even in this tension he could feel how warm and caring you were, extending something that had to be love towards him.

sungchan sat next to you and you started toying with the collar of his shirt again. you hands grazed over his neck and collarbone, tracing the bone that jutted out. sungchan had to close his eyes and bring in a shaky breath to calm his nerves.

“just relax. i got you ��channie” you whispered.

you were in his ear now, the words knocking around in his brain like an echo chamber. your voice was sweet like candy but his new nickname came from your lips sounding like a taunt. it made him strain in his pants. he could see himself twitch against the tight fabric of his slacks. the sitting position didn’t help, making the fabric even tighter against his dick. if you talked to him enough in that same tone he would end up cumming in his pants untouched.

your hand trailed from his neck down to his abdomen. each button you came across on his dress shirt was expertly undone with one hand. sungchan could barely undo the buttons with both hands. you rubbed his exposed stomach as you continued to whisper in his ear.

“how do you want it?”

sungchan couldn’t think properly. he looked down from the ceiling at you next to him. he saw your clothes he hadn’t seen before and how good you looked in them.

“are those new?” sungchan asked.

he runs a timid hand along your side touching both your shirt and pants. he tried to keep a level head and calm voice as your hand sunk lower to his slacks.

“yep. you like them?”

in response, sungchan gets off the bed to kneel in front of you. he runs both his hands up and down your legs. you let yourself lean back on the bed, arms behind you keeping you propped up. you look at sungchan below you as he does his thing. he brings hands past your knees to your thighs. he’s not hesitant anymore, moving at a frenzied speed to feel you. he’s rests his head on your knee as he continues to touch you, eyes closed contently. you let out a breathy moan to let him know you’re right there with him.

sungchan looks up at you from your knee. he places a kiss over it. he continues to place slow kisses leading up your thigh. he’s looking at your reaction, needing validation to continue. you to bite your lip and he continues working his way up. butterfly kisses rest over the expensive denim until he reaches your center. you expect a kiss, or a hand to come to your zipper. you did not expect sungchan to stick his nose in your crotch and smell you.

he inhales deeply into your heat with tiny exhales. it’s like he’s trying to remember your sent, or that it drives him sexually. you gasp several times as he continues to do it. chivalrous sungchan was acting like a pervert, getting off on smelling your heat. it was intoxicating watching him behave the way he was, so different from the sungchan you usually see.

“such a sweet little freak.” you whispered as he continued to inhale you.

sungchan moaned at your degradation that sounded like a scolding. he took your leg and slotted it in between his. he brought his clothed dick close until he felt you. when his dick made contact with your leg he slowly dragged it up. he was a mess just at the indirect contact, whining about needing more friction.

sungchan leaned forward until his head was resting on your stomach. he was so tall even in his crouching position he was eye level with your breasts if he didn’t slouch. his current position he could feel your boobs resting on his head. he nestled more into your warmth and he continued to rut desperately into your leg.

“are you gonna ruin my new clothes?” you said.

your voice was borderline reprimanding and sungchan could feel the vibration of your voice ring through your whole body. it wrapped around him the same way a hug did. a hand that was gripping the edge of the bed moved behind your calf. he repositioned your leg so he could grind on it with more ease. he moaned and bit his lip, going further into you.

“i’ll buy you more,” the way he ground against your leg that particular time made him choke on his sentence. “i’ll buy you anything you want.” sungchan moaned.

he found a way to hit that particular angle again. he was trapped in the motion of rutting against your calf, clutching your leg desperately. he was close, he needs to tell you how close he was. you wrap your arms around him, bringing comforting and gentle fingers to his scalp. you kissed the crown of his head.

“good boy.” you whispered into his hair.

sungchan didn’t have time to warn you. he came in his pants whimpering pathetically into your stomach. his ruts were desperate and he wanted to stop, but his hips were moving on their own accord. they stuttered and then halted, stuck as he emptied himself into his slacks. his little whimpers didn’t stop until it turned to borderline cries and as thrusted his hips a few final times. he slumped against your leg, spent from months of finally releasing all that pressure. you rubbed his cheeks and back the whole time he was coming down, trying to ground him. your ministrations didn’t help calm his racing heart when the shame of what he just did set in. the wave of euphoria had washed away and he was mortified of how pathetic he must’ve looked, humping your leg like a dog. he also drooled all over your shirt and wrinkled the fabric. cum had seeped through his slacks and he got it on your fancy jeans. he looked up at you in horror expecting to be degraded but you looked at him with tenderness. you patted his head and helped him up, leading him to the bed as you told him it’s your turn.

#requestz #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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libraryofloveletters · 4 months

Text

Glue Sticks and Pom Poms

Antonie Griezmann x Fem!Reader

Warnings: so much glitter, girl dad anto, your daughter is lowkey a menace, the team loves your kid like their own, family sweetness.

Word Count: 505

Author's Note: idk if any of you even read for anto but he's pookie so here you go.

Every year since moving to Atletico, his girls have helped him to make Christmas cards for his teammates; this year was no different. The three of them covered in glitter, glue and pom poms.

The giggles filled the house, your daughter and her father shared everything; smile, eyes, nose, giggles. They were twins in every way possible.

Now their love for art was exactly the same, to appreciate and to make were one in the some. Now no one ever said they were good at it but alas to be good, you need practice.

Your daughter gets a pass, seeing that she's only 6 but Anto was 32, he really has no excuse.

You had returned from the store to see them at the dining room table. The glitter, paper, glue and markers were all over the table, Anto and your daughter, Amelia, sat next to each other. Your husband cut out little shapes, giving it to her to stick only the cards they were making.

Every year since she was born, Anto and Amelia have made Christmas cards to his teammates. It was important to him to make them feel as homemade as possible but it was also nice for him to have some time with Amelia, something the two of them could do despite all the hectic-ness of the season.

your arms rest over your husband's shoulder, startling the man momentarily. "When'd you get back ? I didn't hear you come in." He says, pressing a kiss to your hand.

"Just a minute ago, came to see what all the giggling was about."

"Look!" Amelia shows you her card; a poorly drawn reindeer on it with a small red pom pom on the nose, clearly meant to be Rudolph and there's a man next to the reindeer, short blonde hair with a big nose with squiggles all over his arms.

"Very nice, baby. Who's that supposed to be?" You asked her, pointing to the man. You assumed it was her father, seeing that his hair was blonde more often than not and he too had tattoos but her answer made you giggle.

"Uncle Rodri!" She says proudly, meaning Rodrigo. You nodded, "I'm sure he'll love it babe."

Anto shows you a few of her other creations for the team, all of them Christmas related but none of them the same.

You told your husband as much. "I know," he nods, "there's no theme this year."

"Pom poms!" Amelia sticks her hand out, waiting for her father to pass them to her. "What colour?" He asks her.

"I'm gonna get some water," you tell him, kissing his head before walking to the kitchen. In the two minutes you were gone, you hear Antonie shout which was followed my Amelia's giggles

When you returned, you see Antonie's got a red pom pom stuck to his nose. Your lips pressed together, biting back a smile. "It's not funny." He tells you, a finger pointed at you.

Nodding, you snicker. "It's a little funny."

He picks up your daughter, the little girl now sitting on her father's lap as he smothers her cheek in kisses. You smile, taking a photo of them.

It was moments like this that you knew she'd remember.

#holiday extravaganza blurbs 23 #antoine griezmann #antoine griezmann x reader #antoine griezmann x you #antoine griezmann x y/n #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football blurb

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michaelcosio · 4 months

Text

Israel is pulling thousands of troops from Gaza as combat focuses on enclave’s main southern city

January 01, 2024 10:41

TEL AVIV: Thousands of Israeli soldiers are being shifted out of the Gaza Strip, the military said Monday, in the first significant drawdown of troops since the war began as forces continued to bear down on the main city in the southern half of the enclave.

The troop movement could signal that fighting is being scaled back in some areas of Gaza, particularly in the northern half where the military has said it is close to assuming operational control. Israel has been under pressure from its chief ally, the United States, to begin to switch to lower-intensity fighting.

Word of the drawdown came ahead of a visit by Secretary of State Antony Blinken to the region and after the Biden administration bypassed Congress for the second time this month to approve an emergency weapons sale to Israel.

But fierce fighting continued in other areas of Gaza, especially the southern city Khan Younis and central areas of the territory. Israel has pledged to charge ahead until its war aims have been achieved, including dismantling Hamas, which has ruled Gaza for 16 years.

The military said in a statement Monday that five brigades, or several thousand troops, were being taken out of Gaza in the coming weeks for training and rest.

In a briefing Sunday that first announced the troop withdrawal without specifying how many forces were leaving, army spokesman Rear Adm. Daniel Hagari did not say whether the decision meant Israel was launching a new phase of the war.

“The objectives of the war require prolonged fighting, and we are preparing accordingly,” he said.

Israel has vowed to crush Hamas’ military and governing capabilities in its war, which was sparked by the militant group’s Oct. 7 attack on southern Israel, which killed 1,200 people. Roughly 240 people were taken hostage.

Israel responded with a blistering air, ground and sea offensive that has killed more than 21,800 people in Gaza, two-thirds of them women and children, according to the Health Ministry in Gaza, which does not differentiate between civilians and combatants in its count.

Israel says more than 8,000 militants have been killed, without providing evidence. It blames Hamas for the high civilian death toll, saying the militants embed within residential areas, including schools and hospitals.

The war has displaced some 85 percent of Gaza’s 2.3 million residents, sending swells of people seeking shelter in Israeli-designated safe areas that the military has nevertheless bombed. Palestinians are left with a sense that nowhere is safe in the tiny enclave.

In Khan Younis, where Israel is believed to have thousands of troops, residents reported airstrikes and shelling in the west and center of the city. The military and the militant group Islamic Jihad reported clashes in the area.

The Palestinian Red Crescent said on X, formerly Twitter, that it transported several dead and injured following a strike late Sunday in the Beach Street in Khan Younis. It posted nighttime footage showing medics carrying casualties to ambulances.

Combat was also reported in urban refugee camps in central Gaza, where Israel expanded its offensive last week.

“It’s our routine: bombings, massacres and martyrs,” said Saeed Moustafa, a Palestinian from the Nuseirat camp. He said he could hear sporadic explosions and gunfire in Nuseirat and in the nearby Bureij and Maghazi camps.

“Just as we speak, there is a big explosion not far from my home,” he said in a phone call Monday morning.

The military said an airstrike killed Adel Mismah, a regional commander of Hamas’ elite Nukhba forces, in the central city of Deir Al-Balah.

Hamas fired a large barrage of rockets toward Israel, including at its commercial hub Tel Aviv, as the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Israel has said the war will last for months. It has argued that it needs time to clear Gaza of militants’ weapons and infrastructure and to prevent Hamas from being able to stage more attacks. Israel has resisted international calls for a long-term cease-fire, saying doing so would amount to a victory for Hamas.

Shlomo Brom, a retired brigadier general once in charge of strategic planning in the Israeli military, said the troop changes may be a result of the US pressure. He said it indicated a shift in how Israel was conducting the war in some areas.

“The war is not stopping,” said Brom. “It is the beginning of a different mode of operation.”

Israelis still largely support the wars aims, even as the cost in soldiers’ lives is mounting.

Over the weekend, the military said that of the soldiers killed since the ground operation began — as of Monday, 172 in total — 18 were killed by friendly fire while another 11 died by weapons or equipment malfunctions or accidents.

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dreaminggirlsblog · 2 years

Note

Hi can I ask for a Camilo x fem!reader smut or fluff? Whatever you like

The best surprise - Camilo x Fem!Reader

[SMUT]

Y/n and Camilo met during the rebuilding of Casita and have been inseparable ever since! Now Camilo is 19 and Y/n is about to turn 18, with a wonderful and unexpected surprise from his best friend...

The fateful day for Y/n had arrived, as from today she will officially be of age like her best friend Camilo.

The morning was quite monotonous for her, she got up early as usual and had her usual breakfast of arepas and orange juice with her parents, who wished her well before she left the house.

On the way she met every villager in Encanto and many she knew greeted them with a smile and a "good luck" in return.

Arriving in front of the Casita, she was immediately greeted inside by Mirabel, Madrigal's younger cousin, albeit by a small amount.

"Y/n! Best wishes!" the curly-haired woman exclaimed as she hugged her friend, who reciprocated.

"Thank you Mira! I can't wait to celebrate tonight!"

Y/n was planning to celebrate her birthday at the Casita, with the permission of Alma and the rest of the Madrigal family, inviting all the people of the village dear to her.

The family is working hard decorating their big house and only now did Y/n notice that behind Mirabel was Camilo trying to help his little brother.

She was holding him in her arms, him in the form of José, in order to hang a decorated and colourful banner, with "Happy Birthday Y/n!" written on it and a balloon depicting the number 18 next to it.

"Cami I can't reach," he heard little Antonio say, looking uselessly at a point too high.

"Toñito, I'm not that tall" retorted his brother, "let's get a ladder, no?"

The little boy stopped what he was doing and nodded, looking towards the doorway, where he noticed the presence of Y/n and smiled brightly.

"Y/n," he exclaimed happily.

Camilo jerked, turning suddenly and almost knocking Antonio over, but he caught him promptly.

"And here's the birthday girl!" he almost shouted, letting go of his brother and approaching the y/h/c.

When he got in front of her, he bowed playfully and took her hand, placing a light kiss on the back of it before turning back to look at her.

She smiled at him a little in embarrassment, her cheeks turning slightly red and shivering after that contact between his hand and her lips.

"I'm going to go help Antony with the banner," Mirabel said, not being calculated in the slightest by the two of them and walking away with a sigh.

After she had left them alone, Camilo recomposed himself and pulled a bandage from his pocket.

"I know it's still too early to give you my present but" he gave a mischievous smile that sent the girl into confusion "would you like to see my surprise?"

Initially she would have liked to wait until the evening so she could open the presents all at once without making Camilo look like he hadn't taken anything but a present could never be refused.

Y/n nodded, letting the hedgehog wrap the blindfold around her and taking her hand to guide her to where they were going.

They slowly climbed the stairs to the upstairs, which she already would have fallen into had it not been for Camilo's ready reflexes, and walked calmly to their destination.

"Can I at least get a clue? Is it something big?"

"Oh yes, you can't imagine how much," was his final reply, opening the door to his room and letting the y/h/c in.

When they were inside, he quickly closed the door behind him and made a slight turn of the key, trying not to be heard.

"Did you lock us in?" asked y/h/c though.

"No," Camilo answered quickly, placing himself in front of her and tossing the key somewhere.

"Then why did I hear the door close a-" he interrupted her by placing his index finger on her lips.

"Do you want to see your present or ask more questions?"

She didn't answer, a sign to him that it was now possible to give her what he had given her.

"Ready?" he murmured bringing his hands behind his head, over the knot of the blindfold.

"Ready as I can be," she replied with a smile.

He gently slipped the blindfold off her, meeting her y/e/c again and being enchanted at how beautiful and deep they were.

She lost herself for a while staring at them, making the y/h/c grow impatient as she asked where her present was, but was soon overtaken.

Camilo's lips rested in Y/h/c's like a torpedo, immediately demanding access with his tongue.

She acquiesced by wrapping her arms around the hedgehog's neck and following his own rhythm.

Camilo's hands slid down her entire body, stopping only when he reached her lower back so he could take her in his arms.

Y/n thus wrapped her legs over her hips and let herself be carried onto the bed while her bottom was massaged.

She ended up with her back on the mattress and Camilo straddling her who pulled away from her lips to leave a few kisses on her neck, biting down and leaving a mark in a few places.

Y/n clutched the curly hair in his hands as he moved down more and more with his lips reaching the neckline of her blouse.

He unbuttoned her in no time and threw her to the floor after taking it off, returning to kissing her all over and caressing her arms.

Y/n, on the other hand, kept his hands still in her hair and held it between his fingers, playing a bit with some strands.

Arriving with the kisses towards her lower abdomen, he returned with his face over the girl's and put his lips to hers again.

It was another long, passionate kiss in which Y/n also began to pull off Camilo's poncho, which he eventually removed himself and threw somewhere.

This gave Y/h/c more ease in unbuttoning his shirt, very quickly, and being able to arrange it with his own.

For a moment, she froze staring at his sculpted physique, which she never imagined to be so contoured and...sexy.

"Wow," she murmured, thinking she'd simply thought that but Camilo's smirk made her guess otherwise.

"What?"

"You're so sexy."

"Never as hot as you bebe"

Once again, they kissed on the lips making only the sound of their passionate kiss echo in the room.

"So" Camilo then said, without pulling away and holding Y/n's hips tightly "liked the surprise?"

She didn't answer for a while, too busy bringing the hedgehog's face closer to deepen the kiss but then he spoke "I think it was one of the best."

Camilo pulled away, lightly brushing the girl's nose and slowly moved his lips to her ear.

Y/n could hear her breathing and as her hand began to travel down his entire torso, she shuddered and followed what he was doing with her eyes.

She saw her hands settle on the crotch of his jeans and slowly began to unbutton as her face was always close to Y/h/c's ear.

"And you haven't seen anything yet..."

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

Words count: 1188

Sorry for the errors and the english. I tried my best to do that request smut

#camilo madrigal #camilo x reader #encanto

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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years

Text

The Assistant

Part Two Of Two: And There Was Funny Business

Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Platonic!Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 3,886

Warnings: I don’t think there is anything. It is mostly dialogue tho.

Request: For the @ryostephi who donated to the Australian Bushfires. (I’m sorry the tag doesn't work)

Summary: When was retirement again?

A/N: I am shocked at how much I got wrong in the first part, after re-watching Iron Man 2 as I wrote this part, and for that, I am so sorry lol. So... I know there’s still a lot of Tony in this... and I have no excuse, other than it’s based in Iron Man 2, and there's not much “Natalie” plot for me to go off of, and have it be all that good (in my opinion). So, I hope you don’t mind lol.

(Not my GIF)

***

“Explain!” Tony practically ordered you, his voice close to a screech, more than anything else.

“I’m an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you told him blankly.

“Yes, I see that-!”

“How?” Natasha started, “I- I mean you can't be an Agent, I would have seen you.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is a big place, Natasha.”

“You always knew who I was.” She leaned back in her seat, beside Fury, regarding you.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Of course I did.”

“Agent Y/L/N here, has been away for business for a short amount of time now,” Fury informed them, gesturing a hand to you.

“No offence, Nick. But I don’t think eight months, is a short amount of time,” you replied, causing the man to scoff softly at you, his lips quirking in a small smile.

“So, that’s where you’ve been, this whole time?”

You tuned to Tony. “Yeah, that’s why slept so much when I got back.”

“Anyway,” Fury began, drawing everyone’s attention back to him, as he spoke to Tony, “You’ve been very busy. You made your girl your CEO, you’re giving away all your stuff. You let your friend fly away with your suit-”

“Wait. Hold, up,” You paused him, raising a hand, “Rhodey took a suit?”

“He sure as hell did.” Fury said. “Now, if I didn’t know better-”

“You don’t know better. I didn’t give it to him. He took it.”

“Oh, well that's better,” you said offhandedly, as you rested your chin in your hand, watching the conversation go down.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. She’s right.” he pointed at you. “He took it? You’re Iron Man and he just took it? The little brother walks in there, kicked your ass and took your suit? Is that possible?” He turned to Natasha.

“Well, according to Mr Starks database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorised usage.”

“Whoa, those were some big words...”

Tony snorted softly at both your words and hers. While Natasha threw you a light glare.

“What do you want from me?”

And that was the hidden queue you were looking for. Knowing what was coming next. You sat up straight in your seat, ready to make the move.

“What do we want from you?” And there Natasha goes, sliding out of her seat. You followed in her lead. Pulling yourself up by the table, and spinning yourself around to sit next to Fury. “Uh-uh. What do you want from me?” He continued, repeatedly pointing to the man, as you wore a shit-eating grin by his side, the scene almost painting out like you were watching your sibling getting chewed out by your parent. “You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not the centre of my universe.”

“But I am, right?” He raised a lone finger to you, without even looking, to silence you, as you only smiled harder.

“I have bigger problems than you in the southwest region to deal with.” You rolled your eyes as your boss continued rant, wanting for this to be over. When your eyes spotted Natasha coming back.

Fury snapped his fingers, and told Natasha to, “Hit him.”

Tony let out a startled sound, moving back in pain. “Oh, God, are you gonna steal my kidney and sell it?” He asked as Natasha checked his neck over, sitting down beside him, and watching the poisoned veins recede, “Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds?”

Turning to you and Fury, he continued to ask, “What she just do to me?”

“What did we just do for you,” Fury corrected him.

“Hey, that cleared up the Matrix puzzle, really well.” You smiled.

“That’s lithium dioxide. It's gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work,” The man by your side explained, “You should thank Agent Y/L/N over here, she was the one who requested it, and made our Science Department's lives a living hell, until we got it.”

“Wait. You had something to do with this?” Tony asked, turning to you, notes of touch in his voice, showing you he had just realised how much you truly cared for him.

“Of course I did,” you scoffed, “You really think I was gonna let you die?”

You watched as billionaire’s lips twitched in a smile, before he returned to his stoic, guarded nature.

“Give me a couple boxes of that. I’ll be right as rain.”

“It’s not a cure, it just abates the symptoms.”

“Yeah, what the thesaurus said, over there,” you agreed, gesturing to the red-head. Who in turn kicked you “lightly” in the shin. Making you hiss out a small, “Ow.”

Not paying you mind, Fury continued, studying the other man's neck, “Doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix.”

“It never is with us,” you said.

“Trust me, I know. I’m good at this stuff.” You could see behind Tony’s eyes just how helpless he was feeling. “I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium. I’ve tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.”

“Am I the only one here who didn’t understand a word of that?” you asked the table, “No? Am I being ignored? That’s nice.”

You weren’t being ignored, however. If the smirk, that was quickly wiped away, that Natasha wore was any indication.

“Well, I’m here to tell you, you haven't tried them all.”

“Well... on that note.” You spoke, “I think it’s time I took my leave.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Tony told you childishly.

Well... two could play at that game.

“Yeah, well at least Rhodey and Pepper aren’t mad at me,” you fired back, as you got up from your seat. Practically hearing the man's jaw drop behind you.

***

“Antony Stark!” you yelled, as you strolled through the open door to Pepper’s office.

“What did I do now?”

“What do you mean, ‘what did you do now’?” you seethed at him, coming closer.

“Anything else, boss?” Happy asked.

“I’m good, Hap.”

“No, I’ll be just... another minute,” Tony and Pepper said at the same time.

“Well, that was awkward,” you said.

“I lost all three of the kids in the divorce,” Tony laughed at his own joke. “Nothing?” he asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder at you and The Head Of Security. “No.”

Tony cleared his throat.

Oh, don’t do it.

“Are you blending in well here, Natalie? Here at Stark Enterprises?”

You were so gonna throttle him.

“Your name is Natalie, isn’t it.”

Murder.

That’s what shone in your eyes, as your nostrils flared, just as it did Natasha’s.

“I thought you two didn’t get along,” the billionaire gestured between the two.

He better shut his mouth.

“No. That’s not so,” Pepper told him.

“It’s just me you don’t care for.” Pepper said nothing in reply. “No? Nothing?”

“Actually, while you’re here, maybe you and Natalie could discuss the matter of the personal belongings.”

“Absolutely,” Natasha said.

“Which loosely translates to, ‘get your shit out of my office’,” you informed the man.

“Yes, I got that. Thank you, Y/N.” You nodded your head once at him, with a fake smile plastered upon your face. You were so gonna kick his ass.

Tony watched as Pepper walked away. The blonde giving you a short nod as she passed you, and exited the office with Happy.

“I’m surprised you could keep your mouth shut,” Natasha said, as soon as the coast was clear. Making Tony spin around in the chair once again.

“Boy, you’re good. You are mind-blowingly duplicitous. How do you do it? You just tear things... you’re a triple imposter.” Tony turned to you. “Can you do that?”

“Of course I can, I'm a professional.”

“How did you even get into this business?”

“Later,” you told him.

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” he continued, turning back to Natasha, “Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?”

“Fallaces sunt rerum species,” Natasha responds immediately, gathering up documents, and beginning to take her leave.

“It turns out she can.” You shrugged.

“Which means? Wait. What? What did you just say?”

“It means you can drive yourself home or I can have you, and Miss Y/L/N, collected.”

“Wait what did I do?” You asked insulted, “Also, that’s not what she said.”

Natasha chose not to answer you. Instead, choosing to say, “Control him.”

“You think I can?” You asked the shorter woman, spinning to watch her walk away as you did.

“Hey!” Tony whined behind you. “You’re good!” he called to the red-head, as she slammed the door.

“Well...” You looked at Tony. “That was a shit-show. What the hell are you doing?” you asked, as he fiddled with one of Pepper’s ornaments. “What? Not talking to me?” Sighing he stood up, taking a bite out of a strawberry, before dumping the rest into the trash. “That’s a waste. And, yeah, no it's fine. I didn’t want any, anyway.”

You sighed, throwing your head back in exasperation, as you watched the man looking at the scale-model up against the wall. Who was currently peering through his hand, as if it was some sort of a telescope.

It really was like having a child dealing with him, sometimes... most times.

“Help me with this.”

“What?”

***

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THIS PLACE?!” you roared, taking in all of the destruction around.

Yep. You were never having kids.

“I made a new element!” Tony told you proudly.

“You. Made. A new. Element.”

“Yes? Why is that so hard to understand?”

“I-... How?!”

“It’s all... science stuff. You really want me to tell you?” Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

“No. Not really.”

You took another look around the place, slowly inhaling and exhaling, as you nodded your head. “Well. Well done.”

“Thanks. It worked,” Tony said, showing you his chest.

“Good, I’m glad.” You smiled. “Now... why are you assembling a suit?”

“Vanko’s still alive.”

You stared blankly at Tony for a moment. Watching him. Making sure that he wasn’t bullshitting you. When you deducted, that he was in fact, telling the truth, you asked, “He’s what?”

***

The absolute deafening cheering going on around you did nothing to drown out the sound of your heartbeat pounding away in your ears, as you were bent over your encased legs, hands on your knees, hoping that you could manage to pant away your incoming panic attack.

You had to.

You had a job to do right now.

Vaguely you registered Tony say, “We got trouble” inside of your metal helmet.

“Tony, there are civilians present,” Rhodey said, as you followed Tony on unsteady legs, “I’m here on orders. Let’s not do this right now.”

“God,” you breathed, “I hated every second of that.”

You mirrored the man you thought of as your brother, on Rhodey’s other side. Waving to the crowd, as Tony told you too.

“All these people are in danger. We gotta get them out of here,” Tony said, “You gotta trust me for the next five minutes.”

“Yeah, I tried that. I got tossed around your house, remember?”

“Listen, I think he’s working with Vanko.”

“Of course the sonofabitch is,” you growled, glaring at the man through the mask of your borrowed suit.

“Vanko’s alive?” Rhodey asked, slightly sceptical. Which he had a right too. God, knows how you didn’t want to belive Tony. But you knew he believed Tony, he would never lie about this.

As Tony squared up to Hammer, asking him about Venko. You scanned the crowd, looking for two people in particular.

“Found Natasha and Pepper,” you notified him.

“Who’s Natasha?” Rhodey asked. You we’re about to answer him, before he continued, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.”

“What’s up-? Holy shit!”

You jumped back in alarm, at the giant mini-gun attached to Rhodey’s back, moved to aim at Tony.

“Is that you?” Tony asked.

“No. That- I’m not doing that. I’m not doing that,” he stuttered, you could hear the panic rising in his voice, “I can’t move. I’m locked up. I’m locked up!”

"Motherfucker!" you hollered, stumbling back, as the military-themed drones pointed their arms towards Tony, too. Getting ready to fire.

"Get out of her. Go! This whole system's been compromised," Rhodey ordered.

"Y/N, with me," Tony said, "Let's take this outside."

"Oh, God, that means I have to fly again."

And with that, he blasted off, with you hot on his trail. As the drones and Rhodey's compromised suit started to rain fire on Tony, and consequently, you... and the glass ceiling. I think Vanko might have taken that phrase a little too seriously.

"Uh-Oh." You wished you hadn't looked down now. "Tony, incoming."

"Jarvis, break-in. I need to own him."

"Weird way to word it there, buddy," you quipped, "Are we really fucking doing this?"

"Yep. We're really fucking doing this."

***

"Tony?" You asked as you landed next to the crashed men, "How good did you say the filtration in the suit was?"

"It's pristine. Why?"

"Because I just pissed myself."

Just then Tony and Rhodey -Or rather, Rhodey's suit- began fighting.

"Oh, shit, Tony! How do you work this hunk of metal?!"

"Just go with your instinct's!"

"Oh, yeah. That helps!" you yelled, looking at your palms, where the repulsers lay. "Come on, you piece of shit! WORK!"

Well, you got it to work. However, the bright light shot out and hit you square in your mask. But, hey! You still got it two work! Silver-lining people!

"Ow," you uttered as you fell, landing on your back in a daze.

To say you were useless with these things, was an understatement.

You finally regained yourself, a few long seconds later. And had seen that Tony had managed to kick Rhodey's ass, as you got up on wobbly legs.

"Hey, guys? Can we not tell Natasha what just happened?"

"Not tell me what?"

You jumped at the sudden sound of her voice. Since when did she have access to talk through the suit?

"Nothing!" you spoke hastily.

Natasha hummed, not believing you, moving on to her next point, "Reboot complete. You got your best friend back."

"Thank you very much, Agent Romanoff."

"Well done with the new chest piece. I am reading significantly higher output and all your vitals look promising."

"Yes, for the moment, I'm not dying. Thank you."

"This moment better last long," you mumbled.

"What do you mean you're not dying?" Pepper? When did she get here? "Did you say you're dying."

Oh, God. This is awkward. It's so awkward.

"Is that you? No, I'm not. Not anymore."

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't want to alarm you."

"You were going to tell me? You really were dying?"

You were glad the suit hid the cringe on your face, as you were trapped here, to bare witness to this, a confession. Your metal hand coming up to scratch, uselessly, at your metal helmet, out of awkward discomfort.

"You didn't let me-"

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Pepper interrupted.

"I was gonna make you an omelette and tell you."

"Yeah, because omelettes make death confessions, so much better," you quipped, only to have it fall on deaf ears.

"Hey, hey. Save it for the honeymoon."

"Yeah, because they're gonna fight on their honeymoon..." You took all of a second to think about it, before changing your statement. "You know what, I don't doubt that."

"You've got incoming guys," Natasha continued. "Looks like the fight's coming to you."

"Awesome," you said sarcastically.

"Try to hit them and not yourself this time," Tony told you.

After this was done... he's a dead man.

"Pepper?"

Oh no, not this again.

"Are you okay now?"

"I'm fine. Don't be mad. I will formally apologize-"

"I am mad!" she yelled, and you sighed, getting into a fighting stance.

"-When I'm not fending off a Hammeroid attack.

"Fine."

"We could have been in Venice."

"And I could have been asleep."

"What is it with you and sleep?" Natasha asked.

"It's sleep!"

***

“She fights like a badass,” Happy breathed, inside you helmets. While you watched as drones landed all around you.

“I know, I’ve seen her.”

“Stalking much?” You could hear the smirk in her voice.

“You say that like you didn’t look me up when you found out I was an Agent.”

“You’re an Agent?!” Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper yelled at the same time.

“Old news guys, however makeshift terminators over here? New news.”

And then the fighting started.

Just like you would be on the field, splatters of battle coted you. But rather than blood, this time it was oil that painted your suit, as you tore, shot, and blew up drones.

Okay. So the suit wasn't all bad.

Tony told you and Rhodes to 'get down'. You watched as bright neon red lasers, chopped through the drones -and trees-, like a hot knife through butter.

"Can you show me how to do that?" you asked.

***

"Heads up. You got one more drone incoming," Natasha said. "This one looks different."

"What?" you asked, "Like it's got a makeover?"

"No," she said clearly, "Like the repulser signature is significantly higher."

"So, it's a boss drone then?"

Any reply Natasha had for you were cut off, thanks to the giant-sized Iron Man suit landing in front of you.

Oh, could this get any worse?

Yes. Yes, it could.

The real-life, yet no way friendly, Iron-Giant's face retracted back. Revealing, Ivan Vanko.

"God, that's not a good makeover."

"I swear to God, Y/N, I will disable your microphone."

"Hey, you two. Stop flirting," Rhodey said.

"Good to be back," Vanko said. Unknown to what you were saying, and, thankfully, to how your cheeks tinted red at Rhodey's words.

"Oh, this ain't gonna be good."

"Yeah, you're telling me," you agreed. "Ah! Whippy-things!" You moved back, startled, at Vankos sudden weapons.

"I got something special for this guy." Rhodey strutted up towards him. "I'm gonna bust his bunker with the Ex-Wife."

"The what now, please?"

"With the what?" You and Tony asked at the same time.

You waited in anticipation, watching as the shoulder of Rhodey's suit opened, and counted down. Blasting off a tiny missile right at Vanko. Which hit him. Then dropped to the ground, and fizzled out.

"Hammer tech?" Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah."

You flew up into the sky, shooting Vanko from above, as the other two fought on the ground. It was gonna take a lot to bring this sonofabitch down. Tony flew up to join you but didn't get far, as two bright blue whips latched themselves onto both you and Tony. Smashing Tony into a rock. And flinging you into a corner of the closed-off park. The last thing you heard before blacking out, was their voices shouting your name.

***

You awoke as you were flying through the air.

No, wait.

You weren't flying.

You were heaved over Rhoedy's shoulder, as he flew.

"What the hell's going on?"

"Hey, glad to see you're awake." Rhodey's smile could be heard in his voice. "The drones are set to self destruct."

"Did we beat him?"

"Yeah, we did," he said, as explosions were heard and seen, all across your view.

"Oh, my God! I can't take this anymore."

Great. Just when you had thought you had finally gained a minute of peace.

"You can't-?"

God, was this just their relationship?

"I can't take this."

"-Look at me."

Yep.

"My body, literally, cannot handle the stress." You peered up at Rhodey, from your seat on the floor, the man only shrugging at your silent question of, 'what the fuck?'. You both turning back to watch the two lovebirds have their spat. "I never know if you're gonna kill yourself or wreck the whole company."

“I think I did okay!” Tony defended himself when there was a sudden explosion far in the background.

“Dumbass,” you mumbled, only the man sitting beside you able to hear what you said. Him chuckling lightly at your words.

"I quit. I'm resigning," Pepper panted, "That's it."

"What did you just say? You're done?"

Did they really have to do this shit in front of you?

Did they really have to be so blind, not to notice you and Rhodey right beside them?

Did you really have to have no popcorn to enjoy, as you watched this?

"That's surprising," Tony said, walking towards her, "No, it's not surprising. I get it. You don't have to make any excuses."

Pepper stuttered. "I'm not making any excuses."

You eyes rolled as far back into your head as they possibly could. Luckily for you, missing some of what the bickering couple said.

"You deserve better."

"Well..."

"You've taken such good care of me." Were those... tears in Tony's voice? "I've been in a tough spot, but you got me through it, so... right?"

They muttered some words that you couldn't hear all that well.

Blah, Blah, Blah.

And then they kissed.

A look of disgust appearing upon your face. And you were thankful that you, in fact, did not have that popcorn, you whished for not long ago.

"I thought it was weird." You snapped back into reality, from your unexpected daze, at Rhodey's words.

Thank, God. They had stopped kissing.

"You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape."

“Hey, hey, now Rhodey." You put your hand up to the man. "That's an insult to seals and grapes."

Rhodey laughed beside you, as the previously kissing couple grew uncomfortable and fidgety.

"Don't even try to make excuses," you told them.

"Yeah, we heard the whole thing."

“You two should get lost,” Tony says to you and Rhodey.

"We were here first," the Colonel defended. "Get a roof."

"Yeah, and I'm fine, by the way. Thank's for asking." You smirked.

"I thought you two were out of one-liners."

"That's the last one."

"Speak for yourself," you said standing up. "Oh, also. I am never getting into one of these flying hell suits ever again.”

“Aww, don't say that. You’ll hurt its feelings.”

"I don't care."

"Oh, yeah? Well, how are you gonna get home then?"

"After I get home," you clarified. "I am never getting into one of these things, ever again."

“Don’t lie. You like the suit. Now,” he said, gesturing his head to the side, “Go get your girl.”

“What? There’s no way I’m going anywhere near one of those things.”

Oh, she was still here, was she?

“Oh, c’mon Romanoff.” You smirked, taking flight, “Fly away with me.”

“Not a chance.”

You landed in front of the red-head, exiting the building. Startling her as you did.

"Agent Romanoff." You smirked, throwing your arms out by your sides. If she didn't know better, Natasha would have assumed you were Tony. "Your ride has arrived."

"Get away from me."

***

“So...” you started, looking towards the red-head standing beside you, looking out onto the ocean below you, “Wanna go out on a date?”

Natasha turned to face you properly, a small smile on her face, “I thought you’d never ask, Y/L/N.” Stepping closer, her hand on your bicep, she continued, “Tonight. We’ll watch a movie in my cabin.”

You smiled.

“Only a movie,” she clarified, “No funny business.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Romanoff.”

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark #marvel #MCU

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brookstonalmanac · 3 years

Text

Events 9.2

44 BC – Pharaoh Cleopatra VII of Egypt declares her son co-ruler as Ptolemy XV Caesarion. 44 BC – Cicero launches the first of his Philippicae (oratorical attacks) on Mark Antony. He will make 14 of them over the following months. 31 BC – Final War of the Roman Republic: Battle of Actium: Off the western coast of Greece, forces of Octavian defeat troops under Mark Antony and Cleopatra. 1192 – The Treaty of Jaffa is signed between Richard I of England and Saladin, leading to the end of the Third Crusade. 1561 – Entry of Mary, Queen of Scots into Edinburgh, a spectacular civic celebration for the Queen of Scotland, marred by religious controversy. 1649 – The Italian city of Castro is completely destroyed by the forces of Pope Innocent X, ending the Wars of Castro. 1666 – The Great Fire of London breaks out and burns for three days, destroying 10,000 buildings, including Old St Paul's Cathedral. 1752 – Great Britain, along with its overseas possessions, adopts the Gregorian calendar. 1789 – The United States Department of the Treasury is founded. 1792 – During what became known as the September Massacres of the French Revolution, rampaging mobs slaughter three Roman Catholic bishops, more than two hundred priests, and prisoners believed to be royalist sympathizers. 1806 – A massive landslide destroys the town of Goldau, Switzerland, killing 457. 1807 – The British Royal Navy bombards Copenhagen with fire bombs and phosphorus rockets to prevent Denmark from surrendering its fleet to Napoleon. 1856 – The Tianjing incident takes place in Nanjing, China. 1859 – The Carrington Event is the strongest geomagnetic storm on record. 1862 – American Civil War: United States President Abraham Lincoln reluctantly restores Union General George B. McClellan to full command after General John Pope's disastrous defeat at the Second Battle of Bull Run. 1864 – American Civil War: Union forces enter Atlanta, a day after the Confederate defenders flee the city, ending the Atlanta Campaign. 1867 – Mutsuhito, Emperor Meiji of Japan, marries Masako Ichijō, thereafter known as Empress Shōken. 1870 – Franco-Prussian War: Battle of Sedan: Prussian forces take Napoleon III of France and 100,000 of his soldiers prisoner. 1885 – Rock Springs massacre: In Rock Springs, Wyoming, 150 white miners, who are struggling to unionize so they could strike for better wages and work conditions, attack their Chinese fellow workers killing 28, wounding 15 and forcing several hundred more out of town. 1898 – Battle of Omdurman: British and Egyptian troops defeat Sudanese tribesmen and establish British dominance in Sudan. 1901 – Vice President of the United States Theodore Roosevelt utters the famous phrase, "Speak softly and carry a big stick" at the Minnesota State Fair. 1912 – Arthur Rose Eldred is awarded the first Eagle Scout award of the Boy Scouts of America. 1935 – The Labor Day Hurricane, the most intense hurricane to strike the United States, makes landfall at Long Key, Florida, killing at least 400. 1939 – World War II: Following the start of the invasion of Poland the previous day, the Free City of Danzig (now Gdańsk, Poland) is annexed by Nazi Germany. 1944 – The last execution of a Finn in Finland will take place when soldier Olavi Laiho is executed by shooting in Oulu. 1945 – World War II: The Japanese Instrument of Surrender is signed by Japan and the major warring powers aboard the battleship USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay. 1945 – Communist leader Ho Chi Minh proclaimed the Democratic Republic of Vietnam after the end of the Nguyễn dynasty. 1946 – The Interim Government of India is formed, headed by Jawaharlal Nehru as vice president with the powers of a Prime Minister. 1957 – President Ngô Đình Diệm of South Vietnam becomes the first foreign head of state to make a state visit to Australia. 1958 – A USAF RC-130 is shot down by fighters over Armenia when it strays into Soviet airspace while conducting a sigint mission. All crew members are killed. 1960 – The first election of the Tibetan Parliament-in-Exile. The Tibetan community observes this date as Democracy Day. 1963 – CBS Evening News becomes U.S. network television's first half-hour weeknight news broadcast, when the show is lengthened from 15 to 30 minutes. 1968 – Operation OAU begins during the Nigerian Civil War. 1970 – NASA announces the cancellation of two Apollo missions to the Moon, Apollo 15 (the designation is re-used by a later mission), and Apollo 19. 1984 – Seven people are shot and killed and 12 wounded in the Milperra massacre, a shootout between the rival motorcycle gangs Bandidos and Comancheros in Sydney, Australia. 1985 – Sri Lankan Civil War: Sri Lankan Tamil politicians and former MPs M. Alalasundaram and V. Dharmalingam are shot dead. 1987 – In Moscow, the trial begins for 19-year-old pilot Mathias Rust, who flew his Cessna airplane into Red Square in May. 1990 – Transnistria is unilaterally proclaimed a Soviet republic; the Soviet president Mikhail Gorbachev declares the decision null and void. 1992 – The 7.7 Mw  Nicaragua earthquake affected the west coast of Nicaragua. With a Ms–Mw disparity of half a unit, this tsunami earthquake triggered a tsunami that caused most of the damage and casualties, with at least 116 killed. Typical runup heights were 3–8 meters (9.8–26.2 ft). 1998 – Swissair Flight 111 crashes near Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia; all 229 people onboard are killed. 1998 – The UN's International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda finds Jean-Paul Akayesu, the former mayor of a small town in Rwanda, guilty of nine counts of genocide. 2009 – The Andhra Pradesh, India helicopter crash occurred near Rudrakonda Hill, 40 nautical miles (74 km) from Kurnool, Andhra Pradesh, India. Fatalities included Y. S. Rajasekhara Reddy, the Chief Minister of the Indian state of Andhra Pradesh. 2010 – Israel-Palestinian conflict: the 2010 Israeli-Palestinian peace talks are launched by the United States. 2013 – The Eastern span replacement of the San Francisco–Oakland Bay Bridge opens at 10:15 PM at a cost of $6.4 billion, after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake damaged the old span. 2019 – Hurricane Dorian, a category 5 hurricane, devastates the Bahamas, killing at least five.

#Events

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tulaladd · 3 years

Text

世界最遅tulaladd2020best DL list

年間ベストを始めて以来、初の事態。

なんと9か月遅れのポスト。あと3か月で次の年ベスの発表時期じゃないですか…唯一にして最大の理由が、もちろんあるにはある。

暗夜行路のような唄声が車内から眺める某庁舎前の雪景色と甘酸っぱい感情を喚起させるRY Xや、このリストには登場しない自分用に作ったプレイリスト（日本語ラップ編、シティーポップ編）をひとりで何度も諳んじては胸を焦がした。それらの音楽が本来持つ資質にプラスして思い出補正でランクインした作品がいくつかある（最たるものがサントラ部門かな）。そんな変化があった2020年でした。

それを除けば、音楽ライフは基本的に前年を踏襲。つまり引き続きapple music依存型で、DIG活動もほほ休止（荷物の山に埋もれたタンテをセッティングし直せるまともな精神状態じゃなかった…）。落第生の体たらくをここ何年も続けてるわけです。とはいえ昨年と比べれば、リスト入り作品の数が格段に増えた＝それなりに楽しい音楽生活が営めていたのも事実。その充実を支えたものがアルゴリズムって点がものすごく納得はいかないけれど。（毎年書いてるけど、手当たり次第サブスクを横断する中で「もう一度聴きたい」と思えたものが以下のDLリスト。感覚的には昨年より緩い5枚に1枚。それでも昨年比3倍の約250枚！）

いつまで延命できるか分からないローカルラジオを継続できたのもラッキーだった。相変わらずみんなとあーだこーだ言いながらいろんな曲を聴く時間が音楽ライフを豊かにしてくれました。感謝。過去最高に音楽への熱が薄いテキストになっちゃうけど、9か月遅れだと致し方なしか。

三ツ星評価のうち、エル・ミシェルズ・アフェアのシングルはラジオの一戸くんレコメン、今年も熱量が持続しているサウスロンドン・ジャズ・シーンのマンスール・ブラウンEPはおなじみWOZNIAK星くんのオススメ、ほかにも人から教わってお気に入りになった作品が少なくないのは、サブスクじゃ届かないリアルの強みが感じられて、そこだけは希望があるのかな。

youtube

特筆するとすれば、Bartosz KruczynskiのEARTH TRAX以来追い続けてきたリズムセクション・インターナショナルが、旬のサウスロンドン・シーンと地下ハウス/テクノ・シーンのメルティング・ポットだったことが分かって興味が再燃させられた個人的な事件。そのセンセーションのグラウンド・ゼロにあたるTHE COLOURS THAT RISEの発見が今年No.1の成果かな。

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唯一職場で音楽談義ができるために相互レコメンに特化したLINEを展開中のT氏に教えられたエディ・チャコンのアルバム、そのエディの復活劇を手掛け、若林恵さん経由でずっぽりハマったソランジュ『A Seat At The Table』の禅的ミニマリズのデザイナーでもあることが事後に発覚したジョン・キャロル・カービーの2人は、今年ならではの幸福な時間の中で何度も繰り返し聴いた一生の思い出確定盤。ジョンなんか3カテゴリーに分かれてのランクインだもんな。　

youtube

さて2021年。あと3か月しかない。今年はやる？やらない？いろいろ越えるべきものが多くすぎてそれ以前の問題かもしれないなけど。

youtube

【TECHNO / HOUSE / (NU)DISCO / ELECTRONICS】 ★★★THE COLOURS THAT RISE / Grey Doubt ★★THE COLOURS THAT RISE / 2020 EP（2017） ★★THEO PARRISH / Wuddaji ★★Machinedrum / A View of U ★Kuniyuki Takahashi / Flying Music EP ★Oneohtrix Point Never / Magic Oneohtrix Point Never ★VLADISLAV DELAY / Rakka ★LUKE SLATER / berghain fünfzehn ★Jayda G / Both of Us / Are U Down EP ★TSHA / Flowers EP ★DISCLOSURE / Energy ★DARKSTAR / Civic Jams ★Chari Chari / We Hear the Last Decades Dreaming ★HUNEE / Boiler Room : an hour with HUNEE（DJ Mix） ★Autechre / SIGN Arca / @@@@@ BURIAL / Chemz FOUR TET / Sixteen Oceans JAMES BLAKE / Before EP GLOBAL COMMUNICATION / Transmissions Sampler JOHN FRUSCIANTE / Maya TRICKFINGER / She Smiles Because She Presses the Button EP TRICKFINGER / Look Down, See Us EP 60 Miles / Swamp 2 Sea EP EARTH TRAX / LP1 EARTH TRAX / LP2 BIG YAWN / No! HIATT dB / Palimpsest EP GL / You Read My Mind DJ SOFA / Elsewhere Junior I - a Collection of Cosmic Children’s Song Mr President / One Night feat.Celia Kameni & Cindy Pooch J.A.K.A.M. / ASTRAL DUB WORX Inner Science / Made パソコン音楽クラブ / Ambience EP LOCUSSOLUS / Locussolus（Expanded） Various Artists / South DAN KYE / Small Moments OFF THE MEDS / Off The Meds BASSO / Proper Sunburn - Forgotten Sunscreen Applied By Basso（2019） Copenema / Dexia a Musica Tocar（2019） Seahawks / Eyes of the Moon（2019） Jayda G / Significant Changes（2019） MMM / Que Barbaro（2013）

【HIPHOP / R&B / BEATS / FUNK】 ★★★EDDIE CHACON / Outside（Laraaji Remix） ★★EDDIE CHACON / Pleasure, Joy and Happiness ★★Lil Narnia / Pain Extract ★★VHOOR / Baile & Sauce ★AG CLUB / Halfway Off the Porch ★MAC MILLER / Circles ★THUNDRCAT / It Is What It Is ★WILMA ARCHER / A Western Circular ★OXP, ONRA & POMRAD / Swing Convention ★DJ KRUSH / TRICKSTER ★BENEDEK / Bene’s World（2017） JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / High feat.Eddie Chacon & Nailah Hunter THE WEEKND / After Hours DRAKE / Dark Lane Demo Tapes POP SMOKE / Shoot for the Stars Aim for the Moon IVAN AVE / DOUBLE GOODBYES MOSES SUMNEY / græ PETER COTTON TALE / CATCH NNAMDI / BRAT Yves Tumor / Heaven Ta a Toutured Mind Teebs / Ardour（10th Anniversary Edition） Wajatta / Don’t Let Get You Down Lapalux / Esrevoinma EP Kutmah / New Appliance THE HELIOCENTRICS / Telemetric Sounds VULFPECK / The Joy of Music, The Job of Real Estate JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / Lazzara（2019） Various Artists / Kutmah presents : Sketchbook Radio Archives, Vol.1（2018） Invisibl Skratch Piklz / The 13th Foor（2016） D-STYLES / Phantazagorea（2002）

【JAZZ（the New Chapter） / WORLD】 ★★★MANSUR BROWN / Tesuto ★★★JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / My Garden ★★KAMASI WASHINGTON / Harmony of Difference EP（2017） ★JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / Love Theme ★MANSUR BROWN / Shiroi ★JEFF PARKER / Suite for Max Brown ★CHICAGO UNDERGROUND QUARTET / Good Days ★TOM MISCH & YUSSEF DAYES / What Kinda Music ★KAMAAL WILLIAMS / Wu Hen ★ROB MAZUREK & EXPLODING STAR ORCHESTRA / Dimentional Stardust: ★ORLANDO LE FLEMING / Romantic Funk : The Unfamiliar ★SAM WILKES / WILKES（2019） ★YUSSEF KAMAAL / Black Focus（2016） ★ZSOFIA BOROS / Local Objects（2016） JYOTI & GEORGIA ANNE MULDROW / Mama, You Can Bet! BUTCHER BROWN / #KingButch BRAXTON COOK / Fire Sign PAT METHENY / From This Place Fabiano do Nascimento / Preludio SAM GENDEL / Satin Doll SAM GENDEL / Pass If Music（2018） SAM WILKES / Live on the Green（2019） BRANDON COLEMAN / Resistance（2018） KIEFER / Superbloom（2019）鈴木良雄 / モーニング・ピクチャー（1984）鈴木良雄 / ウイングス（1987） JOHN EBERSON, BJ0RNAR ANDRESEN, PAAL NILSSEN-LOVE / Mind the Gap（2001）

【（INDIE）ROCK / （INDIE） POP / SSW】 ★★★EL MICHELS AFFAIR / Reasons feat.Bobby Oroza ★★EL MICHELS AFFAIR / Adult Themes ★★THE FLAMING LIPS / American Head ★★SUFJAN STEVENS / The Ascension ★★FLEET FOXES / Shore ★★COLDPLAY / Everyday Life（2019） ★★RY X / Unfurl（2019） ★★THE WAR ON DRUGS / Lost in the Dream（2014） ★PHOEBE BRIDGERS / Copycat Killer feat. ROB MOOSE - EP ★Mk.gee / A Museum of Contradiction ★PEEL DREAM MAGAZINE / Agitprop Alterna ★BLAKE MILLS / Mutable Set ★THE STROKES / The New Abnormal ★CHS / Jungle Sauna（2019） ★KINDNESS / Something Like A War（2019） ★〝Blue〟Gene Tyranny & Peter Gordon / Trust In Rock（2019） ★STATE RIVER WIDENING / Early Music（2003） BIBIO / Sleep On The Wing Jonsi / Shiver JEFF TWEEDY / Love Is The King REAL ESTATE / The Main Thing ANIMAL COLLECTIVE / Bridge to Quite LITTLE DRAGON / New Me . Same us JAGA JAZZIST / Pyramid TAME IMPAlA / The Slow Rush TRAVIS / 10 Songs SORRY / 925 JOSEPH OF MERCURY / WAVE Ⅱ Khruangbin / Mordechai Various Artists / Hiding From the Landlord HOWLING / Colure DEVENDRA BANHART / Ma（2019） LANA DEL REY / Norman Fucking Rockwell（2019） DAVE GROHL / Play（2018） CRITERIA / En Garde（2003）

【PUNK / HEAVEY / EXTREAM】 ★★envy / The Fallen Crimson ★★lang / There is no reply, but sweet wind blew（2018） ★envy / LAST WISH（Live at Liquidroom Tokyo） ★SLIFT / UMMON ★HORSE LORDS / The Common Task ★coriky / coriky ★Sans Visage, Look at moment / Split Single ★Sans Visage / moments（2017） ★LIGHTNING BOIL / Sonic Citadel（2019） ★Harvey Milk / Courtesy and Good Will Toward Men（2006） DEFTONES / Ohms Converge / Endless Arrow JESU / Terminus JESU / Never JESU / Ascension（Delux） KRUELTY / A Dying Truth XIBALBA / Anos En Infierno Various Artists / Speedy Wunderground Year 4（2019） RUSSIAN CIRCLE / Russian Circle Audiotree Far Out（2019） EARTH / Live at Third Man Records（2017） THE ARMED / Only Love（2018） THE ARMED / Untitled（2015）

【AMBIENT / NEW AGE / DRONE / MINIMAL MUSIC / EXPERIMENTAL】 ★★JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / Conflict ★★Dukes of Chutney / Hazel ★HEATHERED PEARLS / Cast ★SAM PREKOP / Comma BING & RUTH / Species FRANKIE REYES / Originalitos IAN WILLIAM CRAIG / Red Sun Through Smoke WINDY & CARL / Allegiance and Conviction JONNY NASH & SUZANNE KRAFT / A Heart So White JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / Tuscany（2019） JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / Meditation In Music（2018） JOHN CARROLL KIRBY / Travel（2017） ALEXANDER RISHAUG / Shadow of Events（2011）【CLASSIC / OST】 ★LUDWIG GORANSSON / Tenet OST ★JOHN WILLIAMS / Double Trouble ※from OST of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban（2004） DUSTIN O'HALLORAN / Ammonite OST KAMASI WASHINGTON / Becoming（Music from the Netflix Original Documentary） DUSTIN O'HALLORAN / Lumiere（2011） BETH GIBBONS, The Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra & Krzysztof Penderecki / Henryk Gorecki: Symphony No.3（2019） ANTONI WIT, Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra(Katowice) & Polish Choir of Krakow / Henryk Gorecki: Symphony No.2（2001） ZSOFIA BOROS / Local Objects（2016）【DOMESTIC（without HIPHOP）】 ★★★METAFIVE / 環境と心理 ★★GEZAN / 狂（KLUE） ★★downy / 第七作品集「無題」 ★★岡村靖幸 / 操 ★★崎山蒼志 / ソフト　※FEVER LIVE ver. on YouTube ★★SILENT POETS / dawn（2018） ★WOZNIAK / Vegetable Home Run ★Ai Aso / The Faintest Hint ★jan and naomi / YES ★mei ehara / Ampersands ★ディーン・フジオカ / Neo Dimension ★LUNA SEA / Make a vow ★坂本慎太郎 / 好きっていう気持ち / おぼろげナイトクラブ ★Cuushe / Waken ★sassya- / 脊髄（2019） ★小袋成彬 / Piercing（2019） ★She Her Her Hers / stereochrome（2014） WOZNIAK / Lost WOZNIAK / Double Face mouse on the keys / Arche 5kai / Untitled #2 KAN SANO / Susanna Ovall / Ovall（2019） mabanua / Blurred（2018） D.A.N. / Aechma ふさえ / そのまま相馬智行 & 鳴海徹朗 / 春の闇 jan and naomi / Neutrino 王舟 / Pulchra Ondo 春ねむり / LOVETHEISM 井出健介と母船 / Contact From Exne Kedy And The Poltergeists（エクスネ・ケディと騒がしい幽霊からのコンタクト）吉田一郎不可触世界 / えぴせし岡田拓郎 / Morning Sun blgtz / Feature EP Coff / Tiny Music（2019）【DOMESTIC（HIPHOP）】 ★★DJ CHARI & DJ TATSUKI / GOLDEN ROUTE ★★Weny Dacillo / Hapitable Hotel ★Hideyoshi / Dead End Adventure ★GG UJIHARA / WEAKNESS EP（2018） ★DJ CHARI & DJ TATSUKI / Time feat.Yo-Sea & KEIJU（2019） ★GG UJIHARA / WEAKNESS EP（2018） KOHH / worst KEIJU / T.A.T.O. Sauce81 / S8100 MARTER / Weltraumasthetik 2020 Normcore Boyz / MEDIAGE なみちえ / 毎日来日徳利 / REVOLUTION starscream & Page Hiiragi / Ghost(s) DJ CHARI / GAME（2019） YOUNG HASTLE & GG UJIHARA / YOUNG UJIHARA EP（2019） Weny Dacillo / AMPM EP（2017）

#tulaladd2020best

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joshrussosbff · 9 months

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where's the big red / andy "antonie" fam at?

#hsmtmts spoilers #big red x antonie #big red x andy

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love-sapphirerose · 3 years

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Optimally Maximal Relationship Failures

https://www.deviantart.com/antoni-matteo-garcia/art/Optimally-Maximal-Relationship-Failures-863430102

This demotivational poster is super aggro and mega highly Anti-SessKagu, Anti-KogAya, Anti-InuKag, Anti-Kagura to some extent, Anti-Kouga to a vastly significant extent, Anti-Kagome to a huge extent, but also Pro-Sesshoumaru, Pro-Inuyasha, Pro-Ayame, and highly Pro-SessAyaInu. Sit back and relax, as I tear into Sesshoumaru's and Kagura's failure of a relationship, Kouga's and Ayame's major fart of a romance that should never have been, and Inuyasha's and Kagome's annoying volatility, why Kagura does not deserve Sesshoumaru, why Kouga and Kagome only deserve my ire, wrath, and fury, and why Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame deserve so much better in each other. Furthermore, this is my contribution to this year's Red Ribbon Reviewers' month. Behold, my dear readers, my three greatest NOTPs of all time. Sure, I consider Naraku with anybody my greatest choice of a NOTP because someone as manipulatively dastardly such as Naraku deserves to be alone, done for, and truly deserves jack shit! However, that is too obvious of a choice. These three are the ones that make me want to tear my hair off and carve the hearts of Kouga and Kagome out with a blunt knife as well as tell Kagura to vamoose. As you can clearly tell, I have put these from bad to worse to the worst, with Sesshoumaru x Kagura being something absolutely unpleasant, Kouga x Ayame being a whole lot more atrocious, and Inuyasha x Kagome being the indubitable equivalent to toxic waste mixed with gallons of poison. Ergo, SessKagu is a bad pairing, KogAya is so much worse, and InuKag is the absolute worst pairing to exist in Inuyasha. I am aware that there are a good number of people who love to pair Sesshoumaru with Kagura because of how appealingly sexy they appear together. However, now that I have discarded those rose-tinted glasses for good, I can see this failure of a relationship for what this signifies and this all falls on Kagura's shoulders. Lest one forget that Kagura killed Kouga's tribesmen of her own volition and got pleasure out of that, trapped Miroku and Sango at Mt. Hakurei also by her own volition, kidnapped Rin, used Akago as a vessel to feed on Kagome's dark side, was manipulated into serving Princess Kaguya in the false hopes of wanting her freedom, and tended to mock Inuyasha. All of these atrocities would make Sesshoumaru fully cognizant that Kagura is far from being his equal in a relationship. Her dirty record as well as her hissy fit at Sesshoumaru for not helping her desire to be free from Naraku make her a co-dependent partner which can only spell failure in the long-term. As a mother to Rin, she would definitely fail badly because of her aforementioned dirty record and she would not be fully worthy of any sort of emulation. For someone like Kagura who is a formidable fighter, she has abused her wind powers to cause chaos and misery. Her passing may be tragic, but the awful deeds she has done are not worthy of my forgiveness. At least Sesshoumaru is free from being in a co-dependent relationship with that polarizing wind sorceress. Kouga x Ayame or KogAya is a couple I will never understand the appeal of. Yes, they are both wolf yokai, but these two could not be any more different, as Kouga is a big bluffer of a bully and a Karma Houdini and Ayame is a naturally brave, strong, fearless warrior princess with hidden depths that should have been fully realized! I have dreaded at the thought of these two ending up together because of all the failures and atrocities that would all resurface if Ayame were to find out all the horrible crimes Kouga has committed against an innocent young girl, Rin, and his entire tribe. This also extends to him not being the strong fighter he has made himself out to be and nothing more than a perennially pathetic loser who has relied on the Shikon Jewel's power instead of harnessing his own strength, as if the Shikon Jewel shards on his legs are a metaphor for steroids being used to give someone an artificial boost of strength and power. If Ayame dared to discover all of those atrocities, crimes, and rubbish Kouga has committed, she will be undoubtedly appalled at him and would repudiate him for good. I will reiterate that all of my sympathy goes to Ayame because of the fact that she deserves so much better than this pathetic waste of effort and time and deserves to grow as a veritably formidable heroine worthy of emulation, especially to all the young girls of the world. The mere fact that Kouga and his wolves killed innocent villagers including Rin who has lost her family and had to wander the world alone before she was revived Sesshoumaru through his Tenseiga and got away with murder, mainly relied on the Shikon Jewel's power to accelerate his strength and speed without working that on his own, and did not avenge his fallen comrades at the hands of Naraku and Kagura should all make Ayame's insides turn and make her reject Kouga for good and for all. Ergo, Ayame does not deserve this pathetic Karma Houdini and deserves to estrange herself from him forever, thus making her be the mother Rin truly deserves and will gladly give her her unconditional love and compassion to help her grow as a person. Speaking of couples I do not understand the appeal of by any shape of the imagination, we have my most dreaded NOTP of all time in the form of Inuyasha x Kagome or InuKag. Even as a child of eleven years old, I did not tune in to Inuyasha to see their soap opera fart of a relationship desecrating Adult Swim let alone the airwaves no matter where I was watching this series. I mainly tuned in to Inuyasha to see him growing from strength to strength and kick loads of butt, especially in his full yokai form. Furthermore, the more I saw Kagome and her brand of shrewishness, manipulativeness, brattiness, pettiness, jealousy, and callousness, the more irritated I became. There was barely any semblance of a romantic relationship blooming between Inuyasha and Kagome, as it was more of Kagome being the owner to Inuyasha's pet, especially where the Beads of Subjugation and the purpose of Inuyasha's sword Tessaiga are concerned. The Beads of Subjugation were used for Inuyasha to not do anything rash while the Tessaiga, aside from being a sword of destruction, was also intended to be used to protect those who are oppressed. Being the manipulative shrew Kagome was, she believed this would give her leeway for Inuyasha to shield her and be her "knight in shining armor" who will save her from all forms of danger without honing her own skills as a fighter. What is worse is that Kagome extends her manipulation to Miroku, Sango, and Shippou aka The Dunderhead Family to be nothing more than her pathetic posse and have them jump on a certain bandwagon that has brought Inuyasha a whole bunch of trauma. I am, of course, talking about how he was still hurting from the guilt he felt when Naraku manipulated both him and Kikyou into betraying each other. Miroku, Sango, Shippou, and especially Kagome never understood Inuyasha's pain and trauma in the slightest and The Dunderhead Family think that anytime Kagome was hurt it was all because of him. Furthermore, there is the fact that Inuyasha and Kagome are an undeniable example of being in a Karmic relationship with each other, given the many times they have been yelling, bickering, squabbling, and getting themselves in a heap of messily addictive habits that will only dig them deeper into more quagmires than find any sensibility or profound meaning. It says something that someone as compassionate, genuine, kind, and natural as Rin makes a far better companion to Inuyasha than The Dunderhead Family and...ugh....Kagome combined. Do not even get me started on the first episode of Yashahime because Inuyasha still has those accursed Beads of Subjugation on and she still does not trust him where Kikyou was concerned. Kagome was never attentive to him, never understood him in a profound level, and always believed she had dominance over him. This, my friends, is why I absolutely loathe InuKag with all of my being and it stands perched atop the medal platform of shame as my most disdained NOTP of all time. InuKag makes SessKagu more tolerable in comparison and the only other NOTP to ever come close to InuKag's brand of disgust is KogAya. Regardless, InuKag is the NOTP I will never want to touch with a twelve-foot pole. You might even noticed a recurring theme in terms of my discussion of my Inuyasha NOTPs and that is the importance of Rin. Well, she does play an integral part in not only Sesshoumaru's life but also the lives of Inuyasha and Ayame. Considering that Kouga and his wolves killed her in cold blood and got away with murder, Kagura kidnapped her as ransom for Sesshoumaru to annihilate Naraku, and that Kagome and The Dunderhead Family do not even come close to Rin's brand of compassion, I say that it was high time for Sesshoumaru to ditch Kagura, Inuyasha to give a big, fat, ugly screw-you to Kagome, and Ayame to drop kick Kouga in his family jewels to be the worthy parents to give Rin the great home she truly deserves complete with siblings in the forms of Dai, Roku, Kai, Shiori, and Shinta. To make things better, Rin will be definitely grateful to have two strong, powerful, brave dads like Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha, one courageous, honorable, compassionate mom like Ayame, three tough, independent, loving older brothers like Dai, Roku, and Kai, a lovable, caring, compassionate "twin" sister like Shiori because they are also the same age though Shiori is a month younger than her, and a lovable, sweet, attentive younger brother like Shinta. Just squeeze in Shuran, Hakkaku, and Ginta to be her loving uncles and Shunran to be her equally loving auntie and it will be a glorious family Rin will be more than happy to be a part of. With that said, having a three-way relationship with Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha being the chivalrous, caring, noble husbands to Ayame is so much better than having these three suffer a series of terrible relationships. This also extends to how proud Toga the Dog General and The Wolf Elder shall be of their progeny for giving Rin a great home and for finding true friends in Shuran, Hakkaku, Ginta, and Shunran who are just as supportive of Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame being in a three-way relationship. In conclusion, I am so ecstatic to make SessKagu, KogAya, and especially InuKag my biggest NOTPs for life. I will never touch these failures with a twelve-foot pole ever again, but the putrid effect of these NOTPs will forever remain ingrained in my memory as a stern reminder what bad relationships can look like. From the co-dependency found in Kagura's failed relationship with Sesshoumaru to the utter deception and lies Ayame would have found herself falling hook, line, and sinker all for Kouga's pathetic hide to Inuyasha's and Kagome's fart of a relationship only spelling death and destruction for years to come, there is nothing that will salvage these losers together. I am just going to keep Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame in a loving three-way relationship complete with a great family they can call their own and Shuran, Hakkaku, Ginta, and Shunran are going to be part of that family as their siblings for life. I hope you all enjoyed my evisceration of SessKagu, KogAya, and InuKag as my biggest NOTPs for life and I would love to hear from you if you agree with me on this. Until then, I will see you in the next submission. Take care and Happy Holidays, everybody. Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame as well as the lame-os known as Kouga, Kagura, and Kagome from Inuyasha belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise.

#inuyasha #inuyasha the final act #anti inukag #anti kagome #anti sunrise

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dust Volume 6, Number 13

Trees

It’s four in the afternoon and already getting dark, a foot of snow on the way. One year is nearly over — and yes, we’ve got some essays on that coming up after the holiday break — and another one is taking shape in our inboxes, mail chutes and hard drives. But for right now, let’s take another look at 2020, doubling back on the records that caught our ears without exactly fitting our schedules, the ones that almost got away. Here are the usual free improvisations and long drones, hip hop upstarts and cowpunk also-rans, a harpist, a cellist, a tabletop guitarist and at least one stellar punk record that has us hoping for sweaty live music again in 2021. Contributors this time included Bill Meyer, Bryon Hayes, Andrew Forrell, Patrick Masterson, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Arthur Krumins, Ian Mathers and Ray Garraty, heck let’s call it a quorum, and see you again in the New Year.

Mac Blackout — Love Profess (Trouble In Mind)

Love Profess by Mac Blackout

Mac Blackout owes his surname to his membership in the Functional Blackouts. That’s a garage combo that was once the subject of an article about how they’d been banned from various venues on account of the destructive chaos of their live performances. But you can’t do that forever, and nowadays Mac’s a painter and solo recording artist. His latest sounds are unlikely to make anyone want to put a chair into the mirror behind the bar, but they might send you flipping through your record collection, looking for the sounds that you and he have in common. Love Profess opens with a burst of piano-pounding, sax-overblowing free jazz, but that lasts for about nine seconds before it gets swallowed by some John Bender-worthy synth throb. Give “Wandering Spheres” a couple more minutes, and Mr. Blackout goes full La Dusseldorf on us. By turns spacy, spooky and seriously compelled to vent nocturnal loneliness, this half-hour long LP is both as familiar and as unknown as a well-shuffled deck of cards.

Bill Meyer

Ross Birdwise — Perfect Failures (Never Anything)

Perfect Failures by Ross Birdwise

Vancouver-based electronic improviser Ross Birdwise rails against spatio-temporal norms. The concepts of tempo and rhythm are malleable in his universe. Architecturally, Birdwise is Antoni Gaudí, working in fluid lines to build incomprehensible structures. With Perfect Failures, he leaps even further away from the orthogonal grid of musical construction, dissolving beats into grains of sound. The warped rhythms found on Frame Drag are divested in favor of an approach that more resembles electroacoustic composition. As a matter of fact, the title track comes on like a digital recreation of a piece of classic musique concrète. Birdwise avoids venturing into purely ambient territory yet borrows some signifiers from the genre: keyboard melodies, elongated tones, washes of sound. He overlays these seemingly innocuous elements with crashes of noise, oblique jump cuts and hyperkinetic sequences, constantly forcing us to shift focus to make sense of his soundscapes. The febrile nature of the music is what intoxicates, but the discordant melodies are what enthrall.

Bryon Hayes

C_G — C_G (edelfaul recordings)

C_G by C_G

Belgium-based French electronic artist Eduardo Ribuyo (C_C) and Israeli drummer Ilia Gorovitz (Stumpf) join forces on C_G, a one-take collaboration of molecular machine noise and improvised percussion. It opens as a slow creep, Gorovitz playing minimal rhythms that sound like someone walking through the pre-dawn streets of an awakening city. Ribuyo accretes whirrs, cracks and electrical pops to evoke the dread of a night not over. On “Normalising Cruelty,” for instance, the discomfort builds, the drums tumble in flight, the noise intensifies. The relative conventionality of the percussion tracks seems intentional and serves to focus attention on the granular details Ribuyo conjures from his machines. Think the experiments of similarly minded Mille Plateaux and Raster Norton artists. When played through headphones at volume, its full queasy Room 101 buzz and grind squirms most effectively into the brain. Easy listening this is not, but if and when home gatherings resume this would be an ideal way to clear the house.

Andrew Forell

Che Noir — After 12 EP (TCF Music Group)

youtube

If you’ve been paying attention to hip-hop in the last few years, Buffalo’s Griselda camp has dominated the “old heads” conversation away from whatever the kids are vibing to on TikTok. But there’s life away from an Eminem partnership, and not just in the form of Benny the Butcher: Witness Che Noir, who has been on fire throughout 2020. After starting off the year with the 38 Spesh-produced Juno and following it up with the Apollo Brown-produced As God Intended, Che’s closing things out with this self-produced seven-song EP that covers a wide range of territory without dipping into tales of street hustling, just the age old struggle to get some respect. “Hunger Games” is an early highlight that shows her chemistry with Ransom and 38 Spesh, while she completely takes over in speaking to the times on “Moment in the Sun,” which is the clear emotional highlight of the EP. Amber Simone’s pleading chorus on closer “Grace” is another stylistic turn and closes things on a high note. The last words you hear are Simone’s as she sings, “Imma go get it”; the lingering effect is that you know Che Noir is already showing you as much. Miss this one at your own risk.

Patrick Masterson

Cong Josie — “Leather Whip” b/w “Maxine” (It Records)

Leather Whip / Maxine (AA single) by Cong Josie

Frankie Teardrop rides again in this smoking synth punk single from Australia’s Cong Josie. “Leather Whip” is about as menacing and minimal as synthesizer music gets, braced by the hard slap of gate-reverbed drums and a claw-picked bass sound (maybe electronic?) and Cong Josie’s whispery insinuations. “Maxine” is just as stripped, with blotchy bass sound and swishing drum machine rhythms framing a haunted rockabilly love song. It’s very Suicide, but isn’t that a good thing?

Jennifer Kelly

Divine Horsemen — Live 1985-1987 (Feeding Tube)

Divine Horsemen “Live”1985-1987 by Divine Horsemen

With Divine Horsemen, Chris D of the Flesh Eaters had a brief but memorable run in vivid, gothic, country-tinged punk. This disc commemorates two red-hot live outings from 1985 and 1987, the first at Safari Sam’s in Huntington Beach, California, the second at Boston’s The Rat. A sharply realized recording shows how this band’s sound fit into the cowpunk parameters set by X, with strident guitar clangor and hard knocking rock rhythms (the ax-heavy line-up featured in this recording included Wayne James, Marshall Rohner and Peter Andrus on guitars, the Flesh Eater’s Robyn Jameson on bass). The secret weapon, though, was the ongoing and volatile vocal duel between the front man and his then-wife Julie Christensen, a classically trained soprano with an unholy vibrato-laced belt. You can hear how she transformed his art by comparing the Flesh Eater’s version of “Poison Arrow” with the one here. It’s as aggressive as ever, musically, and Chris D. is in full florid, echoey, goth-punk mode. Christensen, however, is molten fire, letting loose cascades and flurries of wild vibrating song. There’s a scorching, stomping romp through the vamping “Hell’s Belle,” and a lurid rendering of mad, howling “Frankie Silver,” and, towards the end, a muscular take on the Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.” Christensen later made a mark as one of Leonard Cohen’s favorite backup singers, and Chris D is still knocking around with a reunited, all-star Flesh Eaters, though there’s some talk of getting this band back together as well. I’d go.

Jennifer Kelly

Dezron Douglas & Brandee Younger — Force Majeure (International Anthem)

Force Majeure by Dezron Douglas & Brandee Younger

Harlem harpist Brandee Younger and bassist Dezron Douglas faced down New York’s early months of quarantine with a series of live broadcasts recorded in their apartment on a single microphone. This document of intimate resilience collects highlights of the Friday ritual. Younger and Douglas perform covers of spiritual Jazz, soul and pop songs as well as the delightfully titled original “Toilet Paper Romance.” The music is so close you feel the fingers on the strings and frets. Younger’s harp playing is a revelation, pianistic on John Coltrane’s “Equinox”, pointillist yet robust on his “Wise One” which they dedicate to Ahmaud Arbery. Douglas provides vigorous and sympathetic accompaniment and his solo rendition of Sting’s “Inshallah” is a tender tough exploration of his instrument. Along the way there are lovely versions of pieces by, amongst others, Alice Coltrane, Kate Bush and Clifton Davis. Douglas closes with the words “Black music cannot be recreated it can only be expressed” and Force Majeure demonstrates that the same goes for humanity and creativity.

Andrew Forell

Avalon Emerson — 040 12” (AD 93)

040 by Avalon Emerson

It’s been a big year for Avalon Emerson, who started 2020 prepping a move from Berlin to East Los Angeles and ends it back home stateside with an almost universally acclaimed DJ-Kicks entry to her credit. This three-song 12” for the label fka Whities is a nice way to close out a triumphant year, illustrating her penchant for bright melodies and percussive detail. “One Long Day Till I See You Again” is a welcoming slice of beatless percolation to close; “Winter and Water” leans heavily on rhythmic tricks in the middle. That makes A1 “Rotting Hills” the ideal lead as a balance between them. There may not be so obvious a gimmick as a Magnetic Fields cover, but that makes it no less valuable for showing what Emerson can do. Call it one more fluorescent rush.

Patrick Masterson

End Forest — Proroctwo (Self-released)

Proroctwo (The Prophecy) by End Forest

For some of us, the fusion of folk music forms with crust and metal mostly issues in obscenities like Finntroll (yep, a Finnish band that makes folk metal songs about…trolls) or in politically toxic, Völkisch nationalist fantasias. But some bands get it right; see Botanist’s remarkable work, and see also End Forest, an act just emerging from Poland’s punk underground. Singer Paula Pieczonka employs a traditional Slavic vocal technique that roughly translates to “white singing” — but before you get creeped out by any potential fascist vibes, please know that the “whiteness” at stake in the phrase is purely an aesthetic value. And her voice is really great, open and soaring. “Proroctwo (The Prophecy)” has the sweep and drama of a lot of contemporary crust, and all of the genre’s interest in symbolic violence. The lyrics envision a future wrought and wracked by social conflict, a coming conflagration of torn bodies and of piles of dislodged teeth housed in some horrific archive of viciousness (that’s quite an image). It’s harrowing stuff, big guitar chords accented by sitar and flute. The track is available on Bandcamp, along with several inventive remixes by Polish musicians and DJs, like Tomek Jedynak and Dawid Chrapla. End Forest indicates that a full record is forthcoming sometime in spring. Looking forward to it, y’all.

Jonathan Shaw

Lori Goldson — On a Moonlit Hill in Slovenia (Eiderdown Records)

On A Moonlit Hill In Slovenia by Lori Goldston

Goldson creates movement and tension in an arresting way with a rough-hewn approach to the cello. This could be a good entry point to her solo work, which is varied and bridges the gap between DIY attitude and elevated levels of musicianship and considered approach. The flow of her playing here evokes the almost brutal scrape of the strings, which gives a welcome texture to the melodic squiggles.

Arthur Krumins

Hot Chip — LateNightTales (LateNightTales)

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The LateNightTales series of artist-curated mixes has seen a fair bit of variation over the years since Fila Brazilia first took up the torch in 2001, which makes a certain amount of sense; how we spend our late nights can differ wildly, of course. Hot Chip’s instalment in the series hits some of the expected notes (at least one cover, in this case a deeply moving one of the Velvet Underground’s “Candy Says” they’ve been playing since Alexis Taylor and Joe Goddard were in high school together; a closing story track, in this case Taylor’s father reading a bit from Finnegan’s Wake) and otherwise depicts the kind of late night Dusted readers might be more familiar with than most; one where a clearly voracious and eclectic listener is keeping their own private party going just for another hour or so, but always keeping things just quiet and subtle enough to not wake up anyone upstairs. The three other, non-cover new Hot Chip tracks all make for standouts here but there’s plenty of room for accolades, whether it’s for the smoothly groovy (Pale Blue, Mike Saita, Beatrice Dillon), the more avant garde (Christina Vantzou, About Group, Nils Frahm) to just plain off-kilter pop (Fever Ray, PlanningToRock, Hot Chip themselves). The result works as both a wonderful playlist and a survey of the band’s sonic world; and it does work best when everyone else is in bed.

Ian Mathers

Annette Krebs Jean-Luc Guionnet — Pointe Sèche (Inexhaustible Editions)

pointe sèche by Jean-Luc Guionnet, Annette Krebs

Annette Krebs and Jean-Luc Guionnet recorded the three long, numbered tracks on Pointe Sèche (translation: Dry Point) over the course of three days at St. Peter’s Parish church in Bistrica ob Sotli, Slovenia. Location matters because this music couldn’t happen just anywhere; Guionnet plays church organ. Krebs was once part of the post-Keith Rowe generation of tabletop guitarists, but since 2014 she has abandoned strings and fretboards in favor of a series of hybrid instruments called konstruktions. Konstruktion #4, which appears on this record, includes suspended pieces of metal, a handful of toy animals, a wooden sounding board, vocal and contact microphones and a couple touch screens that manage computer programs. While both musicians have extensive backgrounds in improvisation, this recording sounds more like an audio transcription of a multi-media collage. Guionnet plays his large instrument quite softly, extracting machine-like hums, brief burps and dopplering tones that flicker around the periphery of Krebs’ fragments of speech, distant clangs and unidentifiable events. The resulting sounds resolutely defy decoding, which is its own reward in a time when so much music can be reduced to easily identifiable antecedents.

Bill Meyer

KMRU — ftpim (The Substation)

ftpim by KMRU

If you happened to catch Peel, Joseph Kamaru’s wonderful release on Editions Mego in late July, but haven’t paid attention before or since, early December’s half-hour two-tracker ftpim done for (and mastered by) Room40 leader Lawrence English is a Janus-faced example of the Nairobi-based ambient artist’s power. As Ian Forsythe put it in his BOGO review of both Peel and Opaquer, “Something that can define an effective ambient record is an ability to disintegrate the perimeter of the record itself and the outside world,” a line I think about every time I listen to KMRU now. “Figures Emerge” feels more immediately accessible to me as a relatable environment where the gentle, pulsing drone is occasionally greeted by sounds outside the studio, while “From the People I Met” is more difficult terrain, a distorted fog of post-shoegaze harmonic decay — no less interesting, but perhaps more metaphorical in its take on the outside world. (Or not, given how 2020 has gone.)

Patrick Masterson

Paul Lovens / Florian Stoffner—Tetratne (Ezz-thetics)

Enough years separate drummer Paul Lovens and guitarist Florian Stoffner that they could be father and son, and Lovens membership in the Schlippenbach Trio, and Lovens role as drummer in the legendarily long-running Schlippenbach Trio establishes him as an august elder of free improvisation. But the partnership they exhibit on this CD is one of equals committed to making music that is of one mind. Whether matching sparse string-tugging to purposefully collapsing batterie or burrowing sprung-spring wobbles to an immense cymbal wash, the duo plays without regard for showing us one guy or the other’s stuff. The point, it seems, is to how they imagine as one, and their combined craniums generate plenty of imagination. They operate in a realm close to that occupied by Derek Bailey and John Stevens, or Roger Smith and Louis Moholo-Moholo, but their patch of turf is entirely their own.

Bill Meyer

Mr. Teenage — Automatic Love (Self-Release)

Automatic Love by Mr. Teenage

Melbourne, Australia’s fertile garage punk scene has squeeze out another good one in Mr. Teenage, a Buzzcockian foursome prone to short, sharp riffs and sing-along choruses. A four-song EP starts with the title track, whose arch talk-sung verse erupts into rabid, rip-sawing guitar, like Devo meeting the Wipers. “Waste of Time” piles palm muted urgency with explosive release, with a good bit of the Clash in the crashing, clangor. “KIDS” struts and swaggers in a rough-edged way that’s close to the violence of early Reigning Sound or Texas’ Bad Sports. “Oh, the kids these days,” to borrow a phrase, they’re pretty good.

Jennifer Kelly

Nekra — Royal Disruptor (La Vida Es Un Mus)

Royal Disruptor by Nekra

Remember punk shows? Remember half-lit, dusty basements and fully lit, dirty kids? Remember your sneaker soles sticking to scuffed, gummy linoleum? Remember greasy denim battle jackets and hand-drawn Sharpie slogans? Remember warm beer (watery domestic suds in cans and cups) and cold stares (angsty bravado and bad attitude for its own sake)? Remember anarchists arguing with nihilists, and riot grrrls arguing with rocker boys? Remember people laughing and people smoking and people shouting and people spitting, all without masks? Remember the anticipation that crisps the air when the amps switch on? Feedback from the cheap-ass mic stabbing your ears? Beefy dudes elbowing through the press of flesh? That volatile, stomachy mix of happiness and truculence? Those warm-up thumps of the bass drum and the initial strums of crackling guitar? Remember all that? For the time being, in the United States of Dysfunction, here’s the closest thing you’ll get: an EP of feral, fast punk songs that sound like they’re happening live, right in front of your face. Thanks, Nekra — I really needed that.

Jonathan Shaw

Neuringer / Dulberger / Masri — Dromedaries II (Relative Pitch)

Dromedaries II by Keir Neuringer, Shayna Dulberger, Julius Masri

Yes, Dromedaries II is a sequel. It follows by three years a debut cassette which was sold in the sort of microquantities that 21st century cassettes are sold. So, it’s more likely that you have heard another of the bands that the trio’s alto saxophonist, Keir Neuringer, plays in — Irreversible Entanglements. While the two combos don’t sound that similar, they share a commitment to improvising propulsive, cohesive music that will put a boot up your butt if you get in the way. While IE focuses on supplying music that frames and exemplifies the stern proclamations of vocalist Camae Ayewa, the trio plays instrumental free jazz that balances individual expression with collective support. Neuringer, double bassist Shayna Dulberger and drummer Julius Masri play like their eyes are on the horizon, but each musician’s ears are tuned into what the other two are doing. The result is music that seems to move in concerted fashion, but usually has someone doing something that pulls against the prevailing thrust in ways that heighten tension, but never force the music off track.

Bill Meyer

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song (Smalltown Supersound)

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One of the distinctive things about Kelly Lee Owens’ marvellous debut LP a few years ago, as noted here, is that it felt so confident and distinct that it could have easily been the work of a much more seasoned producer. That impression, of a deftly skilled hand at the controls and a keen artistic sensibility and taste shaping it all, certainly doesn’t recede on Inner Song, whether it finds Owens homaging the grandmother who provided support and inspiration (“Jeanette”), gently but firmly rejecting unhealthy relationships (the utterly gorgeous “L.I.N.E.”) or teaming up with John Cale to make some bilingual, deep Welsh ambient dub (“Corner of My Sky”). And that’s one pretty randomly chosen three-song run! Owens continues to excel at both crafting gorgeous, lived-in productions and maybe especially with her handling of voices (her own and others), and she’s comfortable enough in her own skin that if she wants to open up the album with an instrumental Radiohead version (“Arpeggi”) she will, and she’ll make it feel natural, too.

Ian Mathers

San Kazakgascar — Emotional Crevasse (Lather Records)

Emotional Crevasse by San Kazakgascar

You won’t find San Kazakgascar on any map, but give a listen and you’ll know where this combo is coming from. Geographically, they hail from Sacramento CA, where they share personnel with Swimming In Bengal. But sonically, they are the product of a journey through music libraries that likely started out in a Savage Republic and sweated in the shadow of Sun City Girls. They likely spent time in the teetering stacks of music collections compiled in a time when the problematic aspects of the term world music were outweighed by the lure of sounds you hadn’t heard before. More important than where they’ve been, though, is the impulse to go someplace other than where they’re currently standing. To accomplish this, twangy guitars, rhythms that straighten your spine whilst swiveling your hips, bottom-dredging saxophone and a cameo appearance by a throat singer who understands that part of a shaman’s job is to scare you each take their turn stepping up and pointing your mind elsewhere. Where it goes after that is up to you.

Bill Meyer

John Sharkey III — “I Found Everyone This Way” (12XU)

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Has Sharkey mellowed? This early peek at the upcoming solo album from the Clockcleaner legend and Dark Blue proprietor suggests a pensive mood, with liquid jangle and surprisingly subdued and lyrical delivery (albeit in the man’s inimitable hollowed out and wounded snarl). But give the artist a power ballad if that’s what he wants. The song has a graceful arc to it, a doomed romanticism and not an ounce of cloying sentiment.

Jennifer Kelly

Sky Furrows — Sky Furrows (Tape Drift Records/Skell Records/Philthy Rex Records)

Sky Furrows by Sky Furrows

Sky Furrows don’t take long to match sound and message. As Karen Schoemer drops references to SST Records and Raymond Pettibone, bassist Eric Hardiman and drummer Philip Donnelly whip up a tense groove that could easily have been played by Mike Watt and George Hurley. Mike Griffin’s spidery, treble-rich guitar picking is a little less specifically referential, but does sound like it was fed through a signal chain of gear that would have been affordable back in the first Bush administration. The next track looks back a bit further; Schoemer’s voice aside, it sounds like Joy Division might have done if Tom Herman had turned up, pushed Martin Hannet out of the control room before he could ladle on the effects and instead laid down some space blues licks. Schoemer recites rather than sings in a cadence that recalls Lee Ranaldo’s; pre-internet underground rock is in this band’s DNA. The sounds themselves are persistently cool, but one drawback of having a poet instead of a singer up front is an apparent reluctance to vary the structure; it would not have hurt to break things up with some contrasting passages here or there.

Bill Meyer

Soft on Crime — “You’ve Already Made Up Your Mind” b/w “Rubyanne” (EatsIt)

7'' by Soft on Crime

These Dublin fuzz-punks kick up a guitar-chiming clangor in A-Side, “You’ve Already Made Up Your Mind,” which might have you reaching for your old Sugar records. Sharp but sweet, the cut is an unruly gem buoyed by melody but bristling with attitude. “Rubyanne” is slower, softer and more ingratiating, embellished with baroque pop elements like flute, saxophone and choral counterpoints. “Little 8 Track” fills out this brief disc, with crunching, buzz-hopped bass and a bit of guitar jangle under whisper-y romantic vocals. It’s a bit hard to get a handle on the band, based on such disparate samples, but intriguing enough to make you want to settle the matter whenever more material becomes available.

Jennifer Kelly

Theoxinia — See the Lapith King Burn (Bandcamp)

See the Lapith King Burn by Theoxenia

Students of Greek mythology will grasp it right away, but in the internet age, it doesn’t take anyone long to figure out that when you name your record See the Lapith King Burn, you’re casting your lot for better or worse with the party animals. The Lapiths were one side of a lineage that also involved the considerably less sober-sided Centaurs, and the two sides of the family had a bloody showdown at a wedding that has been taken to symbolize the war between civilization and wildness. Theoxinia is Dave Shuford (No-Neck Blues Band, Rhyton, D. Charles Speer & the Helix) and his small circle of stringed instruments and low-cost repeating devices. If you were to dig through his past discography, it most closely resembles the LP Arghiledes (Thrill Jockey) in its explicitly Hellenic-psychedelic vibe. But, like so many folks in recent times, Shuford has decided to bypass the expanse and aggravation of physical publication in favor of marketing this LP-sized recording on Bandcamp. If that fact really bugs you, I guess you could start a label and make the man an offer. But if fuzz-tone bouzouki, sped-up loops and unerringly traced dance steps that will look most convincing when executed with a knife between your teeth and the sheriff’s wallet poking mockingly out of the top of your breast pocket sounds like your jam, See the Lapith King Burn awaits you in the realm of digital insubstantiality.

Bill Meyer

Trees — 50th Anniversary Edition (Earth Recordings)

Trees (50th Anniversary Edition) by Trees

This boxed set presents the two original Trees albums from the early 1970s, The Garden of Jane Delawney and On the Shore, with the addition of demos and sundry recordings from the era. Here the band took the UK folk rock sound emergent at the time and drew it out into its jammy and somewhat arena rock guitar soloing conclusion. It’s good to have all of this in one place to document the myriad ways that Trees wrapped traditional material into new forms and with a bracing, druggy feel.

Arthur Krumins

Uncivilized — Garden (UNCIV MUSIC)

Garden by Uncivilized

Guitarist Tom Csatari presides over NYC-based large jazz ensemble known as Uncivilized, whose fusion-y discography stretches back a couple of years and prominently incorporates a cover of the Angelo Badalamenti theme from Twin Peaks. This 27-track album was recorded live at Brooklyn’s Pioneer Works space in 2018 with a nine-piece band, who navigate drones and dances and the multi-part Meltedy Candy STOMP, a sinuous exploration of space age keyboards and surging big band instruments. Jaimie Branch, who lives next door to Csatari and was invited on a whim at the last minute, joins in for the second half including a smoldering rendition of the Lynch theme. It’s damn fine (though not coffee). Later on, Stevie Wonder gets the Uncivilized treatment in a pensive cover of “Evil,” led by warm guitar, blowsy sax and a little bit of jazz flute.

Jennifer Kelly

Unwed Sailor — Look Alive (Old Bear Records)

Look Alive by Unwed Sailor

Johnathon Ford, who plays bass for Pedro the Lion, has been at the center of Unwed Sailor for two decades, gathering a changing cohort of players to realize his lucid instrumental compositions. Here, as on last year’s Heavy Age, Eric Swatzell adds guitars and Matthew Putnam drums to Ford’s essential bass and keyboard sounds. Yet while Heavy Age brooded, Look Alive grooves with bright clarity, riding insistent basslines through highly colored landscapes of synths and drums. The title track bounds with optimism, with big swirls of synth sound enveloping a rigorous cadence of bass and drums. “Camino Reel” is more guitar-centric but just as uplifting, opening out into squalling shoe-gaze-y walls of amplified sound. Ford, who usually leans on post-punk influences like New Order and the Cure, indulges an affinity for dance, here, especially audible on the trance-y “Gone Jungle” remix by GJ.

Jennifer Kelly

Your Old Droog — Dump YOD Krutoy Edition (Self-released)

Dump YOD: Krutoy Edition by YOD

American rapper Your Old Droog has been releasing solid music for years. He never had ups for the same reason he never had downs: he never left his comfort zone. Dump YOD Krutoy Edition (where “krutoy” stands for “rude boy” or “badass”) may be his breakthrough album. He always kept his Soviet origins in check, and here for the first time he draws his imagery from three different sources: New York urban present, Ukrainian folk and Soviet and post-Soviet past (even Boris Yeltsin makes an appearance). In this boiling pot, a new Your Old Droog is rising, among balalaikas and mean streets of NYC, matryoshkas and producers with boring beats, babushkas and graffiti writers.

Ray Garraty

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antonirenaldi · 3 years

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jantoni - two. (part one)

WHO :: @antonirenaldi x @jayceelynd WHAT :: jaycee invites antoni to dinner. WHEN :: evening of march thirty-first. WHERE :: jaycee’s place. WHAT :: tw - ending of a fictional pregnancy ; no character mentions.

JAYCEE. She felt huge and so unattractive right now, not even trying with make up. She went to her kitchen and started everything so it could slowly simmer. Jaycee loved leftover pasta, always best the second day. Why did you have to almost say never again. Finding the remote to her surround sound she hit play and smiled as she heard the music fill her house up with life. Her hair was getting in her way so she grabbed a clip from her kitchen drawer and went about her way in her kitchen as she tried to calm any anxiety. Her dogs barking told her he was near as she walked towards her door. Probably being heard with her stern command to not move. “Stay..” she snapped her fingers at Kota, her tail was going side to side so fast. She forgot to take her apron off that was cheeky and said “we’re cooking” with a baby over her belly with a spatula. Slowly she turned the alarm code off and then unlocked the door. Opening it her soft smile went wider, as nodded her head to the side. Her dogs not moving an inch and she was a proud mama at that. “Olive, greet.” She snapped her fingers as she was still training her. Olive went where Jay had pointed then Kota followed. “Kota, is just a big ball of fur. If she doesn’t sense your dangerous she’ll be rude and just walk away..” Kota sniffed him and it looked as if she smiled and walked away. The dogs walked into the living room and just laid in a big bed they share by the fireplace. “Please make yourself at home..” she offered to take his items as she lead him to the kitchen, barefoot.

ANTONI. If his GPS hadn't told him he was coming up on Jaycee's place, the barking dogs and her voice would have let him know he'd found his destination. He rapped his fingers on the door, hoping he didn't work the dogs into even more of a tizzy, although it definitely sounded as though she had things under control. As she swung open the door, Antoni returned her smile, taking in how casual she was playing the night, bare faced and barefooted. It made him feel better about wearing the same t-shirt and jeans as when they'd met at the store, which he'd been second-guessing on his way over, and the fact that he'd brought an opened, dented box of cereal as a hostess gift. "Hello ... ladies," he said, waiting patiently as Kota and Olive seemingly evaluated the interloper, surprisingly flattered when they granted him access. Following their owner into the house, he felt himself relax even more. He hesitated briefly in the entryway, unsure if her instructions were code to remove his shoes, ultimately deciding to toe them off. Knowing what he did of her, with the homemade ravioli right before her due date, she'd probably get on her hands and knees to scrub the floors if her tracked in anything from the New York sidewalk, and he didn't want that. "Wow, this place is fantastic ... smells fantastic ... sounds fantastic." If he was flirting, he might have added that it looked fantastic as well, but that's not what this was.

JAYCEE. Her girls were following him around, then sneak back to their bed. Kota would probably sit beside him at some point and beg for a hand shake. Her own way of begging for food. She noticed he took his shoes off and she smiled over at him. “Thank you, I love cooking and have made myself dishes I can just put in the oven or microwave after he’s born.” There was probably flour on her nose, as she turns the burners off for the pasta to let it rest. “So I separated them when I boil the Raviolis, there’s fresh ricotta and mushrooms, plain ricotta and then there’s beef. I just grab a few from each pan, enjoying the surprise of what I’m getting.” Waddling a bit to the fridge that was camouflaged with the same style as her cabinets. “Where are my manners.” She said with a thicker southern accent than she intended. Clearing her throat as her cheeks we’re definitely noticeably red by now. “I have different styles of beers, oh I have wine down in my basement.” She said as she pointed to the door that went to her dance studio for choreographing numbers for academy. Taking out some fresh garlic she went about dicing it, making them some sautéed onions and mushrooms. Something Jaycee loved more than her sauce at times. Grabbing a piece of bread she made, she dipped it in the sauce, holding her hand under the other as she brought it to him. “Be honest, I never stray from Nonna’s recipe. Faint memories of wooden spoons to the hand stops me.” She joked.

ANTONI. “That’s smart. And there’s always delivery.” He’d been surviving on such for longer than he’d like to admit, so he didn’t. “I’m sure people will bring you food, too. When Luca was born, everyone was constantly coming over to feed us, but I think they just wanted an excuse to see the baby.” His trip to the grocery store had been somewhat of a bust. Meeting someone who seemed as though she could be a true friend a definite highlight, but he’d been so caught up in her that he’d left without buying anything of real sustenance, again. Her list of the fillings almost made his stomach rumble, although he cleared his throat to camouflage any sounds. He was extremely glad she’d extended if not insisted on the invitation. “That sounds incredible.” “I’ll take any beer.” He wasn’t about to send the woman down to the basement for a bottle of wine she couldn’t share with him. An image of the two of them sipping a Cabernet over a nice dinner she’d prepared for him flitted through his mind, but he willed himself back to present, watching her bounce from task to task. “I was told you were just reheating pasta,” Antoni teased. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I’d known you were still going to be slaving away. Can I help, or would I ruin things?” “You too, huh? I was always smacked for trying to swipe things before they were finished. ‘Pazienza, Tony, pazienza ...’” His voice trailed off as he took the bit of food into his mouth, eyes meeting hers as the intimacy of the moment washed over him. “OhmyGod,” he groaned around his mouthful. “That’s incredible.” She was incredi- “Listen, you’ve done enough. Go sit down, let me get your plate.”

JAYCEE. Jaycee grabbed a few different beers and sat them on the island, centered in her kitchen so he could choose. Turning all burners off she cut the bread and smiled as he spoke. “Well a true Italian woman warms food up on the stove right. Why dry it out or the flavor gets ruined. Not when you cook Nonnas sauce.” She joked but did sit down, giving him a soft smile while she tried to get the apron off. Trying really hard not to think of the way he sounded when he groaned over her sauce, and needed to take a time out. It had been way too long for this girl and words are now being twisted in her thoughts to sexual. “We can eat here, or I have the living room and theater room.” She leaned side to side, telling herself she needed better chairs that were comfortable. Her stomach tightening a bit as she breathed through a small Braxton. Everything was where he needed it to make the plates as her feet rested on the bar stool across from her. Her dad had gotten the place while he’s be here working at the record company or recording a new album. Watching him take over only pulled at her strings to pull her further in, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about. As she smelt the sunflowers she’d gotten the other day still going strong on her island for decorations. “I think sunflowers are just happy flowers, they’re so pretty and bright. My dad..” she chuckled. “He planted so many rows before leaving for tour, cause he had to leave on my birthday that year.”

ANTONI. Seeing her struggling with the ties of her apron, he moved behind her chair, gently tugging the ties at her neck and back until they slipped from their bows and he was able to take the apron from her, folding it easily before tossing it on her counter. “Cute,” he commented, referring to the little joke on the fabric. The hitch in her breath made him do a double-take, but he decided not to pester her, assuming she’d let him know if she just happened to be in active labor - probably, at least. Maybe she’d just keep cooking right up until it was time to push. He prepped two plates the way she mentioned she liked it, with a mix of all three ravioli, covering them in some extra sauce and tucking a couple pieces of bread alongside the edge of the plate. “You tell me, wherever you’re most comfortable. Where would I find a bottle opener?” Antoni’s eyes found the flowers she was referencing them, assuming they were the same bundle she’d pick up earlier. It was wild, to go from noticing her to eating what was shaping up to be an incredible dinner in her home. If not for her pregnancy, it would almost feel like a date. “That’s quite the birthday gift, an entire field of sunflowers. It sounds like he loved you very much.”

JAYCEE. His fingers brushed against her skin when untied the piece around her neck, licking her lips at the jolts of electricity she felt through her body. “Thank you.” Spoke as she wiggled off of the barstool, giggling at herself. “Mylanta, that’s getting harder to do.” She snorted as she grabbed the basket to line it with paper and put the extra bread in and some olive oil and garlic. It was nice to have someone make her a plate and help her, she’s so used to just doing it all. Taking a few deep breaths as she rubbed her belly, hoping it’d calm the baby. Smiling at his words, she titled her head to have him follow her into the lightly lit theater room. “He was an amazing dad, and I hope I’m making him proud” she shrugged not really knowing if he would be. She knew he’d be heart broken over the mess their family is. There was a floor pit where her couches and recliners sat, a cute little bar that had lots of candy in big glass jars. “This room besides my room is one of my favorite lounging areas.” She spoke softly, setting the bread down then grabbing a big tray that laid on the couch to sit it up where it’d be in front of them. Sitting with her legs crossed and watched him, wondering what he was thinking. “I haven’t been home in so long, it feels nice to sit in here. Thank you for coming over..” she looked over at him with a soft smile. “So, what shall we watch? I have a variety of movies or we can just see what’s on?” She grabs the control pad for the room and turns the lights down a bit more, but left enough to be able to see one another. “I’m open to anything.”

ANTONI. He understood the desire to do right by her father. He was rapidly hurtling towards a month of separation from his wife, and he hadn’t told his parents. They’d checked in on him after the move, of course, and he’d - lied. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lied to his parents. The reminder gutted him a bit, and a guilty sensation twisted in his stomach. What was he doing, fucking escorts and having dinner in another woman’s house? He should be in Boston, with his son, fighting for his marriage. This was not the right thing to do. He tried to shake the feeling, tried to find amusement in her candy collection and the comfiness of her couch. She was sweet. And she was about to be a mother. And maybe this was too much for either of them right now, whatever this even was. He was relieved when she mentioned a movie, hoping it would give his brain something else to analyze. “Give me your favorite movie,” he answered with a small smile.

JAYCEE. She had to get back up and excused herself to the rest room really quick, and washed her hands. Coming out she took her oversized sweater off, leaving her in her spaghetti strap shirt that was cropped a bit showing just a tiny bit of her belly. “I can’t believe how over heated I get.” She snorted as she sat down and grabbed the remote again. Removing the clip out of her hair, her long blond hair fell down her back. “Okay, but don’t judge meeeee.” She smirked as she typed in on the pad. “I loved this movie and would always say I was Baby and do the dances.” Pulling up dirty dancing and pushed play. “It was this or anything scary.” She giggled, shrugging while she grabbed her plate and took a bite. Moaning softly “Deliziosa, grazie a dio per la nonna” doing a little dance as she grabbed some bread, dipping it in the sauce. Her dogs came in and she snapped her fingers and they laid at the foot of the couch. “They think they need pasta.” She smirked, before humming along to the music and constantly having to move when music was on. “I love this soundtrack so much.”

ANTONI. “Well, you are cooking,” he reminded her, quoting the double-meaning of her discarded apron. His eyes remained very purposefully focused on his plate, rather than the neckline of her tank. “I think ... I’ve seen this whole movie in the sense of watching bits and pieces and filling in the rest with just pop culture knowledge of what happens, but I don’t know that I’ve ever sit down and watched it from start to finish.” When she took her initial bite, Antoni followed suit. It really was incredible, and not just because it had been so long since he’d eaten real food. He watched the way her dogs obeyed her, reaffirming how competent Jaycee really was. “To be fair, think everyone needs this pasta.” He could see why the movie would endear itself to everyone who loved it so much. It was charmingly sexy, and the love story was - quirky? Was that the right word? He and Jaycee laughed at all the same moments, and whenever he felt a slight tug at his heart strings, she provided an audible reaction that confirmed she felt it too. It was until the botched abortion that Antoni felt himself get restless, shooting a glance in the direction of his dinner date. Gabby had always hated watching any harm come to pregnant women or babies ever since she’d found out she was carrying Luca, and Antoni subtly took up the remote, just in case they needed to skip anything.

JAYCEE. Catching his witty sense of humor, getting to see glimpse of that funny personality. Her jaw dramatically hung open at his confession, then smirked. “Then I guess it’s good I got your back.” She teased, before taking another bite. Putting the plate down after eating a few pieces to grab her bottle of water and drink almost half of it, sighing softly. “They get some pasta without sauce. I’ll add a little butter to it and they go to town. But I can’t all the time, spoiled babies.” Looking at her babies and shook her head giggling. “Ugh to have dance with Patrick.” She threw her hands up at the TV, smiled with a blush creeping on her cheeks. “I mean his mama did teach him.” She pointed out, yeah she’s watched this movie a few times you could say. “I always get so mad at Baby’s dad at this part. But you know, back then it wasn’t safe for women to do that. I think my dad and mom went to a school where a girl died from one of the under table abortions. She put her head down and realized she had dropped sauce between her boobs. “I guess I’m worse than a toddler.” of course she laughed at herself because honestly. It’s was so her to do something like that. “Mm..” she held her hands to her mouth to speak after popping a piece of bread in his mouth. “I have a lot of pasta and sauce so I hope you take some with. I’ll even throw in some your choice of wine from the basement.” Needing off her bum, she rolled to her hip facing him, but she was watching the tv as she ran her hand over her bump.

#antoni #jaycee #discord #kingsborohq

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