#corporate asked me to find the difference between these two songs but they’re the same song

[stopitmeg]

carly rae jepsen: i really really really really really really like you

charli xcx: i like i like i like i like i like everything about you

me: yes!!!!!!!!

[blametheeditor]

A Song Without Its Lyrics

Prompt Roulette By Title

Character A's best friend, Character B, is mute. That sure as hell doesn't stop Character B from somehow being the brightest, most expressive person starring in Character A's life.

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of treating others as lesser than. Mentions of calling others 'pests'. Mentions of select mutism. Mentions of death and murder. Mentions of being apathetic

_______________________________

“If you just listen for two seconds-” 

“Why should I? Everything you’ve said up until this point has been worthless.” 

Vincent almost wants to yawn, watching the conversation between Scott and David go in yet another circle. Not that he cares if an agreement is made tonight. No one knows he’s even here, and he wouldn’t have bothered to show up if William hadn’t commanded him to make sure the negotiations didn’t get too out of hand.

Literally. The owner of Fazbear Corporation might be worried a certain egotistical employee will abuse the fact he’s a giant and therefore grab a certain ‘supervisor’ who’s small enough to fit in the palm of his hand in the heat of the moment, but Vincent knows that wouldn’t happen. Not when pests don’t deserve to so much as even look at him, none the less have the honor to be held by him. 

Though, ‘negotiations’ is a bit of a stretch. Scott has been negotiating and trying his hardest to get David on the same page. It’s David who refuses to budge, finding every excuse imaginable to disagree with something he might have even thought of but refuses to give in solely based on principle. 

It’d be admirable and entertaining if it wasn’t so childish. To be honest, Vincent’s unsure what they’re even discussing currently, nor the original reason why Scott, Eggs, and David met up at Freddy Fazbear’s. 

Personally, at this point, he’d take Eggs out of timeout to contribute to see if anything can get done tonight, even if it’s something as simple as setting up a schedule for every restaurant on when the mechanic can run diagnostic checks and fix anything that’s needed. It might not even be part of the agenda, but at least it’d be something. 

“Look, we need to work together on this, and-” 

“I don’t want to hear another word,” David interrupts yet again. Which is a bad look all around, using the fact his voice can overpower Scott’s effortlessly to gain complete control over the situation. But Vincent isn’t here to be a babysitter, or report to William the man that was hired partly for PR is nothing but a bully behind closed doors. If Scott can’t handle such petty tactics then he’ll need to learn how. “William might listen to your idiotic suggestions, but it’s clear you have no idea what you’re doing considering I’m here. So shut up and let me work.” 

Despite being several feet away from where Scott stands on a table in order to be on an ‘equal level’, though the attempt is completely ruined by the fact David’s standing to ensure his shadow is cast over the miniscule figure, Vincent can see the sandy haired man’s expression clearly. Every shift as the look goes from fear, to anger, to despair, finally landing on determination. 

I’m not going to shut up. You are going to sit down and we are going to converse like God damn adults.

It’s only when David doesn’t respond with confusion written all over his face does Vincent realize Scott had signed the words rather than say them out loud. 

And then Vincent isn’t hiding in the shadows at Freddy Fazbear’s, waiting for the business man to react. Instead, he’s sitting at a table. In a different though similar restaurant. With a much younger Scott Cawthon sitting beside his hand. One that isn’t purple. Without a single look of trepidation aimed toward it. 

...it’s been a while since he thought about his life before William. 

“Did I do something to earn the silent treatment?” he had asked. Gently poked Scott in the attempt to get some kind of reaction. Because it was the first time his best friend wasn’t ranting about how a mother blew up on him even though her ire was directed toward another coworker. Or excitedly discussing the fact their bosses were working on a new project and they’ll be one of the first ones to see it. 

It concerned him. Scott was the only one who saw Vincent’s words and actions as more than just him being an annoying asshole. And he didn’t want to lose the human’s friendship if he crossed a line somewhere. 

He was glad he didn’t receive a glare or a yell for demanding attention when it clearly didn’t want to be given. But even though the headshake given was immediate and decisive, nothing was said. Which meant he was still worried, just for different reasons. 

The worst part was the fact Scott looked so upset, panicked, and yet still not a single word was spoken. 

“Has the free food left you speechless?” Vincent mused. “We have it, what, a minimum of five times a week if not more? But this time it managed to blow your mind how amazing reheated frozen pizza can be?”  He hadn’t thought about it before, considering it’s not something you really focus on, but it was then he realized just how expressive Scott was. Maybe because he’s human, and being around giants has you unconsciously doing everything in your power to always be heard or noticed. It meant Scott should never play poker or else lose all of his money, but it also made it easy to see the relief that Vincent wasn’t upset. As well as the cautious hope that slowly began to appear. 

Vincent was happy to continue. Tapped his chin as he hummed in thought. “Going for a world record, then? Longest without saying anything?” 

Scott rolled his eyes dramatically with a look of ‘really?’. 

“Hey, I won’t judge. But don’t expect me to help, you’ve got to time it yourself.” 

It was so brief, a blink and you’ll miss it moment, and it didn’t help just how small the human is. But Scott looked hurt by his words. 

Which meant Vincent swept him up. There wasn’t even a yelp, but a finger was hugged in order for Scott to steady himself from the sudden action. Looked up at the giant with worry. 

“We’re watching a movie at my place.” 

“I’m sorry,” had been the first thing Scott said to him the next day. 

It pissed Vincent off his best friend felt the need to apologize for something that seemed out of his control. Wanted to find whoever put the idea Scott should be ashamed of it and punch them in the face. “What for? I thought we had a great time of you silently agreeing all of my opinions are correct and should never be challenged.” 

There was a wince, but there was also a smile. “I, uh, kn-know it’s annoying.” 

“Annoying?” Vincent asked. “Unless it’s annoying for you, it’s anything but annoying for me.” 

“You weren’t, but I, I couldn’t-” Scott sputtered, looked genuinely confused. “H-How?” 

“Adds to your charm, Scotty,” Vincent smirked. “Like your stutters.” 

He didn’t ask why. And Scott didn’t tell him. 

But the next time it happened several months later he sat the human down. Forcefully. Because Scott avoided him for as long as possible before the giant managed to snag him. “Do you know ASL, Scotty?” 

That stopped Scott from running away. Which was best for all of them considering all Vincent had to do was pin him without any effort. 

He was suspicious, uncertain why that was the first thing asked, but shook his head no. 

“Then you and I are going to learn it.” 

Because even though Vincent knew how to sign and read important phrases, and could go through the very tedious process of conversing by spelling every single word out, he was far from fluent. But he would like to be. He wanted to for a while ever since he learned in order to make sure every child could be included whenever the band started to play. Giving Scott a voice when his own didn’t work was just the last push he needed. 

To be honest, Scott would’ve been fine on his own without learning any sign language. It’s impossible to misinterpret what the human was saying considering just how expressive he was, but there would be scenarios when being able to say what you mean and want would be crucial. 

And there did come a time when Scott’s only words was strictly through signing. When William came into their lives. When the human could no longer express any kind of emotion. 

When Vincent finally realized what took his best friend’s voice away. 

That’s why, for the first time in years, Vincent feels a wave of protection grip him with an iron fist as he fully registers why Scott is suddenly signing instead of speaking despite the fact David wouldn’t be able to read it. Because his voice has been stolen away. And this is the only way to say what he wants to. 

A far cry from before when all he could do was obey without a way to fight back. 

Vincent’s body is moving before he can tell it to, stepping out of the shadows with the intent to kill David where he- 

“Oooooh, are you gonna take that, David?” Eggs suddenly asks, looking up at the giant with a wicked grin. Manages to freeze Vincent in place by words alone. 

“Take what?” the business man demands. 

“Scott telling you to sit down and stop being an asshole!” 

Vincent feels the pounding rage slowly subside until he’s backing into the shadows again before any of them manage to spot him. Stares at the blond human who was able to make sure Scott was heard. 

“No I’m not going to take it. He knows nothing about keeping a restaurant running properly.” 

I’m not saying I do, I’m saying there’s things you should know about the building Afton hasn’t told you about.

Scott started signing halfway through David’s growl, but Eggs had been watching to listen to both. “Scott’s got a good point, though. William might have trap doors lying around.” 

David stares down at them. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Sit down and Scott’ll explain!” 

Surprisingly, the giant does. Grumbling all the while, but he does. “Explain about the possibility of trap doors.” 

No trap doors, but it’s worse than that.

“The vent’s were replaced with snakes!” 

No.

Vincent ignores the rest of the conversation. Feels his entire body finally relax. Left to try and understand what happened, and why there’s a small piece of him that hadn’t been there before that’s still wanting to go to Scott’s side. 

With it clear Eggs is acting as a mediator, the purple man quickly makes his way out of the building before turning down the sidewalk leading to William’s office. Knowing that in a few hours, Scott will join him to report what was able to get accomplished. Because nothing has changed. William’s word is law with Vincent and Scott his messengers to obey every word said to them without hesitation. 

So why does it feel like he’s losing his best friend. 

[scathecraw]

BBRae Week 2021 - Day 3: Into The Woods

“Summer camp has been so much fun, Rachel. Teether hasn’t cried once since the day after you dropped us off, and Tommy got first place in the obstacle course. You were right, we should have done a camp last year, too.” Melvin chattered excitedly on the office phone while Rachel listened patiently. “They’ve made a bunch of arts and crafts, and the woods here are so cool. They’re really old, and Gar knows so muchabout all the trees and animals and bugs.”

“And who is this Gar, Melvin? A new friendof yours?” Rachel’s emphasis was obvious, and Melvin’s blush was practically audible.

“NO! He’s a counselor. He’s really nice, but he’s really old. Like, 50 or something. You’ll meet him on parent’s day next week.”

Rachel didn’t remember anyone older than the director, a middle aged woman she had spoken to when getting them enrolled and again during drop-off. She suspected Melvin was fibbing to cover her embarrassment, but she brought it on herself by teasing the preteen. “I’m sure I will. Does this mean that you’re going to drag me out into the forest when I come? I thought it was going to be an afternoon of arts and crafts and then some campfire songs, not a forced march.”

“Duh. Arts and crafts are lame. Gar said that next year he’d show us how to whittle, which sounds better than making lanyards.” There was muffled adolescent shouting, and Melvin covered the receiver and yelled back. “I gotta go. We’re going swimming. I’ll call you on Friday. Love you, bye.” She hung up before anything could be said back, and Rachel was left with dead air while Melvin sprinted after her friends, untied shoelaces flailing behind her.

Arriving at the aforementioned “Parent’s Day”, Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The camp had at first seemed like a good way to get the three adopted children outside instead of rotting their brains, but the sheer noise of a few dozen milling, clamoring kids and groups of socializing parents made her wonder what she had subjected them, and by extension, herself, to. She was late, which probably didn’t help the situation, but she looked around the chaos in an effort to find her own three chaos engines. Instead, she was spotted.

A wild, dirty missile made a high-volume impact with her legs, nearly toppling her and babblingso fast that even Rachel’s practiced ear couldn’t discern what he was saying. She was wobbling and about to fall over when a firm hand caught her upper back and helped her regain her balance. “Teether, dude! I said you could go get her, not try to body slam her.”

Rachel finally planted her feet, acknowledged Teether with a gentle hand on his head, and looked up. And up. They both froze for an instant, but the tanned, blond man recovered first. His slack jaw snapped into a smile, and he said “Hi. You must be Rachel. I’m Gar, one of the counselors here.”

His hand was still on her back and heat radiated from it like afternoon sun. Her face had never fallen into the silly expression his had, but unconscious thought raced before she could regain her composure. ‘Definitely not fifty,’ she thought. “Hello. Yes, I’m Rachel, Teether’s mother.” She peeled Teether from her leg with practiced ease, and he sprang off of her and ran.

Gar realized that his hand still rested behind her, almost possessively, and retreated to a more respectable distance. He chuckled, nervously. “Heh. Um, Melvin and Tommy are with their friends, still, but we should probably get them. Ms. Waller asked me to show you around – she said you had just moved to the area?” It wasn’t a question, but he phrased it like it was. They began walking back towards the milling crowd of parents, children, and quite possibly enough noise to drown out a jet engine.

“Yes, it’s our first summer here. She mentioned that most of the kids made this an annual activity, but I didn’t think we’d be so strange as to warrant a personal detail.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that, it’s just that there’s not really many other summer camps around, and ‘cause we go from K-12, we get pretty much everyone. A lot of the other parents already know everybody. You’re not strange, just… new.” His eyes never left her, even as they began walking.

Back with the crowds, Melvin and a gaggle of similarly aged girls watch the two of them. One of them nodded decisively and turned to Melvin. “Okay. They’re too cute together. Look at how awkward they’re being.”

Anotherhuffed a little. “They’re just staring at each other. They should be holding hands or something, right?”

Melvin’s eyes narrowed critically. “It’s been like 10 minutes and they aren’t kissing yet. Gar’s probably too much of a nerd to do anything. We need to do something to make sure they know how perfect for each other they are.”

“Like what? They aren’t going to start making out in the middle of the crowd.”

An evil smirk crept across Melvin’s face. “Maybe not in the middle of the crowd, but what if they were all alone in the woods? Then they’d have no excuse not to!”

A look of awe crossed her companions’ faces. “That’s evil. I love it.”

But the smirk fell, half-formed plot evaporating. “But how could we get them out there alone? It can’t be anything serious, or else Rachel will ground me forever, and I bet she won’t even go unless we can trick her into it.”

“Could you just tell her you feel sick?”

“No.” Melvin shook her head slowly. “Then she’d either stay with me or just take me home early.”

One, heretofore silent, chimed in. ���I think I know what we can do. But Mel, you’re going to have to make a lanyard.” She giggled at the disgusted look, and said “C’mon, we only have like 15 minutes before they start wondering where we are.”

Across the crowd and a million miles away, Garfield and Rachel were, in fact, being tremendously awkward as they watched the kids run and play. Gar fumbled his words and couldn’t decide to stare at her eyes, the curve of her neck, or decidedly anywhere except her. Rachel was the opposite. She answered in short, monosyllabic whispers and swallowed, trying to ease her desperately dry throat.

“So, uh, you said you just moved here! Do you have a job, er, of course you do, unless you don’t! That’s fine, too! Nothing wrong with… that. Yeah.” He trailed off, before gamely trying again. “So what do you do when you’re not, y’know, coming to summer camps?”

Rachel took a deep breath and centered herself. Gar started. “I’m not, like, annoying you, am I? I’m sorry, I tend to blabber -”

“No. I’m just… a little off-kilter. I’m a curator of antiquities at the museum.”

“That is so cool. Gar’s eyes were like dinner plates. “I love the museum! I always wanted to volunteer there, but I never feel like I have time between summers here and planning classes during the year.”

“Oh, you’re a teacher? Grade school or high school?”

“High school and occasionally some classes at the community college. I figured I was already teaching AP and college bio isn’t much different. I’m sure the kids get tired of me after the sixth year, though, heh.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, uncomfortably warm even for a summer afternoon.

“I suppose they wouldn’t let you teach so many years if you weren’t good at the job. Not that biology is my area of expertise.” She clarified, hearing his unspoken question. “I studied history and preservation, so a natural history museum is certainly a big change.”

“Wow, I bet. Still, nobody does what they expected to when they were in college. I got a bachelor’s in Environmental Science, but it turns out most of those jobs are just telling corporations what they want to hear.”

Rachel leveled him with a newly assessing gaze. “Believe it or not, so are quite a few jobs in archaeology. It’s what put me off of the field.”

“But hey, teaching led me to Jump and to Lake Titan Camp, so I can’t complain.”

While the two nominal adults conversed, a far more intricate conversation was happening in the craft cabin. Kole, a pink haired co-conspirator of Melvin’s, was creating a half finished lanyard in pink and purple while the rest strategized. “Okay, so I need to throw her off so she’ll agree. The pink and purple color scheme is good – pink for me, purple for her, but I need something to knock her off her game.”

“You could tell her something that surprised her, maybe. But what?”

Realization dawned. “Okay. This is a little mean, maybe, but I was planning on talking to her about it anyway. I know just what to say. Kole, how’s the lanyard coming?”

“I’ve got it to the perfect length. Just long enough that you might ‘Need a little while to finish it, pretty please.’” She held up the dangling lengths of string. “Everything ready? We’re running out of time.”

“Now or never. Let’s go.” Melvin took a deep breath and led them to the doorway.

Garfield and Rachel were deep in conversation. The initial awkwardness had faded, and while there were still sparks flying whenever they made eye contact, it was more a static buzz than the almost painful live wire sensation of their first glances. At some point they had migrated closer to where Teether and Tommy’s two groups had merged into a supercrowd of children all making noise, forcing them to stand closer to one another to be heard. They were in this huddle, all focus on each other except for both of their frequent check-in glances to the children. Rachel had dipped her toe into a hint of vulnerability to test the waters, quietly and without fanfare explaining that she had adopted all three of them from the same orphanage she had found herself aging out of.

Gar reciprocated. “That’s really incredible. I was adopted pretty young by some family friends. I know how complicated that sort of relationship can be, but it’s doing something amazing for all three of them.”

Melvin, seeing their closeness, hesitated, just a bit. She was messing with fate, a little. But she was certain it was for a good cause. And it was now or never, they were already cutting it close to “Shared Activity Time” for her age group. “Umm. Rachel.”

“Yes, Melvin?” Rachel saw that Mel was nervous. Melvin was never nervous.

“I want to finish a project for you, but won’t have time later. So, uh, I need you to find something else to do. During the Activity Time, I mean. I just want to finish making this. Please, M-mom?”

Time stopped for Rachel. She had adopted them six years ago, and there had never been a time when Melvin had consciously called her “Mom”. Forms asking for “Mother’s Name”, sure. Mother’s day celebrations, absolutely. Even a few mostly-asleep, teary pleas, but never, never while Melvin was in control of her faculties.

But while time had stopped for Rachel, it marched onward for everyone else. Melvin held her breath and waited for long, tense seconds, but Rachel didn’t seem to be coming back to her senses, so she hurriedly spat out “Okayloveyouseeyousoon,” and fled back to the safety of her friends.

Gar, too, was frozen. Not to the same degree, nor for the same reasons, but he felt like he had intruded on something intimate that he had no business being a part of. He looked around, helplessly as Rachel gaped. After several seconds of silence, he couldn’t not do something. “Uhh. Rachel? You… okay?” More frozen immobility. He waved a hand in front of her face. “Rae? You there? Do I need to get a doctor?”

She seized his hand. “Did… did she just call me “Mom”? Or did I have a stroke?”

“Yeah, ouch. She did. I’m guessing this was new?”

“I… Yes. She’s never… What… what do I do? Was she angry I didn’t answer? Where did she go?” Rachel began looking around for her.

“Whoa, slow down. She’s with her friends. She wasn’t mad, it seemed like she was nervous, but not scared. And what you do is let her come to you and talk to her like you always do, and just make sure she knows you’re okay with it. As long as you are okay with it, right?”

“Of course. I just thought...” Rachel trailed off.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about! She loves you and just told you how she feels. That’s a good thing. Let’s give her a chance to do whatever she’s doing. The rest of the kids are about to go do an activity, so we have time.”

“I think I need to get away from the crowd for a minute. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is it alright if we just go for a walk?”

“Of course.” Gar’s grip had at some point shifted to be holding her hand back, and he led her down a dirt path towards a grove of trees. “This path is quiet and not too hard.” Her sudden harsh look had him follow up. “You’re not really wearing the shoes for hiking, Rae.”

“Hmf. And since when did I say you could call me Rae, Garfield?”

He looked stricken. “I am so sorry. I dunno what I was thinking, Ra-chel. Rachel.”

She narrowed an eye. “Rae is… acceptable, as far as diminutives go. Just don’t make a habit of it in public.”

“Cross my heart. Hey, at least being a little mad at me put your mind off of Melvin, right?”

“And now it’s right back. So very helpful,” she deadpanned.

“Easy come, easy go, right?” His smile grew a little. “I don’t wanna pry or anything, but is it really that surprising? She said you were her mom like, a dozen times during camp.”

“I suppose not. It caught me very off-guard, though. Teether and Tommy sort of switch between Rachel and Mom, but Melvin’s never really seemed like she even wanted that sort of, I don’t know, ‘Official’ title for me.”

“Listen, the whole ‘mom’ thing isn’t as scary as you’re making it out to be. You’re already giving her the kind of love a mom is supposed to, and she loves you. She talks about all the time with stars in her eyes. Being adopted doesn’t make her less your daughter. Rita Farr isn’t any less my mom for taking me in when I was eight, and Marie Logan isn’t any more or less important to me just because she’s not around.”

Rachel took a breath and sighed it out. “Thank you. That does make it easier.” They walked in silence for a short time. “Wait, Rita Farr, as in the movie star? As in, the philanthropist and art collector, married to Steve Dayton?”

He blushed a little. “Whoops, probably shouldn’ta dropped that so casually, I guess. Yeah. Steve and Rita adopted me when my parents died. It’s not always easy, but I love ‘em.” He watched her reaction carefully, hoping she wouldn’t suddenly start treating him differently for having such well-known parents.

Rachel schooled her face after having that bombshell dropped on her. “Well, if we ever meet we’ll be able to talk about some historic pieces she has that I wrote papers on.”

A beat passed, then Gar’s loud laugh broke relative silence of the forest. “Aw man, she is gonna love you.”

And just like that, the tension was broken. All the concern, the lack of balance, everything fell away, and the static buzz of easy conversation punctuated by something just a little too close to intimate for an average friendship was back.

They wandered together down the shady paths, miles away and only a few trees distant from the campground. Rachel didn’t notice the distance she had walked on the formerly dreaded forest hike, and Garfield forgot to try quite so hard with his jokes and wise cracks. They walked, hand in hand and only somewhat realizing how close they were to one another, shoulders nearly touching.

The spell was eventually broken, as they always are. They rounded a final bend, seeing in the distance the campground they had left, what, less than an hour ago? And the reality that they had left behind when they entered the sun-shafted canopies woke them up, and they found that really, their hands were quite slick. Had they been clasped together the whole time? And Rachel, especially, was starting to sweat from the heat and the walk. Garfield was suddenly nervous, after all, he never talked this much, not without making a fool of himself.

But even after emerging from that hazy dream, they held on, gently rising out of the fog and into the real world so no sudden movements could disrupt the memory, the closeness that two almost strangers that fit together like complementary puzzle pieces had shared.

It wasn’t even fully dispelled when their hands slipped apart to be wiped on cargo shorts or dark jeans, though the almost hidden flight from behind a few low-branched trees of blonde hair and untied shoelaces and quiet giggle quickly sobered them.

Garfield turned. “Was that -?”

“Melvin. Oh, that little brat, she is too damn smart for her own good. I would put money on her scheming to get us alone.” Rachel fumed and her face tightened into a mask of cold anger. “I can’t believe that she would manipulate me like this! How could she – How could she finally call me -” and the mask broke, shifting from anger to near tears in seconds.

Gar panicked. “Whoa, hold on, no. She’s not that cruel, I know it and so do you. We’re probably missing something. You just said you can’t believe she would do this – she probably didn’t. Rae I promise you, there’s got to be an explanation that makes sense.”

Rachel took a deep breath, followed by another, centering herself. “I am going to get to the bottom of this. Where would she be doing this “project” she made up?”

“The craft cabin. I’ll take you there, but I guarantee you it’s not as bad as it might sound.”

It was like the crowd parted for them without even reacting. No one looked at the worried counselor or at the steely featured parent, but nonetheless they found their path almost unimpeded. Gar held up a hand just outside the door. “Let me get you two some privacy. Please.”

“Fine. Do it.” Terse and unhappy, Rachel’s displeasure was apparent in her voice, and it made Garfield wince.

He opened the door to see five preteen girls, huddled and tittering. At least until they saw him and his serious frown. Then their eyes went wide, and they looked to Melvin in a panic. “Out, girls. Clear the room. Not you, Melvin.” He stopped her when she tried to take shelter in the middle of the pack. He turned to follow them, and glanced back almost pityingly, then shook his head and exited.

The girls all ducked their heads when they saw Rachel just outside the cabin and hurried off, racing to be the first around the corner and away from the ticking time bomb.

Garfield simply nodded, and left her to it. Rachel entered the cabin and saw Melvin almost trembling, and it broke her heart. She had worked up a head of steam on the walk and the wait, but seeing her precious daughter actually afraid stopped any real anger and left only a bitter emptiness.

Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. She settled on a vague, open armed shrug gesture. “Why, Mel? Was it just a prank? Just a way to manipulate me?”

Tears brimmed in Melvin’s eyes. “No, I just wanted to give you guys a chance to talk alone. I’m sorry I lied, I really did try on the lanyard, but I’m just bad at them so I had Kole do it. I’m sorry, I am.”

“What? What lanyard? Melvin, I don’t care if you had a friend help with a lanyard! I just can’t believe that you would call me your mom, just to trick me into talking to someone. I can’t tell you how badly that hurts me. I… I love you too much for that.”

“What!No, nononono, Mom, I promise that wasn’t a trick. I promise. I was gonna talk to you about it, but I just – I thought that if I – I thought that maybe if I just did it you’d just let me and maybe you’d talk to him and then it everything would be perfect. I promise. I love you, Mom. I do. And I was just trying to maybe make you not spend all your time watching me and talk to him. He’s really cool, and I could tell you like him, and he’s completely in love with you, and you’re perfect for each other. I was just trying to help you be happy!” She sobbed, breathless.

Rachel froze, then instinctively wrapped her daughter in her arms and let her cry. “Mel, you don’t need to worry about me. I am happy, I promise. I don’t need you to try to trick me into being happy. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to say I’m not mad, but I get it. You don’t have to trick me into talking to, what did you call him, “really old, like 50 years old” guys? If we talk, we talk. That’s how adults work.”

“No, it’s not! I’ve never seen you go on a date, and you just ignore people when they try to talk to you. I know it was dumb, but I had to try something ‘cause otherwise you’d just give him that serious face until he ran away, and he’s perfect for you if you’d just give him a chance!”

“Mel. Mel, okay. I promise. I will give him a chance. But you don’t need to be worried about me. I don’t need a twelve year old playing matchmaker. You should be doing kid things, not bad romcom plots.”

“*SNRK*. They’re not bad. They’re sweet. And you like them, otherwise you wouldn’t have so many of them.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and glowered.

Rachel internally cursed Kori. “If you say so. Now let’s sit here for a minute, then we can go wash your face and you can go hand out with your friends. And I will have a talk with Garfield, and you will not stick your nose into my dating life. Understand?”

“Yes, mom.”

It still startled Rachel to hear that coming from Melvin, but it also warmed her heart. She hadn’t even known she wanted it until it happened, but it was like a spoken guarantee that she really was doing things right, and her little family really was working.

They sat together and Melvin showed her the lanyard that she had made via Kole. Rachel put it on the silver chain she wore around her neck and let it rest beside her heart promising mostly to herself that it would be kept safe at home. Then, when Mel had calmed down, they headed to the bathroom where Mel cleaned the tear tracks from her dirt-smudged face and rinsed her red rimmed eyes. Rachel gave her a final kiss on the forehead, and sent her off.

Gar found her standing there, staring off into space against the wall of the concrete shack. He leaned against it and slid down to sit around the corner and next to her. “So.”

“So,” she said back.

“Not saying it just to confuse you?” He glanced at her, gauging her reaction.

“No. But she wasn’t against confusing me.”

His eyebrow cocked. “Not mad?”

“Still mad. Still going to be grounded, probably. But she did it out of love.”

“Y’know, I don’t want to say I told you so, but...”

“But you totally want to say ‘I told you so,’” she finished for him.

“Yep. So what now?”

“Now, I guess I do what I was going to do before we had all this to deal with,” she said, the soul of nonchalance.

“What’s that?” he said, and when she didn’t respond, he stood up and looked around the corner. “Rae?”

“This.” with only his head around the corner, she turned and kissed him, gentle and sweet, and far too short for either of them. “I’d like to go out sometime. I want to take you to a behind the scenes at the museum, and I’ll let you choose the restaurant.”

His head spun and his eyes were out of focus. His thoughts were like molasses and he could barely get out the word “Okay.” before she was gone, a little bounce in her step.

AO3 FF.net

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

[glapplebloom]

Which of these soulless corporate movies is the least soulless?

Welcome to the Space Jam. Its your chance to do your dance at the Space Jam. Alright? Alright. Both movies are about a Basketball Star Teaming up with the Looney Tunes to play Basketball. So let’s see which one is the better of the two, starting off with...

THE STORY

Original - Aliens have come to kidnap the Looney Tunes. So they decide to have their fate decided by a Basketball Game. But when the Aliens stole the talent of other NBA players, the Looney Tunes decide to kidnap Michael Jordan (yes, they kidnap Michael Jordan as pointed out by Teen Titans going to the old Space Jam Website). After Hijinks they win the game.

Sequel - Lebron’s son got kidnapped by Al G. Rhythm and to get him back he must beat Al in a Basketball game. Thing is he is forces to get a team and he was sent to the Looney Tunes world where he finds Bugs alone. The others are seeing other Warner Brother properties so Bugs and Lebron work together to get them back. Thing is Lebron wants some heavy hitters and despite his efforts he only got toons. Even worse, the basketball game is not straightforward, more people’s lives are on the line and Al got his son to play for his team. Only until Lebron learned that he shouldn’t push people to be like him do the toons come back and win the game.

Winner - Sequel. Calling the original a plot is giving it too much credit. Its more of a concept that is put together than an actual story. If New Legacy’s story is more complex, its only because it has actual progression as things change.

THE BASKETBALL STAR

Original - As a kid, Michael Jordan was destined for greatness. He knew he wanted to be a big time basketball star and as a promise to his dad will also become a baseball star. He retired and is trying his best, but he’s not a good baseball player. It doesn’t help that others are treating him as something special (because they all want some free shoes ~Starfire). So when the Looney Tunes kidnap him, he didn’t want to help until the Monstars messed with him. Now back in the game Michael plays like he never lost a step and help the Looney Tunes win.

Sequel - As a kid, Lebron wants to play basketball. But he’s also a kid so he enjoys having fun like playing a Gameboy Game complete with Bugs Bunny’s Crazy Castle. But because of that, he lost the game. His coach at the time said he could become a great basketball player if he focused. So he did and became King James. Now an adult, he wants his kids to be basketball players too, but his youngest son prefer to make video games. This causes a riff that allows AL G. Rhythm to manipulate his son to work with him. Lebron, forced into the Warner Serververse has to make a team and is stuck with the Looney Tunes. He thinks they could win if they stick with the fundamentals but between the new rules and bias ref, they’re losing badly. So badly an argument breaks out between him and the Toons during halftime. When he figures out he’s treating them like his son, he realized the only way to win is to let them be them. With that knowledge, he ask his son for forgiveness and earns it. After winning the game, he lets his son go to the E3 Game Camp instead of the Basketball Camp.

Winner - Sequel. Lebron has an actual connection with Looney Tunes as a kid, was excited to meet Bugs, has a character arc that takes place throughout the entire movie. Even if you think he’s a bad actor, he at least felt like he was invested in the story.

THE REFERENCES

Original - For Background Easter Eggs, you got a few Looney Tunes Alumni, though they do repeat. Cameos feature other Basketball Stars and Bill Murray. And references are to things of the 90s: Dennis Rodman, Pulp Fiction, Beethoven and Babe, and for some reason Disney. I think the most clever is Larry Bird appearing. In one of the few sports things I know, Larry Bird and Michael Jordan were rivals. How do I know this? I played an NES game about their rivalry.

Sequel - Background and References subtle and not were all about Warner owned properties. As old as Casablanca to as new as Rick and Morty. We got to see the DCAU once more, references to old Looney Tunes gags and places, MC Hammer, Hanna-Barbera, Mad Max: Fury Road (and one I think is a Nostalgia Critic Reference) and so much more. In fact here’s a video featuring them all. Favorite of mine, Michael Jordan’s Cameo.

Winner - This is all your own preference so feel free to pick who you think wins here.

THE SOUNDTRACK

Winner - No competition. Between the title song (turned meme), the inspirational song (sang by someone who doesn’t know how to use a toilet), and the Monstars Anthem the new one can’t compete. But I will say for those thinking that Porky Rapping is “cringe”, the original also had a certain Rabbit rapping. 

THE VILLAINS

Original - The Big Bad is Mr. Swackhammer, owner of Moron Mountain and voiced by Danny DeVito. Sadly he doesn’t do much but be the big bad boss of Nerdlucks. As their tiny small self, they don’t leave much of an impression but they really stand out after stealing the talent of stars and become Monstars. They become big, mean and slightly more different. 

Sequel - Al G. Rhythm is an algorithm the Warner Brothers studios use to help make movie ideas. He wants some recognition and thinks if he can get Lebron on board he can earn it. Sadly, when Lebron refused, he didn’t take it well. So when he saw Lebron’s son take interest in him and ran away from Lebron, Al used that to his advantage. With that, he makes Lebron force to play a basketball game while manipulating his son to not only allow him access to his data but get him to play as well. The Goon Squads are a result of that as its Lebron’s son’s data on other basketball players mixed with superpowers.

Winner - Give Don Cheadle a Disney+ Show Disney! As great as Danny DeVito is, he’s just not in it long enough like Al. Can be manipulative yet also very agro.

THE TOONS

This category will be done differently. I’ll be focusing on their takes on Bugs, Lola, and the Rest. I am not including Daffy in this equation because he’s perfect in both.

Bugs - In the original, Bugs is Bugs. Wisecracking, carrot chewing, master manipulator as always. In the Sequel, he’s one of the few that stood in Looney Tunes world because that’s where he could be him. But the loneliness made him miss everyone (after all, how can he pull off schemes and pranks without victims). And while in the original Bugs saves Lola from being squashed, Bugs risks his life to ensure Lebron doesn’t get deleted when executing the glitch. It makes Bugs’ actions seem more noble than just saving the girl he likes. 

Lola - In the original, she’s a “sexy” no nonsense girl who plays basketball, and that’s it. And despite her attitude, became a damsel in distress and Bugs’ prize for rescuing her. in the sequel, she wants to do her own thing, even doing an Amazon Trial to become one, but failed to complete it when Lebron and Bugs was in danger and finding out Lebron’s son was in the line. So she’s there to give the team another good player and also be a moral support. In fact, its thanks to her that Lebron realizes what he’s been doing to his son.

The Rest - If the original got one thing over the Sequel, its number. A lot more Looney Tunes play in their game in comparison. With the exception of Granny who was a cheerleader, every toon was in the game at one point. I can’t say the same for the Sequel. With that said, the Sequel did get to show their personalities more. Like compare Wile E. in both. In one he gives the Monstars a bomb. The other has him using an Acme device, placing bird seed on the button to get the Roadrunner to press it repeatedly, only to have himself be caught in said machine. They all got the chance to do their thing instead of sharing a spit take.

THE BIG GAME

Original - The Looney Tunes are losing badly in the first half. Why? Because they didn’t go looney for... Reasons. After being tricked into drinking Michael’s “Special Drink”, then they decide to go looney. This allows them to catch up but then the Monstars decide to take them out, which they do despite these attacks being pretty tame to what they can normally take. With a few seconds to go, Michael scores one more basket to win.

Sequel -  The Looney Tunes are losing badly in the first half. Why? Because Lebron is forcing them to play normal basketball despite their opponents and the game itself is anything but normal basketball. When they came back, they came back Looney and managed to catch up and even get ahead. But then Al decides to cheat since he controls the game. Thanks to this being the kid’s game, they know that if they perform a glitch they can take control away from Al long enough to score one more point and win. And thanks to Bugs’ sacrifice and his son moving a power up right underneath him, Lebron slam dunks the final point and wins.

Winner - The sequel. There was no reason for the Looney Tunes to be less looney in the first half in the original and its short live as each one gets taken out. Meanwhile the Sequel gives a valid reason for everything to happen.

My Winner - Space Jam: A New Legacy

Both movies are basically overgrown commercials trying to get you to buy stuff. The original was based off a Shoe Commercial and banking on your nostalgia on Looney Tunes and Michael Jordan the Basketball player to make you interested in seeing him back on court and new Looney Tunes content. The new one is basically for HBO Max. And both movies have also not credited people who deserve to be credited. But between the two of them a New Legacy actually feels like its trying to justify its existence. 

Lebron has a connection with the toons through childhood, has actual stakes in the game, and actually feels invested in the events. The original was basically the Nike commercial stretched to a movie length. And to me, that makes a New Legacy a better movie.

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums, I finally explain the deal with that record you’ve seen in the background of these videos, with those dudes working in the office. These dudes used to be in the Human League! Oh, and they really hate fascism. Full transcript of the video after the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be looking at the debut album of Heaven 17: 1981’s Penthouse & Pavement. While you may not be familiar with Heaven 17, chances are pretty good that if you know your Western pop, you’ve heard of the Human League! Before forming Heaven 17, Ian Craig Marsh and Martyn Ware were members of the Human League--and they were also the band’s creative core. But they had a very different artistic vision, and one that doesn’t exactly prefigure the success of hits like “Don’t You Want Me.”

Music: “Being Boiled”

Between its plodding electronics and inscrutable lyricism, “Being Boiled” is pretty far from a pop hit. When Marsh and Ware left the Human League, they were keen to continue pursuing this sort of underground, experimental, quasi-industrial direction. Initially, the two of them formed the British Electronic Foundation, or “B.E.F.” It was chiefly a production company that worked with other artists, though they also released some instrumental music under this name. With the recruitment of vocalist Glenn Gregory, who Marsh and Ware had initially intended to front the Human League in the first place, they were set to get right back into the groove of what they had been up to before.

Music: “Fascist Groove Thang”

“Fascist Groove Thang” is the opening track of Penthouse & Pavement, and was one of its chief singles. While it’s much less ambiguous than “Being Boiled,” and much easier to dance to, it’s still got a lot of that subversive, underground charm--enough to get banned by the BBC, anyway. I know they always say that history rhymes, but it’s one of those songs from this era that really feels like it belongs more in our time than the one it came from. I like to think that its unforgettable chorus sounds more like a chant you might hear at a protest march, as opposed to something that belongs in a proper song. “Fascist Groove Thang” is actually based on an instrumental track by BEF, which was simply called “Groove Thang” before being reworked into this political anthem. Both versions are indeed pretty groovy, thanks in large part to the bass guitar work of session musician John Wilson. Compared to their work with the Human League, Penthouse & Pavement has an overall richer sonic palate, with more of those traditional instruments, as well as backing vocals. You’ll hear a lot of those on the album’s title track:

Music: “Penthouse & Pavement”

Penthouse & Pavement’s title track is the longest track on the album, clocking in at over six minutes. Between that, the lush instrumentation, and the honour of being the title track, it certainly feels like an anti-capitalist epic, dramatizing and dignifying the inner thoughts of a common wage-slave. The first side of the album, dubbed the “Pavement Side,” is where you’ll find both of these tracks, and it seems to deal chiefly with working-class struggles, as well as having a bigger emphasis on that bass-heavy groove, musically. Naturally, then, the flip is the “Penthouse Side,” it’s more melodic, and it seems to focus more on the lives of the rich and famous...though it isn’t quite that straightforward.

Music: “We’re Going To Live For a Very Long Time”

“We’re Going To Live For a Very Long Time” is perhaps the clearest expression of the idea of the upper classes living in their own protected bubble, shielded from plebeian woes. There’s a religious dimension to it, in that the narrator manages to live without worries because of their assuredness that Heaven awaits them when they die...but, as the title reminds us, they’re also confident that Earth will be good to them, as well. In case you were worried this message might not be ironic, the song actually stops abruptly in the middle of its final refrain, providing a sudden end for that narrator--as well as closing out the entire LP with a bang, since this is the final track! The idea of the wealthy actively taunting those beneath them is also central to the most rhythmic track of the Penthouse Side, “The Height of the Fighting.”

Music: “The Height of the Fighting”

In “The Height of the Fighting,” that march-like chanting takes center stage again, but it feels very different here. Rather than embodying a sort of grassroots resistance to the consolidation of power, “The Height of the Fighting” seems to be the voice of authority and power coming downwards, fitting the theme of the Penthouse Side. The song’s assertions, like “if you can’t take it, fake it” and “they sent you to it, do it” could be interpreted as pithy, meaningless sayings--perhaps throwaway lyrics, taking up space on a single aimed squarely at the dance floor. However, if you know the context of the Penthouse Side, it’s hard not to see them as representations of the worthless advice the rich often give the poor. Get a job. Get a side hustle. Work harder. Eat out less. And so on. Much like the implicit messages about class in popular culture, “The Height of the Fighting” might seem disposable, but the thrust of what it’s saying is actually deeply warped. Another complex, and perhaps conflicted, track on the Penthouse Side is “Let’s All Make a Bomb”:

Music: “Let’s All Make a Bomb”

Songs against nuclear war were commonplace in Cold War-era music, but “Let’s All Make a Bomb” isn’t quite a typical example. At first, its slow pace and despondent melody make us think we’re getting the usual fare. But the return of that swelling, chant-like refrain style, as well as a closer inspection of the lyrics, reveal otherwise. As the title might imply, “Let’s All Make a Bomb” asks us what kind of character is actually crazy enough to *want* nuclear war, and the character Heaven 17 have chosen is a hedonistic libertine, who sees the end of the world as one big party. The atomic bomb is not a thing to be feared, but “a brand new toy, to idolize.” As dark as that is, the fact that it’s also part of the Penthouse Side, and ostensibly a representation of what those who hold influence and power believe, adds a whole new level of horror to it.

While I love album art, and my interest in it is the main reason I started collecting vintage vinyl, I think [the cover of Penthouse & Pavement just might be my favourite of all time. Penthouse & Pavement’s cover portrays the three members of Heaven 17 as though they were businessmen, co-opting motives like glass-paneled skyscrapers and the deal-making handshake straight from the 1980s corporate visual lexicon. They've even got cities they're allegedly based out of, one of which is their native Sheffield, England. If you look closely, there are a few hints that they’re actually a music band and not a firm, such as the reel-to-reel tape player in the upper right-hand corner, and the fact that in the lower left-hand corner, Martyn Ware is writing music in front of a keyboard. At the bottom, we also find the logo of B.E.F., which brings this grand “joke” full circle. As the “British Electronic Foundation,” they had also billed themselves as a faceless organisation, adopting a name that sounds more at home on a utility bill than an album cover. Here, the trio have done it again, in a bit of ruthless satire towards the rising “yuppie” culture of the 80s. Incidentally, the cover art is a traditional painting, credited to one Ray Smith. It wasn't unusual to commission paintings for album art at the time, but it does tickle me knowing a human being physically painted Heaven 17 as office workers. If the original ever came up for auction, I'd probably shell out for it. It would look great in my office!

Anyway, it’s also worth mentioning how the title “Penthouse & Pavement” adds to that corporate theme. The X-and-Y format recalls the names of many real-life firms and companies, such as Ernst & Young. A “penthouse” is an apartment located very high up in a tall, urban building. Such apartments are usually expensive, and are hence occupied by well-off tenants. “Pavement,” in this context, probably refers to what Americans call the “sidewalk,” the paved pathways where the less fortunate among us might walk past those penthouses, without ever getting too close. Each side functions as an ideal symbol of the kind of people it represents, and the physical gap between them is a visceral representation of economic inequality. The title is also quite pleasingly alliterative!

While Penthouse & Pavement maintains a certain underground integrity, which is consistent with Marsh and Ware’s track record as part of the Human League, it’s still much more of a pop record than anything they had done before. Heaven 17 never went quite as pop as the Human League did without them, and they certainly never saw the same level of mainstream success, but they did pursue an increasingly pop direction with their next several releases. Their 1983 followup, The Luxury Gap, delivers less of that hard-hitting critique of capital, but did produce some of their best-known singles, namely, “Temptation” and “Let Me Go.”

Music: “Let Me Go”

My favourite track on Penthouse & Pavement is “Geisha Boys & Temple Girls.” I like this track’s overall mysterious, otherworldly vibe--it’s not terribly easy to pin down what it’s really about, or what sort of mood it’s meant to convey. The intro to this song sounds more like Karlheinz Stockhausen than something you would hear in pop, and I love how strident and abrasive it is. Given its place as the opening track of the Penthouse Side, and its opening line, “look ahead, on the screen,” I’m tempted to interpret it as a representation of a fictional romance in television or film. It’s dramatic, unpredictable, exotic, and also completely fake and divorced from how people behave in the real world. The idea that entertainments and diversions are part of what shelters the rich from the consequences of their actions is another one of those things that makes this album continue to feel relevant. That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Geisha Boys & Temple Girls”

[qwanderer]

Okay but is anyone going to talk about how Aziraphale is through and through Maria Von Trapp???

I mean

So let’s review:

Our hero starts out as part of a religious order, but gets sent out into the world to watch over some rowdy kids.

They’re extremely anxious about getting this assignment right, but underneath that they’re so dang ready to get into trouble at the drop of a hat.

Sweet, wholesome trouble like food, dancing, and music, and always being a little bit late for any given appointment.

And giving unsanctioned gifts and advice and letting people get away with more than they should.

Our hero meets a lovable asshole who is also in charge of those rowdy kids, but somewhat at cross purposes.

He loves the place and the people even if he has to hide it.

He doesn’t dignify this shit with a response in kind:

He keeps strict discipline in his household because he has Issues. 

Under pressure, he is a liar in the best of ways.

Even the people most against the association between these two can tell they love each other. 

Alas, our lovable asshole is an asshole by profession, and he’s damned good at it. So good, he receives orders from his evil lower-downs to fight a war for the cause of evil and help destroy the world.

One vital difference: Good Omens is a satire about corporate culture. Everything from Heaven, to Hell, to the paintball game, to the witchfinder army serves to underscore some contrast between genuine people, and the uncanny facades they’re forced into by capitalist social machinery.

I mention this only to set up the delivery of this line:

Now I ask you: What could be more “corporate culture” than quoting a popular movie to inspire obedience, when the quote taken in context means the exact opposite thing?

Here’s the context:

Now, when the “climb every mountain” line is delivered to Maria, and when it’s called back to in the book shop:

Maria and Aziraphale are at similar points in their narrative arc. They’ve both faced the conflict between their religious duty and their growing love for a jerk, and have chosen to break the lovable jerk’s heart.

Our heroes have both returned to their religious order, ready to get back to the straight and narrow. But their idea of the right thing to do is quickly shot down by their superiors.

The rebuff is intended differently, but the song brought into play is the same. And the message of that song is: “Don’t do the dreary duty you’ve been preparing for. God wants you to find fulfillment instead.”

It’s literally a song about the necessity of finding a lovable fucking jerk and fucking loving him.

tl;dr: God’s fondness for “The Sound of Music” is proof—perhaps the most conclusive proof imaginable—that She ships Aziraphale with Crowley.

(This is mostly the brainchild of @roseapprentice​ with screencaps and minor additions by me! We thought @neil-gaiman​ might be amused by it but hope he feels no obligation to respond.)

[victoriareyloficlists]

07/01/2021 Additions to Reylo School Environment

These fics have been added to the School list located here.

Look No Further Sequel: Change of Plans by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily) (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After making it through Thanksgiving with his family, Rey and Kylo start to wonder if there might be more to this fake dating thing after all.) If I Was A Raindrop (Would You Be My Thunderstorm) by itsnotillegal (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey has the hots for her coworker/friend Ben and decides to finally do something about it and send him a valentines card. While at the shop choosing a card, she bumps into Ben and is too embarrassed to confess the card is for him and lies about the intended recipient. Ben is in love with Rey and gutted the card is not for him!) Insufferable by castles_and_crowns (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Niima and Ben Solo are both student ambassadors at their university. This means that, unfortunately for Rey, they often get stuck with each other at various university events. Rey finds Ben Solo to be an insufferable snob until he begins to slowly prove to be otherwise.) Five Days by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey spends winter break at her friend's apartment, it only takes five days for everything to change.) Get Rekt by Thelittlescrimshaw (AO3 2016  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: He was drunk, they all were, but slinging an arm around her shoulders and declaring Rey his wife was not how she imagined the first party of the semester going.) the water smells like you by shruggyben (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Harry Potter AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Ben Solo, Ravenclaw dumbass, brews the perfect batch of the strongest love potion in the wizarding world, but accidentally feeds it to his one (1) crush. Adorable panic ensues.) Trip to the cinema: How bad can it be? by StaticTeeth (AO3 2016  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A college AU with Rey, Ben, Poe and Finn. Poe and Finn being Ben and Rey's besties and they set Ben and Rey up together.) Bullet Pound by jeeno2 (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: On a whim, Rey watches a porno her friend recommended. To her surprise, she recognizes one of the actors.) It's A Pretty Good Bad Idea, Me and You by Mugglelover27 (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey had a great date the other night. Unfortunately, that date was with her professor.) Baby Shark by Melusine11 (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo, kindergarten teacher extraordinaire can handle a lot. Fights over who is the leader in line for the day, crying over not getting the right color crayon they want, puke after gym time, but the one thing that consistently raises his blood pressure is one damnable song.) Java Empire And The Rebel Café by fairytalesandfolklore (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A Reylo Coffeeshop AU. Rey works for the Solo's coffeeshop and finds out their son has gone to work for the competing corporate chain. She tries to get him to reconcile with his parents but a misunderstanding makes him push her away.) Your Half by Celia_and (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Classmates Rey and Kylo get off on the wrong foot. Too bad they’re partners for the whole semester...) Look No Further by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily) (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, 9 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is spending Thanksgiving alone but a late-night Craigslist ad ends up with her agreeing to crash some asshole's family dinner. At the very least, she's curious what kind of people name their son "Kylo Ren" anyway.) Between the Shelves by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey's head-over-heels for Ben Solo, the new city librarian. Unfortunately, he seems to be completely oblivious to her advances.) Road Rage by AverageEpaulet (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey offers to give her super shy new college classmate Ben a ride home. She seems like such a sweet, wholesome girl, Ben accepts eagerly. A violent redhead cuts her off suddenly in traffic; Wild Rey appears. Ben is shocked at the violence of his arousal.) Dumpster Dive Into My Heart by commandercrouton (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Inspried by a tweet from Reylo Prompts: My art professor told us a story about how he hated all his art and threw it out at a dumpster by his campus and then a little while later he went to a girls dorm (who is now his wife) and she had it hanging on the wall :) The Seeker Compact by konfoz (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Harry Potter AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben used to be the Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team, so he is surprised when Gryffindor's Seeker, Rey, asks for his help a week before the final match up between their two houses.) Sociology of Sexuality by Celia_and (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After a semester of verbal sparring, the tension between Rey and Kylo boils over.) The Girl on the Train by SighnomoreSolo (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Professor Ben Solo shares a compartment on the commuter train with the same girl, every day. One day, at the end of summer, she surprises him. He definitely doesn't mind.) Where There's Smoke, There's Fire by on_my_toes (AO3 2016  Rated G Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Of course a fire would break out in Rey's apartment building the night of her biochem final — and of course she would end up running out into the sidewalk keyless in her pajamas, right next to the most obnoxious frat party in the world. At least it can't get any more embarrassing than this ... that is, until her TA Ben Solo shows up.) A Chemical Reaction by commandercrouton (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Rey and Ben have very different meanings on watching Netflix and studying) Morning Glory by lovelydarkanddeep (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Kylo have a one night stand at university after a party, but the morning after does not go as Kylo expects.) Virgins, Valentines & Sex Videos by SavingWhatILove (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey needs to write a paper on Lanford Wilson's "Burn This" play, but has problems with it. She asks Ben, whom she's pining after, for help knowing that he needs help with Math. She doesn't realize what day they set their study date for Valentine's Day. Additionally, when she shows up in his dorm she hears loud sex noises coming from his room. Is Ben having Valentine's Day on his own? How will the study date unfold?)

[ramshacklefey]

I’ve seen a couple posts about not having enough time outside work to enjoy life, and I have a theory about where this problem came from. See, until relatively recently in human history, fulfillment (or entertainment or relaxation or however you want to classify it) wasn't a goal by itself for most people. There were two reasons for this.

One is that we were generally much more concerned with survival in a direct way: Farming, caring for livestock, engaging in crafts to benefit the community etc.

The other reason is much bigger: The kind of fulfilling engagement that people are desperate for now used to come from daily labor. Being a farmer or a smith or a weaver involves a lot of boring drudgery, but it's also labor that gives you a direct, tangible result. It's self-regulated. You can sing or tell stories to the people around you while you work. You can linger over your midday meal and watch the clouds, chat with a friend, or take a moment to work on something you like doing for fun. Your work is your own, not just in the sense of you owning the product, but in the sense that you can put some personality into it. There can be idiosyncrasies to how you operate.

Industrialization changed that. Division of labor has been essential to humanity being able to gain material stability, because it increases efficiency. If I farm and you weave, we both get more done. When efficiency becomes its own end, labor becomes so divided as to be meaningless. When labor turns humans into literal cogs in a machine, there is no engagement with it any more. There’s no more talking or singing while you work, and your midday meal becomes a grudging allowance. Your individuality disappears because each thing produced has to be identical to the others. You work in a boring grey office. When was the last time you heard a group of co-workers singing together while they worked? Conversation only happens in hurried snatches while no one’s looking, usually whispered. If your office isn’t boring and grey, it’s because someone did some research and proved it would raise your efficiency to have desks pushed together like grade-schoolers. You enjoying it more is only a factor insofar as it makes you work faster.

The obsession with efficiency has gotten into everything. I worked as a janitor for a while. Instead of each person having responsibility for one or two buildings on campus, we were divided by tasks. Person 1 did bathrooms, person 2 mopped, etc, because it had been decided that the time it took to switch between made us too inefficient. You didn’t get to feel some ownership for keeping a building in good shape, you were a floor mopping machine. You didn’t even get to really feel like a team, because the other people working were in different parts of the building, doing different things. Pacing your work to stay near someone and chat was a waste of time.

It was the same when I worked in retail, which so many of us are familiar with. There was no standing still and talking between customers. If there wasn’t a customer in the store, you were restocking, cleaning, or finding some busywork to do. Heaven help you if you were seen just standing there, and gods forbid you take a moment between customers to doodle in a sketchbook or write down a story idea. You’re working with a skeleton crew, so it feels like you’re always running to catch up. In a big chain, you don’t even get to design displays or decide what items to carry. Hell, in the pharmacy I worked in, our music was piped in from corporate. You could go into any CVS around the entire country, and I guarantee you the same song would be playing.

There are exceptions to this. A lot of people who work as artists still enjoy their work. People find creative engagement in being analysts and accountants, in the thrill of stock trading, in being mechanics or electricians, engineers or academics, scientists or doctors. You might have noticed a common thread in all those professions: They’re all considered privileged positions. You only get them if you’re the best at what you do.

And even some of these are turning into efficiency wheels. Next time you go to a doctor, ask someone who they’re run by. Most of the doctors in my area are run by one of two bigger corporations. Doctors are paid by how many patients they see in an hour. If you’re a newly graduated bio major, you might end up working as a lab tech. I worked as a lab assistant one summer (meaning I did the cleaning and filed papers). The rank and file lab techs sat at benches and filled test tubes from samples, running the same test over and over.

My girlfriend was a professional writer for 11 years. She was treated as a cog in a machine that was supposed to churn out marketing copy at a ridiculous rate.

The working conditions for artists at a certain major studio are notoriously wretched.

And so, rather than work being what you do and providing much of the interest and engagement in your life, it’s the thing you suffer through so that you can get by. Why do you feel a desperate need for more time in the day to pursue things you actually enjoy? It’s because the bulk of your life has turned you into an invisible robot.

People have been railing against this for generations, but no one has actually done anything about it. Taking the position that people should enjoy their work, whatever it is, is a wacky fringe position.

For the six months I lived in Europe though, it was different. I worked as a stagehand with a company that built stages for concerts and other events. I was only the lowest of grunts, but when I anxiously went to stub out a half finished cigarette to hurry back to work and my boss told me to chill and finish my goddamn cigarette. People would just…. stop… for water breaks, or to rest for a minute. One time we were setting up a stage for an American band and their roadies kept expressing disgust about how lazy the Austrians were.

It’s possible to do things differently. But shortening the work day isn’t the only thing that needs to happen. What needs to happen is a fundamental paradigm shift in how we think about and approach the whole idea of work.

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

Let me tell you a good story

Bloodbound Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed and MC (Annie)

Information:  this takes place after Bloodbound 3, here I’m recreating how Kamilah and MC would meet if she had never gone to Raines Corporation right away.

Summary: Thirty years after meeting Annie for the first time, Kamilah is now a wife and a mother. During a regular family dinner, she decides to tell her daughter and their new son-in-law the story of how she fell in love with Annie after an unusual meeting through the hallways of NYU.

Warnings: there is just a little bit of smut talking in the end. A little. Barely. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Let me tell you a good story - Part 7 (Finale)

March 2nd, 2048

“Okay, okay. Shoo everyone. So. Where was I?” Anna scratched her eyes again. “Right, at the gala. After breakfast, Kamilah asked me to stay at the Penthouse, cause’ it would be easier to just get dressed there… Which lead to a day of not working so much, no details needed, of course. Until we finally showered and got ready to go.”

“Me in forty minutes. She…” Kamilah poked her wife’s head. “Took three hours.”

 “Yeah, she still does that” Lysia sighed in confirmation, remembering how her mother took ages to get ready for the daughter’s graduation. “That’s why you’re getting dressed way before me, when the wedding comes.”

“I wanted to look pretty, ok? It’s not every day that a smoking hot rich brilliant woman ask you to be her date.” Anna defended herself, fighting a yawn. “The part you want to hear happened after we were already there…”

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

September 16th, 2018

The gala was being held at one of those rich, huge, and fancy hotels, worldwide known, that Anna never really memorized the name.

“Baccarat Hotel, darling. In Manhattan.” Kamilah added, but her piece of information was dismissed by a “Whatever Rich Hotel, doesn’t make a difference” response from her wife.

The event was set to start at 8 pm, so it was already dark outside. The city lights and camera flashes glowed on Annie’s dress when she stepped out of the limousine. That outfit was carefully selected to match Kamilah’s. A dark shade of blue with tiny crystals, like the night sky, making the historian’s smooth skin look like a dangerous temptation. The back was barely covered, and even though it seemed to hug her tight on the breasts, it got looser as it approached the hem, floating and following the woman’s movement. It was beautiful, indeed, but nothing compared to her date.

Kamilah was so absolutely gorgeous, Anna couldn’t help staring at her through the entire ride there, and almost lost her breath when she saw that wonderful goddess looking over the shoulders and smiling invitingly. It was the most beautiful vision in the world.

“Darling, what a coincidence, I was thinking the same thing when I saw you that night” the Egyptian laughed, a hint of red flashing through her eyes, “And you’re still the most beautiful vision in the world, with or without a Versace’s dress on you.”

“I do remember you saying ‘without’ was even better in the end of the night…” Anna looked up to meet Kamilah’s gaze, almost loosing track of the story. “So…”

Kamilah’s gown was a silver provocative mermaid cut with a deep neckline and a set of elegant sapphire jewels. They were the night and the stars, and what the Egyptian didn’t know by them, is that one day, years ahead, Annie would hold her hands on the altar an make vowels to ‘always support you, as the night sky supports the moon and the stars, for you are and always will be my entire galaxy’.

Back then, the only thing they were both aware was the intense feeling pulling them together through the event. For the first couple hours, their sole attention was focused on each other. Both danced, drank and laughed like they were the only two people standing on that ballroom. And even though they didn’t kiss, trying hard to maintain the professional boundaries intact (at least in front of the rest of the employees), it was evident to everyone that something was going on. After the sixth waltz, Kamilah felt this urge to just lean in and kiss the woman she had on her arms, sinking in desire, but Adrian interrupted them right on time.

“Excuse me.” He touched Anna on her elbow, capturing the historian’s attention. “Maybe it’s time for you two to blend in. Why don’t we greet the volunteers who are going to be working in the basement with you next month, Ms. Mali? Kamilah needs to have a moment with the senator as well.”

“Of course, Mr. Raines.”

With a last sparkling smile, Annie left her date and followed Adrian’s lead to a group of people by the bar. They weren’t really interesting to talk to and the conversation flew in circles, getting so dull that soon enough she saw herself drinking more champagne than the recommended. At some point, the main topic became Ms. Sayeed. One of them, Mr. Paul Lynn, was excited to work for her.

“Hold your horses, pal. She can be such a pain in the ass.” Annie finally said something, an empty glass on her hands.

“Really? People said she’s a little bit tough, maybe demanding, but a nice person in general.” Paul landed his eyes beyond Annie’s shoulder, quickly composing himself, but the historian didn’t notice this subtle change of posture.

“Good evening. Am I interrupting?” Kamilah’s voice showed up right beside Anna, her gorgeous features monopolizing every single eye on that group.

“Not at all. We were just chatting about work, how’s the project, the documents, the boss…” Annie also didn’t see how Paul and the others got tense over her words, since she could only stare at the one in silver beside her. “They want to meet Ms. Sayeed soon… But as I was saying, don’t get your hopes up, Paul. Besides being annoying, she’s never around. Never. Definitely not checking on us down in the basement.”

“Uhm… Well, I’m sure Ms. Sayeed probably has too many things to do… Right?” said the tall blond woman named Leah, a new archivist there. Her eyes flickered between Anna and Kamilah, unsure what to think of it.

“I seriously doubt it.”

“Why do you think that?” the Egyptian crossed her arms, dropping an amused glare over Anna. That was getting interesting.

“Well, come on, if this is so important to her, why haven’t I met the woman yet? She doesn’t even sign my paycheck, Mr. Raines does it. I bet she’s somewhere fancy right now, having a hot bath and laughing at the poor souls that have to deal with her freakin’ thousand emails every day.” Anna sighed tiredly, too much champagne in her system. “As I said before, a real pain in the ass. When you think you made progress, there comes Ms. Sayeed with a new order. I swear, there are days my phone buzzes so much, seems like it’s trying to jump from my pocket and commit suicide. That’s her thing, you know? Boss around. Not even a polite ‘thank you for working overtime today’. So yeah, the project is great, Mr. Raines and Kamilah here are both amazing, but throw away any ideas of bonding with Ms. Sayeed.”

“Ms. Sayeed, they’re ready for your speech.” They were interrupted by an elegant man in tuxedo who offered his hand to walk the Egyptian to the stage.

At first, Annie frowned in confusion.

Then, her eyes met Kamilah’s and all the pieces finally connected correctly. The company, the situation, when and how they met, what she said that night, why Ms. Sayeed was never introduced to her…

“Holy shit, I’m fucking the real boss.”

“You’re WHAT?” Paul dropped his chin.

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

“OH. NO.” Drake also dropped his chin, just like Paul did so many years ago. “OH NO, OH NO, OH NO”

“I was mad at her!” Annie tried to defend herself, cheeks getting redder by the second. “All I knew was that Ms. Sayeed would only text me orders. Never said ‘hi’, or something nice. Because the one who was saying something nice, in my understanding, was a different person!”

Kamilah couldn’t comment on it, since she was bursting into laughs. No story could make her laugh so much like that one. Slowly, she started to steady her breath, a hand placed over her own chest. By the window, Adrian was also cleaning the tears out of his eyes.

“Come on, mommy…” Lysia smiled kindly at the blushed woman on the floor. “Don’t mind them. We all love you the way you are. Continue the story.”

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

Anna had never wanted to burry herself on the ground that much in her entire life. She didn’t even hear the speech, the chock written all over the Brazilian’s face. Kamilah looked gorgeous under the spotlight, confident, professional. Surely was saying some pretty intelligent stuff too. Annie just couldn’t understand it, since she was momentarily deaf. Petrified. Half a glass of champagne still lingering between her fingers. At some point, the speech was over, but the historian only realized it when Adrian touched her back and whispered a request. She heard it, but apparently forgot every single word in English.

“Quê?”

“Dance with me, will you?” He asked again while gently leading her away from the group. Anna only realized what was happening by the time his hand held her waist and helped her to move around at the sound of a slow song. “Hey. Are you ok? Can you hear me?”

She nodded, not risking saying anything.

“Don’t beat yourself so much, Kamilah could’ve told you the truth long ago, but she was having too much fun with this little secret.”

“Huh.” That’s all her voice was able to project.

Adrian muffled a short laugh, bringing her closer and waltzing away from the others. In a couple minutes, they had escaped those curious eyes, approaching the corner of the ballroom, where he slowly diminished the steps to end the dance. “Now, I believe here you’re safe.”

Annie’s gaze wondered around, still lost in her thoughts. She only noticed Adrian had left when Kamilah’s voice echoed sensually by her ear, making the historian shiver and tense like a statue. Her eyes lifted to find brown ones intensely glaring at her.

“Good evening, Ms. Mali. My name is Kamilah Sayeed, and I’m the CEO of Ahmanet Financial. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman who’s leading my most important project. It has come to my attention that you have a few issues towards me and my… Bossy manners. However, it could only be a mistake since last night you seemed really comfortable following my orders in the bedroom.”

Anna bit her lower lip, still quiet.

“Oh, no words? Not a single complaint? What a pity, I was so longing to meet the dazzling historian who managed to criticize my thesis with no mercy.” Kamilah’s fingernails went down Annie’s back smoothly, not leaving marks behind. “Why don’t you come with me to the suite upstairs so we can discuss how many ways am I able to be a real pain in your ass?”

Without even waiting to hear a response, she slapped the historian’s butt before heading to the service elevator with a shining room card sticking out of her neckline.

Anna followed. Hypnotized. No questions asked.

Never again she complained about being bossed around by Ms. Sayeed.

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

“Aw, there’s a happy ending.” Drake’s arms were involving his fiancée’s waist, tightening. “So, maybe you were right, baby… They do have a much better love story.”

“Oh, but we’re not done, there is way more. A couple days after that, something terrible happened with Lily, so much changed, and I…” Annie scratcher her eyes for the third time.

That was it. Kamilah leaned down to take the woman in her arms. “It’s time to go to sleep, my love. We’ll tell them the rest on our next dinner, I promise.”

Anna didn’t even have the strength to resist. She was terribly tired, and her wife’s embrace was too damn comfortable. “Fiiiiiiine… Tomorrow night…”.

Adrian smiled fondly at them. With a silently nod and a good night kiss on Lysia’s forehead, he left to his own apartment. Drake and Lysia went to the guest room after cleaning up the table, while Kamilah slowly got up and took Annie into bed.

The historian mumbled something incomprehensible when was lay there.

“What, darling?” the vampire leaned down to hear it better, spooning Anna by instinct.

“I love you, Mrs. Sayeed.”

Kamilah smiled, turning her face to place a kiss on the girl’s temple.

“I love you too, Mrs. Sayeed.”

[travllingbunny]

The 100: 7x03 False Gods

Although I liked this episode less than the first two episodes of season 7, which were great, especially 7x02. I quite enjoyed False Gods for what it was. This seems to be an unpopular opinion in the fandom, which mostly hated it for what it wasn’t. And I get it - Bellamy has been missing for almost 3 episodes (even though it’s not even been 2 days since he left Sanctum), Clarke took a back seat here, and the new SciFi Anomaly storyline is far more interesting than the power struggles in Sanctum. Plus the A plot of this episode was problem-of-the-week, another potential nuclear meltdown - of a reactor we didn’t even know about before. 

it feels like a setup/breather before we get to the real story. Yes, it's high time the storylines finally converge and Clarke and the others learn that Bellamy and others are missing, and get involved in the Anomaly plot. I guess I’m more patient than most, and it helped that I already knew this would only happen in the next episode.The biggest problem of this episode is probably that it didn’t address what was happening in the other storyline, for the benefit of all the viewers who are watching this weekly, don’t necessarily think about the show’s timeline and aren’t aware of the fact that it’s been a little over one day since Bellamy, Octavia, Echo and Gabriel went to research the Anomaly Stone, that there’s absolutely nothing surprising about the fact they haven’t come back yet (people were absent for similar periods of time in season 6 even when they went to a less distant location), that there is no reason whatsoever for Clarke and others to think that there are any other threats on the moon or any other humans outside Sanctum, and that there are no radio signals or mobile phones they could use to call them before they get back. And that, if she doesn’t have reasons to think Bellamy is in danger, it’s not OOC at all for Clarke to not be whining about the fact that he left with his girlfriend, his sister and Gabriel to do research instead of stay and help her as a co-leader in Sanctum, while she is also grieving her mom... Actually, you know what, I do have a problem with people criticizing Clarke for that. But I do see why a mention would help the viewers get a sense of coherence, that both this and the previous episode belong to the same story.

But at the same time, this episode delivered some of the things many fans have been saying they wanted to see: it was focused on the characters who have been there from season 1, Raven and Murphy (and Emori, who has been there since season 2 and has had the most long-lasting relationship in the show), it gave Raven an arc and character development and put her in the situation to make “impossible choices” and understand how Clarke has felt so many times (something that many were asking for after her season 6 characterization), it, put an end to Madi being a Commander, and let Clarke grieve for the loss of her mother for another episode.

Raven's storyline was still really engaging and the scenes in the reactor intense. And damn it, I liked Hatch, even though he was in just two episodes and a few scenes. He stole the show and made me really sad when I realized he was definitely doomed. I knew from the trailer that Nikki would beat the crap out of Raven, but I didn't know why. A lot of people thought Nikki would just be a straight-up villain like McCreary, but instead, she's given a good reason to feel the way she does. And it was high time the show addressed the fact that the Eligius prisoners are looked down on as second class people or barely people. Sure, they are murderers and thieves and not nice people, but that doesn’t make it OK to see them as barely human, as Eligius Corporation did when they were going to leave them to die as expendable.

This is probably leading to the friendship between Raven and Clarke getting stronger again. Other things this episode seemed to be setting up: 

future conflicts in Sanctum: SheidhedaRussell (SheidRussell? RussellHeda?) getting more control, while Clarke and others have no idea about who he really is, while the Eligius prisoners are going to be led by a very angry Nikki;

Clarke has a continuation of her story from 7x01 and gets a kind of closure to her grief over her mother. She gets to say that she cannot lose anyone else, a very obvious setup for learning about Bellamy’s  (and others’) disappearance. At first, this made me roll my eyes a little bit - it’s not like this is a new motivation for Clarke. She is always trying to save her people, and anyone who isn’t aware how important Bellamy is to her, has not been paying attention. But then it struck me - the show was doing extra work to set up Clarke being ready to leave Madi in Sanctum without looking like a ‘bad mother’  - and for that purpose, she now 1) knows Madi is not a Heda anymore and can breathe a sign of relief that Madi can be a normal kid now, 2) has no idea about Sheidheda, and 3) has started to trust Gaia enough as someone who could take care of Madi.

This time it’s Luisa's voice saying "Previously". It looks like they're having a different cast member say it at the start of each episode (Eliza in 7x01, Marie in 7x02).

James wasn’t losing any time, did he. It’s been just a little over a day since they came from the ship, and he’s already hooking up with a girl from Sanctum. And the show really did the horror trope of a couple that goes to a secluded place to hook up and dies. 

There is a nuclear reactor in Sanctum? We go to another planet moon, and again the same problems, just as Indra said.

The opening titles ended with a new shot of the mansion and the grave next to it - this is presumably what Abby’s grave will look in the future. At the moment, it’s a heap of rocks with flowers over them. (Maybe it's meant to be Kane's, too - they don't have either of their bodies, though Abby did die on Sanctum and they could at least bury her clothes.) Contrary to what many fans thought, Clarke burying Jake’s ring was not Abby’s “funeral” - the funeral had already been held, so the answer to the often asked question “why weren’t Madi, Raven, Jackson, Murphy etc. there", is - they were, when the funeral was held. Clarke just went later, alone, to bury the ring, the remembrance of both her parents. With the grave being so close to the mansion, Gaia saw Clarke coming to bury the ring and then came to talk and bury the Flame. 

It’s good that Clarke has another confidante/budding friendship, someone to talk to in her increasingly small circle. But I’m not sure that Clarke and Gaia managed to connect that much over grief - because losing a parent and losing your religion are very different kinds of loss. Clarke doesn’t even have a religion and doesn’t have that kind of experience.

I love the way the show acknowledged that everyone knows Clarke will always be the first one to risk her life to save everyone - and Murphy knows it. But the plot mechanics ket Clarke away from this storyline (because Murphy and Emori had have it) - Indra said Calrke had her hands full with Russell’s execution, even though it wasn’t clear why she’d have to be the one to organize it (especially since Indra herself seems to be capable of dealing with the politics) and Clarke didn’t look too busy the rest of the episode.

I’m glad we’re done with the plot of Madi being Heda or having to pretend to be Heda. Although I’m sure this will haunt her still, because she has memories of other Commanders - including Becca and Sheidheda, and she may find it the easiest to recognize SH, because she knows him better than anyone.  

I completely understand why Clarke wasn’t going to let Madi order Wonkru members to perform such a dangerous task - she doesn’t want to let Madi feel responsible for sending people to their deaths, feel the same guilt she did, but at an even younger age.

Gaia telling the truth both was and wasn’t the right thing to do - morally right, but with potentially terrible consequences, if no welders had been found. Here’s a song for her by one of my favorite bands. On the other hand, Raven lied to people in the name of necessity and the greater good of them all, and achieved her goal but ended up sending people to their deaths, and felt the consequences of lying.

One revelation I really liked is that the guy from Sangedakru thinks of the infamous Dark Commander as “Sangedakru’s greatest champion”. That feels a lot more realistic than the idea that all Grounders hate him and think of him as a monster - even though their culture is based on war and killing, and we’ve seen other Grounder leaders (Queen Nia) be just as ruthless. Sheidheda being from another clan helps makes sense of Indra’s story from 6x13 of the time SH “took Trikru” and was going from village to village and killing everyone who refused to kneel. I’ve been wondering for a long time what exactly Heda were commanding before Lexa united the clans. I suppose they were trying to command, but clans were still divided and preferred Hedas from their own. And it seems that Sheidheda was also trying to ‘unite’ the clans, but not by negotiations! Of course he is considered a monster by people from all the other clans, whom he was killing and torturing and trying to conquer, but is still remembered as a hero by his own clan. Of course. That’s how it usually goes.

Small moments of Sheidheda enjoying the fact he’s corporeal again - from touching his own arms to eating a cookie - are a nice touch.

I like the fact that Sheidheda is smart and much sneakier than the pompous Russell was. He had to be smart to be able to manipulate the AI in the way no other Commander could, not even Becca, its creator, ti isolate the other Commanders, get control of Madi, and later download himself to Russell’s mind drive. SH was also using the captivity to read some of the books he’s found and apparently gain some technical knowledge about Sanctum,

Delilah’s parents are finally back. I don’t think we had seen them since they killed Priya. And Trey (the annoying  “adjustor” who was brainwashing Jordan) can go f(ck himself. Really? Blaming Delilah’s parents for avenging her death?

I’m still unsure where exactly the show is going with Jordan. His brainwashing will have to be addressed at some point. It may not have been fully successful - he doesn’t think of the Primes as gods - but it was sure enough for him to stop despising them as murderers and to start believing their BS (and even to form some sort of attachment to Priya). If he weren’t brainwashed, he’d be spending time with Delilah’s grieving parents, rather than the people who worship her murderers. Right now, the show is playing it ambiguously, so some people may even forget about brainwashing and just see Jordan as a gullible naive guy (which he is, of course, he grew up just interacting with his parents) or as Jordan sees himself, as a moral compass/substitute for his father. Someone should tell him that Monty was never naive and knew when it was necessary to fight and kill, even though he hated it and tried to avoid it. Maybe realizing that he’s been manipulated by the Devout and by SH will be a wake-up call. 

Jackson has had more character focus in S7 than he had for seasons - the mild doctor now wants revenge for his mentor-mother figure. Good to see more focus on his and Miller’s relationship, including their arguments. What Jackson said about Miller seems to have hurt Miller, who’s still feeling guilty for his role in the Blodreina regime. Maybe this Mackson disagreement contributes to Miller deciding to leave, to prove something to himself, and save Bellamy this time, since he didn’t do it in season 5.

Memori continue to be adorable. and we learn that Raven having no respect for her friends’ privacy is a recurring thing. Another snippet about the life on the Ring.

There was one line that didn’t make sense to me. Raven to Murphy: “Go do your job, be Emori’s moral anchor”. What?! Isn’t it usually the exact opposite? 

Speaking of couples - Hatch called Nikki “Honey bunny”. That has to be a Pulp Fiction reference. Raven got the job done here, but I feel like Hatch’s death will have dire consequences for the possibility of peace in Sanctum. Both because he was the more optimistic and tolerant one, willing to expect good and to try to work to earn respect, and because Nikki is now going to be even angrier and more extreme. And just like we had different views about Sheidheda among the Grounders, here we see different views among prisoners about McCreary - Hatch calls him a jackass he won’t miss, but Nikki thinks he would have fought for the rights and better treatment of the prisoners. (I wonder what any of them have been told about Diyoza.)

“Welcome to the world of grey”

A few more words about Raven’s storyline -

One thing that bothers me about this storyline is the idea that this is the first time Raven is in the "world of grey". I guess the writing staff Murphy doesn't remember that time when she tried to give him to the Grounders to be tortured and killed in Finn's place for a crime Finn committed. She also tried to get Clarke to kill Lexa and start a war over Finn in that same episode, basically to sacrifice a bunch of people for him. There was also that time when she tortured Lincoln with electric shocks to save Finn. Or that time when she was withholding medicine from the dying people, including a dying child, because of rationing. Or the time when she was ready to turn the plug on 283 prisoners in cryo sleep. Or when she gave Echo an OK to kill Shaw, her ally, in season 5.

But all this got forgotten because she's never before had to deal with the consequences of her actions. Lincoln didn't die, the others stopped her from turning over Murphy and Finn gave himself up, Clarke opted to mercy kill Finn and do what's best for everyone instead, Murphy stole the meds and gave them to Abby so the child was given the medicine but died anyway, they didn't have to - and then couldn't - kill the prisoners in their sleep, Echo did not kill Shaw... 

There were also plenty of times when Raven gave others the responsibility - like when she decided Clarke needed to make the list of 100 people who'll get to survive Praimfaya in the Arkadia as shelter (while passively aggressively bashing her at the same time, which was weird: "I'm in charge of rationing, but deciding who lives or dies is your specialty"), and then Clarke got blamed for it.U

Now, the writers (going by Jason's recent interview where he said that Raven had never done anything morally wrong in the first 6 seasons) seem to have forgotten about it - which I guess is why they wrote her as a self-righteous moralizer in season 6 - unintentionally making her really hypocritical. Which I hated, because she used to be one of my favorite characters, but became quite hard to like in season 6. 

The way I see it, it’s best to ignore ridiculous BTS statements of the writers when those statements don’t match canon. I’m all for “Death of the Author” in that case, at least. If we just ignore it, Raven’t entire arc starts making more sense. Maybe they had some weird idea that they were writing her as the moral compass of the show in season 6 (but people who have acted as a moral compass usually don’t say things like “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life!” and refuse to acknowledge their own mistakes), but I’ve always interpreted Raven’s behavior in S6 as lashing out - she was hurting and lashing out, because she had been betrayed by her substitute mom Abby in the same way and for the same reasons as her real mom; she also felt betrayed by Clarke; and then she lost Shaw, the one person who would have put her first, so she felt she had no one left who would. (Though she did get better later in the season, making up with Abby, acting less judgmental and making up with Clarke. )

This is either the show course-correcting her earlier characterization, or fixing a long-standing flaw - Raven’s tendency to be harsh and judgmental to others, which had already been there before season 6. This was seen in this episode, too, from some of her disparaging comments to Murphy, to her contempt for the Eligius prisoners (not that this isn’t understandable, with the fact that she had been tortured by McCreary’s men).

So this feels like an important step in Raven starting to face the world of grey she often tried to see as black and white, and for once be in a situation where she has, almost directly, caused people’s deaths, by decisions she made on her own. 

(The show also seems to be course-correcting a few other things about Raven: she looks more like her old self, she has gotten back some of her snark, and the show is showing her disability more - after having largely ignored it for the last couple of seasons.) 

To be fair to Raven, she did not know from the start that she was sending Hatch and others to their deaths. She had assumed at first that the task would be dangerous, but not lethal. When she realized it was, the men were already irradiated, and it was necessary to fix the reactor so it would not kill everyone. The bigger problem was that Raven had lied - because she did not respect these people enough to give them an opportunity to maybe volunteer while knowing what the danger was. I think that Hatch, at least, still would have. He did prove smarter than she thought but realizing what was going on, while she was still lying to them that they weren’t going to die in minutes, and, contrary to what she had assumed - he did still want to fix the reactor, in spite of knowing he’d die, to save someone he loved. Raven also showed a similar disrespect towards Murphy - locking him inside to get the job done. It feels like this is something that has never been fully resolved between them - the fact that Murphy was a POS in season 1 and crippled Raven, but also, that she was fully prepared to give him to the Grounders to be tortured and killed in Finn’s place. I feel like this is going to make her start thinking differently and maybe give people the benefit of a doubt.

I knew Nikki was going to beat the crap out of Raven from the trailer, but I didn’t know what her reasons would be. It felt like Raven herself almost wanted this as punishment, because she felt guilty, and would rather take a beating than comfort (”Don’t touch me!”) And I’m sure Raven can understand how Nikki feels, since she has lost Shaw so recently, and Finn before. 

I liked Hatch’s conversation with Murphy and the parallels Murphy could see there - Hatch and Nikki were another Bonnie and Clyde-style thief or rather robber duo.... except it went too far and they became murderers. Which Memori were not... but Murphy was a murderer even in season 1. In season 6, Murphy died and thought he had gone to hell for his sins, so it must have resonated with him when Hatch replied that, no, he wasn’t looking for redemption, because “There is no making up for it”.

Body count: James (RIP to yet another Arker from Wonkru, though we first met him in 6x02), his Sanctum girlfriend, and 4 Eligius prisoners including Hatch (which means that 32 remain).

Rating: 7/10

[gingerwritess]

WAIT ELLIOT’S GONNA BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MORGAN?????

ew, no, Morgan Potts-Stark is gross.

And annoying.

(Wait wait wait, this isn’t a hate post at all, keep reading you fool.)

She laughs too loud, she calls him names—especially Elli; “that’s not my name, Morgan”—she laughs when he gets hurt, blames him for things when Tony or Pepper catches them getting into trouble...she’s a pain.

But...as gross and annoying as Morgan is, she is fun, Elliot can’t deny.

You can usually find them sitting at the top of their staircase, eating Uncle Fury’s triangle grilled cheese, waving down to the countless superheroes bustling about with their day-to-day avenging. Most of the time, Morgan is the one doing the talking while Elliot listens intently, eyes wide and sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth.

She teaches him forbidden words, like his new favourite, “shit,” or another one they heard her dad muttering to one of his robots, “asshole.” Morgan knows a whole other language, he’s discovering.

She does things that he’s never seen anyone do. She builds things, purposely breaks her belongings just so she can fix them, she’s loud and dances too much, and she spends too much time smirking to ever smile at him.

She does laugh though, often, and most of the time at him.

And she knows, like, everything.

It’s a little intimidating.

* * * *

“Who’s that?”

“That’s the sad hobo from the fourth floor,” Morgan explains, following Elliot’s finger to the man falling asleep in an armchair. “Dad says he’s been alive over a hundred years!”

“Why’s he got a metal arm??” Elliot presses his face to the balcony railing, eyes wide as he stares.

“Bad guys. My dad said they were real bad.”

“Woah.”

Morgan grins at him for a moment, pride worming its way into her little heart at knowing more than him.

Then she taps Elliot on the shoulder and points at Thor. “Wanna know something about him?”

“I know that one, dummy, that’s my uncle.” Elliot rolls his eyes and scoots closer.

“Well duh. But did you know he’s stronger than Mr. Hulk??”

Elliot claps a hand over his mouth with a gasp—Thor hears and glances up at the two kids, flashing them a smile and a wave.

“No way,” Elliot whispers, giving his uncle a tiny wave back. “Nobody’s stronger than Mr. Hulk. ‘Cept my dad, but—”

“Um, I don’t think so.” Morgan turns around with a giggle to make sure your office door is almost closed, keeping their conversation private from you and Loki inside. “C’mere.”

She waves him over and cups her hand by her mouth, leaning in to whisper in Elliot’s ear.

“Mr. Hulk beat your daddy into a pulp one time.”

“That’s not true!”

“Sure is,” she giggles, waving down at the doctor in question who just walked in, thankfully not...well, green. “My dad told me he ruined your dad’s mon-uh-logue, they musta been playing a game or somethin’. Dad said it was the funniest thing he’s ever seen in his life—”

“That’s not very nice.” Elliot frowns and crosses his little arms. “Well, did you know my dad threw your dad out a window one time?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh.” His chest deflates and Morgan giggles.

“You’ve got a sad face.” She pokes a finger into his cheek. “Stop it.”

Your son shakes his head, for some reason wishing he could run into that meeting and just...give his dad a hug.

I think they both need it.

“C’mon,” Morgan pleads, shaking his arm, “stop being sad. Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop—”

An inevitable smile starts to tug at his lips. “Stop bein’ annoying, then.”

“Can’t.” She shrugs and starts poking him in the tummy. “Not ‘till you’re done being sad.”

Within seconds, Pepper is stopping the corporate meeting you’re in to poke her head out the door and shush the two shrieking kids rolling around at the top of a staircase, a full fledged tickle-war underway.

* * * *

Elliot learns a lot from her. Stuff his books could never teach him—at least, not the books he reads. Like AC/DC; Elliot had no idea that words could be so loud.

He decides he likes it. Rock and roll. He likes listening to it at the top of the staircase with earbuds in—one in her ear, the other in his—the music so loud that he squints with each drum beat as they watch the weird people their parents work with bustling about the compound.

Morgan always insists on having the left earbud. He never argues or asks why.

One day she lets him have the left earbud for one song, something by a band called Guns ‘n Roses, and he nearly calls her an asshole when she turns the music up all the way.

The left earbud is louder. “More bass,” she explains when she’s done laughing. She takes it back and unpauses the song.

She doesn’t flinch at the music.

Morgan is stronger than he guessed.

She once told him that the guitar is her favourite part of the music—that night at dinner he announced he wants to learn how to play guitar.

If Morgan likes it, it’s probably a good thing to know.

He doesn’t catch the small smile you and Loki share when you agree.

Elliot is terrible at it, he quickly discovers, and he gives it up after only a couple lessons. Not, of course, before Morgan finds out and makes him play her a shakily picked out rendition of the intro to Sweet Child of Mine about seven times.

Each time he tries, she claps and smiles and laughs and he beams, glad that finally, he did something she was impressed by.

She has everything. She’s good at everything—like when she picked up guitar a week after he gave up and was playing entire songs within days.

It’s annoying.

Morgan is annoying.

Even more annoying when they’re in high school and she won’t admit she hates him.

Growing up together, Elliot always had a tiny grip on her feelings, her emotions, could always tell when she wasn’t herself.

When she was almost ten, she figured out that maybe her little black-haired friend wasn’t just a good guesser when she would quiz him about herself. Elliot could guess more than her favourite colour, favourite animal, food; the basic stuff.

He started being able to guess when she had a restless night, when she was mad at her parents, when she needed to get out of her head. How she felt in a good moment, where she feels most at peace. When she’s in a situation and wants a way out.

At first it made her uncomfortable.

Elliot could tell, naturally, and stopped spending time with her for a few weeks.

He avoided her at all costs, kept his head down when he had to walk by her in the compound, did everything he could to start controlling this third eye.

Except talk to Loki. He came to you at one point, almost in tears because Morgan said he was “kinda weird,” and you told him that he should talk to his father about this, too. After all, he would be the only one who might have a single clue about what Elliot is going through.

But he won’t, he won’t talk to Loki about it, for some reason he doesn’t want to bring it up.

Their abilities and for lack of a better word, magic, have always been something that brought the two of them closer. Never was a problem, was never weird—

Tony and Pep apparently had a talk with Morgan, judging from the stern frowns and the tear stained face of Morgan when they showed up on your doorstep to apologise.

“You’re not weird,” she choked out. “I’m sorry, Elli, you’re not weird, you’re my friend and I’m so, so sorry.”

He didn’t correct her, you noticed, for calling him Elli.

Morgan Potts-Stark is annoying—and gross—and...well, it’s a pretty dress.

It’s blue.

Soft looking, satin-y, draping down her back, and she feels unstoppable. Elliot can tell; this surge of confidence (he’s guessing it’s coming from wearing the heels), she’s never felt this sure of herself.

It’s weird, watching her walk down their staircase. They don’t sit up there much anymore. Sometimes Elliot will, he’ll make his own sandwich (unless Fury is there, of course) and take his homework, grab a book, and sit at the top of the staircase until you and Loki are ready to go home.

Morgan doesn’t sit with him much anymore. She has a workshop that she likes to hide in, and Elliot’s only been down there once.

As much as he tells himself it’s not because he’s in her head, she’s just busy, there’s a nagging thought that just won’t go away that maybe she’s back to avoiding him.

She’s going to homecoming; only her first year of high school and she got a date to the dance. Tony, of course, had everyone in the compound stand by the foot of the staircase to watch her grand entrance—she deserves it, Elliot thinks, when everyone starts applauding and she blushes deep red.

Elliot isn’t going to the dance. Same high school...different experience.

He chose not to go, said he didn’t want to. Said that crowded rooms hurt his head, they’re too loud, too full, too busy.

You and Loki take him and Frigg out for ice cream. Elliot doesn’t seem too bothered to be missing such an event; he carries Frigg on his back and lets her eat half his ice cream, shoving his hands in his pockets when they start turning blue.

The four of you watch a movie when you get home, the usual dogpile on Loki. Elliot seems happy; he’s smiling, laughing, has his head on Loki’s shoulder and occasionally stops to tickle Frigg when she tries to push him out of his spot.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes.

There’s a couple texts waiting to be opened. From Morgan.

“Guess what the theme of the dance is...winter wonderland. In September?? Made me think of you, frosty!”

His hands are still blue and patchy. He pushes them deeper in his pockets.

Loki notices and presses his lips to his son’s forehead. “Don’t,” he whispers, smiling softly. “We love you. Don’t.”

Frigg takes advantage of Elliot’s distraction and wedges her little self right between the two of them with a proud fit of giggles.

His phone vibrates again and he glances at it—Morgan again.

“Someone is trying to sing a karaoke Sweet Child of Mine. HELP.”

“Seriously, I’ll take your guitar version over this ANY day.”

He can’t help it and smiles down at his phone.

“OoooOOO!!” Frigg pokes him with a squeal. “Are you talking to a girl??”

He scowls and shoves a pillow in his sister’s face. “Shut it, Frigg.”

“You gonna date her??” Frigg can’t stop giggling, fighting against the pillow and trying to reach Elliot’s phone. “Gonna kiss her?! Mom!! Elli’s gotta girlfriend, Elli’s gotta girlfriend—”

“Shut up!” A pillow smacks Frigg across the face and Elliot tackles the little girl, shoving handfuls of snow down her shirt as she shrieks with laughter and tries to fight back.

Morgan?? His girlfriend? Oh, please, that’ll never happen.

Morgan Potts-Stark is gross.

And annoying.

Remember?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

since i’m on mobile it wouldn’t let me tag like half of you on this post, sorry folks!!!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @belladonnabarnes @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 34

Catch up on AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

 Dog and pony show it is. There were more and varied people at the party, but it felt the same. I felt like I was on a leash being paraded around the room. I was introduced, explained about, talked at, and I acted well enough to win an Oscar. There were some people and some stories which were interesting. Sometimes not. Advertising campaigns are usually less interesting than movie things. Corporate people and I don't have much in common. I have a rudimentary knowledge of corporate executive speak from previous functions, but most of the conversation is them asking me about projects and people. It was really bad after Civil War because everyone wanted information. Information I didn't actually have. Hell, we didn’t know it was a funeral when we filmed the damn thing.

Almost two hours in I escaped to the bar. Wait staff had been delivering me drinks, but this was a moment of escape. I leaned against the bar and asked for tequila. They had the one Emma had said was her favorite. I took a sip and smiled.

 A voice beside me said, "The tequila that good or the party that bad."

 I looked at my glass then the man squeezed in the corner. He was my age, dressed more casual in jeans and a nice shirt, and swirling a healthy two fingers of bourbon around a glass. I opted for truth, "More about the woman who told me this was her favorite."

 "That's better than either." He held out his hand, "I'm Sam."

 I shook his hand, "Sebastian. Nice to meet you." I nodded toward the people. "How do you fit in here?"

 "My wife." He pointed to an attractive redhead. "I’m the arm candy."

 Funny.

 "Good for you."

Sam smirked and took a long drink. "Where is your tequila connoisseur?"

I looked at my watch, "Eighteen hours and a ninety-minute train ride north."

He hissed in a breath, "Sorry."

"No, nothing bad." I was shaking my head. "She's new. It's new." I smiled, "It's good, just new."

"New is good." He cringed, "Too good to expose her to this horse shirt."

We continued talking until I finished my second drink. Sam walked with me over to his wife and my night had taken a definite good turn.

My head hated me in the morning. My stomach wasn't my biggest fan either. I downed a bottle of alkaline water and some Advil before heading to the gym. I grabbed a hangover smoothie on the way. By the time the workout was over I was feeling human. I took a degree of shit for being hungover and a little extra for my weekend plans. Specifically, my hangover would have a negative effect on my weekend. I called bullshit. They were just trying to get into my head.

 For this weekend I packed better. I guess that means I packed better for tonight’s dinner. Tomorrow was a shorts and t-shirt sort of day. I wonder if her team has a uniform? Now I have to pack several different colors of shirts to make sure I'm not walking around in rival colors. Alternatively, I could ask.

 Sebastian ~ What are your team's colors?

 Emma ~ Blue and orange.

 Sebastian ~ I can do blue.

 Emma ~ Got something against orange?

 Sebastian ~ Don't like orange.

 Emma ~ Me either. How was last night?

 Sebastian ~ Tequila!

 There were pictures from the party on the companies Instagram. I took a screenshot and sent one to Emma.

 Emma ~ Your face! Look at your face.

 I'd shaved before dinner. I ran my hand over the stubble that had already grown back.

 Sebastian ~ No beard for this ad.

 Emma ~ Can’t wait to get my hands on your face.

 Sebastian ~ I'm done for the day. Can you pick me up at 3:30? If not, I’ll go visit mom.

 Emma ~ I can. I'll still be in work clothes.

 Sebastian ~ Teacher is hot.

 Emma ~ We'll see...

 Since my meeting canceled and I’m not leaving for a few hours I decided to stretch out on the couch and read. That lasted about fifteen minutes. I'm distracted. Distracted by a woman. It’s been a long time since I've been distracted by a woman. A very long time to this degree. I keep replaying conversations. I can hear her voice, the words she uses, and her laughter. I can see her smile and the way she holds her body. Her beautiful body. Her strength and her confidence, the way she carries herself is sexy. There’s a compilation of clips running through my mind. Thoughts and memories distract me from my day and make me smile. All the damn time.

 On the train, I started working on a playlist. More than one. A bigger one with songs that had me thinking of Emma. Fast, slow, sexy, whatever songs. I included things I wanted her to hear. I shoved everything into the big playlist. From there I narrowed it down for a smaller one. A soundtrack. Songs I want to dance, sing, make out, and have sex too. I moved things in and out several times. Making a playlist for us is much harder. I don't want songs that don't reflect what I’m feeling, what I want. That's tough because I'm changing every hour. I’m jumping in with both feet, then stepping back to ease in, then running forward again. Back and forth and up and down. Never going backward from where we are. The back and forth is more trying to find what's next. What's too far? And is it too far for me or am I concerned it’s too far for her?

 Time went fast. My project was nowhere near done. Luckily, I had another train ride to work on it come Monday. Outside on the sidewalk was a long line of cars. The traffic was steady, even rushed, to get out of the lot. Just the pickup was delaying the process. It reminded me of a roller coaster where you get in and barely have time to buckle up before the ride is off. I could see a red CRV back almost a dozen vehicles. I walked toward until I was close enough to see Emma in the driver’s seat. She saw me and waved. I heard the door lock disengage as I reached for the handle.

 First things first, a kiss. Slow enough to feel it and quick enough to not get the wrath of the other drivers. Emma reached for my hand, "I'm glad you’re here."

"Me too." I took a moment to check out teacher clothes and started laughing. "What the hell are you wearing?

 Emma smiled, "It's Fantasy Friday."

 "Pull the damn car over!" I point to the right. "Over there." She did as I asked and pulled across two spots. I moved my hand to shift the CRV into Park. "I need to check this out."

 Emma wore a purple gauzy dress with a halter top, a skirt halfway to her knees, and long strands of cloth hanging in different lengths. She had a pair of black tights on under the dress. In her hair, she had a crown of flowers and behind her were white wings.

 After checking out the whole costume I met her eyes with a smile, "Fantasy Friday."

 "I'm a fairy."

 "I can see that." She looked cute and silly. The thought of her teaching class dressed like a fairy made my heart beat faster. I don't have to see her teach to know she’s a good teacher. She's gone all-in. She looked confused by my facial expression. I shook it off, it didn't matter and she’d understood in a second. I reached under her hair, mindful of her wings, and cupped her neck. "Is there a curse or anything for kissing a fairy."

 "Only if you do it badly."

 "I'm safe then."

 I leaned across the console to press my lips to hers. My intention was a relatively chaste but long kiss ending with a hint of tongue. Emma wanted a long, deep, wet, kiss. I was easily convinced. Very easily. I'm pretty sure the only reason we had a mini make-out session in a parking lot was that it was too light and too busy to have sex. We have some kind of incendiary chemistry going on.

 I moved away from the kiss and buried my face against her neck. I laid a wet kiss where she liked best before moving my mouth to her ear and whispering. "I gotta tell you. You look very cute, but this isn't my fantasy."

 Emma ran her hand down my arm, "You'll have to fill me in on your fantasy, so I can make that happen for you." She kissed me and held tight to my bicep.

 The hours of distraction and attempts to pull together a playlist were paying off for me. I was already worked up and excited to see her. Actually being with her, her dressed to read to her students, and our flirting kisses had me on edge. I’m calculating the appropriate time between arrival and having sex. I had a basic idea of continued flirting through dinner, ramping up to sexual flirting before we got to dessert, then cutting loose when we got back home. But I'm telling you, I feel like Emma has other plans. Plans for me. I like being the subject of nefarious plans. I'm feeling kinda stalked. The good kind of stalked. Not the someone tracking my movements through my friends’ Instagram type of stalking. I won’t be going far enough for her to lose me, so she won’t have far to stalk. It's conceivable I could tie myself to her bed and wait for her to show up. Ok, maybe not right now, but it’s an option.

 She told me about Fantasy Friday as she drove. "We have theme days through the months. Like Manic Monday where we incorporate movement and dance into our lessons. More than usual and have a dance party in the afternoon. Naughty or Nice Tuesdays where they earn cards to get them out of things or trade with peers. Camping Thursday is big popular. But Fantasy Fridays are the best. They all get into it and I have boxes of costumes so no one feels left out."

 Emma’s attention to make sure no one would feel left out was one more thing on the list of things that make her an amazing teacher. "What happens on Fantasy Friday?"

 “Today they had to present their character story. Where they're from, what skills they have, what their lives are like."

 I could tell by the tone of her voice she had fun with her backstory. "Tell me yours."

 Emma smiled at me, "I am the lost fairy of Central Park. There was a war with the bridge trolls and I was sent away for my safety. Soon an agreement will be reached and I will return to my home. I enjoy pollinating, singing to flowers, and providing mediation between arguing animals."

 "Is this lesson recorded?" I was most interested in the pollinating.

 "It is."

 "Can I watch?"

 "If I can watch something of yours."

 I squeezed her hand. "Deal."

 At her condo I followed her in, watching the fabric swish and admiring her ass. Like I said, worked up. Worked the fuck up.

 Emma opened the door and walked in, holding the door. She smiled as I walked in and spoke, "Bine-ai revenit, Sebasti-an."

 I stopped dead in my tracks. Emma had said, "Welcome back, Sebastian" in a not too bad Romanian. The accent was off, but her pronunciation of my name was beautiful. To me anyway.

 My mouth hung open in surprise, a slight smile curving the sides. "Mulţumesc. (thank you) Did you learn words to be able to say my name?" Last weekend we’d discovered I prefer the Romanian pronunciation of my name, but it didn’t sound right in connection with English sentences.

 Her smile answered, "Da." (Yes)

 I walked to her, pressing her back to the wall, with my hands on either side of her shoulders. I was affected more than I would have expected. "How much do you know?"

 She grimaced, "Not a lot. Pronunciation is hard."

"I know someone who can teach you."

 "Gotta be phrases so I can say your name."

“Sărută-mă. Repeat." My eyes stayed on hers.

"What am I saying?"

"Try it and see." This was fun. And hot, really fucking hot.

"Sărută-mă, Sebasti-an." She may not know what she’s saying, but her tone was perfect.  Fucking hell. I can't believe her.

 "Fericit, iubito." I dipped down and sucked her bottom lip between mine. Emma licked along my lips urging me to open to her. It didn’t take much urging.

 Emma kissed my collar bone, "What did you have me say."

 "Kiss me." I went for her neck, "And I said “Happily, baby".”

 I continued kissing her neck, loving the way she sighed and the feel of her hands on me. I stepped closer to press the length of my body against hers. My cock was hard and the pressure against her stomach felt amazing. I pulled my head back to breathe, looking up and closing my eyes. I felt her hands cup my face and tilt my face back to hers.

 "Do you want me like I want you? Right now." She licked her lips.

 I groaned before I spoke, "I really fucking do."

 We crashed together. Emma rubbed against my cock and I kissed her like it had been forever. I dug underneath the fairy fabric and hooked my thumbs in her tights, taking those and her panties down to the floor. I reached for my bag and found a condom. I held the corner between my teeth as I stood. I needed my hands to run up her legs and one to slide into her. The way she curled her hips against my hand made me smile around the condom.

 Emma plucked the condom from between my teeth and tucked it into her bra, "Give me that." She was kissing me before the words died in the air. Her hands went for my jeans. A slow stroke of my cock preceded the sweet sound of my zipper. Her hand wrapped around me as soon as she had my jeans over my ass.

 I pushed my jeans down farther and nuzzled between her breasts. I grabbed the condom with my teeth and mumbled, "I need this back." I worked quickly, covering myself and bending my knees to push up into her.

 Emma cried out and I moaned loudly. I put my hands on her ass to lift her, using the wall to help support her. She wrapped her legs and arms around me, holding on while I thrust into her. There was nothing but the sounds of sex. No words, just sound. God, it felt good. All lust and need. I wanted the sex. I wanted the contact. I wanted the closeness. She fucking learned Romanian to use my name. That’s the thought that sent me over the edge. I buried myself deep and came hard.

Emma's fingers ran through my hair as her legs went back to the ground. My face was buried against her neck, "I think I smashed your wings."

She laughed, "They detach. Snaps."

"Oh, good." I pulled us away from the wall, feeling around for the snaps as she hugged me, her hands caressing my back. I undid the snaps and dropped the wings on my bag. "Come with me."

I took her hand, leading her to the couch. I led her to sit across my lap, her fingers ran over my chin. "I don't know if I like the gray patch or dimple more."

I didn’t care as long as she kept touching me, "I don't always have control of any hair on my body."

She kissed me lightly, "I saw I,Tonya."

I cringed, "Bad look all around."

"Everything grows back or can be shaved off."

I trailed my finger along her shins, over her knees, then back to her feet, "I lost a section of pubic hair for the Bronze." Her eyes widened with amusement. "Character had a tattoo. An Olympic medal."

 Emma laughed, "Narcissist."

I said the line, "I am the fucking god of gymnastics."

"We should watch that later tonight."

 "No, we shouldn't." I kissed her before she could voice any other shitty ideas. I moved my caress under her legs and when I got to the back of her knees her legs fell open, which was what I was going for. I kissed over to her ear, "That's what I wanted."

I slid two fingers inside her, rubbing the wall of her vagina to find her g-spot. I massaged internally and

barely used my thumb on her clit just enough to get amp things up.

Emma took a shuddering breath, "Talk to me."

I kept up the stimulation and moved my mouth close to her ear. The words came out in long sentences. Long Romanian sentences. When her nails started to dig into my arm I moved back where I could see her face. "You gonna come for me, baby?"

"I am."

I used more pressure inside and out.

 Emma gasped and arched her back, "Oh fuck, Bastian. Your fingers...”

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Barren: Chapter 15

Words: 3,021

Ships: Established Moralogince, Eventual LAMP

Warnings: food mention, past death mention, characters fighting, crying, eavesdropping, mention of an abusive ex

A/N: I’m not paying any dental bills if this gives anyone cavities 

Tags: @fandermom @astral-eclipse @patheticlilkiddo @a-pastel-pan  @dr-gloom @cloudedskies29 @quietwords-loudthoughts @mentallytiredgoat  @merlybird500 @notveryglittery @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @ninja-wizard101 @littleladynightshade @pumpkinminette @weird-spooky-broody-dude @unicornlogansanders @muliphandomer @jacksmellington101 @notalwaysthebadguy @skruffy901 @jynxlovesluck 

Previous / Next

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The woman took purposeful strides, often forgetting how much shorter the boy walking next to her was. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail and she seemed to be dressed more for a business meeting than a therapy session. While not of a corporate degree, the woman certainly had business to attend to.

“Oh- H- Hello, I don’t have any appointments this week, but-“

“Cut the shit, Emile,” Nicole said. “Where’s my son?”

+++

Virgil was thriving from all the attention he had been getting. Patton showered him with forehead kisses and cuddles, Roman offered compliments and hugs at every corner, and Logan was always there to offer reassurances and reminders of how loved he was.

He felt like he belonged. And that was the most confusing thing of all. His heart was torn in a million different directions between soaking in all of the love or hiding far, far away from it all so that the rejection would hurt less.

But Virgil was selfish. And deeply falling into the abyss of love. He laughed as he saw Logan and Patton dancing in the kitchen, both so clumsy but laughing and full of love. “Dance with me,” Roman said, holding a hand in front of Virgil’s.

“Oh- I- I have two left feet,” he lied.

“So do those two. C’mon. It’ll be fun.” Roman’s invitation felt so common yet so intimate all at once. Virgil knew how the three of them loved to dance together when they were alone, was this some sort of a silent invitation into the quietest and domestic parts of their lives? Of their relationship? Virgil’s heart sped in his chest.

He took Roman’s hand and let himself be twirled into the kitchen and a gentle waltz, safely tucked between Roman’s arms. His heartbeat in time to the soft, jazzy tune he vaguely remembered from a movie he had seen with his mother when he was a kid. He could hardly remember anything other than talking dogs and a lot of balloons, but the song vibrated through his chest with the word “soulmates” echoing through his head.

It was a feeling he had read about in books and fairytales. Soulmates knowing that they’re meant to be together. It all seemed so fake all those years ago, and as he got older he knew being Barren meant he’d never be able to feel that. But now? Everything seemed perfect. It seemed so right, in a horribly wrong sort of way.

Roman twirled him into Logan’s arms as he began to dance with Patton. Virgil smiled at Logan and laughed awkwardly but found dancing with him to be far easier than expected. Logan was a perfect lead, precise and taking each step deliberately, and he kept a firm hold on Virgil but one that felt comforting nonetheless.

They all kept dancing, switching partners every few minutes, and laughing and loving. The song ended with Virgil once again in Roman’s arms, laughing as their foreheads pressed together. He found himself completely blind to the glance that Logan and Patton shared; he found himself completely blind to the fact that his life was about to change forever.

Later that day, when Roman was tucked away with work and Patton and Logan were busy training, Virgil found himself lying on the floor of Elliot’s room. “How much did it hurt?” he asked. “The tattoo. Mom always wanted me to get one, but I was too scared of the pain.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said. “But it’s not that bad. And if it saves your life, it's worth it.”

“And yet we’re both here,” Virgil said. “So, was it?”

“I-“ Elliot thought for a moment, silence on their tongue. “I just... chose the wrong name.”

“A bully?”

“A boyfriend,” they said. “He’s not exactly... a fan of people like us. Sometimes I wonder if he’s the one that reported me.”

“Tattoo shops are raided all the time,” Virgil said. “Someone probably just stole the documents.”

“Someone,” they argued, “would have had to tell the police first.”

“That’s fair.”

“How did you get caught?”

“Typical story. Someone saw my arm, caused a scene, and I just couldn’t outrun the cops. I was put on display. I hated it.”

“Virgil, that sounds awful.”

“I’m sure what you went through wasn’t exactly a picnic either.”

“Being Barren sucks ass.”

“It really does, doesn’t it?” Virgil laughed. “But at least we have company. I can’t imagine doing this all with anyone else.”

“It sounds like you love them,” Elliot teased.

Virgil stood silently for a moment, memories and emotions rushing to his head and through his heart. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Maybe I do.”

“Oh no, you’re in deep, huh?”

Virgil sent them a glare. “I’m just saying that I,” he said slowly, putting deep thought and consideration into every word, “enjoy their company.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh don’t give me that look!” Virgil said. “It’s not like I’m calling them my soulmates- well...-“ He decided that was a topic for a different day. “They make me feel safe. And loved. And isn’t that all anybody wants when all is said and done?” He paused for a moment, face blushing as he thought of that morning’s events. “I think they’re incredible.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Thanks. And I wish you the best of luck with getting out of here. I’m sure this isn’t your ideal situation.”

“Living with my therapist, three polyamorous idiots, and my best friend’s hero?” they asked. “Not what I expected, no.”

“Hero?”

“You’re a living legend!” Elliot explained. “My friend Kai really admires you. He thinks you’re pretty kickass.”

“Kickass? I hardly did anything. Logan is the one who saved me.”

“Au contraire,” Elliot argued. “You saved me.”

“Huh. Maybe I do have a bit of kickass.”

“Hell yeah, you fucking do.”

“Language.”

“Kiss my ass,” Elliot said, sticking out their tongue with a laugh. Virgil fell back against the floor with laughter. He finally felt like he was making up for lost time on all the years he spent friendless and alone.

+++

It was a grocery day. Patton was thankful to have the least risky job of the bunker, but that never meant he was completely safe. He kept the sleeves of his cardigan just high enough the show that he had a mark, but still covered enough to prevent anyone from looking any closer at it. He carried reusable shopping bags in his hands as he walked the extra block back to Roman’s Jeep. As he walked, he found himself faced with a difficult proposition.

Would it be the right thing to do to visit Emile?

On one hand, if Emile had wanted to see them, surely he would have come back to the bunker already.

But what if he needed company? There’s a large difference between having a friend visit you and going back to a small family.

Patton pulled out the keys from his pocket and unlocked the Jeep. He piled in grocery bags into the back seat and got into the driver’s seat. He took a deep breath and started the directions to Picani’s office...

+++

Roman was starting to get really sick of the sound of keys typing. He had been locked in the office for hours, trying to get paperwork done for the organization. He hated paperwork, especially on such short notice. He had been taking whatever short lunch break he had to just walk around the bunker and have an opportunity to stretch his legs. He stopped in front of Elliot’s room, his hand on the doorknob, to ask if they were hungry.

“It sounds like you love them.”

“Yeah. Maybe I do.”

Roman knew that eavesdropping was wrong, but could anyone blame him if he stuck around for a few more seconds, just for some context?

Eventually, his guilty conscience was too hard to ignore and he quickly made his way into the kitchen to at least attempt a meal. That is if black coffee and ramen count as a meal.

“A man of high taste, huh?” Virgil teased as he passed by.

Roman’s heart raced as he emptied the noodles into the pot. Did Virgil know he had been listening? “I could make you some if you want.”

“Nah, I had a turkey sandwich earlier,” Virgil said. “But have fun with your John Mulaney Piss Poor College Student Dinner Deluxe.”

“No one said it’s easy when Patton is on grocery duty,” Roman teased, turning around but easily finding himself chest to chest with Virgil and trying not to blush so hard. Was Virgil’s smirk always this adorable? The younger boy was at the same height as Roman’s lips, perfect for forehead kisses; was he allowed to be flustered by such a simple fact?

Virgil quickly moved out of the way. “No offense, but this place has never exactly had a five-star kitchen.”

Roman laughed, moving to a different counter to chop up some old vegetables for his noodles. “In our defense, all we have is Emile’s extra cash to feed us.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Virgil asked quietly. “Or- Or maybe I could hide in the back of the Jeep next time Patton leaves and- and then I can talk to him and say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I- And then maybe he will come back! Or- At least things will be okay again and- and- and-“

“Virgil, you need to calm down you’re getting hysterical,” Roman said. “You can’t leave the bunker. It’s still very dangerous for you out there.”

“But Emile-“

“Emile will be fine. You, however, won’t be.”

“But-“ Roman opened his arms wide and Virgil ran into him, hiding his face in Roman’s chest. Roman rubbed on hand on Virgil’s back as he hummed the gentle tune they had all been dancing to that morning.

“What if I lose Emile too?” Virgil asked quietly. Roman could feel the tears on his shirt. “I already lost my mom. I can’t lose him too.”

“You won’t,” Roman whispered. “This is just how Emile is. Sometimes he just needs to hide away for a while. Until the sadness subsides, you know? He’ll be back in his own time. He’s gone through a great loss and all we can do is give him time.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“And Virgil? He loves you. Don’t think that this means he cares for you any less.”

“Your ramen is burning.”

“Oh fuck!” Roman yelled, running over to the stove and quickly moving the pot off the burner. He tossed in a few of the chopped veggies and stirred in the seasoning. “Not my best batch,” he teased, easing off the mild heart attack he was experiencing. “I’m usually better at cooking.”

“That’s half my fault,” Virgil teased, quickly wiping his eyes and seeming more than eager to change the conversation.

“Oh please, I’ve ruined plenty of Patton’s meals by being an attention whore,” Roman said. “The desire for Patton hugs waits for no man, woman, enby, or pot roast.”

“I believe that.”

“So uh, this is probably a bad time to ask,” Roman said as he poured his half-burnt half raw soup into a bowl. “But I’m working on getting Elliot transferred.”

“Transferred?”

“And I, well, I need to ask if you want to go with them,” Roman said. Despite knowing that Virgil would likely say “no” he couldn’t stop his heart from racing or his hands from shaking. “I know this isn’t really your thing. We can get you a tattoo and send you to a division in another country. You can start life all over again.”

“Start over?”

“And you won’t be trapped underground,” he said through a forced smile. “But it’s up to you. It wouldn’t take long to do the paperwork once I get Elliot’s set up.”

“Leave,” Virgil said slowly as if the word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“You know, repeating everything I say isn’t much of an answer.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer straight away. It’s okay to take your time.”

“No, that’s not what I meant I- I think that paperwork is completely unnecessary.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know, I have an anxiety disorder and I, well, I don’t like change soooo.”

“So?”

“You’re really going to make me spell this out for you, huh?”

“It’s a simple question, Virgil.”

“I want to stay,” he mumbled. “As cliche as it sounds, you guys are like a family to me. I don’t want anything to ruin that.”

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman said with a smile. We love you too.

+++

Patton hated going anywhere empty-handed, which is why he was currently walking into Dr. Picani’s office with a box full of chocolate donuts. He had expected to find Emile alone and silently working on paperwork, what he found instead was the flap of a butterfly’s wings that started a storm.

Or perhaps it was already a storm from a butterfly of long, long ago.

“Emile, I didn’t realize you have patients.”

“Patton!” Emile yelled. “What are you doing here?” He seemed to be in the middle of a fight with a tall, brunette woman and a short boy with cotton-candy hair.

“I came to see how you’re doing. And, uh, give you these,” he said, putting the box of donuts on the table. The young boy immediately went for the box of donuts and started eating one.

“Patton, I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Bianchi. Mrs. Bianchi, this is my old friend, Patton Hart.”

“Bianchi?” Patton asked, eyebrows raised. “Any relation to the wanted fugitive?”

“Who’s asking?” Nicole asked, her voice dripping with poison.

“It’s okay,” Emile said. “We’re all on the same side.”

“Nicole is Virgil’s mother. She’s trying to find him.” “And I need to find Elliot!”

“Kai,” Nicole whispered, “you need to calm down.”

“NO!” Kai yelled. “I need to know where they are!”

“Elliot’s with Virgil,” Patton said. “Both of them are only an hour’s drive away.”

“Oh my God,” Nicole gasped. “He’s okay.”

“Elliot’s on their way to being transferred, though,” Patton said.

“Transferred?”

“The bunker only has room for so many,” he explained, “and it’s not exactly a life living underground.”

“So, where are they going?”

“One of the other branches of our organization will take them and help them set up a new life.”

“And Virgil?”

“The choice to stay or leave is Virgil’s to make,” Patton said. “That is if he hasn’t made it already.”

“I need to see him,” Nicole pleaded. “Please, I need to see my son!”

“And you will,” Patton said. “But not today. You never know who could be following.”

“So what the hell am I supposed to do? Wait?!”

“With the knowledge that your son is safe and loved, yes.”

“Mr. Hart, I need to know, how is he doing? What has his life been like for the past few months?” Nicole asked. “You said my son is loved, how can I be so sure?”

“Virgil has spent the past few months living with and my two boyfriends, Roman and Logan, as well as Dr. Picani and his late queerplatonic partner, Remy- may God rest his soul- and I can assure you that we have spent all these months making sure that he is comfortable. As I have grown closer with Roman and Logan, the three of us have also grown to care for your son. I can only hope that no matter what, he is safe and happy.”

“Patton,” Emile whispered under his breath, a knowingness in his tone and the shine of his eyes.

“And I know he misses you, Nicole. Call me in a week and I can arrange for Emile to bring you to our hideaway.”

“Will Elliot still be there?” Kai asked.

“Of course,” Patton said. “As long as you can promise to see them, I’ll hold off on their transfer. You two deserve a proper goodbye.”

Kai blinked back a few tears and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Hart. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, now if you don’t mind, I need a few minutes alone with Dr. Picani.”

“Of course, Mr. Hart,” Nicole said. “And thank you so much. I will be in contact with you in one week.”

“I look forward to it, Mrs. Bianchi.”

Nicole and Kai smiled as they left the room and Patton was quick to fall onto Picani’s couch.

“Patton, you really must warn me next time,” Emile said. “You know how I hate surprises.”

“You’re going to complain to me about surprises? That was a surprise, Em.”

“She shocked me too, but-”

“How long have you known?”

“What?”

“Nicole. How long have you been hiding the fact that she’s trying to find Virgil? How long have you hidden Virgil from her?”

“A month or two but-”

“A month?! Emile!”

“I didn’t want you all to lose Virgil!”

“Virgil needs his mother, Emile. As much as you care for him, and as much as I love him, he needs his mother.”

“He needs us too.”

“That’s his own choice to make.”

“I just... I thought this would be easier. For everyone.”

“Em,” Patton sighed, “it’s time to admit that you were wrong.”

“How can I make this up to you guys?”

“One week,” Patton said, getting up from the couch and heading out of the office. “I have frozens in the car.”

“Patton-”

“Enjoy the donuts.”

+++

When Patton got home, seeing Roman waiting for him seemed to be all that mattered. He parked the car and turned off the engine, lazily putting the keys in his pocket as he slipped out of the car.

“Babe, let me help you with the bags.”

“Shh, bags can wait,” Patton said, wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck and letting all of his weight fall onto his boyfriend.

“Long day?”

“Mhmm.”

“Want me to just shut up and kiss you?” he teased.

“You know me so well,” Patton said as Roman’s hand cupped his cheek and they closed the gap between them. Yeah, Patton thought, bags can wait.

[mrsnazariowrites]

Sweet Venom

The Edge of the World: Chapter 11

Perfect Match AU - Pairing: Damien x MC

Perma-note: Dames’ name is Dexter in this series

A/N: Re-creating scenes from canon is such a pain sometimes. But at least this is the last filler chapter before shit hits the fan again. Enjoy ☺️

The supporting lyrics are from the song Paradise, by Within Temptation

If you need to catch up, Chapters 1-10 is in my Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Summary: Hayden, his friends and their newest ally regroup in the control room to find their friends and uncover a disturbing piece of Eros’ past. When this reaches Dexter, how will he handle it? Is it time for his loyalty to be put to test?

You and us, or I and them,

There comes a time to take a stand

The wheel is watching all that keeps on burning

Hayden, Sloane, Nadia and Steve followed their group's newest member into a small office. When they entered, they were met with a series of monitors lined up against the wall. The two guards sitting in front of them suddenly glanced up from the large bag of chips they'd been snacking on.

Hayden smirked. "Too easy." Before they even knew what was happening, he and Steve charged in, knocking their communication devices out of their hands and then hitting them over the head.

"Hansen, report! What's going on in there?"

'Damien' stepped past them and put the device to his ear, disguising his voice as best as he could. "Everything's fine. We just had a little mishap with the headphones." There was snickering on the other end and he rolled his eyes.

Once communication was cut off, Sloane rushed to the computers and started typing rapidly on the keyboard while the others watched the monitors intently.

They'd already been filled in that Maya and Alana were being held inside cargo containers. What they didn't know was which one; though knowing Eros, chances were that the exact containers which were being used as cells may have had a camera.

"Guys, over here." Sloane was staring at a video on pause. On the screen was Rowan, Cecile and a young man in conversation.

Hayden frowned at the video displaying a facility lined with blue screens and machinery. Based on what the others were searching before, he could only assume this was a manufacturing facility for Matches. "Who is that?" He pointed to a young-looking gentleman, dressed in a blue polo and a simple green sweater, as he stood stiffly in front of Rowan with blank eyes.

"Mikail Greene . . . he's the first Match ever built." Sloane minimized the video. "The folder is called 'Siren Project Material: Phase One'. Didn't Rowan mention that during our dinner?"

"He did," Hayden replied. "Something to do with his true vision for the Matches. I just don't know what he meant by that."

"There are only two videos available. The rest must not be cleared for employees. Or even researchers. I looked up 'Sirens' and all the file's access are limited to Cecile, Rowan and less than ten names."

"Guess this means this really isn't something they want all their employees knowing." Hayden mused. "Or their Matches for that matter." Not sure how else to continue, he pressed play to start the video.

Rowan folded his fingers in his lap. "Power core status," he commanded.

The Match opened his mouth and spoke tonelessly. "Core frequency stable in standby mode. Temperature nominal."

"Emotional check in."

"Anticipation laced with nervousness. Positive emotions detected, including but not limited to joy and optimism."

"Good." Rowan nodded, satisfied. "Last but not least, do you know who I am?"

". . . Yes, Father."

A small smile graced Rowan's face and he closed his eyes, deeply touched. Letting out a happy sigh, he gestured his hand towards the door, calling for Cecile.

With a heavy hiss, the steel double doors at the end of the hall made way for her. She strode in confidently and paused next to Rowan, greeting him politely. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Have you been acquainted with Mikail Greene?"

Cecile looked in that direction, her expression neutral. "I . . . have never interacted with him outside of maintenance."

"Perfect." Rowan stood and buttoned his suit jacket, tilting his head towards the inactive Match. "I've set Mikail's personality to 'Activist'. I believe that was your result to the quiz?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Yes, but-"

"Whoa, hold up." Nadia immediately paused the video. "I remember when Maya took the quiz and got her results . . ." She glanced awkwardly at Hayden, who'd already picked up on the implication. "Isn't Hayden also an . . . activist?"

". . . Wow . . ." He was scratching at his stubble consciously, visibly cringing under the weight of everyone's stares. "I feel very uncomfortable right now." Then he eyed Sloane. "Please tell me you didn't know about this."

Sloane held her hands up defensively. "I swear, I didn't!"

"So Maya and Cecile share a type," Match-Damien said. "Good to know." In that instant, he could feel everyone else's eyes shift to him. Frowning, he looked between them curiously, wondering why they were now eyeing him specifically. After all, the conversation was about Maya's romantic preference according to Eros, which just so happened to be the same as-

He took one look at Hayden and a mutual look of horror crossed their features. Then he started shaking his head. "Nope. We're not going down that road. Play the video, please?"

"No harm will come to you. You have my word," Rowan promised. Then he proceeded to explain the details of what would soon be their first trial run of his newest creation. "Now, Mikail thinks you've gone on two dates, and now he's visiting you at work. He thinks you work in a factory designing mannequins and that you've snuck him in for lunch." When Cecile opened her mouth to speak, he raised his hand, silencing her. "I'll be watching the monitors with our researchers, but . . . do play along for testing purposes. And feel free to pretend we aren't there if that helps.”

Cecile glanced between Mikail and Rowan, before she nodded curtly. "Of course, sir."

"He's testing the first Match on Cecile?" Match-Damien was watching Cecile in surprise as she approached Mikail in the video. "But she already knows he isn't real. Though maybe that's why she was hesitating before." Sure enough, Cecile's wariness towards this interaction was plainly clear from her stiff body language. Her expression was far from worried, though, hinting at mild curiosity.

"She's skeptical, all right." Hayden mused. "Wondering how this is going to play out."

"They're likely just curious if she'll be swayed," Sloane explained. "See how convincing he is."

Once Rowan exited the room, Mikail began blinking rapidly - signaling that he was coming online - and Cecile inhaled a sharp breath. As he came to life, he noticed her and his once-blank expression immediately shifted into warm adoration. "You changed your mind about letting me come visit you at work."

"You . . . seemed curious. A tour?" Mikail offered her his hand in response. She hesitated for barely a moment before accepting.

With an artificial smile on her face, Cecile led him towards the display, their hands intertwined. She showed him the 'mannequins' and explained their purpose, flawlessly covering every last detail embellished into the fabricated story. And Mikail just listened, enraptured, as he drew small circles with his thumb on her hand. As they delved further into the conversation, Cecile's stiff stance gradually began to uncoil; clearly starting to relax the more she engaged with the Match.

The group watched, both amazed and disturbed at the ease at which they were carrying on this conversation. It had first started at the line of thought Mikail was programmed to be on. But now the topic had smoothly veered into Cecile's personal life. If Hayden didn't already know better, he would've assumed that they really were two different people genuinely getting to know each other.

"I'll remember all this the next time I shop for a new suit."

"I'd recommend the custom tailors over at East 40th Street. They have a fantastic turnaround time and basted-fitting."

Mikail chuckled appreciatively. "Is there anything you don't know?"

"A few things," Cecile replied with a pleasant smile. "Like what you do for a living?"

"I'm part of the sponsorship department for Girls are Dreamers. It's an education centric charity organization, primarily targeting girls from impoverished countries.

Hayden was shaking his head. "Do they have to go into that much detail with backstories?"

"Enhancing believability has a cruel price," Sloane said sadly.

"For Matches or clients?"

"For both."

". . . paid for fancy dinners to secure corporate partnerships. Hence the desperate need for new suits."

"Would you rather be doing something else?"

"You mean here and now, or are we still talking about my job?" Mikail asked with a sly smile that grew even more when Cecile let out a short, but genuine laugh at his joke. His eyes twinkled with delight as he continued to talk excitedly. "We provide aid for dozens of countries and I've visited over half of them When I meet potential donors, I make sure to have my own photos and stories, not just borrowed from someone else."

"That's . . . very thorough."

"And I'm nothing if not that, my dear Cecile."

". . . Dear?" And once again, Cecile's expression was neutral. "We've only seen each other three times."

"I'm sorry," he watched her carefully, apparently caught off guard. "Would you rather I call you something else?"

"I'd rather you stick to my name. Just my name."

Mikail's smile faltered at her curt tone. "Oh. Yes, of course. I thought I'd picked up on that."

"Picked up on what?"

"A cold front. That you've been keeping me at a distance, physically, this whole time." He proceeded to launch into an explanation of her body language while she listened, baffled. "Now you're reinforcing boundaries out loud, and that wall you have up is even more obvious."

Cecile's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"I can respect wanting distance . . ." He said solemnly. "But just give me time and I'll wear you down."

Cecile immediately tried to draw her hand back, but his grip tightened. "You're going to 'wear down' my boundaries?" She hissed. "That's deeply unsettling."

"No." Mikail's eyes widened in realization that he'd offended her. "Cecile, that's not what I meant, I-"

"Let go of me," She snapped.

"No, don't leave me. I really am sorry." Just as he was about to offer a more elaborate apology, the doors opened again and Rowan entered with two guards, wearing a frustrated scowl.

"That's enough." Rowan barked. "We programmed you to be sincere, not . . . whatever that was." He flicked his hand out in an obvious show of disgust.

"Father, what are you doing here?" Mikail was looking between them in confusion. "You know Cecile?" His questions went ignored as Cecile addressed Rowan directly.

"I'm guessing his sincere protocol is clashing with logical. He's overthinking, though not quick enough to recover. And his desperation makes him . . ." She turned to Mikail, her lips curling into a disdainful smirk. "Frankly, quite pathetic."

Mikail's face crumpled at her words. But when the two guards approached them, all of that was forgotten. Much to everyone's surprise, he immediately stood in front of Cecile protectively. "I asked to come here! It's not her fault. And if any of you lay a hand on her, I swear . . ." His voice trailed off when Rowan's response to his threat was a derisive chuckle.

"At least the rebel traits come through nicely."

Rowan and Cecile exchanged amused looks when Mikail started demanding to know what was going on. As if on cue, the guards seized Mikail so forcefully that his feet lifted slightly off the floor. He tugged away from them, though his eyes were still on Cecile.

Rowan gestured forward permissively and Cecile stepped up to Mikail, sneering at him. "I'll give you a hint, 'my dear'. You and those mannequins are more alike than you think."

He glanced at the mannequins, then regarded Rowan and Cecile in turn. "I . . . I'm one of them aren't I?" The ramifications of what she'd just said became clear to him and the color slowly drained from his face. "It's . . . it's all coming back to me now." He swallowed hard. "You're going to wipe my mind again aren't you?"

"I was hoping you hadn't caught on yet."

Fear instantly replaced his earlier confusion and he began to shake his head desperately. "No. Father, I'm sorry. Please don't take me away! I don't want to forget." The guards began to drag him out of the room and he struggled harder. "No! I can do better! Please, let me stay. Give me another chance . . ."

Rowan's lips twisted with contempt and he grabbed Mikail by the chin "None of my children have, or will ever be associated with failure. And that is what you are." He stepped back, jeering at the now-terrified Match. "Take this thing away from me," he spat.

"No, please!" Mikail kicked and begged for mercy as the guards hauled him away. Now alone, Cecile watched as Rowan paced the room, opening and closing his hands into tight fists as he breathed heavily. Then he suddenly stopped in front of a chair. Fuming, he took it up and flung it across the room with a loud roar. The subsequent shatter of some random computer screen in the corner was lost on him as he closed his eyes in frustration.

Cecile came from behind and rested a hand on his shoulder. "We're almost there, Sir." She reassured. him "Don't give up."

When the video ended, Hayden's face had paled. "That was awful," were the only words that could come out of his mouth. Weeks ago when he'd almost been repurposed, he'd remembered the moments before that was to happen - strapped down to a table, alone, cold and scared. The memories were foggy, but clear enough that he'd been able to tell Maya what happened. It was scary enough for him having fragments of this one moment, but to be able to remember how many times this had happened and knowing he'd have to endure it again?

"Wait, but what about what Rowan said about making Mikail think they were on a date? Like he was supposed to win her over…" Nadia wondered. "Did they test Matches with scenarios like that every time?"

"If they did, at least they had the so-called 'decency' to try and wipe out their memories." Match-Damien muttered.

"No, nothing about Eros is decent." Hayden vented. "Being evaluated like this and then tossed aside? Did you see the way Mikail was begging them not to take him away?"

"I can't believe I used to work for them." Sloane put her face in her hands, thoroughly sickened. "And proudly too." Even if she knew what it meant to repurpose a Match, seeing it happen and wondering if other Matches had experienced fear like this was breaking her heart. Now she knew more than ever that if she didn't bring Eros down, this guilt would weigh her down forever.

"Don't feel bad Sloane, you couldn't have known."

"No one knows about this. That's why they've been able to get away with it!" Nadia seethed. "For all his big talk about improving humanity, Rowan doesn't have any! He wants to make a new species? He doesn't even see them as people to begin with!"

"He doesn't even see humans as people," Steve said gravely. "I mean, look what he's doing to Damien and Maya. I guess it's not that surprising."

"Lab rats," Match-Damien spat. "That's how they'll always see us, deep down. After everything we do for them. Then he slammed his fist against the wall. "And to think that I was going to help them-!"

"Well you're not, anymore. Speaking of which," Nadia turned to him. "Did any of this get through to Dexter?"

"Loud and clear."

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

"Lab rats. That's how they'll always see us, deep down. After everything we do to them."

By the time the feed disappeared, Dexter's head felt like it was going to explode. Not from shock, though. No, it was that this wasn't news to him. Unlike most of the Matches under Rowan's custody, Dexter was well aware of Rowan and Cecile's true intentions.

What he hadn't known was what it had taken to make this 'family'. The way Mikail's personality had been tailored and tested on a person, only to unravel and then be taken back to be recycled. Dexter knew this was a common practice in Eros. But seeing it was a whole other experience.

How was that possible though?

Where were these new visions suddenly coming from? Who the hell is messing with my head now?! And it still hadn't explained why these foreign memories with Maya were plaguing him every time he tried to obey Eros' commands, no matter what his alter-ego's conscience was trying to tell him.

Accepting his role in this was the safest option. But now, any doubts he'd quashed earlier were resurfacing once again and putting him at a bigger risk of being discovered. All because of these goddamn emotions - every instinct of his dissuading him from doing every heinous act that would've earned him endless praise from Cecile or Rowan.

And it was all her fault.

"Maya," Dexter snarled. "You've really done it this time." All plans of reporting to Cecile vanished and he found himself heading back to the prison he'd visited. He shoved the door open with a loud BANG! and marched inside, zeroing on Maya and Alana's looks of surprise.

In a flurry of movements, Maya's handcuffs were unlocked. But before she could say anything, his hands were gripping her shoulders, hauling her to her feet. "Dexter?!" She yelped when he pushed her back against the wall, pinning her there. "What the hell are you-?!"

"I should be asking you that," he growled, peering directly into her terrified face. "What the hell kind of thoughts are you putting into me?!"

She gaped at him, flabbergasted. "Thoughts I put in you- are you crazy?!"

He tightened his hold, drawing a pained gasp from her. "I want you out of my head. Can you do that?" A white haze began seeping into the corners of Dexter's vision and then he felt a light twitch in his arms.

"Do what?!" Maya placed her hands on his chest, struggling to push him away. "Dexter, please!" her voice was suddenly very small as she squirmed. "Y-you're hurting me!"

As soon as she said that, he caught a glimpse where his hands were and immediately released her, noting when their tingling stopped. His face burned with frustration and he clenched his fists, trying to ignore the nagging ache in his chest that had just started. "I don't understand . . ." He blinked several times and shook his head until he could see clearly again.

"Don't understand what?" Maya's soft voice brought him back to reality. Dexter turned to find her watching him curiously. "What is it you think I've done?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. When he opened them again, they were smoldering. "For god's sake, I have a job to do and you're getting in the way!" He exclaimed hotly. "Every time I try to get things done, you and your goddamn memories with Damien start getting in my head! And now your friends!" She was staring at him, wide-eyed, as he let loose all of his frustrations; a drastic switch in their dynamic from earlier when she'd been the one ranting at him. "How the hell did you do that?! I spent all this time with you and it's not like you know how to access a Match! What the hell are you trying to play at here?!"

"I-" Her brows furrowed as she was clearly trying to navigate Dexter's sudden change in mood. Not that that should've been a surprise considering the heated conversation they had not too long ago. "I didn't do anything," she finally said, glaring at him. "These aren't thoughts I put into your head!" Maya stepped forward, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You were made from Damien to fool me, remember? That would mean you've had his memories!"

He looked away from her pointedly, mentally kicking himself for forgetting that. "Obviously to make me realistic enough so you'd believe," he said bitterly. Not that it explains the constant palpitations and headaches! "But that doesn't mean I need to see every goddamn detail about your relationship!" Dexter yelled in her face, causing her to stumble back.

"Watch it, Dexter." Alana warned. Her eyes were mostly on him, assessing his behavior curiously. She then shot Maya a brief look, urging her not to panic.

"Every drink you've shared, every conversation, every cheesy line you've used on each other. All the times you've kissed." Suddenly, Dexter cupped her chin, though gently this time. His voice was thick with emotion. "And worst of all, every damn feeling. Every emotion."

Maya was staring resolutely at him, various emotions flashing in her eyes; fear, confusion, shock, realization and . . . pity? "I . . . I didn't know." She blinked, completely unafraid. "Does . . . Harley know about this?"

He certainly suspects something. Though why that idiot was just now noticing was another question. Dexter was built from the psyche of Damien Nazario - world's biggest skeptic. It was only natural that he'd inherited more than just Damien's looks - his intelligence and thought process too. They were likely blessings in disguise for Rowan, as he would've used them to make him as efficient as possible.

Only now this blessing had turned out to be a curse, considering Damien's emotions had tagged along like some sort of package deal. They went against everything Rowan was planning for the Siren Project. All for his 'better world'.

And his world didn't permit him these 'feelings' or any sort of identity for that matter. He had a command to follow, quite literally. A few swipes of Cecile's damn tablet were all it took to access Dexter's maintenance mode and install codes that had decided his actions.

"What's the matter, Dexter? Having second thoughts?" Alana taunted. Dexter immediately noticed the position he was in and stepped away from Maya. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't your mission technically accomplished now that we're trapped here?" She raised an eyebrow. "What's the story now?"

"Story? How long have you got?" He scoffed, blinking rapidly as he tried to force down another memory her tone seemed to trigger within him.

"We're not Rowan or Cecile, Dexter. Or Harley. You can be honest with us." There was an unusual softening in Alana's voice as she studied him. "Though I suspect you already know that. Don't you?"

"Fine. You wanted honesty? I'll give you some." He let out a resigned chuckle. "Every moment of our relationships, my job on the force. All of these memories are tools that were to be used against you." He turned back around to face Maya. "By me, and another Match - and I'll let you in on a secret - it's not Harley."

"Another clone?!" Maya said incredulously. "Are you kidding me?! What, were you not enough for the job?"

"Given how easily you’ve fallen for their tricks before, is it that surprising that they'd try this again?"

Maya shook her head, disgusted. "You realize they're just using you at this point, right? First it was just to get me here, and now they've gone and built another replacement. Not so fun when it's happening to you, is it?"

"Well lucky for you," Dexter turned to her, smirking as he knew exactly how she was going to react to what he was about to say. "That copy never made it here, thanks to your friends."

Her head snapped up to face him. "What?! How- how do you-" Dexter tapped at his forehead, a knowing look on his face, and then it all made sense to her; everything from their conversation to his outburst.

"I'm technically obligated to just report this to Cecile and get them all sorted out . . . but now I'm starting to wonder if a different approach might help. They do have another android with them now, one that can be put back under Eros' control."

"No." Her eyes immediately widened with fear. "Dexter please don't hurt them. If not for the others, at least think of Nadia!"

"And why should I care about her?"

"Because Damien does," Alana pointed out.

He shrugged. "Fair point. But I'm not Damien."

"No, you're not. But he happens to be a part of you," She replied. "You believe what he believes, think the way he thinks. Can that part of you live with innocent people being hurt? Has it ever?"

"Innocent?!" Dexter scoffed in spite of himself.

"Yes, Dexter," Maya kept her head up as she spoke, more determined than before. "She's innocent. All of us are. We only ever wanted to live our lives peacefully!"

"If that's the case then why are you sabotaging Eros? Couldn't you have just moved on with your lives when Hayden and Steve disappeared?"

"We would've . . . if we were a greedy corporation that doesn't give a damn about the people it creates."

Before he could try to argue, Mikail's desperate face suddenly seemed to flash before him with Rowan's harsh, cold voice echoing in the corner of his mind.

"None of my children have been or ever will be associated with failure. And that is what you are."

And just like that, he was left with no answer.

He was instantly jerked out of his thoughts when he felt her small hand slip into his. "Dexter, please think this through." She clasped his hand, gazing into his eyes, pleading. "I'm . . . I'm sorry for how I lashed out at you before, but now that I've had time to cool off . . ." Her eyes briefly flitted towards Alana, who gave a subtle nod. "I do remember you've been finding little ways to help me. You might've kidnapped me, but you're also the only one who hasn't actually hurt me."

Is she serious? Dexter shook his head. "But I did hurt you, Maya. And I'm probably supposed to hurt you some more."

"Supposed to, being the operative word." She didn't even waver. "But you won't."

"Oh really? And what makes you think that?"

"I think you already know."

Dexter could only watch her in astonishment, not noticing the long shadow advancing their way from the entrance.

After everything he'd done to her . . . she was really willing to make a gamble like that? How could she still have so much hope? Where was all this coming from? Just what is your heart made of?

Had it still been yesterday, Dexter might've been compelled to set her straight. But now after everything he'd seen over the past two days, after everything he'd witnessed through his installed memories and through the eyes of the other Match . . . he couldn't bring himself to do so. Whether it was from his recent 'symptoms' or his actual beliefs, he didn't know. All he could do at this point was realize that something within him had changed, and accept that there may soon be a reckoning.

When Dexter finally began to speak, his expression was wounded. "I-"

The sound of slow-clapping made them both jump apart. "Well, well, well . . ." Maya and Dexter stepped away from each other, to find Harley sauntering towards them. "This is an interesting turn of events."

The venom works, it's like a curse

A Trojan horse, when will we learn

The wheel embodies all that keeps returning

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

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[onestowatch]

Crowded Green Rooms, Hotel Rooms and Cars: How Julia Jacklin Made Space For ‘Crushing’ [Q&A]

On her sophomore album, Crushing, Australian singer-songwriter Julia Jacklin performs an act of self-reclamation in ten parts. She drives away, locks herself in her room, examines her body from head-to-toe in a full length mirror, and shakes the voice of an ex-lover from her head. Jacklin wrote the material for the album over the course of a two-year-long world tour while packed into “crowded cars, crowded stages and tiny green rooms” and a corporeal desire for space rings throughout.

Jacklin’s debut album, Don’t Let The Kids Win (2016), was a meditation on growing up and the mental reorientations the process demands. It established Jacklin as another star in the line-up of contemporary indie-folk-rock songwriter and storytellers from down under (including Courtney Barnett, Marlon Williams, Stella Donnelley and Aldous Harding, among others). The album supported two years of consistent touring — and when Jacklin finally settled home, she culled from the collection of lyrics and diary entries she’d put down while on the road and knit Crushing together.

Released on Feb. 22, the 10-track record sees Jacklin tightening her focus on love wearing thin, love ultimately lost and an aftermath that embraces scorn and longing in equal parts. Jacklin’s acknowledgment of the emotional incongruities of the breakdown process rings most true. The album opens with the five-minute burner, “Body,” in which we find Jacklin jumping in a cab to leave behind a partner who’s gotten them kicked off a domestic flight by smoking in the airplane bathroom. At the other end of the album, Jacklin sings “Comfort” like a lullaby to herself, repeating that her former lover will heal with time and, either way, “You can't be the one to hold him when you were the one who left.”

This push-and-pull — the tension between the comfort of space and the comfort of love — prompts us to wonder whether it’s possible to hold both. Jacklin presents us with the question, and in “Head Alone,” answers it by shouting, “You can love somebody without using your hands.” Crushing is granted a degree of relief as Jacklin observes from afar that one can manage to be both loved and liberated.

We spoke with Jacklin the morning after she’d landed in Paris from Australia, feeling, “jet-lagged and foggy.” She’d come from having a coffee and writing in her diary, a practice she’s kept up since she was ten and that makes her feel that she’s “accomplished at least one thing every day.” We discussed dancing alone, why Crushing is not a “Me Too” album, the mythical music industry roller coaster and what it means to be truly great.

Be sure to catch Jacklin on the Crushing tour at one of the dates down below: 

OTW: You wrote most of Crushing while touring your debut album, Don’t Let The Kids Win. Where and how did you find the space to write an album while on the road?

JJ: I wrote a lot of it in the car, looking out the window. Once I got used to travel and the touring lifestyle and surrounded myself with good people who understood me, knew when I needed space and who I didn't feel self-conscious in front of, I started to be able to write even when people were around. I wrote most of the record without a guitar in hand — I reckon I start writing 90 percent of my songs in the shower, actually. For every show, we’d have about forty-five minutes of soundcheck which gave me time to figure out the guitar patterns and chords while the band played along. That’s how it all began to come together.

OTW: How did the process of writing and recording for Crushing feel different from that of your debut album?

JJ: It was worlds different. The first record was a synthesis of my whole life, for which I tried to pick the best songs from all the years leading up to it. I went into it not understanding the recording process properly and feeling very intimidated by the studio. For Crushing, I felt pretty confident in the studio, and I was able to go into it with more of a voice. I didn't feel as much pressure as I thought I’d feel about the scary second record. That seems to be more of a myth than something any of us genuinely experience. It exists online and in the dark corners of your insecurity, but in your day-to-day life — you’re still the same person who loves writing the songs you’ve always written.

OTW: Did your newfound understanding of the recording studio works impact your songwriting for Crushing?

JJ: For me, the song comes first and production comes eighth. Production is important, but if you don't have the song in its core, then you’ve got nothing. There's no amount of layering or trickery that will make it sound good. It was actually the process of touring that helped me develop the songs by making me aware of what I wanted to play for another two years on the road. I realized that I didn’t want to get up there and just play quiet, soft songs every night — I needed songs that would make me feel alive and get my blood running.

OTW: The first two singles you released off the album, “Head Alone” and “Pressure To Party,” both explore the theme of ownership over one's body. How did these come to be the first songs introducing the album?

JJ: I did the same thing for my first record — released the songs in the order that they appear on the album. That's the way I want people to hear the record, sequentially from start to finish. There are definitely a lot of references to my body in the record — I listened back and realized that in the first five songs on the record I say something about my body. It’s a hard thing to talk about — I’ve been doing a lot of press lately and keep getting asked, “Is this a ‘Me Too’ album?’ and it’s like, “No, it's just the album that I've written about my experiences.” Women have been speaking about these things forever, it just so happens that the world is paying attention right now. I spent two years in shared beds, tiny green rooms, crowded rooms, crowded stages and crowded cars. The album formed once I finished that tour and finally just threw my arms out wide and emerged from that claustrophobia.

OTW: On “Head Alone,” it does feel like you're literally breaking out of the expected song structure when you arrive at the bridge — it feels like a different song entirely. Did the bridge surprise you when you wrote it?

JJ: On this record, I was trying to find ways to express these feelings without shoving them into a typical song structure. Initially the bridge was the chorus, and I was going to repeat it. But when we were recording, I realized that I didn’t want to say it again. Sometimes in songwriting the power can be in giving people something once — then they want it again, so they listen again and it’s more impactful. I always think about that with Joanna Newson, one of my favorite songwriters. She’s someone who manages to write a twelve minute song, and she’ll say something once, but you’ll remember it and it’s so powerful. It’s the classic “less is more.”

OTW: You’ve directed or co-directed (with longstanding creative collaborator Nick Mkk) all of your music videos for both Crushing and Don’t Let The Kids Win— when did you decide you were going to take on that role and how did you learn the ropes of directing video?

JJ: It was definitely a learning curve, but there’s a lot of stuff in the creative world that you just have to learn by doing. People often don't realize that. They think, “I need to go to school, I need to be perfect at it before I try it.” Making the music videos made me realize that, in the world of creative work, nobody knows what they're doing and everybody learns from doing it. It’s like that thing when you become an adult and you’re like, “Oh, nobody knows what’s going on.”

OTW: In about seven of your music videos, we see you dancing alone. What’s the story behind this means of expression?

JJ: I’ve started thinking recently that music videos are kind of dumb. I appreciate that some videos are incredible, but a lot of the time, it seems so crazy for me to take a song that has its own life, narrative, and meaning, and then to try to squish a whole other narrative on top of it. That's where the dancing comes in. Every time I think, “How I can represent this song in a simple way?” I’m like, "Oh, I'm going to dance! I’m going to dance in front of a star, I’m going to dance over here, I’m going to dance over there." My label and my manager have said to me multiple times, “Do you reckon you're going to do something else, maybe other than dancing by yourself? And I’m like, “Well, maybe…” and then I deliver the next music video and they’re like, “Ah no, here we go.”

OTW: Now that you’ve been steeped in the industry for a while, what have you found about it that you appreciate and that you need to take yourself away from as a means of self-preservation?

JJ: The industry is great in that it allows me to do what I do. It's driven me into a global community of people and made me feel I really belong somewhere. There is strange thing I’ve realized about the music world — it seems like you’re either up-and-coming, or you've made it, or you're irrelevant. There’s this set trajectory and you've got to figure out where you fit into it. Leading into this second record, I’ve been doing all this press and media and it’s all, “up-and-coming” and “next biggest thing” and you’re just like, “I thought I was just doing my thing, I didn’t realize I was on some strange ascent on a roller coaster.” It’s strange how we try to stick artists into some box where we perceive them to be at their career trajectory, when most of us are just going, “Oh, I thought we were all just playing music and doing our best.”

OTW: You speak about your musical contemporaries with a sense of camaraderie. I think it’s great how you acknowledge your musical influences and recognize that it's a part of the folk tradition to be guided by the work of others. Will you tell me a bit about how you experience music as a listener?

JJ: I think it’s odd when an artist puts a song up on the Internet and people hop on to say, “You sound like this or that person” as a means of dismissing their creativity. Of course we’re all borrowing, especially in the folk tradition— that was the whole point of the genre. I think it's a beautiful thing to be so inspired by someone that you write a song based off of what you listen to. Watching the artists I tour with is my music school. I toured with Andy Shauf for a month last year, and that was the most influential music school I've ever been to. We played 17 shows and 17 festivals together, and I literally would run from my set to go watch his. I’d just stand there, just drinking it in — of course it's going to come out your own music.

OTW: Speaking of artists whom you admire, in “Motherland” you have this line, “Will I be great? Will I be good?” If we’re trying to get outside of the narrative of the emerging, the successful and the declining artist, what does greatness in an artist look like to you?

JJ: At this point, it’s the artists who have clearly stayed true to themselves that I see as great. Like Japanese Breakfast — she works really fucking hard, she tries all these different mediums and I'm sure she’s failed a lot, but she just put her head down and pounds through. She doesn’t have to pour her heart out in every interview, but at the same time, she seems totally able to control her narrative. It’s great to see artists who — even though this industry is crazy and tiring and there are so people involved in your career, so many things that can slip out of your grasp and misrepresent you — manage to rise above that environment and represent themselves truly.