#i’ve been ruminating over it since he was announced

[warpspeedgirl]

Got the rest of the stuff out of the apartment and I thought I’d feel relieved since this situation has been causing me so much stress throughout my pregnancy and the past year but I just felt sad. I cried and cried. A lot of bad memories and loss and grief and loneliness there. The best memories I had were when Adiba and I were talking after work and when my friends from the broad and the observatory and my sisters and family would visit. I thought I wouldn’t be able to have a good pregnancy or properly prepare for my baby until I got rid of the apartment and a real separation from her since she was never going to acknowledge how much of a jerk she was being and I was so so hurt by her. I thought about her when I got married and had my shower and birthed my baby and all of the fun traditional African and Jamaican family events that happened in between. I wanted her there for those but I also didn’t. I wanted her to meet my baby and experience how funny and smart and cute he is, to smell how good he smells, and be an auntie to him and take pictures of them like how I do with everyone else who visits. I thought of her brief glimpses in those important moments because a past version of me never could’ve imagined she wouldn’t be there for them. I had some dreams about helping plan her bridal party one day lol. We were going to name our kids middle names after eachother. I wanted her to hold him and kiss him. She loves babies. I didn’t even send her his cute little birth announcement and calligraphy cards and champagne that I made. She’s part of the reason why he even exists. To see how much of a good mom I actually turned out to be! The dichotomy… I think these things, these type of painful separations do happen for a reason though. We both had work to do on our own individually and I just couldn’t see the friendship the same way after all those things she said to. The fact that she could even say those things initially at all. Maybe we’ll have a different kind of way of relating to eachother in the future or we’ll think of eachother differently idk. I’m always going to love her and miss her a little bit. The role she’s played in my life- She’s still an important person to me of course! It ended in heartbreak and so much hurt and honestly horrifying devastation but a lot of self growth for me about what kind of behavior and words thrown on me that I will and won’t allow and that my opinions and views hold weight. We were there for a LOT in eachothers lives. My hospitalizations and when I was severely underweight and underweight. Breakups and family issues and fun times and laughter and going on walks and working out and coffee and showing eachother art and sharing our experiences and learning from eachother and taking advice from one other quite seriously. Our families liked eachother. Her mom cooking for me and my family, her dogsitting and housesitting for us, me taking her to the hospital and running to her side with tea whenever she was down from relationship issues or needed to come over for a break. I admire a lot of things about her and things I learned from her over the years while simultaneously still feeling really shocked and hurt by her words and actions and, all the things that happened.

I’ve been in so much pain over it and the loss of the friendship and anxiously ruminating over certain hurts for so long. It was a financial and emotional burden. It’s good to be done. It’s good to move on and just actually be able to release shit and not have constant reminders of bad memories associated with the “end”. It’s good to still remember sweet memories. I feel so 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦. And it was is so, so good to come home to my husband and son and his grandparents.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Pain in My Heart // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise or Daphne are trying to matchmake Reader with one of their brothers (you can pick which one) but Reader actually hits it off with another brother who's in love at first sight (again, your choice!!). - @libraryoffandomsuniverse

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this has taken!! I hope I have done your request justice. I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve come up so I hope you like!! Thank you for requesting! Title: Pain in My Heart - Otis Redding

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Romantic)

Warnings: pining, mutual pining, awful flirting (I can't write it for the life in me), unrequited love (?), a pride and prejudice moment, love confessions, fluff, very very light angst.

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a lot that Daphne and Eloise Bridgerton had in common. It was thought by their mother that due to their closeness in age, they would get along swimmingly. However, by the time that Eloise could speak for herself, it became increasingly clear that there were to be no two people different than that of Eloise and Daphne.

However, whilst the two did not share the same tastes in music or literature, they were united in the hope that they would see their elder brothers happily in love.

It is on a Wednesday in the middle of February when Daphne decides that it is time for her eldest brother, Anthony, to find a wife.

Her decision is made when Anthony stalks into the family drawing room. The only sign of his anger being the blazing of his eyes. Dramatically, he throws himself onto the closest couch, his legs stretching across the pale blue fabric as he laments the meddling of mothers.

Daphne barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. She could tell that Eloise was having a hard time not telling her brother how easy he had it in comparison to rights of women and marriage.

Thankfully, however, Anthony is saved from such a lecture by the announcement of a beloved friend. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had known the Bridgerton family for as long as she had been alive. The same age as Daphne, the two had fallen into an easy friendship that grew more cherished the more time passed.

Upon her announcement, Anthony sits up with keen interest. An action not missed by both Daphne and Eloise – they share a look, one only understood by sisters with masses of brothers.

“Dear (Y/N),” Daphne greets, standing from her chair to greet her lifelong friend, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been very well though it has only been a couple of days since you saw me last.”

Daphne laughs; a light and airy sound. “I can still miss you in that time. Come, sit by me and we can catch up.”

The two women are soon joined by Eloise who places her book down on the table, spine up so she does not lose her page. From where they sit, neither Anthony nor Benedict can hear what the women seem to be whispering about though it seems to be of a serious issue with grave looks on their faces.

Benedict decides that he doesn’t like the look of frustration on her face; the furrow of her brows. If it wouldn’t raise questions of his sanity, he would press his thumb to the furrow, smoothing out her brow so not a trace of the worry remained.

“(Y/N),” Anthony calls, interrupting the conversation currently taking place between the three women, “Would you be attending Lord and Lady Hopton’s ball later on this week? Lord Hopton has done nothing but discuss the expense being put into the event.”

(Y/N) swallows her small sip of tea, placing the cup and saucer down on the table before answering the eldest Bridgerton. “I do plan on attending,” She smiles, fiddling with her gloved fingers.

A pleased smile breaks out across Anthony’s face as he nods. Turning away from her, Anthony walks back to the pale blue couch that only mere moments ago he had thrown himself across in vexation at his dear mother. Now, he sits down gently, making sure every ounce of his nobility is on show.

Benedict cannot help but roll his eyes at the antics of his elder brother. As if on a covert mission for the crown, Benedict’s gaze slides back to her – runs over her figure, taking in the way her dress sits on her form and the way her smile lights up her whole face. He’s a fool in love, he realises, but he would rather be a fool in love with her than a fool in love with anyone else.

It’s as if he finally understands what the poets write about; how the artists never paint more than their muse. As Benedict peers down at the sketchbook in his hands, he comes to realise that he has been drawing her for months. He has found his muse and it’s close to breaking him when he sees the plotting glance shared between Daphne and Eloise.

(Y/N) sits at the table, utterly unaware of the plan being concocted between his sisters. He has the urge to scream, to yell but he keeps quiet. Benedict becomes the very definition of decorum; smiling politely at her when their eyes meet from across the room. The very moment sends his heart skipping a beat before picking up a rhythm he isn’t certain is compatible with life. He has to stop himself from reaching up to grab his chest to ensure his heart doesn’t beat right out of it.

All too soon the moment is over, and she returns to laughing with his younger sisters, but even she knows that something has changed between them. (Y/N) wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight; the very notion belonging only to fairytales, but she, herself, could not deny the thrill that overtook her body when she met the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.

-----------

Lord and Lady Hopton owned one of the last remaining Tudor residences in London. Many had fallen during the reformation, but in some strange stroke of luck, the Hopton’s home had remained largely undamaged. From there, it passed down the male line as all properties and titles were wont to do in such a society.

The current Lord and Lady prided themselves on the tracking of their lineage, dedicating themselves to the conservation of their home. It was rare for them to throw a ball such as this one, but with the favourable weather, Lady Hopton was able to convince her husband it would be well enough for the courtyard to be used to entertain their nearest and dearest.

There was no set theme; an idea many were grateful for. As much as (Y/N) loved the dress up, the competitive nature between eligible ladies wasn’t something she was in the mood for.

The atmosphere is much more relaxed as (Y/N) takes a turn about the room, smiling politely at the women she has grown up with in London society. They would be civil towards each other, but there was no real friendships forged. (Y/N) was quite content with the Bridgerton brood.

Though they had arrived together, (Y/N) found herself wandering from the comforting presence of the family. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her, and she thinks of Daphne’s suggestion from the other day; the eldest Bridgerton girl had all but suggested that (Y/N) marry Anthony.

Whilst the suggestion was flattering, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the moment she shared with Benedict. She thinks of the moment often; remembers the way his stare felt, as if he was staring into her very soul and he liked what he found. She thinks of the way her body responded; the shiver sent through her and how she realised that she liked the way he looked at her. As if she hung the moon and stars in the sky for him, and him alone.

(Y/N) loses herself in the crowd. She wanders and wanders, watching new love form and old love strengthen as she catches sight of couples beginning their night. (Y/N) continues her ruminating until she bumps into something hard. Another body.

(Y/N) cringes when she finds herself face to face with the chest of Benedict Bridgerton. “Benedict!” She gasps, “I’m sorry.”

He steadies her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “You have nothing to apologise for. You looked to be deep in thought, I’m only sorry for interrupting you.”

(Y/N) feels her skin begin to flush. I was thinking of you, she wants to cry at the man, but she only just manages to refrain herself.

Benedict laughs before he can stop himself. “If you’re reacting like that, I have to know what you were thinking of.”

“Nothing for nosies,” She responds, a coy smile crossing her painted lips.

Benedict gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, (Y/N).”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” (Y/N) laughs, patting Benedict’s arm in mock pity.

“I don’t know,” Benedict expresses, his eyes running over her face and outfit. “I think I’m going to need someone to nurse me back to health.”

(Y/N) feels her skin once again begin to heat at the insinuation in his words. She had encountered banter before with the Bridgerton brothers, but she had never encountered such overt flirting. Benedict’s eyes glittered with mirth; his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – this was him. This was Benedict in his element; he was an artist, a gentleman, and a man that could render her speechless with a simple line of speech.

She finds it hard to respond for a moment; finds it hard to string two thoughts together in his intoxicating presence. She flounders for a second, watching Benedict continue to smile widely as if he had nothing better to do than waste time with her.

Eventually, she collects herself enough. She peers up at the man from under her lashes, fluttering them to the best of her ability as she whispers, “Such requests may make the recovery period a lot longer and a lot harder.”

Leaving the man speechless, (Y/N) pats his arm once more before taking her leave. Feeling hot and bothered by her encounter with Benedict, (Y/N) ambles over to drinks table. Daphne and Eloise stand there nursing their own drinks; they smile widely at their friend as she approaches the table.

“Have you given thought to what I suggested the other day?” Daphne asks; watching her best friend over the rim of her lemonade glass.

“Courting Anthony?” (Y/N) clarifies, reaching for her glass of the tepid drink. She frowns absentmindedly; it was one of the main issues with balls, they never could keep the drinks cold enough to be refreshing throughout the night. They almost always turned sour.

“The very suggestion,” (Y/N)’s dearest friend states with a smile.

“It wouldn’t work,” (Y/N) protests, urging her friends to see the truth. “We aren’t suited for each other.”

“Anthony disagrees,” Daphne chimes, looking and feeling all to superior in the conversation. “He confided to me only yesterday that he wants to court you.”

The ground is close to swallowing her whole; the walls becoming far too close for her liking. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. “That wouldn’t be fair to him,” She croaks, feeling all too close to tears.

“Why not?” Daphne demands, making her vexation known by placing her hands on her hips.

“Daphne,” Eloise interrupts, glancing warily between the two women. “(Y/N) isn’t in love with Anthony. She’s in love with someone else.”

The fight leaves her beloved friend in an instant; she brings a hand to her mouth to cover the shock of Eloise’s words. “I didn’t know,” She whispers, “I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” (Y/N) appeases, “I’m rather new to this.”

“Do we know who it is?” Daphne asks, unable to keep the excitement off her face as she thinks of the handful of men worthy enough to love her dear friend.

(Y/N) sighs, deciding whether to come clean and tell her longest friend that she has found herself hopelessly in love with her brother. She hadn’t even expected it. “It’s Benedict,” She eventually confesses, feeling pressured by the investigative gaze of Daphne Bridgerton.

“Benedict?” Daphne asks, confused, “As in my other brother?”

“The very same,” (Y/N) comments lightly… too lightly as if ready to be on the defence for her feelings for Benedict.

Daphne blinks once, twice before her face breaks with the most beautiful smile. “Oh (Y/N)!” She cries, “This is wonderful!”

“He might not love me back,” (Y/N) whispers, doing her best to keep a light spin on the situation but the idea that Benedict may not return her feelings hurts far more than it should.

“And Anthony still wants to court you,” Eloise reminds her, her voice close to pity.

“Speaking of the devil,” Daphne murmurs with a smile on her face, “Anthony is heading this way.”

“He is?” (Y/N) asks, pivoting on the spot to the find the eldest Bridgerton making his way through the crowd. He smiles at his sisters, briefly checking their glasses to ensure they were sticking strictly to the lemonade offered. When he is suited with what he finds, he turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand. “Would you care to dance?” He asks her with a confident smile.

She nods her consent, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the floor. Anthony leads her expertly across the floor; lessons as a child and years in the London society forging him to be an impressive dancer. He makes her laugh as they continue dance, and whilst (Y/N) has a good time with the eldest Bridgerton, she cannot see herself falling for the man like she can see her entire future with Benedict.

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

The ball had wound down naturally; families and lovers beginning to make their way home through the early morning London streets. (Y/N) travels with the Bridgertons, having arrived with them in the first place. Daphne focuses on the streets of London, doing her best not to fall asleep before getting home to her bed.

“How are you getting home?” Daphne asks, not removing her gaze from the darkened streets of the capital city.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to have to wait for another carriage,” (Y/N) complains, holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn that had slipped out. The tiredness was clinging to her bones now; she wanted nothing more to crawl into her own bed, sink into the pillows and fall into a dreamworld where Benedict climbs into the other side of the bed.

“Stay with us,” Eloise invites, meeting Anthony’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t be an imposition?” (Y/N) asks smally; the last thing she wanted was to be burden on her friends.

“You never could be,” Anthony smiles, “You’re always welcome to stay the night.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” She whispers, reaching for his hand in the dark and squeezing.

Silence falls for the rest of the ride; the weariness of each of them punctuating the air, creating a warmer atmosphere that leaves (Y/N) blinking away sleep. Eloise does her best to remain awake, but her head soon winds up on Anthony’s shoulder to which the man looks the surprised. He recovers quickly, adjusting his younger sister to make her more comfortable.

The Bridgerton siblings and (Y/N) all sigh in blessed relief when the carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. The door opening lets in a cold blast of air, making her shiver as she reaches for the handle to help herself down.

“Here,” Benedict’s voice sounds in the dark light of night, “Let me help you.”

His hand reaches for hers; it clasps hers gently as he helps her down from the carriage. All too soon, his hand falls from hers and (Y/N) is left feeling bereft from the absence of his touch. “Thank you,” She whispers, taking a risk and glancing up at the blue eyes already fixed steadily on her.

“You’re welcome,” He murmurs. Benedict glances back to the carriage to find the rest of his family descending on them. “Goodnight,” He whispers, ducking his head in a bow and leaving her on the steps of Bridgerton House.

(Y/N) watches the man depart in somewhat of a daze. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel his hand in hers. She could feel every fingerprint, every crease, every line in his palm. She could feel it all; she wanted to feel more. She wanted everything with that man; would happily offer up her everything for a single glimpse at what it could be like to wake up in his arms and be happy.

Sighing heavily, she touches a hand to her forehead, pausing in the grand entryway of the Bridgerton family home. She felt so keenly for the man that she knew she would suffer the worst fate to man should he not return her feelings: heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” Anthony calls from the door, his arm around Eloise’s waist. “Would you meet me in my study? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” She allows, smiling at the sight before her. Anthony whispers something to his sister to which Eloise offers her goodnights and begins to climb the stairs to her room, Anthony following behind her with a worried look on his face that only a beloved brother could master.

Anthony’s study smelled of wood polish; the mahogany desk sitting by the windows being the main feature of the room. It’s dark wood providing the much of the fragrance in the room; it’s a comforting scent. (Y/N) smiles when she realises that it’s comforting as it reminds her of the Viscount; the scent of his spicy cologne intermingled with the wood, becoming one and the same.

“Thank you for waiting,” Anthony whispers, closing the door behind him, “I know how tired you are, but I really wanted to speak to you.”

“Whatever’s the matter?”

Suddenly, Anthony no longer holds the prowess of a Viscount but rather, looks like the eighteen year old boy handed a peerage all too soon. He runs a hand through his hair out of nerves, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Eventually, he comes to a slow stop, resting his hands on the back of his father’s ageing chair. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

“It’s been on my mind more and more these days,” She answers honestly. It’s all she has thought of since her eyes met Benedict’s across the room and she got a glimpse into what her mornings, afternoons, evenings with the man could be like.

“I think we could be good together,” Anthony argues, offering up a slice of his heart for the taking, “I think we work well together.”

“Anthony, may I be honest with you for a moment?”

“I’d hope for nothing more.”

She takes a deep breath; steeling her nerves before smiling at the Viscount. “With all due respect, I don’t think you do love me.”

Anthony moves to interrupt her; a flash of anger and upset in his eyes. He quietens when she holds up a single hand; begging him to let her continue. “Anthony, I think you were looking for someone to stop your mother from pestering you about marriage. I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment.”

Anthony frowns; he takes in (Y/N)’s words, letting them roll around his mind as he thinks back to the first day when he realised he could truly love the woman sitting in front of him. Violet Bridgerton had been on him from the moment he walked through the front door; producing yet another list of eligible women in London that he could find a potential match in. He had taken the list from his beloved mother and in the privacy of his study, he had ripped the list to tiny pieces making sure that none of the names were legible.

On some level, he has always loved her. (Y/N) had been in his life from the very day she was born; mother being friends, Violet able to offer (Y/N)’s advice as she was her firstborn. At this point, Violet was a seasoned expert on motherhood. Anthony had always known of the girl that was best friends with Daphne; he had watched her grow up. On some level, he has always had some feeling for her.

He knows know, though, that those feelings could never broach romance. There was too deep an affection between them.

“You’re right,” Anthony states, “It wouldn’t be a love match.”

“It wouldn’t,” She affirms, taking a seat in front of the large, wooden desk. Silhouettes of his parents and siblings decorate the space; it brings a fond smile to her face. Anthony presented a strong front, but in private, he was as much the adoring son and brother.

“But you think you have found your love match,” Anthony declares, wanting to clear the air.

“I’m not sure,” She laughs mirthlessly. “I have no clue as to whether he feels the same.”

“He’d be an idiot, not to,” Anthony compliments, “Do I know the lucky man?”

(Y/N) looks sheepish as she stares at the Viscount. She had already confessed to Daphne and Eloise – what harm could one more person do?

“It’s Benedict.”

“You love him,” Anthony whispers; not an accusation, not an ounce of anger in his voice. A simple fact stated for the room.

(Y/N) nods. “I do. I love him with all that I am and all that I know I could be.”

A sad, bittersweet smile crosses Anthony’s face; he won’t speak of how the words hurt him. He reaches for her hand and clasps it tightly between both of his.

“Go to him,” He whispers, “You have my blessing.”

(Y/N) stands. Her intention is to leave the room and find the Bridgerton who had so readily taken root within her heart, but first she crosses to where Anthony stands behind his desk. He watches her with curious eyes as the silk of her glove brushes his cheek; his eye flutter closed when he feels the featherlight press of her lips and the whisper of her gratitude.

Anthony keeps his eyes closed when she pulls away from him; he keeps them closed until he hears the tell-tale click of the door. It is only then that Anthony allows himself to open his eyes and peer into the heartbreak now cracking open his chest. Not for the love he though he felt, but for the utter want racing through his body. He wants a love like that; he was going to find a love like that.

They would be happy together; he thinks to himself as he breathes in the floral scent of her perfume. They would be happy together, perfectly suited to the point that Anthony craves such intimacy. One day; he promises, one day he would hold such a treasure within his hands.

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

Bridgerton House remained warm and inviting even after the family had long retired for bed. The sconces lining the walls still lit; their warm light easy on anyone’s eyes should they need to traverse the hallways for whatever reason.

The path to Benedict’s room isn’t one she has taken often. Thinking on it, (Y/N) realises that save for being shown the door on her first ever visit to the London home, she has not stepped foot close to the room since. Until tonight, that is.

Her skirts swish delicately underfoot as (Y/N) makes her way to his room. She doesn’t dare utter a single breath for the fear of being caught; all around her slumber her closest friends. If she were caught by a member of staff, her reputation balanced on being ruined.

Her hand trembles as she clenches it into a fist, raises it to the plain white door and knocks twice. She waits on the threshold, twisting her fingers into her skirts – a nervous habit she’s had since she was a child. She was thankful that she no longer bit her nails down to the bed.  

“Come in,” calls his quiet voice and her nerves only heighten. Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door that could reveal her future.

“(Y/N),” Benedict gasps, the deep v of his shirt falling open, revealing far more of his bare chest than (Y/N) had expected to see tonight.

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispers, hovering between the doorway and his room. She does her best to not stare at the defined muscles on display but loses the battle. Her eyes run over the parts of his muscular torso and the strong forearms shown with the sleeves of white shirt rolled up. She didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to the forearms of a person, but here was Benedict proving her wrong.

“What if you get caught?” He whisper-asks, worry lacing his tone as he glances at something behind her. She turns on instinct only to find an empty hallway and three lit sconces.

“Anthony knows where I am,” She retorts, stepping further into Benedict’s room.

“Anthony?”

“He gave me his blessing.”

“To enter my room… unattended… late at night?”

“Essentially, yes,” She smiles, thinking back to her conversation with the Viscount.

“Why were you talking to Anthony?” Benedict asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the simmering jealousy he feels that the picture of (Y/N) alone with Anthony in his study. He clears his throat to chase away the hollow ache of envy; he doesn’t want to picture the conversation. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

“He asked me to court him.”

“Oh,” Benedict responds, feeling his heart begin to crack in his chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him I couldn’t. We wouldn’t suit each other and one other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“I don’t love him. I love someone else.”

“You do? Do I know them?”

(Y/N) laughs, stretching her arms out as she gestures to Benedict’s bedroom. “I’m stood in your room in the middle of the night, Benedict, with full knowledge that if I were to be caught by any of the staff, I would be ruined. What does that tell you?”

Benedict frowns, refusing to let himself fall into the hope growing in his chest. He feels like Icarus; too close to the sun, too close to thing he wants most in this world.

“Stop this pain in my heart,” She commands weakly. “Stop this pain and tell me if you feel the same. If you don’t, I understand but I’d ask you not to tell anyone of this midnight visit.”

His mouth runs dry, and he finds it hard to answer. He’s falling, falling, falling for the woman stood across from him and he cannot find the words to accurately describe the depth of his feelings for her. That day in the drawing room – he’s known her for years, always been aware of her, but that day, it was as if he was finally seeing her for the pure beauty that she inhabits. She could rival Aphrodite herself.

Upset shutters across (Y/N)’s face as she nods twice, trying her best to keep the burn of tears at bay. “It’s okay, Benedict,” She whispers, turning for the door, “Thank you for listening.”

At the last moment, Benedict reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t go,” He pleads, “Don’t leave me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you left me.”

“I don’t understand,” She whispers; confusion lacing her voice. Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the man before her, “You didn’t say anything. You stayed silent; I took that as my cue to leave.”

Benedict shakes his head. “Don’t go,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through the loose strands of hair framing her face. He almost preens as she leans into his touch. “I feel the same, I love you just the same,” Benedict confesses; feeling the weight leave his chest.

“You do?” She asks; her voice small but hopeful.

“I do,” Benedict smiles, brushing her cheek with his finger, “I think I always have, but I didn’t realise until recently.”

(Y/N) sniffles as tears threaten to make an appearance. She laughs wetly, unable to stop the giggle from leaving her mouth as Benedict wipes away the tears. “I hope those are happy tears,” He murmurs wryly.

“They are,” She answers, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. “They definitely are.”

“Good,” He answers.

Their faces are so close now it would only take a fraction of a movement to press their lips together; to seal the promise of their union. “Kiss me, Benedict,” She whispers; need lacing her voice as she stares into his famously blue eyes.

Benedict doesn’t need to be told twice; it isn’t often he gets to kiss a goddess.

********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @magicalxdaydream​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​ 

Taglist is open! Drop me an ask to be added! :)

[underworldreaderinserts]

I've been waiting for some Zagreus love, so thank you for existing! Can I ask for general dating headcannons for Zagreus please? Thank you for your time!

Oh, my! I’m so happy to have had such a warm welcoming! Thank you for being one of the first to send in a request to my blog. I’m very happy to know that the fandom is just as excited as I am to publish my content♡ And of course you may have Zagreus dating headcanons, hun♡ Thank you for being so patient with me, and I hope you like what I’ve supplied! (I really hope I gave what you were looking for. I don’t mind rewriting the request if it isn’t!) -- Ryan

Note: Since these are going to be general dating headcanons for our beloved Zagreus, I think I’ll keep them generic, and close to classical storyline Zag, and if anyone’s curious about how he’d be in another setting or a different AU, just throw me the request♡

✧ When you get into your relationship with Zagreus, it takes a while for the word to spread through the domain.

     ✧ To me, Zagreus comes off as the type of person that doesn’t necessarily go out of his way to announce he’s in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean he won’t sing his partner’s praises.

          ✧ Not that he would hide you from his father, of course (He’s far from being ashamed to call you his partner).

               ✧ But he would absolutely delay your formal introduction to his father, seeing as they’re not... on the best of terms, at the moment (and using you as blackmail or leverage to get the upper hand is definitely something that Zagreus would expect Hades to do).

✧ Of course, Nyx is the first to know.

     ✧ Zagreus had spent many of his nights (days?) back from his failed escape attempts at the House of Hades talking with her. Recounting his fights, updating his progress. Describe how his relationships with each of the Infernal Arms was progressing. And, ruminate on each one of the people here who cares about him.

          ✧ At some point -- and Nyx could probably tell you when that was -- his conversations went from his goal to make it to the surface, to more trivial things, like hopes, and dreams. It hadn’t surprised Nyx, as she had keenly noticed the time he’d spent with her grew shorter and shorter, and the course he followed to talk to her after each return delayed more and more.

               ✧ Whether he told her point blank, or she had the intuition enough, Nyx just knew. It wasn’t hard for her to see, what with the way he was around you. At this point, she had already known it was you who had captivated young Zagreus’s heart.

✧ Yes-- Zagreus found himself spending more and more time with you. Looking for you as soon as he pulled himself out of the Pool of Styx. 

     ✧ He’d loved the way your eyes lit up as he’d regale the tales of all the challenges he’d faced on his way out of here.

          ✧ He’d lose hours -- days, even, if he could -- talking to you, and listening to your praise, your concern, and your encouragement. He drank deeply of your being, and he found it even sweeter than the Gods’ ambrosia.

✧ Although he was trying to make his way out, at every attempt he made, he’d always bring something back for you. Though he noticed death only takes his Obol, and his family’s blessings, not any of the treasures he’d find along the way.

     ✧ Zagreus, bless his soul, was rather sheltered in the department of “what are appropriate gifts to give your partner.” Aphrodite would remind him of those bottles of nectar he’d had stored -- and better yet the ambrosia! -- But Zagreus was a bit more earnest (and certainly less smooth!) than that.

          ✧ He’d bring back the broken chain of a Wringer’s cuff, or a chipped staff from a Witch. Maybe a broken crystal off the Doomstone, or an arrow shot by a Strongbow. Junk that he’d pick up along the way, but they all had one thing in common; the thought of you that passed his mind when he’d take down that adversary.

               ✧ Hypnos dealt him heavy judgement, watching Zagreus hand over these broken pieces of his enemies to you, and would mention it before he’d leave the Pool of Styx -- that there were much better gifts to give than such distasteful trinkets.

                    ✧ But each time Zagreus presented these spoils of victory to you, the excitement and endearment that you’d feel would cause your soul to glow. And that, to him, was worth more than any of the treasures that he could break out of his father’s domain.

✧ It’s safe to say that dating Zagreus would mean a mother figure in Nyx, a few Chthonic brothers, a pile of enemies as gifts, and late, late nights in the lounge, cuddled on the extravagant loveseats as Zagreus would narrate his travels through the Underworld, holding you close against him.

Even if he couldn’t make it to the surface just yet, he had a little bit of paradise, right here, in his arms for the night.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Tea Shop Part Three: Zuko x female reader imagine series

You struggle to come to terms with the reality Lee is Zuko and can’t get your head around the idea...until a dangerous close encourter shows you how fire nation Zuko really is.

Part One here

Part Two here

Part four here

You felt like a naive idiot. You always prided yourself on being more objective than an average air nomad, more realistic, but you'd believe Zuko was good and he betrayed his uncle and tried to kill Aang. You felt utterly bewildered and couldn’t believe the person you knew would do all those things. You made Sokka tell you all about their encounters with Zuko, every single detail, to try and get it into your head that the tea merchant you knew didn’t exist. Everything Sokka told you sounded insane but you knew it was the truth so begrudgingly you started accepting it. You were starting to see Zuko as an enemy instead of an ally and then all that work went out the window when you came face to face with him again.

The gang had landed on a secluded part of an island with a nice lake so everyone was swimming and relaxing but you didn’t want to just lie around, you wanted to explore. So you convinced Sokka to come with you for a walk into town and the two of you set off. When you heard there was beach you’re excitment peaked and Sokka relaxed his rule on staying out of sight figuring nobody here would recognise either of you. Sokka stopped to look at bags by the beach front and you walked onto the beach happily. You stood in the sand enjoying the warmth when suddenly a beach ball came flying towards you. You batted it away without thinking and sent it flying down the beach. "Great job genius" a voice called and you turned to see a very angry looking fire nation girl. "That was my ball and now you've catapulted it half way down the beach". "Sorry but it was that or get in the face so..." you joked but the girl didn’t find you funny. "Go get it" she said stiffly and something about her tone pissed you off "no" you said simply "it’s your ball". The girl went to step closer to you when her friends walked over too and a boy pulled her away from you. You mouth opened in suprise to see it was Lee or more accurately Zuko. It had only been a few months since you’d last seen him but he looked so different. His hair was longer, he was in fire nation clothes and he looked changed...he looked good. You could tell it was definitely him by how panicked he looked, which also suprised you. Was he really scared because he thought you'd reveal what he did and who he was to his friends? Surely they knew he was the prince? Then you realised he wasn't worried about himself he was worried about you. "Azula leave it" he called standing infront of her and you realised who this was. The gang had told you all about the deadly fire nation trio and sure enough you recognised the other two girls from their descriptions. The pale girl didn’t even seem to be paying attention but the pretty brunette looked at Azula worried. "This peasant disrespected me i won’t leave it" Azula snapped as Ty lee frowned "it’s okay Azula, those boys are bringing the ball back to us anyway" she smiled "they’re so nice". "Exactly so let’s just go" Zuko said and you saw Azula frown at him, you were guessing he wasn’t usually an advocate for the average person. You felt his sister scanning you and knew you had to get out of this situation right now but had no idea how. "Come on" Zuko called but Azula shook her head "no". Zuko groaned "for god sake Azula what’s your problem! Leave her alone". Azula tensed "why are you so protective of this girl zuzu?" she asked and you saw Mai look up at that and stare at you too. "I’m not" Zuko babbled "i’m just sick of your temper, why start fights with a stranger for no good reason!". Azula frowned as if she hadn’t even heard Zuko "you seem familiar" she said "have we met before?". You frowned "i...i’ve never seen you before in my life" you replied trying not to touch the burn on your arm like you always did when you were nervous. She hummed still staring at you and you waited for her to realise who you were. "I’m sick of this come on lets just go" Zuko sighed and he led Mai away. "Azula come on" he called and Ty lee tugged her arm. "Fine" Azula sighed and let them drag her away. You watched them go, facinated. So this was the real Lee then? You watched him, staring at the back of his head trying to find something, a look, a subtle nod, anything that told you he was still Lee...but Zuko seemed determined not to look back at all and he walked away like he didn’t know or care about you at all.

You came to your senses after they left and rushed away from the beach, running back up to the stalls and out of sight. You breathed heavily as what could’ve happened to you sunk in and jumped when Sokka appeared next to you. "Hey, did you get what you wanted?". "What?" you asked confused. "The beach? Is it nice?". "No it’s way too crowded lets head back" you stammered and Sokka shrugged "okay". You weren’t sure why you didn’t tell Sokka what had happened. Part of you didn't say anything because you weren't sure how to feel. You hadn't been angry when you saw Zuko more sad and confused. You’d felt embarassed he ignored you even if he had to do it given the company he was in. Another part of you didn’t say anything because you didn’t want the others to persue Zuko even if he was part of the fire nation and that thought embarassed you even more. You were very confused and so just stayed quiet as you walked further and further away from the beach.

All day you ruminated over your decision not to tell the others and even with ground between you, you couldn’t get what happened out of your head. You wanted to ask Zuko why he’d helped you on the beach, shouldn’t he hate you now? Especially given your air nomad identity or was he different to the rest of his nation? Giving up on sleep you decided to go for a walk and pretended you didn’t have an exact location in mind. You knew it was stupid and risky but you headed back to the beach and arrived quickly. It was empty and you sat down slightly disappointed. You knew Zuko wouldn’t still be there but you had to check. You sighed wondering what you’d even have said to him and were suddenly glad he wasn’t here. You didn’t know if you’d be angry at him or happy to see him, so him not being here made things a lot easier for you.

"You must have a death wish coming back here" someone called and you knew who it was.

You turned and there Zuko was walking towards you slowly. The first emotion you felt wasn't anger, he'd come back here too, just like you. "I could say the same for you" you smirked and Zuko sat down next to you. You sat beside one another in silence both of you suprised and confused by the situation you were in. "Why are you here?" he asked suddenly. "I thought you might come back here so i did" you said embarassed and he shook his head "no here on the island! Are you following us? Y/n they can’t know you’re here...if my sister knew who you were she'd....". "Pft i can handle some fire" you tried to joke but Zuko shook his head "no y/n, Azula is the best fire bender i’ve ever seen, you can’t take her and you can’t let her take you". You swallowed, you’d only been joking about handling Azula, you knew she was dangerous but hearing Zuko tell you that... "We’re not here because we’re following you" you said softly "we stopped off here and i wanted to see the beach, it was chance bumping into you i swear". Zuko looked at you and nodded "i believe you, it was just...odd". You nodded and watched him out of the corner of your eye. He looked conflicted, happy but not happy, sad but not sad. "How are you?" you couldn’t help asking "how is it being back home?". "Weird" Zuko replied "it’s changed so much...i’ve changed". “Tell me about it, the last I knew you were a tea merchant not a prince”. Zuko smiled slightly “I imagine it was a lot to take in?”. You nodded “it was but it explained a lot...your spoiled attitude for one”. Zuko smirked and you laughed. This was nice and all but you couldn’t just sit around ignoring the elephant in the room. "Why did you do it?" you couldn’t help asking and felt Zuko tense, the atmosphere now uncomfortable. "I know i don’t know you well and I know Lee isn’t really you but I still can't understand why you'd betray your uncle? Why you'd side with your sister after all she’s done? You just don’t seem like that type of person". Silence settled and stretched on for so long you got ready to leave but finally Zuko spoke. "You’re right, you don’t know me". You met his eye and saw nothing but anger and hate there. You looked away scolded and shook your head feeling deflated "back to that again huh? Back to hating each other?". "Well obviously! we’re on opposing sides y/n, what did you think was going to happen once you joined the avatar? We’re not friends". You laughed in utter surprise "ow so if i didn’t join the avatar it would've been different?" you asked "stop trying to blame me because you feel guilty for the choices you made". "You were always too prying and self rightous for your own good" he snapped “you know nothing! You’re just some waitress I worked with, you don’t know anything about me”. "Wow and there’s the fire nation prince" you smirked patronisingly "don’t know how you did such a good job hiding him before now" and stood up. "I saved you as a courtesy" Zuko called after you, his voice getting louder the further you walked "the next time i won’t". His announcement made you so mad you shook with anger. He was really threatening you for calling him out on betraying his family? He thought not letting his sister attack you owed praise? "Good" you yelled back "i don’t need anything from you. Have fun in your cursed life traitor". 

Zuko’s POV

Your words hit Zuko like a strike and he glared after you burning holes in your back until you disappeared around a corner. Even though you’d gone Zuko’s anger didn’t and he angrily sent a jet of fire up into the air with a yell. Zuko sat down on the cold bench and shivered. “What’s wrong with you now?” someone asked making Zuko jump. He turned to see Azula coming towards him and looked around to make sure there was no sign you’d been here. Azula seemed relaxed so she obviously hadn’t seen you but Zuko couldn’t believe how lucky he got, if Azula had been slightly earlier or you stayed any longer...it didn’t bare thinking about. “Hello? Does that scar effect your hearing?”. “No” Zuko snapped and sighed. His temper had been bad recently and was getting worse, that’s why he’d blown up so easily. He hadn’t meant to yell at you, he’d been happy to see you and he did...had seen you as a friend. But that was certainly all ruined now he’d yelled at you. That thought made Zuko even more depressed, which he didn’t think was possible. He supposed it was best you hate him though, he was the traitor prince, he’d betrayed his uncle who only ever wanted to help him. This way he wouldn’t be able to betray you too. 

1 month later

You’d regretted what you’d said to Zuko as soon as your anger feded but you were still hurt at what he’d said about you. You weren’t friends and you never were...

You decided that was the final straw and set out to make Zuko’s words a reality. Slowly you managed to lose thought of Zuko, even during the invasion of the fire nation palace you didn’t worry about seeing him, you knew now where your loyalties lied and it wasn’t with Zuko. You were done with him and getting to be okay with that.

So after finally working all that out, when you got a visitor at the western air temple you were angry to say the least. "It’s not..." you frowned looking at the figure but it was. Zuko...and he was smiling too. "Hello Zuko here" he called waving, appearing to be as calm as ever. The others all armed themselves but you just glared. Zuko looked at you all and glanced at you last. He looked down at the intenseness of your glare and you felt proud. "What do you want here?" Aang asked. Zuko explained he wanted to join you and you snorted "seriously? Now the great prince wants to grace us with his presence?" you asked. Zuko looked at you "y/n...i’m sorry for hurting you, all of you” he said looking at everyone again "what i did was wrong and i ask you to consider forgiving me". "No" you said simply "so thank you for coming but goodbye". Zuko rolled his eyes "y/n just let me explain...". "Explain what?" you asked "how you double crossed Mushi? How you hinted i’d be next?". Zuko went quiet and lowered his head. Aang touched your arm and you took that as a sign to calm down. “We can never trust you and we’ll never let you join us” Aang took over and you nodded. Zuko’s face crumpled in defeat and you sighed in relief. You watched, glaring, until Zuko walked out of sight and went inside the temple “well done Aang” you commented. "Man i thought air nomads were all peaceful" Sokka frowned. "Well guess i’m more earth nation then" you shrugged "if i see him again i’ll catapult him from this mountain". “Why are you so angry at him?” Toph asked suddenly and you laughed “you’re joking right?”. “No I get you feel betrayed but you were furious with him I could tell by your emotions and what did you mean when you said he threatenned you?”. “Yeah you never told us he did that in Ba Sing Sei” Sokka nodded and you frowned. “He didn’t threaten me per se and it wasn’t in Ba Sing Sei. I spoke to Zuko a few weeks ago". "What!" they all cried. Sokka launched in a lecture, Katara questioned you on safety, Toph called you insane while you just blushed. "This is exactly why i didn’t tell you!" you cried "i knew the risk but we were at the beach and he’d already stopped his sister from attacking me earlier that day so i figured....". "What" Sokka yelled and you sighed and just started from the very beginning. You finished your explanation and Sokka nodded. "I get why you’re angry at him" Sokka agreed and you sighed in relief. "Yeah because of what he said to me...". "No because you guys basically broke up". "What! We did not" you spluttered "we were never dating! That’s ridiculous" and stormed away angrily.

After a fitful night of sleep you woke up to the news Toph was gone. She’d seemed pretty sympathetic to Zuko yesterday so you weren’t suprised when she returned and announced she’d visit Zuko...and he’d burnt her. You helped carry her to the fountain and managed not to gloat that you were right but Toph sensed it. “I can feel you smirking” she commented. You frowned “I’m sorry you got hurt but I did tell you...”. “I may’ve been wrong but you’re letting your feelings cloud your judgement” Toph commented. You gaped “no i’m not!” and Katara frowned “guys....” when an explosion rocked the whole temple. Sparky sparky boom man was back, the assassin hired to kill you, and you all sought cover when suddenly the attacks ceased. “Zuko” Aang commented and you sighed, apparently Zuko was determined to prove his worth. Watching Aang’s reaction you felt anger, you knew what would happen. Zuko would save the day and that would win the gang over, they didn’t have as strong grudges as you.

Sure enough after the attack they let Zuko approach and listened to him. Aang vouched for him but then turned to all of you for your opinions. Aang looked at eveyone, they all met his eye apart from you. Toph and Sokka agreed, Katara hesitated but she agreed too. Finally Aang turned to you  "Y/n" he said softly "will you agree to let Zuko stay?". You looked past Aang to Zuko and resisted the urge to glare. "Y/n" Aang said softly "please, i need a firebender teacher and i really think it should be him". You stared at Aang, those big brown eyes wearing you down, and sighed. You had to do what was right, Aang needed this and he was one of the last members of your nation, you couldn’t be selfish. You nodded your head stiffly “if you say you need him then okay”. Aang grinned at you before turning back to Zuko “okay you can join us”. Those words made your skin crawl and you stormed away.  

It was awkward to say the least having Zuko around, all of you were reluctant to approach him but Sokka seemed to be having fun with it. As night approached Zuko asked where his room was and Sokka said he’d show him. Zuko nodded and Sokka siddled up beside you “want to show Zuko to his room yourself?" Sokka asked "so you can memorise the location". You smacked Sokka over the head in reply and he led Zuko away without another comment but had apparently put the idea in Zuko’s head.

You were laid on your bed glaring at the ceiling too angry to sleep when there was a knock on your door. You sat up cautiously and the door opened to reveal Zuko. "Hi" he said timidly and you stood up "what do you want?". Zuko blushed "i think we need to talk, privately...about what happened on ember island". "What is there to discuss? You never considered me a friend, you rejected me and left". Zuko frowned "y/n...it wasn’t like that". "Wasn’t it?" you asked and Zuko frowned "well it was but y/n i’m sorry! The things i said to you were awful but i didn’t mean them! I lashed out at you because it was you, because you make me want to be a better person, that’s why i hurt you". "Ow wow that makes it so much better thank you" you said mockingly and Zuko frowned "no, you know i didn’t mean it like that". "Well i’m sorry i didn’t take you yelling at me the right way Zuko, did i misinterpret you calling me nosy and self rightous and saying you never liked me too? Or how you saving me was just a such a nice gesture". Zuko groaned "why aren’t you listening i just said I didn’t mean any of that!". "Well i find that hard to believe" you glared "you don’t get to come here and apologise and have me forgive you, i’m angry at you". "Really you did a good job hiding that" Zuko retorted and you glared. "Get out of my room i don’t want to talk to you, ever”" you yelled and Zuko nodded "fine!" and stormed away. He slammed the door and the whole temple shook. You let out a cry of frustration and collapsed onto your bed. Zuko joining the group was going to make things complicated.

----

Next part is the last one!!!

[lovelucybradford]

I Pretend You’re Mine~Three

A/N: Thank you again, so much, for your kind and encouraging comments. It makes me so happy that you’re enjoying this.

Trigger warning: Rosalie has plane accident anxiety, gets high off of Dramamine, and wants to fight some hoes

Masterlist

And without further ado, I present to you...

Chapter Three: I Get Drunk On Jealousy

Rosalie had never been a good sleeper on the night before a vacation. Normally, she would spend the hours tossing and turning in bed, her mind whirring with anticipation at the upcoming events or thinking of the impending doom of a plane flight. Last night followed the same predictable pattern: lie awake counting the ruffles in the popcorn ceiling, think about planes falling out of the sky, roll over, curl into ball, think about something else to ease the anxiety...

Save for one difference--an earlier conversation with Laura played in Rose’s head over and over like a drive-in showing of the newest heart-pounding flick.

 “You haven’t seen my idiot brother, have you?” Laura muttered as soon as Rosalie opened the door, suspicious eyes scanning the apartment in search of a hiding Derek. She didn’t wait for Rose’s reply and walked into the living room, plopping down on the sofa.

“Well, hello to you, too. Not that you’re not always welcome, but what are you doing here? You could have called. And why are you looking for Derek?” Rosalie questioned, resting her hip on the doorframe.

Laura rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “He hasn’t been home in days, he missed family dinner Sunday night, he won’t answer texts or calls. I think he’s hiding from my mother. I—”

“Why would he be hiding from your mother? I mean, for God’s sake, he’s a thirty-year-old man—”

“Can you blame him from hiding? You know what my mom’s like when she’s pissed.”

“Why’s she pissed at Derek? As far as I know, he hasn’t done anything deserving of the wrath of Mama Hale.”

Laura crossed her arms, a signature Hale glare aimed right at Rosalie.

Rose questioned Laura’s unwarranted expression with a glare of her own. “What?”

The scowl etched on Laura’s face just grew further. “You’re honestly going to lie to my face?”

At Rosalie’s clueless expression, Laura sighed, throwing her hands up into the air, “What kind of game are you and Derek playing?”

Rose’s heart began to beat a little faster. Could Laura know about their little white lie? No, she couldn’t have. All joking aside, Rosalie’s friend group had sworn not to tell anyone else. But it wasn’t like they kept in contact with the other Hale siblings to begin with…

Laura stood, grabbing the other woman by the wrist and pulling her to sit, in the teal armchair, across from her.

“Tell me. Whose idiotic idea was it to tell your whackass family that you and Derek are engaged? Yours or his?”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped, but Laura looked unaffected.

“How…how did you find out?” Rose breathed, knowing she was caught red-handed.

“Your father called my mother to congratulate her on having ‘an esteemed Martin daughter’ joining the family—”

“Of course, he did,” Rosalie muttered into her palm.

“—Then asked when you and Derek were planning on officially announcing the engagement.”

Rosalie purposefully stared at the gold buttons that outlined the armchair. One of them was loose. That would have to be fixed. Now that she knew about it, it would drive her nuts. “And… what did Talia say?”

“She said that she’s overjoyed that you’ll be an ‘official’ Hale, and that she’d be sure to pass along his concerns to you. Then, she called my brother to ask why the fuck she just had to lie to Jason Martin and what in the world you two were scheming up.”

That surprised Rosalie. Talia Hale was a woman of great poise; it was rare that she lost her temper. “Wait, she actually dropped the ‘f’ bomb? Why was she so angry? So what, we may have fibbed a little.”

The accent pillow from Rose’s sofa hit her in the face, forcing her to look at Laura. Laura’s lips were pursed, face growing redder with frustration.

“SO WHAT? Good God, you two are the stupidest smart people that I know!”

The condescending tone of her voice caused Rosalie to raise her haunches. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means that this is, by far, the dumbest con you two have come up with. And this beats the night that you and Derek got drunk on his 21st birthday and you dared him to go streaking down Main Street.”

“Why? You don’t think that Derek and I can play a convincing couple? Because I’ll have you know that we both won the Best Thespian award during our respective senior years, even though D—”

Laura stood, exploding. “That’s just it, Rosalie! You’ll both play madly in love very well, too well actually, and I…”

She ran a hand through her brown hair, walking to the window and facing the expanse of city below. Softly, Laura added, “I don’t want to see you two get hurt.”

She sounded so vulnerable, it made Rosalie wonder the reasoning behind those fears. Derek and her, they would never hurt each other. The two friends both cared too much. “And why would you think that?”

Laura whipped around to face Rosalie so quickly that she wondered how her pseudo-sister hadn’t gotten whiplash. “Must I spell it out for you? Obviously, I must. You two have been in love with each other since you were kids.”

No. No. Rosalie had feelings for him (albeit repressed), sure, but they certainly weren’t love. She swore she would never get herself into that mess again. And Derek… no way. Like he could ever love her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I… Derek… we’re not in love.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Tell me how denial goes for you. Just don’t come back to me crying when this whole ploy of yours blows up in your face spectacularly.”

Was Laura right? Would this all end in burning flames? That question had ruminated in Rosalie’s head all night long.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!” A slap on the leg jolted Rose wide awake. She looked to her left, finding the culprit grinning in satisfaction as his eyes scanned the road ahead.

Rosalie rolled her eyes, slumping against the passenger door to glare out the window at the streaks of artificial light that came from the surrounding buildings as we passed. “Go to hell, Peter.”

“I’ve been there, sweetie. Feels right at home. And besides, you’re getting to spend a week in paradise. I think you can sacrifice a little sleep.”

“So you woke me up because you’ve got FOMO?”

“You could have gotten a ticket, too. You have enough money,” Lydia chimed in from the back seat. Her voice was low with latent sleep, Lydia not much more alert than Rosalie.

Peter sighed dramatically, always one for fanfare. “No, I could not have. Rosalie’s father’s restraining order still stands… and I’m permanently banned from the state of Hawaii.”

Stiles perked up immediately, elbows leaning on his knees so he could listen in closer. “This is a story I have to hear.”

At the same time, looking to Peter in her peripheral, Rose commented, “You’re lucky you got off that easy. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Stiles reached across Lydia to poke Derek spastically in the bicep.

“What did he do? What did he do?” Stiles questioned Derek like an excited little boy.

Derek groaned. “This fucker commandeered Jason Martin’s yacht and took it for a drunken joyride like he was Jack fucking Sparrow. He went around picking up a bunch of women and partied until the Coast Guard pulled up.”

To himself, Peter muttered, “Boats and hoes.”

Rosalie scowled. “You had to go and call the female cop a dirty wench.”

Peter looked irritated. “Um, excuse me. I may not remember much from that night, but I’m pretty sure my exact words were, ‘Ahoy there, you sexy wench! Give me some of that booty.’”

Stiles laughed hysterically. Rosalie reached around in her seat to smack him on the forehead. “Don’t encourage him!”

Peter shifted the car into park and turned towards the group in the back. “We’re finally here. Now, get the fuck out of my car so I can go back to sleep.”

________________________

  Her pillow was hard—unusually so. She specifically remembered buying the fluffiest one in the store. So why did it feel like she was sleeping against a wall? Rosalie inhaled deeply, the woodsy scent flooding her nostrils. The brick wall smelled amazing. She greedily burrowed further into the pillow. The pillow that was becoming less hard and more… prickly.

The pillow shook slightly, Rosalie’s torso moving along with it. The hazy ring of a laugh resounded amidst the mechanical buzzing of the airplane.

“Are you smelling me?” came a familiar voice. The woman turned her head slightly, only to find that her pillow was not a pillow, and instead was the shoulder of her best friend.

Rosalie smiled happily up at him. “Hey Derek!”

He grinned back, green eyes dancing with amusement. “Hey princess. Sleep well, I assume?”

“Mmm, yeah. So good. The best.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about two hours outside of Orlando. Just a reminder, the fasten seatbelt sign is on. We may run into some turbulence here.”

Rosalie lifted her heavy head from Derek’s shoulder, leaning back fully on the cushion of her seat. Her eyes hazily scanned the encapsulated ceiling. A blast of cold air hit her straight in the face.

“God, is that you?” Rosalie questioned curiously, “Why are you telling me to fasten my seatbelt. I always wear my seatbelt, you know that. I am a responsible driver.”

Derek laughed again. “Holy shit, you’re so high.”

Rosalie smacked her lips, mouth suddenly feeling cotton dry. “I require a beverage.”

Stiles peeked his head over the seat.

Rose stared up at him in awe. “Stiles, you really are a Jedi! You’ve mastered levitation!”

Stiles gave her a weird look. “First you’re saying that you require a ‘beverage’, now you’re thinking that I’m levitating.” His focus turned to scrutinize Derek. “I told you we shouldn’t have given her Dramamine!”

Rose’s body suddenly felt heavy again, so she slumped over and used Derek to support her weight. Derek’s head was stretched all the way up; he was yelling back at Stiles. For what, Rosalie didn’t understand. “Would you rather she spends the whole flight puking her guts out? You know she has motion sickness!”

Rosalie blindly reached a finger up and to her left until she poked Derek in the nose. “Derek. Derek. Der. I need a beverage.”

Derek wrapped his hand around hers and brought their hands down to rest between them. His free hand ran through his hair.

“The drink cart’s coming. It should be here soon.”

Rosalie narrowed her eyes, focusing on Derek’s hair and not his words. The black locks were disheveled, the right side sticking up in a very unattractive manner. She stretched up to pat his hair down.

“Yes, thank you. Ok. The stewardess is coming,” Derek said, clearly not appreciating her fixing.

Rosalie shrugged and went back to lying her head on his shoulder, trying not to inhale when she caught another whiff of cedarwood. Damn, that scent was addicting.

The perky stewardess appeared almost instantly, almost like she was at Derek’s beck and call. She might as well have been, with the way she was looking at him.

The woman was young, likely around Rosalie’s age. She wore a navy blazer over a white button-up shirt, with one too many buttons undone. Even her scarf couldn’t hide that cleavage—eye-drawing cleavage. And it’s like the stewardess knew it, too, with the way that she pulled down her shirt as soon as she stepped in front of the two in the aisle. Her brown eyes scanned Derek hungrily, not an unusual occurrence when it came to Derek Hale.

Intuitively, Rosalie’s blue eyes scanned the hand still in Derek’s for the ring that she was sure she put on this morning, the sapphire that got them into this mess in the first place. Just as Rosalie thought, it was still secured around her left ring finger.

The pretty blonde flight attendant flipped her long hair and smiled brilliantly at Derek.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” she fawned, voice thick with a southern drawl.

Rose watched her like a hawk. She didn’t like that look, nor the subtle flirting. Not when it was obvious that he was engaged.

Rosalie put on the sweetest smile she could muster in her slowly angering state. “I’d love a ginger ale. Thank you.”

The stewardess didn’t even look at Rosalie as she spoke; she was still smiling brightly at Derek.

“Would you like a champagne? It’s on the house, for a pretty face like yours.”

Rosalie’s blood boiled at the woman’s blatant flirting with her fiancé. It sobered Rosalie immensely. She raised her head from Derek’s shoulder, moving their joined hands to her lap where the sapphire ring would be obvious.

The flight attendant’s gaze grazed briefly to Rosalie’s hand. It was as if she was unfazed.

Rosalie’s brows stretched tightly upward as she channeled Big Hale Energy to the best of her ability. The words came flying out of her mouth before she could really even think them through. She was beyond pissed.

 “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say that you’re just too stupid to see the ring on my finger. Because I highly doubt that American Airlines would appreciate one of their employees whoring it up for someone else’s fiancé.”

The look on the woman’s face was priceless. Finally, Rosalie got a reaction on that steely, perfect face of hers, one that reminded Rose eerily of her stepsister, Ashleigh. The other woman’s jaw dropped, noisily gasping for breath.

The gasps echoed across the cabin. Derek’s hand stiffened in Rose’s.

“I am so sorry. We gave her some Dramamine to get on the plane, and she gets a little… feisty. If we could have the ginger ale, that would be great. Thanks,” Derek croaked, swiftly pulling his hand away to pull out his wallet from his back pocket. He handed the woman a five-dollar bill with an apologetic smile.

Rosalie looked at him, flabbergasted.

Derek stared right back at her, one brow raised in challenge.

“Do you want to get kicked off this plane?!” He hissed.

Stiles poked his head up again, whistling loudly. “Not even there yet, and you’re already playing the jealous fiancée. Damn, Rose. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Lydia yanked him back down into his seat as the flight attendant stiffly appeared with Rosalie’s ginger ale and a bottle of water for Lydia. Rose didn’t look at her as she accepted the plastic cup. Instead, she stared at her tanned legs. The stewardess’ high heels clicked as she stomped back up towards the front of the cabin.

In the clear, Rosalie brought the cup to her dry lips to take a much-needed drink. Lydia reached one hand through the gap between Derek and Rosalie’s seats, grabbing Rose’s elbow before she could let the liquid into her mouth.

“Don’t drink that!” Lydia exclaimed hastily.

Rose put the drink down on Derek’s open tray table and turned to peek through the gap. She could see a fraction of Lydia’s face. From what she could see, Lydia looked irritated.

“She probably spit in it, Rosalie.”

Rose scoffed at the suggestion. “What? She was the one who was hitting on a taken man! What am I supposed to do?”

Derek shoved a half-drank bottle of Aquafina from his carry-on into her lap. “Just shut up and drink this.”

She removed her face from the gap to look at Derek apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t react, just kept on glaring at the tray table.

Rosalie changed defense tactics, smiling at him with all teeth bared like a guilty child. “I’m sorry. I love you, Der Bear.”

Just as predicted, his green eyes shot to her blue ones. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You better. I forgive you.”

Success. Rosalie’s lips curled upwards in satisfaction.

Derek held up a finger in front of her face. “On one condition. You never call me Der Bear again.”

His comment had Rosalie cackling loudly, drawing more unwanted attention to herself for the second time on the flight.

______________________________________________________________

Tags:

@empath-bunny

@ityagirljay​

@wolfarrowepz​

[themillsdaughter]

Okay, so I have thoughts on the bensler reunion and feel like if I don’t write it somewhere, it’ll just become one of those subjects one ruminates over for the rest of their lives until they become bitter and old and shake their fist in silent rage.

Twitter is filled with people who haven’t watched it yet, hence me posting about this here after years of being inactive in this fandom. if anyone’s interested, I’d love to chat about this too, but in case it isn’t clear by now, major spoilers and unhappy ranting ahead.

Alright, first off, I feel like I should put a few disclaimers from the get-go: one, i have not watched the Organized Crime episode past the letter part bc who even has the energy, two, despite everything I say here, I do genuinely love the characters, and three, I was never, ever, ever fully on board with Stabler coming back. I thought it was a stupid idea since I first found out about it.

I mean, come on. It’s literally been ten years. Ten freaking years without any contact (do not get me started on that semper fidelis thing) and NOW they wanna bring him back? Now that Olivia is settled as the captain, now that she has moved on with her life and is finally as happy as she can? Are you kidding me? And not only that, I had a feeling the show wouldn’t handle all the emotional bagage as it should. SVU is one of my favorite shows, I’ve quite literally watched it for half of my life (even before I was even fluent in English). I love this show with a ferocity I can’t quite put into words, but it has, without a shadow of a doubt, been losing it’s power for at least a couple of seasons now, if not more.

As I said, I haven’t been participating in the fandom for some years, so I can’t speak as to why it’s been going a bit downhill, though I do have a suspicion that it has something to do with the fact that it’s been going on for, hahah, literally over two decades.

But anyways, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say here is that I thought it was stupid to bring Elliot back. The show doesn’t need him. It might need the drama, but absolutely not him.

Either way, since what I think has no actual implication in the serious world of tv dramas, it was happening anyway and the thirteen-year-old bensler shipper in me could not help herself. I had to watch it.

I expected to be angry, I expected Olivia to go against her better judgement at least once because he asked pretty please. I expected them to share at least one kiss.

Only one of those expectations wasn't met (to my delight).

Two minutes into the episode, I was already yelling at the TV because I swore she was going to hug him when she first saw him. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, but the eye contact was already too much.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for Kathy’s part in this episode. She was hurt. Someone tried to kill her. Uh-uh.

Thinking from a creative point of view, it does make sense. She’s been his wife for god knows how many years now, he’s involved with some pretty big crimes, someone wanted to kill him, she was colateral. Beautiful, classic, awesome.

What does not make sense is how the episode was set up. WHY should we feel this anguish, this great sadness over Kathy? Sure, we’ve known about her for as long as Elliot was on the show, that is, since the very beginning. But, and I’m sorry to repeat this again, IT HAS BEEN TEN YEARS. The viewers attachment to Kathy is a very very thin thread.

And yes, I do understand that the point was to focus on Elliot’s loss, on his pain, his fear of losing his wife, the mother of his children. However, that wasn’t even properly done, either. Were they in love again? He said they were happy, but how so? Where were they at in their love story? Were they a family again, were they facing problems? Were they distant, but still married? The show didn’t answer any of that, so, when she passes (which, to be honest, was predictable), that’s that. She’s dead. Elliot cries, Liv’s in shock. Okay.

Granted, it was the very first episode of his return, I cannot speak over what will be revealed in later episodes of either shows, but I personally feel that we weren’t given enough to feel. It was all based on the expectation that we would remember everything that happened and that we would still have the same attachment to everything.

And now we get to the duo of the hour: Olivia still-in-love-with-the-same-man-who-abandoned-her-a-decade-later Bensler and Elliot agressive-man-but-with-a-tinsy-bit-of-more-control Stabler.

Here I do admit that part of my frustration is my own fault. I wished, prayed, hoped and desperately wanted Liv to get angry. To give him some sort of verbal smack-down for what he did. Yes, it makes perfect sense for her to just shut it out as best she can. It’s Liv we’re talking about, so that’s very in character for her, but it still didn’t give me the satisfaction I feel we deserved to see her tell him to go to hell. (Furthermore, I think it would have been a fantastic way to showcase how much she’s grown without him. Yes, she used to be soft with him, but now she’s assertive, she wants more for herself, she knows she deserved more than what he did).

The tears, the apology, the hug in the hospital.... it was all....fine. It was fine. It was them. It just lacked something more. It lacked some sort of spark.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to love their reunion despite myself. I wanted to be wrong and watch a beautifully executed, messy, sweet reunion of the ship which literally made me join fandom life, learn about fanfiction and learn English. I wanted that more than anything, but I didn’t expect it.

What I expected was exactly what I got. I smelled that scene of Elliot begging her to let him in the interrogation room, giving her those Puss In Boots eyes and Olivia just folding from the minute they announced his return. And it made me angry, because the whole message they’ve been sending us through all these seasons, of Liv growing into the main character, into someone who wasn’t El’s partner anymore, into a f***ing Captain was backpaddled real quick.

And yeah, there is something to be said about the effect he will always have on her, no matter how many years. But is that really what she, as a character, deserves? Is that even healthy?

I probably have more thoughts, but this is far, far too long already.

In general, the episode was fine. It wasn’t awful. it was also not great. Do I wanna watch the rest? No. Will I? Probably.

Oh, and just before I go: WHAT THE F*** WAS UP WITH FIN???? HELPING HIM OUT??? TELLING ELLIOT UNSOLICITED INFORMATION ABOUT LIV’S LIFE??? ABOUT HER LOVE LIFE??? Yeah, sure, he was a bensler shipper, whatever, but excuse me??? You’ve actively participated in her life for twenty years and think it’s healthy to try and make her patch up with a man who just, in her own words, DISAPPEARED?

Love the dude, wanted Olivia to yell at him too.

Anyways, if anyone made it this far and feels like talking about it, I am absolutely open to that.

[superhusbands4ever]

The Chain - Chapter 2/15

Now to check in with The Bad Batch.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Crosshair Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

At any moment the decision you make can change the course of your life forever.

- Tony Robbins

“How much longer until we’re there?”

Hunter turned from the navicomputer to look at the young girl beside him.

“We should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes, so not much longer,” he said, fiddling with buttons on the computer. “You should go ahead and get your stuff ready for when we land.”

“Okay,” she smiled, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I can’t wait to see Rex. I want to show him how much better I’ve gotten with my bow.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m sure he’s excited to see you, too. It’s been awhile.”

She nodded, skipping away to her room to gather her things.

She’d grown so much since the day the Batch met her on Kamino two and a half years ago. Sometimes Hunter wondered if maybe Omega did actually have advanced aging with how quickly she’d shot up in so short a time.

Before where the top of her head had only come up to his chest, now she was tall enough to lean her head on his shoulder when standing together (though the others teased that had more to do with his own height than Omega’s.) Her hair was longer too, down to her shoulders in a frizzy mess of blonde curls. Her face had lost some of the baby fat she’d had nearly three years ago, and she was slowly but surely looking less like the awkward child they’d saved from the Empire, and more like the young teen that she was becoming.

She’d settled into her place in their squad much more comfortably now, too. Going on supply runs and various jobs for Cid would be impossible without her — she factored into all of their plans, worked fearlessly and flawlessly with the others, and had become so proficient with her bow it made Hunter’s chest ache when he watched her.

Her confident shooting and various games on missions with Wrecker reminded him so much of their missing family member it hurt. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Crosshair at all in the two years since they’d left him on Kamino. Since he left us, he tried to remind himself. He made his choice.

Their squad worked their hardest to stay under the Empire’s radar since Tipoca City, picking and choosing jobs that weren’t too risky, that didn’t grant too much exposure. Rex was right that day on Ord Mantell — being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages. Especially when that meant the leftover bounties from the Kaminoans on Omega disappeared. From what Tech could glean from Imperial channels, as far as the Empire was concerned, the sole survivor of the destruction of Tipoca City was Commander CT-9904. The longer it stayed that way the better.

They couldn’t figure out why Crosshair would protect them, would lie and tell the Empire that they had perished in the bombardment. They thought maybe it was only a matter of time before they were caught out, before Crosshair’s anger at them got the better of him and he let it slip that they were still out there somewhere in the galaxy. But as a month turned into six, six months turned to a year, and a year turned to two with no Imperial bounties on their heads, they began to accept that maybe this was Crosshair’s last gift to them. A chance to survive the Empire, at least by him not giving them away.

Hunter would be lying if he said that knowledge hadn’t given him hope. That maybe his little brother, who’d slept in his bunk during bad storms as a cadet and gave him Lula to hold when the sensory overload got too bad, was still in there somewhere. That the cold, angry, and jaded man they’d seen on Kamino wasn’t all that was left of their kih’vod.

Nowadays he wasn’t so sure. As far as they knew, Crosshair was still with the Empire. And with each day as the Empire’s list of crimes and atrocities grew, Hunter’s hope for his little brother realizing his mistake and coming home to them dwindled. Maybe Tech was right. Crosshair was severe and unyielding and nothing could change that. Crosshair had made his choice.

This… is who I am.

Maybe this was who Crosshair had been all along, much as it pained him to consider.

The navicomputer beeped and pulled him from his ruminations just as the ship shuttered, dropping out of hyperspace in the Yavin system.

He stood and walked toward the cockpit, watching as the forest moon in front of them grew larger as they grew closer.

“Entering atmo shortly,” Tech announced, pressing buttons on the dash. “We should be landing at the base momentarily.”

“It’ll be good to see Rex again,” Echo said, stretching his arms above his head. “I wonder if he’s found any more clones since we were here last.”

“He seemed optimistic last time we talked,” Hunter agreed. “There were more clones than I expected there already a few months ago.”

“Rex is a proficient and effective leader,” Tech added as he brought the ship down through the clouds, “it is not surprising that he would have decent success on his mission.”

“I just wish we could help him more than doing the occasional supply drop,” Echo said. “It feels wrong to not be helping with the vode. To not be joining the fight.”

“Keeping off of the Empire's radar is more important right now,” Hunter reminded his brother for what felt like the hundredth time, “which we can’t do if we’re running rebel missions to help clones defect from the Empire.”

“I know, I know,” Echo grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. He sighed. “I just…”

Hunter laid his hand on Echo’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I know.”

“Beginning landing sequence now,” Tech called as he flipped the landing gear.

As the ship touched down on the landing pad hidden away from the base in the trees, a loud crash came from the back racks, followed by twin groans.

Hunter squinted back at the pair. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Omega and Wrecker both shouted back.

Omega stepped out of the hold, bow strapped to her back, fiddling with the strap of her pauldron. She saw Hunter looking at her and smiled brightly and innocently at him, moving to stand in front of Wrecker as he rushed to clean up the knocked over crates. Hunter rolled his eyes.

Soon after the five of them were offloaded and walking through the trees toward the base. It didn’t take long to reach - as they drew closer Hunter felt worry stirring in his chest at the sounds of raised voices, scraping crates, and the general sounds of chaos that, in his experience, indicated something bad was happening.

He sped up a bit, the others following behind him, and he heard them all make their own noises of concern as they drew close enough to the base for the others to hear.

A couple of Regs standing at the entrance of the hangar bay moved forward as if to stop them, but waved them through once Hunter pulled off his helmet.

“Captain’s inside,” he said, nodding to the chaotic scene behind him.

They all walked inside slowly, Omega jumping out of the way of a frantic looking nat-born woman, the upper half of her jumpsuit tied around her waist, waving a datapad threateningly and shouting at someone on top of the freighter in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on here?” Wrecker grumbled as they watched clone and nat-born alike clamber around, gathering supplies and loading them into the freighter.

Hunter’s brow quirked as he watched two men load a crate of explosives while another loaded a crate of ammunition onto the ship.

“It would appear they are prepping for an urgent mission,” Tech said, adjusting his giggles as they watched the chaos.

“We just commed Rex an hour ago and he said everything was fine,” Echo looked toward the group, concerned.

“Hello boys!”

They all turned at the sound of a familiar voice and watched Gregor walk toward them, fully armored, with a wave and a grin on his face.

“And lady,” he added once he was next to them, smiling down at Omega and offering her a high five which she accepted.

“What’s the hustle for, Gregor?”

“Bit of an emergency came up in the last hour or so,” Gregor said with a sigh, face falling into a serious expression as he looked around. “One of Rex’s main operatives sent out a distress signal. Looks like he’s been busted and needs extraction.”

“I didn’t know Rex ran stealth ops,” Hunter said, surprised.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But this one is a bit of a special case,” Gregor explained. “He’s had a man playing double agent in the Empire for about a year now. He’s the guy who’s been helping us save all these clones.”

Glancing around, Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed. He knew Rex had made it his mission to fight the Empire and save all the regs he could, but Hunter hadn’t realized just how many Rex had managed to accumulate even since they were last on base four months ago. There had to be dozens of clones just in the hangar bay. Who knew how many were in the rest of the base.

“One man helped smuggle all these clones out?” Hunter asked, surprised.

“Them and more,” Gregor nodded. “Even helped some get their chips out first.”

“And now the Empire’s figured him out.”

“Aye, vod,” Gregor sighed. “Rex wants to try and extract him as soon as we can. He’s done so much for us… we don’t leave men behind.”

Hunter nodded, very carefully ignoring the way Echo shifted at his back.

“Trooper! Make sure you load a couple emergency field kits and a med scanner into the cargo. I don’t know what sort of condition he’ll be in when we get to him.”

The group turned to watch as Rex rounded the freighter, fully kitted up in his customary 501st blue armor, helmet tucked under his arm. Captain Howzer followed close behind him, similarly decked out in full armor. Rex stood and directed a few of the troopers around before turning to the group huddled to the side of the chaos.

“Evening, Bad Batch,” he greeted as he walked closer, chuckling when Omega ran forward to wrap her arms around the man’s waist.

“Hey there, ‘Meg.”

Howzer nodded respectfully to Hunter and the others.

“What’s going on here, Rex?” Echo said as he stepped around Hunter.

“Emergency extraction,” Rex said simply, accepting the gentle kov’nyn from Echo when the man reached forward. “Bit of a sketchy situation. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Heard about your man,” Echo said, “how deep was he?”

“Very deep,” Rex sighed, expression pinched. “Hopefully we can get to him before, well….”

Hunter nodded as Rex trailed off. By this point, they were all familiar with the Empire’s idea of justice against those they felt had wronged them.

“We should head out,” Rex said, nodding at Howzer and Gregor. The two saluted and Gregor slid his helmet on. “It’s a couple hours to Daro and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Hunter started. “Wait, Daro--?”

“Rex, wait!”

The group turned to watch as a rather gaunt looking clone with a handlebar moustache ran up to the three captains.

“I’d like to request permission to go on this mission, sir,” he said, snapping breathlessly to attention and saluting.

Rex looked at the other clone with concern clear on his face.

‘I don’t know, Boil. You’ve only been here a couple of days, you should be taking time to recover--”

“I understand,” the clone - Boil - said, relaxing. “But I owe it to the Commander to help him. It’s my fault he got caught in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t,” Rex argued, reaching out and clapping Boil on the shoulder. “He knew the risks and it was his decision. Besides, you have no way of knowing--”

“That signal went out within days of getting me out,” Boil said quietly. “I know how high of a risk I was, but he did it anyway. I owe this to him.”

Rex held the other man’s gaze for a long moment before sighing and turning to Howzer.

“I hate to ask,” Rex began apologetically, “I know the two of you are close, but--”

“I’ll stay here,” Howzer agreed, reaching up to pull his helmet off. “Man the fort, as it were.”

He glanced over Rex’s shoulder at Hunter and the others before turning back to the other man.

“Just…” Howzer sighed, face pinched, “bring him back safe, okay?”

“That’s the plan,” Rex assured him as the two braced arms.

He unclipped his bucket from his belt and slid it over his head.

“Sorry to dash on you like this, boys,” Rex said, turning back to Hunter and the rest of their squad. “We’ll have to catch up another time.”

“I understand,” Hunter said, reaching forward to clasp the other clone’s hand. “Good luck on your--”

“We can go too!”

Everyone in the cluster turned to look at Omega, who pushed her way forward between Hunter and Boil to stand next to Rex.

“You can?”

“We can?”

Hunter and Rex glanced at each other before Hunter turned back to Omega.

“Yeah!” Omega insisted, looking imploringly at Hunter. “We’ve been to Daro and broke out Gregor before, you know the facility. You guys are trained in special ops, and if this guy is as important as Gregor says he is then they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Rex glanced back at Gregor who shrugged.

“Omega,” Hunter sighed, “we can’t-- they’re going into a major Imperial base. If something happens and we get caught, we’ll be in serious trouble. The Empire thinks we’re dead and we need to keep it that way. Besides, Gregor knows the inside of that base better than any of us.”

“But we can help!” Omega argued, frustration clear on her face. “Whoever The Commander is has saved so many people, if our help gives Rex a better chance at saving him, I think we should do it!”

“Omega, we can’t risk--”

“We can’t run from the Empire forever, Hunter,” Omega said softly, grabbing Hunter’s hand.

“Besides, I--” she glanced over to Rex who had yet to speak, before turning and leaning closer to Hunter.

“I have a feeling about this mission,” Omega said quietly, eyes bright as she looked at her brother. “This feels right. I think this is where we’re supposed to be. I can’t explain it, but I… I think we need to do this.”

Hunter sighed, staring down at Omega’s hand on his.

He knew logically that their safety from the Empire wasn’t meant to last. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide Omega and his squad from them forever. The Empire certainly wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future, so running into them again was ultimately inevitable. It was hard enough keeping his squad away already, Echo arguing with him about helping Rex and the rebellion more and more as the Empire grew. Wrecker and Omega were starting to back Echo up whenever he and Hunter argued, so he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just thought they’d have more time than this. Two years was admittedly a long time to continue on without Imperial detection, but Hunter had been hopeful their peace could last a little bit longer. Omega may have been growing up quickly but she was still a kid. Kids shouldn’t need to worry about rebellions and Empires and bounties and missions and death.

Besides, this seemed like an unnecessary risk to Hunter. Whatever feeling Omega had about this mission, Hunter wasn’t getting it. It felt like a waste to risk their tentative peace and safety from the Empire on a rescue mission for some man they didn’t even know. No matter how impressive his work against the Empire was.

But as much as Omega was a bleeding heart about helping those in need, she was also stubborn as hell. A trait she shared with all the clones, really, but it had gotten worse in her time as a member of the Bad Batch.

Hunter looked back into Omega’s wide eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He sighed, glancing back to the rest of the squad. Tech and Wrecker looked impassive as they stared back at Hunter, likely waiting for him to make a decision and follow whatever option he chose. Echo was looking back at him with the same amount of hope, the same determined resolve that Omega had in her eyes and Hunter knew he was losing the battle here.

He sighed tiredly, turning back to Rex.

“Got room in that ship for five more, Captain?”

Rex was frozen in place as he stared back at Hunter. His body language gave no indication as to what he thought of this development, though the incredulous tone he’d used to question Omega indicated that this was not a turn of events he was planning, or even hoping, for. With his helmet on and staring blankly at him, Hunter had a hard time getting a read as to what the other man was thinking.

Rex’s head tilted just slightly to glance briefly at Howzer, who was standing to the side watching the exchange with a strangely intense look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if--”

“Please, Rex?” Omega said, stepping up to the older clone.

Rex shuffled under Omega’s intense gaze, a feeling Hunter was very familiar with. Finally he sighed, dropping his chin to his chest before turning back to Hunter.

“I don’t have time to argue about this— fine,” he said, ignoring Omega’s happy whoop. “But you have to do exactly as I say, okay? No matter what happens.”

If Hunter didn’t know any better he’d say the Captain sounded tense, almost nervous. Hunter nodded and heard the others agree as well.

Rex kept his gaze on Hunter for another moment before shaking his head and turning toward the freighter.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, commanding tone back as he barked orders at the men around them. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Hunter turned back and nodded at the rest of his squad, who all nodded and slipped their helmets back on their heads as they checked their gear.

“Good luck,” Hunter heard Howzer mutter to Rex, who just shook his head. Something told him they weren’t talking about the mission.

Together they followed Rex, Boil, and Gregor up the ramp of the freighter, Rex and Tech headed for the cockpit. As everyone else got strapped in and the engines on the ship started, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right choice.

Omega may have had a good feeling about this mission, but Hunter had a feeling this mission was going to change everything for them, and he wasn’t sure it was for the better.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Seventeen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto and @nelba! Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains intense recounts of previous abuse, intense depictions of self-loathing, self-deprecation and brief mentions of depression. Stay safe!]

Cade caught Danse before he could depart after the rest of their unofficial 'war council' had been dismissed, the medical officer inquiring, "How are you coping, Paladin? I hope that your adjustment to your newfound knowledge is going well." The arch of his eyebrow indicated plainly that Cade was looking for a clear answer, possibly to dissuade his own concerns.

  "I am still uncertain, Knight-Captain Cade." Danse stated bluntly. "I know that Quinlan's reports are accurate. I know that I must be a synth. But it is...it's difficult to wrap my head around it."

  "My door is always open, Danse. As it's been since the day you were assigned to the Prydwen." Cade reminded him. "I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of doing a mental evaluation on a synth, but…" he trailed off thoughtfully. "Hmm, that's not quite right. You and I have had sessions before. Maybe synths aren't so different in their cognition. Perhaps this is a nature versus nurture scenario."

  "Perhaps." Danse allowed, but he knew that he sounded less than optimistic.

  "Maybe in a day or two, once everything has calmed down and you've had time to think?" Cade suggested. "Collect your thoughts, then come see me and we can discuss your current state and the repercussions of Maxson's treatment."

  The paladin nodded, relieved that Cade didn't wish to immediately evaluate him. It had been an incredibly stressful and arduous several weeks. More than anything, the paladin was longing to finally get some sleep.

  After he spoke to Haylen and Rhys, of course. They deserved his gratitude, if only for their combined efforts in delivering the tip-off that had literally saved his life. To say nothing of their care for Elizabeth in his absence, even though they were unable to free her. They had kept her alive, and that was more than the paladin had dared to hope for.

  Danse watched Cade depart, his mind miles away now. Backhand would be incredibly busy in the lead up to the assault. He felt almost irritated by that; it was unfair to ask so much of her so soon after what had transpired. But the luxury of time was no longer on their side. Danse understood, in a practical sense, that they needed to strike as fast as possible. It was entirely within reason that the Institute already knew of their plans and were preparing their own countermeasures.

  It still didn't erase the hollow sensation in his gut, the fear that Backhand was all too willing to stretch herself paper-thin for her various factions. He promised himself then and there that he would do his best to absorb some of the burden. 

  As much as she would allow. 

  The memory of her ripping her knuckles apart on the manual release of his armor, talking to Matthew's parents, taking her helmet off and smiling at him. Thank you, Danse or I thought you were dead or please don't do that to me again --

  Danse chewed anxiously on his lower lip. As much as she would allow. As much as he could feasibly handle. It should have felt odd that he was trading one leader for another, but Danse could only rationalize that it must be another portion of his programming. 

  "Paladin Danse, sir?" 

  Rhys . Danse started, turning around. He hadn't even heard the knight approach down the catwalk. Hell, he hadn't even realized he was spacing out in the hallway. "Yes, Knight?" He replied, nodding out of habit to acknowledge Haylen beside Rhys.

  "Elder Brandis said you wanted to see us, sir." The knight stated, sounding a bit hesitant. "He said we needed to discuss...certain things."

  Of course he did . Danse sighed heavily, bracing himself for some level of a disappointment-fueled tirade.

  "Danse, I'm so sorry." Haylen blurted out, her voice shaking. Danse was startled, tilting his head while she carried on, "I wish there had been some other way for me to tell you. You must have been terrified ." 

  "I was certainly confused, if nothing else." The paladin admitted with a wry smile. "I am immensely grateful to both of you, regardless of my own trials. You followed your training and stuck to your guns, and I couldn't be more proud." He deflated slightly. "Even if the pride of a synth means precious little."

  "The synth shit doesn't matter to either of us, sir." Rhys muttered. "We don't care. We're just glad you're back and that Maxson didn't manage to kill you. That's the important part, right?"

  "In a way." Danse agreed, grimacing. "Our battle is far from over, however."

  "Hey, we're doing something. That's more than a lot of people can say." Haylen reasoned, ever the optimist. "I've got faith in whatever plan you guys come up with."

  "Thank you for believing in me." The paladin murmured, giving the only surviving members of Squad Gladius a stiff salute. 

  "We know you, sir. You protected us, trained us. Built us up from basically nothing." Rhys sounded angry, his typically-sullen expression gone even more sour. "You think we could ever turn our backs on you? You're not that stupid."

  Haylen began to protest, "Rhys-"

  "Haylen, you and I both know he'll just self-deprecate until he dissolves. I'm not letting that happen." Rhys grumbled at the scribe, who fell silent at his reasoning. Her eyes were narrowed to slits and the sight was immensely entertaining to Danse, who couldn't keep a nervous chuckle from bubbling up in his throat.

  "I'm certain the two of you are aware of the devastating depression you dragged me out of all those years ago in the Capital Wasteland." Danse clapped Rhys on the shoulder and caught Haylen up in a rare one-armed hug. "How many times will you two save me? Should I start taking you for granted?" 

  "Paladin Danse, sir, w-we…" Haylen trailed off, her lower lip quivering. She buried her face in Danse's ribs and Rhys grunted.

  "Haylen, c'mon . Pull it together." He huffed, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet. "Listen, sir, I think I've made our position pretty clear. We follow your orders. Learning about that shit with Maxson-"

  "I'm so angry! " Haylen interrupted him, glaring upwards. "God Danse, I'm furious . What he did to you is unforgivable, inexcusable." She announced hotly. "Everyone assumed something was going on, but we also assumed it was consensual ."

  " 'Everyone' ?" Danse echoed, a weird surge of retroactive embarrassment seizing his body. "I suppose I should be thankful you all were so willing to offer me the illusion of privacy." He mumbled.

  "He's never coming anywhere near you again, sir." Rhys stated, his jaw set in an angry scowl. "I don't care if he's the last of the Maxson line. I'll break his fucking skull."

  His words stirred Danse's guilt to life, the ugly feeling rearing its head once more. "It is a difficult situation to be in. I do not envy our elders, past or present." Danse tried to pose the sentence with a modicum of compassion, though he was unsure of the attempt's success. The paladin knew that despite Maxson's position of power, Danse bore a majority of the blame for not standing up to the elder until it was too late to prevent his spiral.

  "Difficult, my ass ." Rhys growled under his breath.

  …

  "So we've got Preston, someone by the name of John D., the…" Ingram narrowed her eyes at the readout. " Atom Cats ?"

  "Yep. Real into their power armor. And Zeke owes me a favor." Backhand explained, continuing to scroll through her Pip Boy notes. "If I can get them to walk across the pond and cover the Castle, that will free up more Minutemen to join us."

  "Should I ask how you managed to ingratiate yourself with so many of these people?" 

  "I'm a sucker for a lost cause." Vega answered, her tone dry. 

  Ingram snorted, shaking her head. "Lucky for us, I imagine. Also lucky for us that you're the forgiving sort."

  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Proctor." Backhand retorted. "I'm just not yet in a position to combat your aerial superiority."

  "Whew, gonna' file that one away for later consideration."

  A soft knock on the comm doorway interrupted the two women, and Vega turned to see Danse peering cautiously into the room. "Paladin! You're just in time, we were about to start rallying the troops. Want to lend a hand?" 

  "What needs to be done, General Vega?" The paladin asked, his posture gone stiff and proper. 

  Backhand could feel her smile dim slightly, but she reined herself in. They had all been through so much, she reasoned, and old habits were usually a comfort. "Well, I've got a few calls to make on my own, but if you can get in touch with Lieutenant Garvey that would be a huge help."

  "Understood." 

  Proctor Ingram (who had been watching their exchange with poorly-veiled interest) stepped out of the way so that Danse could settle down at the desk alongside one of their many radio switchboards. "Vega, I think the two of you can handle this." The older woman remarked, giving Elizabeth a sly wink behind Danse's back. "I'll start whipping the base camp into shape. Make myself useful, y'know. Ad Victoriam."

  Vega went bright red as Ingram saluted, the proctor sporting an absolutely infuriating smirk. "B-But Proctor--"

  "No buts! You guys handle the easy stuff. I'll manage the elbow grease." Ingram then mouthed talk to him! , before strolling out of the comm area. Backhand swore under her breath, thumping her fist into the desk in mute frustration. 

  "I can leave, General Vega." Danse offered, making her start and whirl to face him.

  "No no! No, uh, you're fine. You're not the problem here." Vega assured him, waving her hands nervously. "I'm just...I'm a little uptight, that's all."

  "Will your forces refuse to join us?" The paladin asked, his rigid posture easing slightly as he tipped his head back to look up at her. He continued in an undertone, "Would it be simpler to do it with your troops alone? Do you truly need the Brotherhood?"

  "We do need the Brotherhood, yes. But I don't think we'll need them for the fighting. We'll need them for the mass casualty options and the refugee care after the fact." Backhand began to pace, mostly so she didn't have to maintain eye contact. The paladin looked fatigued yet determined, and it pained her to know that rest was still so far away for them. Rest and the possibility of actually speaking with him about the thing that had been on her mind in one form or another since…

  Well, it had been a long time.

  "We'll need help rebuilding more than anything. Not a lot of settlements will be keen to take on synths, so I'll need to figure out some kind of alternative. I really need to talk with Nick and Dea--er, John D ., and get their input on this whole engagement." Backhand rubbed her temples. "And here I thought getting in would be the hard part!" She tried to joke. 

  After a moment of silence, Vega heard Danse clear his throat. "General... Elizabeth , I know you already have many responsibilities, all of them miles more important than my own struggles."

  Backhand looked over at him expectantly, a little confused. 

  "I have to give Cade a full report." The tall man said abruptly. "I...he wants to know everything that's transpired." He stared down at the floor, the heel of his boot scuffing the grating beneath them as he rushed to add, "I know it's selfish of me to ask you to--I mean, you've been through so much, b-but I was...rather, I am uncertain of this endeavor, and my ability to maintain my composure during it. You tend to have a mollifying effect on me for some reason."

  "You want me to be present when you give your medical officer the full rundown?" Vega raised an eyebrow, further confused. Danse was a soldier , surely he had endured a full physical before?

  "I am overly anxious. It means reliving some portions of my past that I find...traumatic."

  "Oh." Oh . Backhand felt stupid as the truth dawned on her. Everything that's transpired . Of course Danse would want someone he trusted with him, this wasn't a physical exam at all. "What about Haylen or Rhys? Are they more appraised of the situation?"

  Danse was shaking his head before she had even finished. "I did my best to keep everything that happened quiet, though it appears that I was unsuccessful. I was told that was my only option, and I did not wish to disobey Maxson's orders." 

  "That fuckin' asshole." Vega growled. "Alright, if you're sure it's me you want with you, I'm here."

  "You don't have t--er, that is, I regret taking up more of your valuable time, General Vega. I promise after this meeting with Cade, I will be fully at your disposal." He assured her, seemingly pained by his current state.

  "Danse, I don't care about that. I don't want you better just so you can get used up again, I want you better for you . I'm sorry that all of this robs you of the proper time to regroup, y'know?" Backhand apologized, her words deliberately quiet as she boldly laced her fingers through his own. "Once we're done here, though, you need to take some time off. General's orders."

  "I would have to speak with Elder Brandis on the matter. As his most senior paladin, I am unsure if he would be able to permit me that luxury." Danse replied unhappily, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before he released it. "' A run ashore ', always just out of reach."

  "I'm getting you time off, even if I have to kidnap you myself." 

  The paladin's chuckle in reply to her threat was subdued, but it still sent a frisson of happiness through her body. Backhand choked down the guilt of having those feelings in the first place for just a second, choosing to bask in the warm sensation. 

  "When you're ready, General, I'll need the proper frequencies to speak with the Castle." Danse's request brought her crashing back down to earth, and Vega rushed to oblige him.

  There's always something else to do .

  …

  Two days later, on the cusp of their attack on the Institute, the both of them were seated in Knight-Captain Cade's main office aboard the Prydwen. The older officer sat across from them in the cramped space, a clipboard propped up on his knee.

  "The only questions I'll ask will be strictly for clarity's sake." The knight-captain informed Danse quietly. "If you don't want to answer, that is entirely acceptable and within your right, but the more information we have, the better."

  Danse nodded, the motion stilted. "I understand, Knight-Captain. I'll do my best to cooperate." 

  Vega squeezed his hand. God knew she didn't like this one damn bit, but she was going to stick it out for him. After all, he had gone to bat for her against the elder . Loyalty like that was in short supply. "I'm right here with you, Danse." She said softly. He had gone pasty white beneath his usual windblown complexion, and he gripped her hand wordlessly. 

  "If you could start at the beginning, Paladin. Or as close to it as possible." Cade prompted him.

  "Yes, I...of course." Danse rasped. "The first time we engaged was shortly before the Brotherhood lost Knight Cutler."

  Cade looked at him over his half-moon glasses, seeming perturbed. "That was...so this was a prolonged assault."

  "Not an assault. I did as I was ordered." The dull tone of Danse's voice, the way his eyes had gone almost grey ...Vega wanted to know how the hell Maxson had ever justified this. "I could not bring myself to question Arthur. He came to me, at first simply asking for help even though it was an order. He said he couldn't sleep. I...I never told Cutler. I didn't think it was relevant. I thought I was helping the new elder." Danse looked up at Cade. "I know what it's like to not be able to sleep for all the thoughts in your head."

  "Was there a specific point in time where his behavior shifted? Perhaps when it became more clear to you that there was something wrong?" Backhand was grateful for the delicate way Cade phrased the question.

  "I…" Danse's brow furrowed. "...had just come back with...after what transpired with Cutler. Four days on base. I was furious with Maxson for stationing Cutler out there, furious with myself for not saving Cutler. I was grieving and hurt both physically and emotionally, as you recall." Cade inclined his head. "I assume you also recall the bite on my arm that appeared shortly thereafter. That was a...result of my inability to perform."

  "Ah." Cade murmured, jotting something down.

  Bite? Vega could feel Danse trembling. "I-I was...unable to function or perform for him in a satisfactory manner and that was his method of voicing his frustration with me." Danse swallowed hard. "I was mourning , Cade." He sounded like he was begging the other man to understand, begging him not to judge.

  Perform for him. Backhand sucked in a deep breath through her nose, willing herself to stay silent. 

  "After that, I would just comply. It was never as bad as that time. I would perform for him to the best of my abilities." Danse paused, "but I never sought him out, and nothing occurred without me being ordered to do so." He then proceeded to rattle off a distressingly-long list of dates, every time that Maxson had coerced him. "I was not interested in...well, anyone , after Cutler." He muttered after a brief pause, "the term broken seems fitting." 

  "You weren't allowed proper space to heal yourself after what happened with Cutler. You were injured and then forced to deal with someone who kept prying open your wounds because they enjoyed lording their power over you." Cade theorized, his voice a little sharper. " Broken is not fitting in the slightest, Danse."

  The paladin shrugged. "Whatever the terminology might be, then." 

  " Traumatized , Danse. Emotional wounds take time to heal, just like physical ones. Losing Cutler in the way that we did-"

  "I deserved it!" Danse cut off the medical officer, leaning forward and clenching his free hand on his knee. "I failed Cutler, Cade! I should have gone after him sooner! The treatment from Maxson is what I deserved ." His eyes were wild, frantic. "He's an abuser, but I am a man deserving of every last instance of that abuse for my inaction when it came to Cutler!" The paladin reasoned intensely.

  Cade sighed, rifling through his clipboard. "Danse, you did not deserve or garner punishment for the consequences of Maxson's orders." He informed the other man quietly. "You were simply a man who lost someone that he cared deeply about."

  "And to find out that I'm not even that much!" Danse spat. "I'm still trying to cope with the reality that I am a living lie . My identity as Paladin Danse is nothing but a memory now. Everything I held dear, everything I ever believed in is completely gone. Can you imagine how that feels?" Danse was nearly shouting at this point, moving to stand. "I started out as nothing , and I've ended up as nothing . And I don't know what the hell to do about it!" 

  Backhand brought her hand up over his elbow, hauling him back down into his seat. " Listen to Cade, Danse." She growled. The paladin fought her grip briefly, but ultimately slumped in the chair. Good thing too, Vega wasn't exactly up to full strength just yet. The large man was shaking again, his breathing coming in harsh bursts. "It's okay, it's okay." Vega found herself repeating the phrase, rubbing circles on his back between his shoulder blades. Many members of military factions found repetition comforting and Danse appeared to be no exception, the large man heaving a massive sigh under the weight of her hand.

  "Danse, I'll fully admit to being out of my element here. I never expected to have to treat a synth." Knight-Captain Cade said plainly. "However, I've known you for many years. We have an established rapport. Your body is indistinguishable from an ordinary human body, as proved by my records. Your mental processes and pain responses are normal for a human. I suppose what I'm trying to say is learning that you are a synth may not change all that much, despite what you may be feeling."

  Danse choked out a forlorn noise that might have been a sob, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so confused." He confessed plaintively. "You're saying I did not deserve punishment for my failings, but...how else am I supposed to atone for Cutler?" He looked up, tears welling up in his eyes. "How am I supposed to reconcile with these human emotions, Cade? I barely kept myself under control when I believed I was human!"

  "Your feelings have always run deep, Danse. Your empathy for your fellow man has landed you in hot water more than once." Cade gestured at Vega. "According to our infiltrator, even the most brutal of synths feel regret and remorse just like we do, though they have not been taught how to cope with it."

  "I still feel like a human. Nothing feels different, yet now I constantly second-guess everything I do. I've had a plan from the beginning to shape my future, but I have to wonder about whether that's a lie as well." Danse remarked bitterly. "I had...I had hoped…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."

  Backhand could feel her heart breaking the longer he spoke. His true identity was an immense blow to him, and on top of it he was still struggling under the burden of the guilt he carried due to Cutler's demise. He blamed himself for Arthur's demands. 

  "Listen to Cade, Danse." She urged. Her hand was essentially on autopilot as she traced small patterns on the center of his back, moving up and down his spine without rhyme or reason. "You're not to blame for what Maxson did. It's not yours to bear. Trust me, coming from someone who's more than willing to take on other folk's problems, that weight is not yours."

  "But-"

  "You trust me, right?" Vega interrupted him softly, cupping his face so that he had to look at her.

  "With my life, General Vega." 

  The rapid sincerity of his reply startled her and Backhand needed to take a moment, steeling herself yet again. "I know you trust Cade too, and I know this won't be a quick or easy process. But you accepting that whatever happened was not your fault would be a huge first step."

  "I...If I do…" Danse paused, hesitating. "Vega, if I forget about him..."

  "Hey, nobody said anything about forgetting. You told me about Cutler, about how important he was to you. There's no way someone like you could forget about him. But you need to forgive yourself, you have to understand that losing him was not your fault." Once more she found herself in over her head, but she did her best to tell him all the things she wished someone had told her when Sergeant Cathan had died.

  "He was...he was everything to me." Danse's voice cracked. "And I had to--I had to, he was...I had to."

  "What happened to Cutler and his team was an immense tragedy, and a needless one at that." Cade spoke up from his seat, his brow furrowed. "Maxson outed himself quite thoroughly during the trial, I would say. It will be difficult for him to explain his actions away when so many witnesses heard exactly what he said." 

  Elizabeth felt Danse go still, the paladin hanging on to Cade's every word. "Am I even permitted to be happy that he may face consequences?" He asked uncertainly, wringing his hands. "Is that a breach of protocol, Knight-Captain?"

  The medical officer shifted his weight, leaning forward to prop himself up with his elbows on his knees. "I can't promise you swift justice, you know how the Brotherhood operates. But Arthur invoked the right of a litany trial, then proceeded to break his own terms. To say nothing of the fact that he nearly killed someone uninvolved in the trial." Cade shook his head. "His abuse flourished in secrecy. Now that everything is out in the open, I do not believe even his status as the last Maxson will sway the other elders when they pass judgement."

  "Thank you, Knight-Captain." Danse closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "I...thank you, Vega." He continued, a little quieter. He caught her hand in his own, giving it a cautious squeeze. Almost as if he was imitating her gesture from earlier in the week. "I have so much to think about."

  "Agreed. Shall I put in a request to Brandis for a leave of absence?"

  Danse visibly recoiled at Cade's suggestion, his eyes going wide in dismay. "No! No, I am needed, Knight-Captain. After our assault has been carried out, and the Institute has been wiped from the map, I…" he hesitated, like the words were caught in his throat. "I will gladly take a leave. Until then, however, there is still work to do."

  "There is always work to do, Paladin." Cade chided. "Remember what I told you? You will burn yourself out and the Brotherhood can ill afford to lose you."

  "I'll see to it that he takes time off after our successful operation." Backhand stated firmly. Cade raised an eyebrow at that and Danse flushed across the bridge of his nose, stuttering a little. "Your health is important to me, Danse. You can be as stubborn as you want, but I'm not letting you weasel out of this." 

  "I suppose that will have to do." Cade sighed. "Do you have any questions for me, Paladin?"

  Danse shot a sidelong glance at Vega that she was relatively certain she wasn't supposed to see, the large man worrying his lower lip. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part, though, as Danse shook his head after a moment. "No, I...I just have some reflection to do." He got to his feet abruptly, saluting both Cade and Elizabeth. "Ad Victoriam, Knight-Captain. Ad Victoriam, General Vega."

  Cade returned the salute absently, already absorbed in writing something else down. Vega was a little slower, her query of, "do you need me, Danse?" coming out softer than she had intended.

  She wanted to believe that the paladin hesitated before he replied, "No, General Vega. I can manage."

Part Eighteen

[wedreamedlove]

Bai Qi’s Vitality [Character Study]

Essay train chugging away at full speed here, haha. This comparison came into my mind while I was ruminating over Xu Mo's post and it was actually what made me jump the gun to push out Xu Mo's before I read his Prison Date (more accurately Imprisoned Dreams Date...) because this essay for Bai Qi jumps off of Xu Mo's post.

Disclaimer: I use CN translations and also spoiler warning for R&S synopses for end of Season 1.

First, I want to quote some lines from weibo user @我写文太差被关了起来 (lit. "My writings are so bad I got locked up" LOL) whose post I don't really agree with, but she wrote these three lines for Bai Qi that sunk its claws into me and won't leave:

"If I can only choose one word to describe Bai Qi then I would choose 'vitality'."

"He doesn't wish to love this world."

"He has always loved this world."

If Xu Mo both yearns for companionship [Loneliness] but is innately separated from the world [Into Your World] and ruthless to himself in accepting that furthering his goals may continue to keep him alone, then Bai Qi is separated and aloof from the world by choice.

If Xu Mo has a detached view and an intellectual curiosity or fixation on the abstract concept of survival of humanity, then Bai Qi is down on the ground experiencing the world in its natural state and trying to protect it, individual by individual.

I'm not saying one is better than the other (they're both my biases) but it's neat to contrast them. I've mentioned here and there that the LovePro men are foils for each other in interesting ways.

Anyway, I wrote this piece [Price of Freedom] but there was a missing link I had a hard time articulating and now it's been delivered to me! So, while Bai Qi has made MC his home and the North Star he always goes towards, he can actually survive on his own because of his innate core of justice.

I know it's a common thought that Bai Qi revolves around MC too much and she's like a goddess placed on a pedestal because she gave him a new life, but what I want to argue is that while she did give him a new lease on life she isn't the sole meaning of his existence.

MC is incredibly important to Bai Qi, but the quote below shows what she really gave him when he awakened his Evol from her piano playing.

"His existence didn't need a so-called father, what people called friends, or an accepted meaning." [Campus Date]

He becamse self-actualized right then and there. He doesn't need to rely on anyone or anything to live now except for what he himself decides on.

Now, I'm going to plop an entire scene from his [Fullmoon Date] because it's going to lead into my next points. Please keep in mind the words from the weibo user at the top:

(But also, why did Elex translate the entire date into present tense? Ballsy LOL. Not only does it break consistency from their previous dates but the source text was in past tense and not written for present tense.)

The full moon was reflected in his eyes and in my muddled state I could faintly hear the growl issued from his throat.

His claws slowly grew and tore into his palm. A blood-red light gathered in the center of his hand and it became a sparkling crimson heart-shaped crystal.

Wizard: Bai Qi, do you really think you can defeat me?

Wizard: If you could, then you wouldn't have chained yourself here together with me for so many years.

Bai Qi: It's different now.

Wizard: What?

Wizard: Haha, don't tell me you're going to throw away your humanity? Then you really will become a monster that is neither human nor beast!

Bai Qi: I don't care.

Bai Qi lowered his head and looked deeply at the girl in his embrace, a tenderness in his eyes that he never had before.

He softly brushed the hair on her forehead and leaned close to her ear, gentle but unwilling to say goodbye.

Bai Qi: I'm very lucky.

Bai Qi: That, right before I fell into the darkness, there was someone who caught me.

Bai Qi: Whether it was apple pie or lemon pie, the things you made... they were all delicious.

Bai Qi: I wanted to lie down on the grass with you and take a nap. I could have also lent you my tail as a pillow.

Bai Qi: I wanted to be able to grab your hand every time you ran, not as a hunter and their prey and not for training.

Bai Qi: Thank you, [MC].

Wizard: What are you mumbling about?

Bai Qi didn't concern himself with the wizard's provocation and he carefully placed the girl's body in a safe corner. The next time he raised his head, his face was filled with resolve.

In the next second, he crushed the crystal in his hand.

Pausing here to point out the epic callbacks Papergames always does. I checked the ENG and while there was no problems there, the CN text echoed the same structure entirely.

"Then I'm very lucky. There was someone who caught me right before I hit the bottom." [CH7.18]

"And you saved me. Don't lower your head, look at me. Don't feel insecure and don't feel like you're useless. You caught me again right before I hit the bottom." [CH15.7]

"The day I met her, there were gingko leaves drifting and falling slowly through the air, and it was the most beautiful time in late autumn. It was also the darkest time of my life. But she was the one who caught me tightly when I fell." [Spring Festival Date]

Returning back to the [Fullmoon Date]:

I slowly stood up, shivering uncontrollably, but I did my best to keep up a smile and carefully walked towards him.

Bai Qi: Stay away from me!!

MC: ......

His voice was hoarse and rough. The snow gradually lightened and softly fell onto that enormous body, like a sad but gentle embrace.

Bai Qi: Don't...

Bai Qi: ... Don't look at me.

My mind was filled with Bai Qi's face and, before today, I couldn't have imagined the close calls and fights he had experienced.

He would wag his tail in happiness and, when he was displeased, his ears would twitch back and forth, selling him out.

His hair was soft and his hands full of calluses, but when squeezed they were warm.

MC: Bai Qi, now I finally know why you were trapped here.

MC: You locked yourself up, right?

Bai Qi: ......

MC: All these years, it was to protect the townspeople and to fight that wizard.

Bai Qi tensed his body and I slowly raised my voice, repeating my conclusions again.

MC: You chained yourself here to protect others.

MC: In order not to let people come close, did you spread the rumors about eating Red Riding Hood yourself?

MC: Everyone is terrified of you, hates you, and calls you a monster, but you still protect them.

I approached him, bit by bit, and the snow fell into the corners of my eyes, slowly dripping down.

MC: This Big Bad Wolf of yours... you aren't qualified at all.

Bai Qi: ... These are just your guesses.

MC: Then you can tell me.

MC: No matter how many times it's said, as long as you talk to me, I'll listen.

Bai Qi: NO ONE WOULD BELIEVE A MONSTER!

MC: I believe.

MC: Besides, you aren't a monster.

MC: Let's go home. I'll bring you your favorite apple pie tomorrow.

Bai Qi slowly turned around and the snow fell into his pained eyes. I saw him remain in place.

Bai Qi: ... You aren't scared of me?

MC: I'm scared.

Bai Qi: Then why...?

MC: But I... want to understand you, little by little. I want to understand the real you.

It was impossible for me to imagine how many times he had once been misunderstood and been attacked. He sifted through this heap of suffering, again and again, but all he managed to save up was a bit of sweetness.

Yet he relied on this sweetness to solidify himself into a voiceless and silent blade, standing up steadfast in the abyss and never wavering.

My hand finally touched Bai Qi's "hand". His claws were pointed and held no warmth.

MC: You defeated that wizard, right?

Bai Qi: ......

Bai Qi: Mm, he's gone.

MC: Fairytales always write about knights and a prince on a white horse defeating the evil wizard and protecting the peace of the country.

Bai Qi: I'm not as great as you say and I've never thought about changing the way others look at me.

Bai Qi: I just use my own way... to be who I want to be.

Bai Qi: I'm not that prince on a white horse written in fairytales.

MC: Prince Charming certainly wouldn't be like how you are now.

His ears trembled and it was like he suffered a bit of a blow.

MC: Prince Charming always has to ride on a horse, wear a stylish cape, and wield a golden glittering sword.

MC: He has to always be graceful and maintain a heroic appearance.

Bai Qi: ......

MC: He wouldn't be like you, in such dire straights and so miserable, even giving up your own freedom.

MC: Even being beaten black and blue, with a bloody nose and swollen face, and yet crawling up out of the mud to go and protect other people.

MC: How is this a prince on a white horse?

His claws trembled slightly and his tail drooped down. His gaze was stuck to the ground, as if he were waiting for some sort of judgment.

MC: Bai Qi, you're a hero.

After he heard my words, his head shot up and those amber eyes were filled with doubt and shock.

MC: Even when you're covered in injuries and your clothes are ripped and torn, you still continue to stand in front of everyone.

MC: Even if there was no glory or reward, you would continue to use your own way to protect them. To protect me.

MC: You're the most foolish of heroes.

MC: But you're also... my hero.

First, more callbacks to Bai Qi's view about other people:

"At that time he said to me, 'Since you can't change the way others look at you, why not just follow your heart and do what you want to do.' These words had a great impact on me." [Campus Date]

"When did I ever care about other people's views? Except for yours, I don't care about any others." [Wish Date]

HONESTLY, the entire prince vs. hero speech the MC gave was just so darn good. The bit about how he crawls through the mud, battered and bruised, to continue protecting people? I had to take a moment after reading that and recalled the weibo user's line about how she would describe Bai Qi with just the word "vitality". The crazy thing is that they wrote this BEFORE Halloween was even announced.

Now, coming back to this essay, this is showing how he can live without the heroine. That was exactly what he was doing in [Fullmoon Date]; she gives more meaning and softness to his life, but he wasn't living an empty life before her either. Like he said, he was just doing what he wanted to do and being the person he wanted to be.

(whispers) He doesn't wish to love the world. He has always loved the world.

The winter world version of him shows this incredibly well. Yes, he was cold and curt towards MC throughout the whole thing but he also had that unchangeable core of kindness and justice and, as I mentioned in my Xu Mo post, MC draws her strength from how Bai Qi is always the same.

[Rumors & Secrets: Lost]

"How is he?"

Bai Qi's voice sounded and everyone in the rehearsal hall turned their heads to look in the direction of the door. The man's wounds had already been treated simply and there was a small gauze taped on his left cheek.

The female team member, who was in charge of comforting the man, gave a forced smile: "Not too good. I think he still needs..."

Before she finished speaking, the man suddenly shuddered violently. He gripped the blanket on his body tightly and tried to hide himself inside. His eyes shook and his expression was guarded as he carefully stared at Bai Qi's movements. The look in his eyes was as if he was watching a monster. The female team member nodded her head, a bit awkwardly, at Bai Qi and hurriedly brought the man away. When they passed beside Bai Qi, she heard that man muttering to himself.

"Monster..."

Bai Qi also heard it, but he only looked at the piano beside the window indifferently. That spotless white color was stained with blood, looking extremely wrong.

"Clean everything up."

Everyone who was stunned in their place came back to themselves and rushed to resume their actions. The short man sidled over to Bai Qi and it took him a long time before he could say: "Captain Bai, don't mind that..."

Bai Qi didn't say anything and only lightly nodded his head. He really didn't put what had happened just now in his mind, or perhaps one could say he was already used to it.

He saved many people under the hands of different criminals: some would thank him, others would be terrified to the point of being unable to speak, but the majority of them, after seeing his power, would see all Evolvers as monsters.

Look! LOOK! He continues doing his job even without knowing the MC and protecting others, despite whatever people think of him and say about him.

MC's presence in his life gives him:

"She's the one who told me I could live more strongly, and she's also the one who told me I could live more gently." [Spring Festival Date]

Her love gives him the sweetness his world is lacking, but he doesn't need it either. Again, I want to emphasize that it doesn't make it any less important and they're probably both halves of the whole that makes up the Bai Qi we all know and love, but he won't have the gaping hole and conflict that Xu Mo is going through LOL.

Okay, now we're going into extreme spoiler territory where these R&S synopses show Bai Qi's perspective before the end of the world and Season 1.

[CN Weibo Topic: Before the Comet Strike]

Looking up at the clear sky, before the world was displaced, the memories imprinted on our minds would not be erased.

[Frontier: A Message Unable to be Passed On]

At the last second, he was still quietly organizing and protecting this city.

The words he ordinarily wouldn't say in front of you turned into gentle whispers that melted into the night breeze.

The answer and door at the end of the world would surely be revealed in the near future.

[CN Fearless ER - Rumors & Secrets: Frontier]

Bai Qi leaned against his motorcycle and suddenly felt that what he had always protected in the past—what that girl had always protected in the past—was not only the entire city and this world, including the people who weren't willing to give up on anything, but also the most ordinary and small things in life.

It was to have a not-so-big place, a hot steaming breakfast in the morning, a light for him when he returned home late, and the one phrase "Welcome home".

"It would have been nice if that could have lasted a bit longer."

I can't translate this entire R&S because there's too much context and build up missing, but the important takeaway is his utter conviction in the MC and how he wants her to continue running forward without looking back and his belief in how their destinations will always overlap. If they continue to move forward, he believes they'll definitely meet again.

MY HEART. BECAUSE HIS DESTINATION IS ALWAYS HER!

I've always mentioned that MC and Bai Qi parallel each other so much that they're almost like mirrors. They both prioritize justice, the lives of ordinary and innocent people, and they are each other's source of courage, motivation, and determination to keep moving.

They add to each other's lives, but they don't need each other in order to keep getting up after falling and fighting for their belief of protecting the world and their loved ones.

Lastly, to finish off my new ode of love for Bai Qi, I'm going to end with the weibo user's words again:

"He doesn't wish to love this world."

"He has always loved this world."

[sinceileftyoublog]

Indigo De Souza Interview: Compassion for Different Modalities

Photo by Charlie Boss

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Calling from her home near Asheville, North Carolina earlier this month, singer-songwriter Indigo De Souza is getting ready to go on tour behind her terrific sophomore album Any Shape You Take (Saddle Creek). Like everyone, she’s anxious about navigating the current COVID-19 landscape, but how she and her band adapt to a live performance and play the multi-dimensional songs that make up the record seems to be of little concern. I guess if I was as talented as De Souza, I wouldn’t be worried, either. Released last month, Any Shape You Take is a stunning series of ruminations on love and relationships, platonic and romantic, that span a number of years in De Souza’s life. Raised in a conservative small town in North Carolina by a mom who was an artist, De Souza doesn’t shy away from the fact that her family did not fit in. At the encouragement of her mother, she leaned into her artistic visions, making music as early as 9 years old, releasing her first EP in 2016.

After self-releasing her (very appropriately titled) first album I Love My Mom in 2018, De Souza signed to indie stalwarts Saddle Creek, who rereleased her debut and supplied her with the means to craft a much larger-sounding follow-up. Working with prolific secret weapon co-producer Brad Cook, her first proper label release occupies an incredible amount of genre territory. “This is the way I’m going to bend,” announces De Souza on auto-tuned synth pop opener “17″ before, well, bending in a number of different directions. “Darker Than Death” and “Die/Cry”, nervous songs that were written years ago, sport fitting build-ups, the former’s slow hi hats and cymbals giving way to jolts of guitar noise, the latter’s jangly rock taking a back seat to yelped harmonies. Songs like “Pretty Pictures” and “Hold U” reenter the dance world, the latter an especially catchy neo soul and funk highlight, a simple earworm of a love song. In the end, whether playing scraped, slow-burning guitar or rubbery keyboard, De Souza’s thoughtful and honest meditations center the emotionally charged album, one of the very best of the year.

De Souza takes her live show to the Beat Kitchen tonight and tomorrow night (both sold out) with Dan Wriggins of Friendship opening. Read our interview with De Souza about the making of Any Shape You Take and her songwriting process.

Since I Left You: On Any Shape You Take, there seems to be a good mix of folks you’ve worked with before and folks you’re working with for the first time. What did each group bring to the table?

Indigo De Souza: Brad Cook was co-producing. It was my first time working with a producer on something. That was crazy. He was very supportive of everything and very encouraging. It was nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of who wanted to encourage my vision. I also worked with Alex [Farrar] and Adam [McDaniel] from drop of sun studios in Asheville. They’re both just so sweet and talented. They were engineering but also helped with production as well. I ended up getting really close with Alex, and me and Alex finished out the album together doing vocal overdubs and random overdubs. It feels like he did a lot of production on the album and was a star for me in the process. They were all great to work with. It was interesting to me to have so many people working on the album.

What I realized after the fact, [though], was that it was kind of distracting for me to have so many brains working on it. It taught me I actually feel very confidently about my vision for songs, and I can trust myself to have ideas for my own songs. I think I was scared going in that I was going to come up blank in that scenario because it was such a high-pressure thing, getting on a label and making a high-production album. But I definitely thrived in the space. It was really fun.

SILY: It shows in the finished product. There are so many different styles and subgenres within the record. Do you listen to all the types of music that show up on this record?

IDS: Yeah, for sure. Mostly, I listen to pop music and dance music. That’s probably my most daily genre. I don’t listen to a lot of music daily, though. I listen to music probably a couple times a week when I’m in the car, but it’s so random, and the genres I listen to are pretty random. It depends on my mood. I think when I’m writing, it’s the same way, whether I’m writing a poppier or rock-based song. They’re different moods for me.

SILY: How do you generally approach juxtaposing lyrics with instrumentation?

IDS: With writing, it’s different every time the way they fall into place together. I do notice that one of the more common ways it happens is I’ll be going about my day and hear a melody in my head and start humming it and realize I’m making it up, that I have no record of it before. I’ll start attaching feeling to the melody, depending on what I’m feeling, and at first I’ll be singing gibberish with the melody, but I’ll usually get some headphones on and plug into the computer so I can sing into a microphone. I’ll mess around with the melody and sing random words until something true to me kind of sticks. That’s usually how it goes. Sometimes, I [do] sit down and it comes out in one breath, like the song is already written in my mind.

Honestly, it’s so normalized how songwriting is. It’s such a strange, magical thing that people can write songs that have never been written before. [laughs]

SILY: Thematically, there are a lot of songs on Any Shape You Take where you’re feeling doubts about a relationship, like on “Darker Than Death”. Someone’s feeling bad, and you’re wondering whether it’s you making them feel bad. And on “Die, Cry”, you sing, “I’d rather die than see you cry.” On the other hand, there are some songs like “Pretty Pictures” where you know your place more within the relationship, and you know what’s eventually gonna happen to it. How do you balance those feelings of doubt with knowing what’s gonna happen?

IDS: It’s funny, because the first two songs you mention were written a very long time ago when I was in the only very long-term relationship I’ve ever been in. I was very confused in that time and was having a hard time in general with my mental health. “Pretty Pictures” is the newest song on the album, a last minute addition because another song we had on there didn’t really fit. We looked through my demos folder and chose “Pretty Pictures”, the most recent song I had written at the time, and recorded it for the album. They’re totally different times in my life, and how you said it is definitely how I was. There’s a time I was more confused, and now, love is more simple in my life, and I can process things and see how they are, have compassion for different modalities.

SILY: I love the line on “Way Out”, “There are no monsters underneath your bed, and I’ll never be the only thing you love.” It’s a very logical statement in the face of unbridled emotion that can make you think illogically. Is that contrast something you think shows up throughout the record?

IDS: Within love, over time, I’ve realized that there’s not one person for anybody. There’s a lot of fluidity in the ways people can feel towards other people. That line is definitely a nod to allowing people to love many other people and not taking it personally.

SILY: From a singing perspective, you have a lot of different vocal stylings on the record. I found it interesting you led it off with a track where you’re super auto-tuned. Can you tell me about that decision?

IDS: “17” originally was this demo I made in 2016 or 2017. It was a very old demo. In 2018 or so, I brought the demo to my band at the time, and we created a live version of that song that was nothing like the recording that you hear. The recording was so weird and had a lot of auto-tune and higher-pitched and lower-pitched vocals. We had a live version we played for a while that’s on Audiotree. Whenever we were recording Any Shape You Take, we started to record it the live way and realized it wasn’t feeling right. We listened to the old demo, and it gave this wake up kick to everyone. We got excited by how the demo sounded because we hadn’t heard it in so long. We realized we wanted to record it based on the demo. So that song sounds very similar to the way the demo originally sounded.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album title?

IDS: There are so many layers to the album title. [laughs] It came to me mostly because the album takes so many musical shapes but also so many emotional shapes. It feels like a lot of the themes in the album are about change and acceptance of change and acceptance of a full spectrum of feelings of pain and grief and allowing people to take many forms. It was mainly inspired by the fact that I’ve taken so many forms in my life and am witness to the way changing forms yourself can either push people away or pull them in closer. I’ve always been so appreciative of the people in my life who allow me to take so many different forms and are still there to witness and care about me, whether we’re close to each other or far away. That’s the main reason I wanted to call the album Any Shape You Take. The most beautiful kind of love you can have is allowing someone to be themselves and shift in and out of things freely.

SILY: Is your live show faithful to the studio versions of the songs, or did you have to learn how to adapt the songs to the stage?

IDS: A lot of them sound very similar to the recording. We’ve been having so much fun practicing them and playing them live.

SILY: Is there one in particular you’re most looking forward to playing?

IDS: I love playing “Bad Dream”. That’s just a crazy song to play live because it’s so loud and rowdy. [laughs]

SILY: You have that falsetto in the middle of it, too.

IDS: Yeah. It’s so fun.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching lately that’s caught your attention?

IDS: I’m excited that one of my favorite authors, Tao Lin, just put out a book I haven’t been able to get fully into. It’s called Leave Society. I just got it in the mail last week. Other than that, I’ve just been so, so busy with interviews and work on the computer and with my manager, staying on top of this crazy shift happening on top of my life. I haven’t taken in a lot of media. I was just watching Love Island recently because I wanted to shut my brain down. Somebody was telling me about Sexy Beasts last night, which sounds insane. I’m excited to watch that.

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; don’t run from me river

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: nines filed the results of the system check to the back of his mind, to be analysed later, and sighed. he wasn’t originally programmed to sigh, but he sure did it alot nowadays. he sighed once more. this check would most likely return like the previous few, [ all systems optimal; functionality: 100% ]. so why does his processor stutter, causing him to freeze and catch his voice in his throat, when he was around you? there was only one logical explanation: he was broken.

a/n: ya boi is an idiot who made more wips than he could handle,,,, but anyway i wanted to write a nines fic because,,,,,,,,,,,, idk inspiration struck? i must admit i had no idea where i was going w this fic skfksfjaskdfhjk btw nines is deviant in this fic, i just have a hc that since he was forced into deviancy (unlike the 3 protagonists who reached some sort of catharsis) he isn’t as familiar with emotions as those 3, hence his difficulty identifying and expressing them. also rk800-60 and rk900 have assigned names, being colin (nickname sixty) and conan (nickname nines) respectively. connor is just connor lmao,,,,, i am god in my fics and i decide that my 3 bois are bros and happy lil deviants,,,, mk, go!

the ambiance inside the bar was loud and suffocating. many people came to celebrate an officer’s promotion to detective, and while nines wasn’t particularly close to them, he showed up regardless (although a certain duo of rk800 models may or may not have had something to do with his decision). mere formalities; he politely congratulated them and stepped away to ruminate on his own in a corner, absently watching the scene in front of him. for a reason that escaped him, he was (disappointed?) (hurt?) that you got along with colin. he still experienced anomalies in his system when near you, even after being told that he was perfectly fine at the maintenance centre. if the problem wasn’t from within, then there was only one probable cause: an outside factor. a recurring event. one that triggered these anomalies. you.

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

while you have taken to your new partner wonderfully, he wasn’t as gracious with his. between reed’s incessant snide remarks and overall unwillingness to cooperate, he’d much rather be deactivated. he found himself missing your partnership. for one, your cooperativeness was a relief. you were determined, passionate and kind. truthfully, he missed you. the shine in your eyes when you find a lead, your composure and professionalism, the soothing quality of your voice, the way you’d let you hand linger in his, how your features softened when you smiled—smiled at hi— he caught himself. why did that last part come to mind? how did you still manage to affect him when you’re so far away? he was about to check why when a laughter caught his attention. your wonderful  laughter. One he was oh so familiar with. you were laughing with his brother, probably at another of his bad jokes. seeing you happy with him stirred an ugly feeling inside him. one that he did not recognise nor acknowledge. one that caused him to glare at his older counterpart.

he was miserable after parting ways from you, having to deal with reed’s complaining. he was hurt, he was away from you and it didn’t feel right. this distance between you two manifested as physical pain on his part, so how come you were fine? how were you able to move on in your life as if nothing happened? sadness and hurt turned into something more despicable: how dare you not feel the same pain he did? seeing you so happy twisted the knife deeper in his heart. how could you? conflicting emotions; he wanted to see you happy. he also wanted to see you suffer with him.

his glowering must’ve been pretty obvious as connor “addressed” him, asking if he was alright, to which he replied with a curt « all systems fully functional ». clearly the wrong answer as the rk800 frowned slightly and asked him to follow him. nines did as told. you watched him as he left, but he’d never know that.

the alleyway wasn’t the cleanest of places, but it was private and quiet enough that the two could converse verbally. connor watched his younger brother, concern in his eyes, and tentatively threaded the topic of his relationship with you. nines squinted his eyes fractionally as he observed his brother, pausing before dismissing anything connor may have assumed: « i don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. the older model raised a brow in as he doubted his younger counterpart’s words. – you’ve been scowling at them for the past few minutes. – everything is perfectly fine between the detective and i. he forced out, probably more defensive and harsh than he meant it to be, as his brother’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to recognition. there was a pause before connor spoke up. – are you… jealous? he finally asked. »

nines looked a bit more than scandalised as the thought of being jealous, face contorted to slight disgust: « that’s preposterous. he scoffed. jealous? jealous of what? connor thought back about the scene before he intervened: nines was glaring intensely at you and colin, just after you laughed at one of his quips. – well for one, of collin. how he managed to get the detective’s attention. maybe you’re yearning for theirs, for their affection. his proposition has certainly made nines realise something as his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights. – what are you trying to say? his voice wavered in unsurety. – what i’m trying to say is tha— » he didn’t manage to finish his statement as another voice, not too dissimilar to his own cut him off, announcing how “nines had the hots” for you. connor looked slightly irked at being interrupted while nines quickly dismissed the statement before fully processing it. colin was slightly taken aback by the quick rejection, before smirked mischievously: « great! then you wouldn’t mind if i asked them out right? – colin! exclaimed his twin. »

a sudden rage took over nines’ body as he pushed colin out of the doorway and stormed back inside the bar. a few beats passed before connor threw a chastising look at his twin, which colin shrugged nonchalantly to.

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”.

date /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).

technically, it was fine. logically, it was fine. he didn’t own you. if you were to date his brother, then that would be your choice. but the thought of you being close and loving someone other than him felt so incredibly wrong. he wanted to leave. he needed to leave. this is all too much. he had feelings for you? he needed time to digest that statement. in his rush to get out, he accidentally bumped into another person, who made a small « oof » and an apology. he was about to apologise as well when you both realised who you were talking to.

« nines! i’ve been looking for you! can we… uh, talk? » he realised from this distance that he could smell your scent: lavender, fabric softener, and something pleasant that was unmistakably you. he nodded and followed you absentmindedly. how did you have this power to erase all thoughts from his mind, make him think of you and only you? has he really fallen for you? you both went outside, a distance away from the bar’s entrance when you finally restarted the conversation: « nines. – detective. » you bit your lips at that reply, and he realised now you looked tired, that radiant smile absent. « look, nines, i- i’m not dense, okay?... i-i know when someone’s avoiding me. – what do you mean detect— – i thought i told you that it was alright to call me by my first name… look, i… by “avoiding” i mean this. acting like you don’t know me. speaking to me as if we were just “coworkers”. acting like we aren’t friends. you sounded tired, the lilt in your voice that he has grown accustomed to sullen. – i’m not avoiding you. he lied, but he knew you were smarter than that. – nines please don’t lie… this distance… between us. i don’t understand, nines. your voice cracked. what happened? Why are you doing this? »

watching you hurt inside because of him was worse than any punishment he could’ve received. any and all previous wishes for you to suffer was quickly erased. he’s much rather suffer alone than watch you break. he took hesitant steps back. away from you. distancing himself from you. you noticed his actions and whispered a desperate « nines… please… » he wanted to run away. he wanted to stay. he wanted to leave and pretend this conversation never happened. he wanted to hold you and tell you everything: his fears, his doubts, his growing affection for you. in the end, he found himself running away from his problems like a coward. you didn’t bother to chase after him, desperately crying out « please… please don’t run from me conan. », last part choked out as you tried to hold yourself together. hearing your voice crack and waver because of him was awful. he wanted to turn back. comfort you. But his body didn’t obey him. when he finally stopped to pay attention to where he was going, he was right back at his shared flat. he swallowed dryly and moved to enter his house, a solemn air around him.

the next few days were absolutely torturous. he increased his initiative to avoid you, never seen in the same place as you, much to your chagrin. an act so blatant than someone as ignorant as reed noticed, an act that become the core of his recent round of taunts. avoiding you hurt. so why did he continue to do it? the thought of approaching the subject made him go cold. it immobilised him, stopped him from uttering a single word. a quick search told him he was scared. nervous. for rejection. he doesn’t know if his heart could take much more. he does resolve to tell you one day… just… not today…

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

you died. well, you almost did. his mind jumping to the worst case scenarios as anxiety filled his system. arrest gone wrong. gunshot. 9mm bullets embedded within your abdomen. what if it hit your vascular system? you were rushed into the er. he knew that in this profession, the chances for an individual to get shot rises. but he didn’t expect to grow so attached to one of them. so as the surgeons work to quickly remove all bullets from your body, he sat, rigid, as he waited for the procedure to be done. he fiddled anxiously with his coin when your partner placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. he mechanically glanced at its owner, who told him to not worry, that you’re “too much of a stubborn ass” to die from this event. he didn't acknowledge colin’s input as he continues to play with the quarter. he should’ve told you. told you when he had the chance.

the clock ticked. and ticked. and ticked. when finally, the surgeon informed the two that you were alright. they managed to take out all the bullets. your condition was stable. you were ok. heavily sedated and going to be in a lot of pain. but you were ok. nines didn’t stop the heavy sigh of relief that escaped him. the doctor told them that visits will be allowed as soon as you were settled in recovery. he was going to tell you. he told himself, like an unspoken promise. he was going to tell you then. it’s the least you deserve. he was going to apologise and come clean. hopefully you’ll have it in you to forgive him.

when you finally came to, your body ached, you didn’t want to move, so you settled with eyeing your room. what happened? you were chasing this guy… and he pulled out a gun… pain and then darkness. and now you’re here. the recovery room was filled with gifts and get-well soon cards. balloons of assorted colours filled the room, bouquets of diverse types of flowers adorned the table.

« you’re awake. »

you turned your head at the source, seeing connor at the doorway. « how—you cleared your throat—how long was i gone for? you asked, voice raspy. – around 3 days and a half. you’d gain consciousness a few times, but you were too heavily sedated to be fully coherent. he explained as he took a seat near the bed. you groaned. – gosh that long? connor nodded. how’s colin? – doing pretty well all things considered. he does, however, feel immensely guilty about failing to protect you. – well, tell him it’s not his fault and that i forgive everything he’s blaming himself with. you worried about him. despite sixty’s mischievous exterior, he had a tendency to get himself stuck in a depressive loop of self-deprecation. connor smiled graciously. – will do… he placed a paper cup filled with what you assumed was thirium on the floor. how are you feeling? – everything hurts but i’ll live, you quipped. » the android chuckled and was about to reply when a knock caught both of your attention. the door creaked slightly open, as nines peered in. he hesitated before asking if he may speak with you. the “alone” part being left unsaid as connor bid you farewell and left.

you and your former partner were locked in an intense stareoff, you on the bed on one end and him glued to the door on the other. he took tentative steps towards you. closing that distance. when he was besides your bed, he nervously called out your name. you parroted him, mustering out a curt « conan. » he took a deep breath that he technically didn’t need and whispered out an apology: « i… i’m sorry. for everything i’ve caused—for all the hurt i’ve caused… for what it’s worth… i never meant for all this to happen. » his voice was clipped as guilt overcame him. you watched him, silent as ever. he wished you would say something, anything. the silence was deafening.

« then please tell me why… he promised himself that he’d come clean. – i… i don’t… i don’t think i know... for sure… i experienced anomalies in my system when i was around you.. you’d consume my every thought, i’d feel immobilised and i… i’ve been told that i’m being nervous… i’ve been told that i harboured romantic feelings for you… i-i don’t know. i… i yearn for your attention, your touch, your affection… but is it right for something like me to desire such a thing? am-am i broken…? his voice was barely a whisper when he choked out the lay part, and he waited for his response, growing more anxious as each second ticked by. what if you didn’t want him? what if he wasn’t enough? – no, you aren’t broken. you shook your head. just human. »

nines. confident and assured nines was an insecure and trembling mess as he poured out all of the doubts that plagued his mind. your heart aches as you wished to comfort him, so you do. you reached out, best you can, and grabbed him into a bone crushing hug. an action that took him by surprised as he stiffened at your touch. but he soon relaxed and carefully snaked his arms around your waist, returning the hug. you slowly caressed his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

you both stay like this for a moment, relishing in each others presence, before you spoke up again: « it’s okay to be unsure, you know. he stopped his nuzzling, indicating to you that he was listening. if you don’t feel ready at the moment… if you just wanna be friends for the time being, i’m ok with that. and if one day you decide that you want to be more, just remember i’ll be right here. » you pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and stayed in that position for a while, neither wanting to part ways, but this awkwardly positioned hug took a toll on your back so the both of you half heartedly pulled away from each other. hands holding the other’s, you asked for one more request: « just promise me one thing. – anything, he breathed out. – please… don’t ever run from me again. – never. he promised, fully intending to fulfill said request. »

« thank you. »

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[atlas-tries]

Shatter Me Chapter 3: Shatter Me

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Summary: Patton finds a painful memory and Janus has a vision. Will it be enough to thwart the outcomes that await?

Notes: Redundant, no? Not gonna lie, fam, it's about to get to the darkest point. Trigger warnings for character death.

“Patton, are you sure you aren’t a hoarder?” Virgil asked, pushing aside a mountain of plushies where he had been unfortunate enough to land. This was the first time the anxious side had been in Patton’s room since he moved to their part of the Mindscape (also the first time he had ever been to Patton’s room) and Patton was beside himself to have him here.

“Absolutely! I just like to keep a few sentimental things around to look at when I’m feeling down,” Patton replied. “But I guess it uh, wouldn’t hurt to clean up a little. Gotta make room for more memories, right? I actually have the energy to do it now!”

Virgil looked at Patton with a lopsided grin. “Wait, what? You, not having the energy to do something? How’d that happen?”

“Ah right, you weren’t here for uh … all of that. Let’s just say I was recovering from an injury I got several months ago,” Patton said, instantly noting the worried change in Virgil’s expression. “Hold on, it’s alright, I’m alright now, see?” He lifted his shirt to showcase the few tiny cracks that remained. “I’m almost completely healed. Logan even gave me his seal of approval!” He pulled out a little medallion with Logan’s bespectacled brain signet on it. “See?”

Virgil breathed out a visible sigh of relief. He shook a finger at Patton. “Awesome,” he said, his voice cracking a little at the end.

“Alright, so you said you were looking for …” Patton started.

“… this one angsty poem Thomas wrote in high school. I thought I’d uh, spice the ruminating up a little when Thomas heads to bed tonight,” Virgil replied. “No better way to fall asleep than thinking about everything that’s gone wrong or that will go wrong, am I right?”

Patton smiled. “Sure, kiddo, as long as they’re balanced with happier thoughts during the daytime! Let’s see, I think what you’re looking for is over here.” He ran toward his version of the staircase that was piled high with boxes and other larger memorabilia that wouldn’t fit on the bookshelf. He glanced through a few of them, perking up a little when he came to the box on the fourth stair. “I think this is it!” He grabbed the box and ran back to Virgil.

“Keep them as long as you need them,” Patton said with a smile. He handed it over to Virgil, who nearly doubled over from the weight of the things inside. Virgil choked out a thanks and quickly sank out.

“Well, that’s one box temporarily dealt with. Now, about the rest of this marvelous mountain of memories …” Patton, though he would never outrightly admit it, didn’t like moving things around very much. It filled him with dread just thinking about moving something somewhere he would inevitably forget about it. Maybe it would be better to start smaller? He looked around for somewhere less cluttered to start. Finally, his eyes landed on the overflowing box labeled New Memories. “That’ll do for now.” He took the box carefully upstairs to his bedroom and got to work sorting its contents.

In around half an hour, everything was categorized into neat little piles that could be easily transferred to other more fitting storage spaces. Patton began collecting everything from the Friends and Coworkers pile and carried them to his dresser. The top drawer was for everything related to Joan. Admittedly, this one was getting a little bloated from all the fun stuff they and Thomas had ever done together. Still, Patton managed to find space for the newer memories in the crevices that remained. The rest made their way into their respective drawers, packed in tightly with all the rest of them.

Patton closed the drawers, smiled, and put his hands on his hips. “Perfect!” he said. Now all that was left was to take the box back to his version of the living room. He picked the box up and startled when it hissed at him. Something was still in there. He peeked into the box at the thing that had just slid toward him, an upside-down picture frame from the looks of it. Steadying the box with one hand, he reached in and flipped it over.

The last memory he had of Thomas’s now ex-boyfriend stared up at him from the bottom of the box.

His hands trembled a little as he stared at this frighteningly still image. “Nope nope nope, not today,” he said, closing the box and walking as quickly as he could to put it back where it belonged. Despite ridding himself of the visual, this memory was still going to make itself heard in the only way it knew how. Patton clutched at his chest hard and the box crashed to the living room floor. “N-not again …”

He sat down on the stairs a moment to regain control of his breathing. Searing lines thrummed in time with his heartbeat, dulled but not forgotten. This was another reason why he never bothered to clean up: too much of a chance to reopen old wounds. Patton rose with a wince to get that recording of the Rainforest Rap. That song always helped cheer him up. He kept the song on repeat until he felt some semblance of normalcy again.

For the rest of the week, Patton lay awake during the nights, praying that the darkness would somehow take away the memories that hurt him so. It, as many spectral entities do, provided no such reprieve. Certainly not enough to quell the ache settling further into his core as the days passed. Taking liberties in his duties here and there made things far more manageable. Just yesterday, Patton suggested Thomas indulge in a half a pack of Oreos and he listened. The day before, he had come thiiiiiis close to getting an actual bouncy castle! And today, Patton had one little plan he thought everyone would jump for (but not in a bouncy castle).

If everything went according to Patton’s plan, they would spend the next 48 hours rewatching The Office in a blanket fort with Thomas’s closest friends. They could all use a break right about now, what with Roman steamrolling through coming up with new concepts, Logan pulling all-nighters researching for new videos, and Virgil making sure everyone was staying on time with Logan’s schedule. He couldn’t wait to see how everyone else liked this idea! He was already out the door and nearly to the stairs when he heard muffled shouting coming from the living room below.

“—not seriously thinking of going along with this latest plan, are you? I have far too much to plan if we’re to keep this project at its utmost quality!”

Patton stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs.

“I know, Roman, I’m concerned about this, too. We’re woefully behind schedule as it is,” Logan added. “If we don’t do something about this, my carefully constructed calendar will collapse under the weight of his impulse decisions.”

“But how are we even supposed to bring that up to him? He’s been acting weird all week, I know,” Virgil bit, “but you know how Pat takes these things, L.” Patton bit his lip to keep from making noise as the cracks grew once more.

“The best way to do that is to do like you said earlier Virgil, rip it off like a metaphorical Bandaid. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to do this.”

So. Patton had gone overboard these past few days with his contributions.

How many other times had he put the other sides in this exact same situation? They were all supposed to be in this together. Weren’t they …?

There was only one way to fix this. Fixing his cardigan and his expression, Patton plodded heavily down the stairs to announce his arrival. “Hey kiddos! Oh, good, you’re all here together, that’ll save me a few trips back upstairs,” he said cheerily.

“Don’t tell us, Padre, you have another idea?” Roman asked. His smile looked so forced.

“Kinda! So I was just thinking that since we are so behind schedule, a 2 day binge-fest might not be the greatest idea I’ve come up with. So instead of that, how about we work on this next concept together tonight?”

Jaws all around the room dropped. “Wait, what? I thought …” said Virgil, looking to the others.

Roman picked up where Virgil left off, “Patton, I believe that’s the best idea you’ve had all week!” He stepped closer. “How shall we go about it? At the dumb boring regular table here, or at the Round Table in the Imagination to help stimulate all the best thoughts?”

“Hmm, that’s intriguing, Roman. It would certainly be easier than trying to keep track of all our thoughts on paper,” Logan added.

“Hey Logan, I guess you say it’s a …” Patton started.

Logan’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Virgil snickered.

“… well-Round-ed idea,” said Patton.

Virgil and Roman couldn’t help smiling watching this play out. Logan groaned. “I will ignore that this one time because you made a worthwhile effort to get us back on schedule, but I do hope that you’ll spend a little more time thinking about what words you want to arrange in a sentence. And make them less … pun-filled.”

“I’ll try not to have too much pun, but I can’t make any promises!” Patton said.

Logan said nothing further, opting instead to vacate the premises as quickly as possible. “I’ll uh, go with him and we’ll get everything set up in the Imagination,” said Roman, running after him.

“Well, I guess that just leaves you and me, kiddo! Whaddaya say we make some snacks for everyone? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today!”

Virgil nodded. “As long as I can spit on something meant for Roman,” he said.

“I’ll let you have the cookie batter bowl,” Patton replied.

“Deal.”

Between the two of them, Patton and Virgil were able to make somewhat quick work of a heaping plate of hot cookies and several plates of sandwiches for everyone to enjoy. Sure, they may have gotten more flour and other assorted foodstuffs on them than into the finished products on the counter, but it was the fun they had doing it that mattered. Both of them decided that it would be best to change out of their dirty clothes before carrying everything into the Imagination.

Patton sunk into his version of the kitchen, which was considerably more cluttered than the common area kitchen. He stepped over a few stray memories before making it into the clearer living room. That was when he noticed Deceit sitting on his couch worrying his gloved hands. Softly, Patton called out, “Dee?”

Deceit startled and turned quickly to see Patton. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat and brushing down the front of his cloak, “you certainly didn’t sneak up on me.”

“What brings you back to my neck of the ‘burbs?” asked Patton.

Deceit stood from the couch. “We’re just getting so well acquainted that I thought I’d stop by for tea— and to give a warning. I know they’ve been growing again.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I guess I can’t really hide this from you. But you should know, this time—”

“It’s not their fault, I’m well aware. But doesn’t this make it the best time to tell them? The pressure is off. You don’t even have to tell them in a direct way!” Deceit said, taking Patton’s hands in his own. His eyes were alight with worry. “You just need to tell them.”

“I know I need to, but … it’s so hard to do. I’d be hurting them, I know I would.”

Deceit looked down and sighed. He brought his gaze quickly back up to Patton’s, staring with an intensity that Patton had never seen from him before. “You need to tell them,” he whispered slowly. “I saw something on the horizon. Something bad. As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t want that vision to be about you.”

That was a bit startling. Patton knew it wouldn’t get that far, but … could it? “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them.” That earned him a split-second smile from Deceit.

“That’ll do, Patton. That’ll do. What in the world is on my gloves?” Deceit said, sinking out.

“Cookie dough!” Patton called after him. “And probably some mayo. Oh, he probably didn’t hear me. Now what was I doing again? Oh yeah, clothes, brainstorming, Imagination!” He quickly ran upstairs to the bathroom to get changed and emerged from his room less than a minute later and grabbed what food Virgil hadn’t. Maybe if he busied himself enough, he would be able to forget Deceit’s visit. He wouldn’t think about the panic behind his crumbling facade, or the thinly veiled pleas he made.

But that would all be a lie. Something had him deeply troubled, and when Deceit was the one giving out a warning in earnest, it bode better to listen. But how to go about it? Patton sighed. “Alright, Patton, let’s just focus on getting to the others right now,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes and thought about the others, and about castles, knights, and everything that made Roman happy.

When he opened them again, he was in the Imagination.

Or rather, he was in a field in the Imagination, right in front of Roman’s towering castle. It was a perfect amalgamation of Gothic architecture and pure Disney magic that made Patton’s nostalgia meter burst through the roof. He ran through the front gates with appropriate gusto and was thrilled to see the others there around the table already, quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Ah, Patton, we were starting to think you forgot how to get here again. Come, let us formally begin this brainstorming bash!” Roman said cheerily.

“That’s the spirit!” Patton squealed, trying to sound as normal as possible. He set down the cookie platter and took a seat in the high-backed chair with his new symbol on it.

“First things first, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page before we begin,” Logan said, summoning papers for all of them. “In order to maximize our output, Roman, Virgil, and I have decided to remove some of the thought filters from the castle for this session. This means that any particular thought, if it’s focused enough, will manifest in here for all of us to review. According to my own independent research, this should boost our productivity by 42% with a .03% margin of error.”

Patton’s eyes widened a little. He really didn’t want to interrupt their work, but this new system would definitely cause problems if he didn’t come clean now. So, Patton gathered every last bit of gumption that he had and shouted, “I have a confession to make!”

The others backed up a little, startled that Patton could be so loud, but quickly recomposed themselves. “Go ahead, Patton,” said Logan, straightening his tie.

Patton thanked him, doing his best to not squirm in his seat. He knew they wouldn’t react well, but maybe saying it now would keep thoughts about it from popping up later. “I uh, wanted to get this out of the way before we get down to business. But um … I think I might be breaking again.”

“Come again?” Virgil asked.

Patton slid the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal several deep fissures. “These things. They’re growing again,” he said. “Started earlier this week. I just didn’t want that popping up without warning and ruining our work. Anyways, um, what ideas are we working with here, Roman?”

“Wait, breaking? Like, breaking breaking? Oh God, Patton, are you dying? You’re dying, aren’t you? Oh God, no! What stops death?! Logan?!” Virgil cried frantically.

Patton quickly said, “Virgil, Virgil, breathe, I’m not dying. In for four seconds, there you go, hold it for seven seconds. You’re doing great. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Out for eight. Good job, keep it up.”

Logan got out a pen and notepad. “Again? And you say they started earlier this week? Do you remember which day it was?” he asked.

“The day I started cleaning up my room. Uh, what day was that again?” Patton said, still doing his best to softly coach Virgil back down to a calmer state.

“Padre … I thought there weren’t going to be any more secrets about this,” said Roman. The hurt look he gave to Patton about killed him where he sat.

“It wasn’t so much a secret as it was an ‘I-got-a-little-busy-and-kept-forgetting’ kind of thing. I never meant to keep it from you, any of you,” Patton replied. A tiny, glowing orb dripped from Patton’s chest. A thought. He pushed it down between his hand and the seat to trap it, knowing that it would unveil his lie. For good measure, he slung a leg over his hand.

“You were cleaning that day…” Logan mused. “I may have some theories that explain this phenomenon, though it is currently up to speculation. Allow me to elaborate. Patton, it seems that stressing yourself beyond your limits could potentially be the cause of this. You have certainly been going out of your way with your work this week. I believe we all recall the … bouncy castle idea. This could be leading to a lack of self-care needed to perform adequately.”

Patton nodded slowly with as real a smile as he could muster. “Yyyyyeah, that could be it,” he said, shoving down another treacherous thought as it popped out. It brought up memories of all the passing comments Logan made about his character.

“Uh, Pops? Whatcha … doin’ over there?” Virgil asked.

Patton stiffened. “Nothing, just, uh … Practicing a new kind of exercise?” Another one flitted out, pointing to being too overbearing with Virgil. “Hey, is that a dragon coming up to the castle?”

Everyone turned to look while Patton conjured a slingshot, flung that icky thought out the other window. and recaptured the one that had come out from beneath his leg.

“No, that’s a tapestry, Padre. It literally couldn’t hurt you if it wanted to,” Roman said. “Not that I would ever let it!”

Patton smiled. “You’re my hero, Roman,” he said.

Roman blushed a little to that. “Aw, Pat,” he gushed.

Another thought came up, a memory of a time Roman had taken him on one of his adventures. He had wanted to tend to a little wounded animal they came across and nearly got them killed because of it. Patton clapped his hand painfully over his heart to keep that one from surfacing. With a whimper and a slight grimace, he replied, “I mean it, Ro.”

Virgil was getting extremely antsy where he sat. “Okay, um … This is weird, right? Like, this just feels wrong.”

“Virgil has a point, you are behaving rather strangely, Patton,” said Logan. “Do you have something you’d like to add?”

With the focus being on what started this, another memory surfaced. The one that had started it again. Patton tried to bite that one as it meandered past. Curse these full hands! He missed by a mile, leaving it to float effortlessly to the center of the table.

“A thought?” Logan said. “Unconventional, but it’s an intriguing choice.”

It began to play. Patton was in his room, sorting through the new memories box. The last few were being tucked away. It skipped to him looking back in the box to see what was left. It showed him, holding the picture. Him, clutching his chest. Him, stumbling to the floor. As if on cue, the cracks thrummed in recognition. Thank goodness he already had a hand over them because it almost took his breath away. The memory evaporated, leaving the others to simply look with jaws slightly agape.

Patton could only look down at the table. These old wounds were reopening in the worst of ways, and now his closest friends would find out the truth. Logan finally broke the silence. “So, that’s how it happened.”

Patton nodded wordlessly.

“This was months ago,” Logan said.

“It was a busy time for me,” Virgil added. “Switching from everything Thomas did wrong to worrying that Thomas will never find love again got to be so exhausting.”

“I admit even I became a bit disheveled by his absence,” Logan said, looking down.

“I nearly ducked out over this. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, Patton,” said Roman.

Patton still couldn’t bring himself to look up. He knew there were pent up tears threatening to fall if he did. “It … it was hard … and seeing a reminder of it …” he whispered.

Logan sighed. “I believe your best course of action is clear,” he said. “You simply need to let the past be the past.”

“But … what about all of the good times we had with him? I don’t want to leave them behind,” Patton said softly.

“Patton, these memories are physically hurting you. I can’t understand why you would rather suffer endlessly instead of just letting one person go.”

You’re too sentimental to save yourself from dying.

Patton’s face contorted and a small whine escaped his throat. Those insidious cracks lengthened once more, each one feeling like a knife tracing its way through his skin.

Roman stood abruptly. “Now look what you’ve done, Quantum of Soulless!” Roman cried, motioning to Patton. Logan rose from his seat, trying to get a better look from across the table.

“Roman …” Patton lightly scolded. “Pl-please be nice.”

Roman huffed. “Sorry. What I mean is this situation needs a bit more delicacy than Logan’s robotic demeanor could ever hope to provide.” Roman walked over to Patton and put a hand gently on his arm. Logan was making his way over, too, notepad in hand. “Now Padre, you know how much I came to you when this was all fresh. We did our best to hold each other up, but even now, I still feel lost. I can’t tell you how much I yearn to have our beloved return, or how much I want to call him after all this time.”

Patton sniffled a little, putting his hand over Roman’s and leaning his head against his arm. “I know, I want him back too,” he said.

“I think we all do. But I think it might also be time to start boxing up some of those old memories. We can even help you start!” Roman said. Virgil shook his head. Logan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can help you start.”

“But I don’t want to forget … I wouldn’t even know where, or how, to start. We had so many good memories together that I don’t want to lose,” Patton blubbered.

“I know it’s difficult, but we aren’t children anymore, Padre. I know the relationship ending was for the best and I’ve been striving every day to remain strong. I also know that you wouldn’t be leaving everything behind if you do the adult thing and let the ghosts of the past go.”

You’re too naive to understand what needs to be done.

Patton doubled over, groaning as the cracks split further down his limbs and up his neck. Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he could taste the coppery twang of essence. He felt another wary hand on him. “P-Pops?” came Virgil’s wavering voice. “I… Thomas was being too overbearing. That wasn’t your fault!”

YOU were being too overbearing. YOU were what drove him away.

Patton cried out in agony as his skin split down to his fingertips and over his face to the top of his head. Small chips of skin were beginning to fall away with tiny tinks as they hit the floor, displaying the bright blue beneath. He could feel the front of his shirt begin to dampen.

“I don’t get it! We’re trying to help, why isn’t this working?” Virgil cried. “Why are they getting worse?!”

Logan came up to Patton, attempting to lean him back with utmost care. “Perhaps just talking about the subject of his pain is what’s causing them to worsen,” he said. As soon as he looked at the frail fatherly side, his demeanor changed. “Virgil, get a first aid kit. Roman, help me lay him on the table. Now!”

The others, at first too stunned to move, burst into action as quickly as they could. Patton screamed as they repositioned him on the table, hyperventilating from the pain. “Hang in there, Padre, please hang in there!” came Roman’s muffled voice. Logan was reaching for the hem of his shirt. He mouthed something to him. Patton felt something glide across his skin from his navel to his neck. Wait, when did Logan get scissors? And where was his shirt? And why did the others look so horrified? Those questions seemed inconsequential to the truth staring down at Patton, demanding he tell it.

“It w-was my fault,” Patton croaked.

Logan started threading a needle. Virgil was carding his fingers through Patton’s hair anxiously. Roman looked at him with incredulous eyes. “What are you talking about?” asked Roman.

“Th-the breakup,” Patton replied. Warmth was trickling down over his ribcage and soaking his back. “A-and everything e-else.” Logan tried his best to stick the needle through solid skin, but it just chipped further. Patton coughed, a bit of blue making its way past his lips.

“Everything else? Patton, you’re not making sense,” Logan said, trying the same thing again with the same result.

Patton whimpered, “I-I know that I’m always … messing th-things up. I forget s-so much … I kn-know that you think I’m t-too sentimental t-to do my job. Th-that I’m too … naive t-to see the truth right in … front of me. That I’m s-so over … o-overbearing that I drove him away. If it w-weren’t for … all of you t-to rein me in … I-I’d make Thomas into a… w-worthless mass of a man.”

You are worthless.

“C-Compression. Let’s try compression,” Logan said.

“Pat … is this … is this what caused all of this?” Roman asked. His eyes shimmered.

“You can’t seriously think that,” Virgil said, his hands becoming shaky.

Patton cried as Logan pressed firmly in the center of his chest. More fragments broke free and with them, Logan’s hands went straight through into Patton’s chest. Patton nearly passed out. Logan quickly withdrew his hands.

“Ohhhh my God, oh my God, Logan, what did you do?!” shouted Virgil. “What do we do now?!”

Patton coughed violently, essence spluttering from his lips in a steady stream.

Logan could only stand there, frozen in horror, staring at his blue hands.

“Logan?!” Roman cried.

“I … I don’t know …” came Logan’s voice, barely above a whisper. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You can’t die on us, Patton, please, we need you!” Virgil sobbed.

Roman grasped Patton’s hand delicately. It began to shatter like porcelain barely held together. Despite the jagged edges, Roman still lifted it to his cheek, holding on like it was the only anchor in a violent sea. “Y-you’ll … all be … alright … without me … Just … p-promise me … y-you won’t … blame yourselves …” Patton gasped.

He couldn’t hold it together when bigger pieces of him began breaking away from the rest of his body. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t hear.

He couldn’t see. But still, his mouth made the words.

“I… l-love… you.”

With a final shuddering breath, he was gone.

---

Janus knew that meddling with what his foresight told him never aided the outcome.

He knew this, but he tried anyway.

It wasn’t that he particularly liked Patton. He found him to be overly saccharine and ridiculously optimistic in the face of surefire doom, not to mention he stood by socks and sandals as a fashion choice. However, things always seemed to run smoother in the Mindscape with the fatherly side around. Someone had to be there to tend to the others and moderate their senseless bickering, he supposed. How would anyone get any sleep otherwise? And Patton wasn’t one to pass judgement when he was caught alone. Perhaps his near-blind acceptance was what endeared Janus to him in the first place.

Whatever the case, he didn’t want whatever was going to happen to go through like it wanted to. He could never determine much from these visions. Just … feelings. Notions. The occasional coherent thought. This most recent one should’ve been par for the course. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what came. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being ripped apart. And there was nothing else around but the pain, searing a fiery blue, and those three intrepid words.

I love you.

A swan song if there ever was one. And now, standing here amongst the shadows outside Roman’s castle, he knew the swan had sung.

Taglist: @celeste-tyrrell @taxicabinmemphis @angeldiaries @somehow-i-got-an-account

[ghost-writing]

The Monster 3/?? - August Walker fanfic

PART THREE - Change

Word count: 2.7k  

Warnings: Mentions of sex, mentions of violence and murder, swearing and bad language (in English and in Dutch!), some angst I suppose. And August Walker. (The Kingstache deserves its own warning.) And it’s probably full of typos and redundancies. If you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

Part one can be found here, and part two here!

She felt tense. She was certain he'd try something during the “London expedition”, as Simon had named it. She had checked the reservations, and he only booked three rooms for the four of them, arguing that Simon and Niklaas could share, and assuring her that she would have her own room. Could be true, could be a ruse. Still she would've bet that Agent Control Freak had something planned. It was something in his eyes, faint but present. So she readied herself for a battle. A battle for power over the other. She would not let him get what he wanted that easily. But her team had to remain clueless of what was going on. She would not allow them to find out what was going on between the two of them. Because Niklaas would definitely use it against her.

She arrived early at the station. Simon was already there, his usual anxious self. Walker got there briefly after her. As if he had been following her. He probably had. That creep. After greeting them curtly, he sent Simon to the coffee shop. “My treat”, he said, giving him some money. She then was sure he most definitely had followed her. An intuition. Simon almost ran, happy to oblige, already salivating at the idea of fresh croissants he wouldn't pay for.

“Couldn't get them yourself?”

“Simon knows everybody's preferences in coffee. I only know how you like your tea.”

“And you know that we'll get breakfast on board with our 1st class ticket, right?”

“I do.”

She sniggered. “Ok. Spill the beans.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, trying to look perfectly innocent. “What the hell do you want, Walker?”

“I don't know what you are talking about.” He looked at someone behind her. “Den Boer. Almost late.”

“Rot op, kut”, the young agent muttered.

“What was that, Nik?” Frankie would not pass an occasion of putting that kid back in his place. He turned a deep shade of red, remembering she knew many Dutch curse words, and looked at her right in the eyes, mentally slapping her or spitting in her face, no doubt.

“I... I'm in a bad mood. Alarm clock did not go off this morning. Still, I am right on time, and Simon is not!” His triumph was short lived, as the coffee boy arrived, one hand holding a cardboard tray with four cups, and the other a bag of baked goods. Frankie's stomach growled instantly at the smell of pastry. Walker looked at her, with that unbearable smirk half hidden by his mustache, as if telling her “I knew you'd enjoy something to eat right away. Because I hid cameras in your apartment, and I know you did not eat anything since you woke up.”

“Klootzak”, she thought. “I so want to punch that smug face of his...” Apparently, she was now in a fouler mood than Niklaas.

She took it out on two croissants, eating in silence, sipping on her tea, avoiding to look at the big ass American spy who was gloating.

The speaker announcing that boarding would start shortly pulled her out of her ruminations. They all grabbed their hand-luggage, and rolled to their first class car. They were all seated  around a table, so they'd be able to go through the plan again during the two hour journey. It would not be necessary, but she knew that Simon would ask the same questions again.

As she lead the way, she sat next to the window, and shuddered when Walker sat right next to her. He did not seem to notice, taking her small suitcase without asking her, lifting it above their heads. She shivered again, noticing how effortless it seemed for him, so tall and strong and...

“Frankie! What's wrong?”, Simon asked.

“Headache”, she mumbled. “Give me another croissant.” His face fell.

“I took the last one”, Niklaas said, a hint of defiance in his voice.

Frankie breathed in, through her nose, slowly, deeply. “I'll kill you for that.” Only after that thought had passed, she allowed herself to breathe out, as slowly as she could, never breaking eye contact with Niklaas. The young man was not ready to back down either.

But Simon was noticeably uneasy, trying to calm things down. “Aren't we supposed to have breakfast on board? I suppose it'll be croissants... I'll give you mine, Frankie! I've had enough already.”

“No, thank you, Simon. You don't have to deprive yourself of your breakfast for me.” She forced herself to look and smile at him. Poor Simon was always stuck between her and that shithead. Said shithead felt like he had won this battle, and looked at Walker with a huge grin on his face.

“What are you so happy about, Den Boer?” Walker couldn't stand the kid either. He usually did not care much about the people he had to work with, like Simon. Frankie was a different thing entirely, for obvious reasons. But sometimes, they'd get under his skin almost instantly, as was the case with the other junior officer. That one was not working hard enough, and acted as if he already knew everything he had to know. From experience, those were the worst kind, the most dangerous too.

“No answer? You're usually quite talkative when it comes to criticizing the Ice Queen...”

Niklaas' head almost exploded.

“Don't worry: she already knew you call her that. And worse.”

He looked at Frankie, who had murder in her eyes...

“Juniors, scram.” They didn't wait for further reasons, and left hurriedly.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck. Walker?”

She had paused between every word. Walker saw she was trying to control her wrath through her breathing, but did not understand right away why she was now so angry at him. He remained silent, not sure what answer he should give her.

“What the fuck are you doing? You are... Just... Weird. Stop being weird. Stop it! We're going to London to do a job. I don't know what's going on in your head, but get yourself in check and focus on that fucking job. For fuck sake...”

She stood up, and left him alone. He should have known treating her like a damsel in distress was not going to work. He should have known she'd put up a fight.

The rest of the journey was filled with awkward silences and quick questions about the case. When they got to the hotel, Frankie switched rooms with Simon and Niklaas: she absolutely did not want to be in the room next to Walker's, as they had a communicating door.

She barely talked to him that first day. They met the person they were supposed to get intel from, but that brought up another problem. They now had to go to the countryside to find someone else. But they'd have to conceal their identities and actual purpose. So, the whole team couldn't go, and Niklaas had the most ridiculous idea.

“Frankie, you should go with Agent Walker, pretend you're a married couple...” Again, his eyes were full of pride and mischief. He knew that would bother her. What else did he know?

While she was struggling to find an answer that wouldn't sound too angry, she heard the American say: “No. I'll go alone.”

“You'll look less threatening with a woman...”, tried Simon.

They all looked at Frankie, and something in her made their faces contort in three different expressions, but all meant “This might not be the less threatening-looking woman there is, but she'll have to make do, because it's the only one we have”. Her murderous intents had clearly reappeared.

“Maybe with a cute flowery dress...” Simon regretted his words instantly. Frankie's lips were shut tight, her jaw clenched, her anger palpable. Her silence only made her even more frightening.

“We should find another story”, cut Walker.

And then, Frankie heard herself say “We'll manage. It's only for a couple of days...”

“And at least two whole nights”, teased Niklaas, under his breath. He knew something. He definitely knew something.

Hearing that, Walker straightened his imposing frame, meaning to put an end to this silly conversation. “I said no.”

“I'm the leading officer here, CIA. You're only tagging along. And I say we're doing this. Simon, can you...” She felt queasy at the thought.

“Rent a car, search for a nice hotel in the area, and book a room for the happy couple, sure! I'll contact Emily... I mean: Agent Richards! For the details of your covert identity, Agent Walker...” And Simon skedaddled, followed by his colleague, leaving Frankie and Walker alone in his room.

After a moment of silence, Frankie trying to assert her dominance over her counterpart, Walker attempted a joke.

“Well, nobody is going to believe we're a happy couple, if you look at me that way...”

“I don't have to pretend yet.”

She moved towards the door.

“Wait! We have to... Plan this.”

“We'll have time for that while driving there. Now, I have to go shopping...” Turning around, she looked at him. “Maybe you should too.”

And she left him, confused, worried, and wondering what was wrong with his wardrobe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Walker was driving their rented car to the hotel they were supposed to sleep at. In the same room, of course. They had made contact with Peggy, the person they came all that way to meet. Peggy was now called Elizabeth, and was posing as a rich widow, taking care of a small art gallery in a picturesque village in the country side. Expecting her to be weary of strangers, they did not push their luck with her: Walker barely talked to her, most of the work was left to Frankie. She managed to have a lengthy conversation with Elizabeth, about the things a young couple could do in the area: where to eat, what to visit – even each on their own. Frankie pushed the “wife angry at her husband” story-line, because it seemed to work on their target. That woman had no trouble believing they were really married, because “Françoise” was genuinely mad at “Hank”. So, yes, Niklaas' stupid idea had actually worked, because of all the rage that tiny wife had towards her giant of a husband. The best lies are the ones anchored in truth.

But Frankie was drained, unable to conceive that she'd have to play that role for at least a couple more days, spending as many nights in the same room as him... So, when they arrived at the hotel, she went straight to the small restaurant, leaving him to take care of the reservation and the luggage. She sat at a table in a corner of the dining room, ordered a cocktail, drank it whole straight away, and ordered another, plus the lamb dish for herself, and the beef one for Walker. “Ugh! Him...” This mission was not easy, but the worse part was being with him. Him, constantly trying to hold her hand, or putting his arm around her waist or her shoulder. Him, ogling her like she was a flower and he was after her nectar. Him, his warm body, so tall and so wide, smelling so nice... Him. His huge hands. His stupid mustache. His hard cock... “Ugh!”, she hissed, full of rage and lust. She had already downed half her  second glass when she saw him enter the room.

Getting inside the eating area of the inn, he saw her sitting at a table in a corner, away from the two other couple of guests who were already enjoying their meals. An older lady smiled at him, which her husband did not notice because he was focused on Franken. As he sat down in front of her, she gestured at the waitress to bring her another glass.

“I ordered food.”

“Thank you. But no drink for me?” He grabbed her glass and sniffed it. “What the hell is that?”

“Pear daiquiri. They're using local organic pears, it's nice and fresh. And it's my second glass already, because I need to unwind. Oh, here comes the third!” She finished her glass.

The waitress put the cocktail in front of Franken. “They're delicious, aren't they? Do you want one too, sir?” She smiled and batted her lashes at Walker.

“I'll have a scotch, thank you.”

He did not look at her leaving, but he noticed that whatever she did, it irritated his fake wife: she sighed in exasperation.

“We need to talk.”

She sighed some more. “Can I at least eat in peace, please?”

“It doesn't have to be a battle, we can have a quiet, civilized conversation.”

He saw rage in her eyes. He also noticed that she was exhausted. Or maybe it was the rum kicking in, or rather kicking her down.

“I'm sorry for the other night.”

This time, her face was blank. She did not believe him.

“I really am. I've thought about it a lot, and I know I made a mistake.”

Still nothing from her. How did that woman, who had looked so angry with him for the past week and a half, especially since yesterday, could now look that calm and unaffected?

“When was the last time you apologized?” Her tone was quiet, yet threatening. “To anyone.”

She looked at him right in the eyes. Walker made a mental note to never play poker with that woman, because she was not giving any clue to where she was going with that question. So, he tried sincerity, for once.

“I don't remember. It's not very often I do.”

“Why?” She drank, just a gulp.

He chuckled a little. “I don't like being wrong.”

“No, I mean, why to me? Why now?”

That's where she wanted to go. He realized she had done the same thing the other night, when she called him a boy... She had cornered him, just like now. Not leaving him any room for action, forcing him to go forward. He remembered she studied psychology and criminology. He remembered her file said she was good at interrogating suspects. He remembered how she got the man in London to tell them about Peggy and her location. He got played.

“Was it all an act? Your hostility, today?”

The waitress arrived with their plates. “Lamb?”

“That's me”, she said. “He's the beef.” The girl put their respective plates in front of them, and came back right away with Walker's scotch, trying to make eye contact, but he did not react.

Frankie smelled the food, and relaxed. She was starving, and drunk too. She cut a piece of her meat, swiped some gravy, put it in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

“Hmm... Good!” She opened her eyes, and Walker's face was another good thing. It was not the first time she saw that face, she often had that effect on people. But she was fairly surprised that a CIA agent had not seen her coming.

“It was all an act...”

“It wasn't.” She kept eating her dish. “It's really good, eat while it's still warm.”

“But...”

She cut him off. “It wasn't. I find you're insufferable. I didn't mind how smug you were, at first, but I don't know how I've managed to not slap you in the past few days... Or kick you in the balls.” She lifted her knife in front of her. “Or stab you multiple times, dismember your corpse, and disseminate the evidence across the English countryside.” She went back to eating her food like what she just said did not made her sound like a psycho. He still had not started his plate yet.

He took a deep breath, like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself, drank his glass in one go, and started his dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GUYS! You have no idea how hard it was to get to this... 3 months since I posted part 2. I wrote and re-wrote this, at least 3 times, if not 4. I just HATED what came out. I didn’t like how they were interacting with each other, or with others... It just felt WRONG. 

And then, I don’t know how, Frankie changed her act, she was different: she was a mean cat and August suddenly was a little mouse stuck in her claws. And that weirdly felt RIGHT. (Maybe it’s because I watched How to Get Away with Murder. So: thank you, Annalise Keating, I guess... ^_^ )

So, I’m sorry there’s no smut (there should be in part 4, if I get to finish it!), but I’m so relieved...

[goodfortune-au]

Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 14: Games

In the coming weeks of March going into April, there had come the next wave, the next vital stage of his attentions and the days that Angel had started to look forward to the most. These were nothing like the voices in her head, the phantom hands stroking her skin, or the experience of finding him on her favorite TV channel. Angel had spent such time these days simply pining after him, waiting for him to worm his way back into her mind, distract her, take her away from all her worries and doubts. To tell the truth, this wasn’t much different from the days of before, all those days spent patrolling the TV for the Derry Children’s Hour and all the time she spent sleeping in the hopes of stumbling across those delicious dreams once more, but now that she had tasted the true sweetness of his presence, there was simply no turning back now. Yes, Angel had truly experienced something she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing before, that is, the love and touch of another living, breathing thing, and now she wanted more. She wanted more, and knowing that the time was ripe to do so, Pennywise was more than delighted to offer it to her. It had begun one warm April afternoon, when the Losers had come to bless Angel with their blithesome, whimsical company. A conversation about the perils and pitfalls of pre-pubescent life at school eventually dissolved into listless boredom, and then Angel had saved the day with a simple deck of cards. They took to it immediately, all sitting in a circle around the coffee table. It was Angel, followed by Bill, followed by Eds and Richie, followed by Stan. The TV is chattering quietly in the background behind them.

“Alright, host goes first, and we’ll move in clockwise.” Angel had announced. She laid down a blue card inscribed with a three.

Bill is thoughtful for a moment, rifling through his cards and finally he sets one down on top of it. Blue seven. Eds places down a yellow seven and Richie grumbles before drawing a few cards out of the deck in the middle. He finally places down a yellow five and Stan counters with the same number in green. And so the cycle continues, the silence progressively growing more and more tense, just waiting for the first shoe to finally drop. It comes back around to Stan again.

“...Sorry, Anj.” Stan says with a wryness in his voice, as though he wasn’t really sorry. He theatrically sets down a card and a death knell practically descends over her head. “Draw four.”

She gasps dramatically. “You little bastard!” She draws four cards out of the deck with a leisurely chuckle, and then places one of them into the middle with a flourish. Reverse card. “Your turn again, Stan the man. This way you can’t betray me a second time.”

“Fine by me, now I get to betray Richie.” Stan says with a devilish smirk. Skip turn.

“Oh come on!” Richie wails. “I had a good one!”

Eddie snickers and places down a green nine. “Sucks to suck, doesn’t it Trashmouth?” Bill places down a green two.

“Can it, wheezy, or I’ll sic the hounds on you next go around, I've got some good cards.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Angel says with a wag of her finger. Another reverse. The entire party flares up with a chorus of controversy and uproarious laughter. Bill snickers and puts down a second green two, then Eddie follows with a wildcard. “The color is red.”

“Yes!” Richie pipes up with a triumphant shriek. To the horror of everyone, he places down a red skip card in the middle. Stan stares at him silently with contempt.

“Nice one, idiot, now we know what color you have the most cards for.” Eddie says, his tone snide and condescending as he shuffles through his own hand.

“Yeah, and now the color is yellow.” Angel announces, placing down another wildcard.

“NO!” Richie howls. The room flares up again with laughter.

They continue in their childish game, taking one round into the next and then a third and a fourth after that. Bill was a silent and unassuming winner, taking home the gold in the first two games and Stan and Angel taking home the third and fourth. As time goes on everyone is growing increasingly bitter at one another, a cloud of competitive loathing settling over all of them as they fight to best the next player. Angel could sense the tension growing in the air, tension surely unavoidable in such a high stakes game as this, and couldn’t stop herself from becoming consumed in the heat of it as well. She’s sitting crosslegged on the couch, leaning forward in her anticipation for the next move, waiting to see what pandemonium surely awaits with the placement of each new card. After a while, though, they all fall into caustic silence. The clock ticks insistently overhead. The chatter on the TV seems to grow louder in the increasing absence of sound. Then the matter-of-fact words of a news reporter gradually intrudes in on their collective thoughts, and before they know it grim conversation is born from the quiet.

“Who knows who’s doing it?” Eds had said. “I hear about this shit constantly, but they never seem to catch anyone.” He sets down a blue four. “Your turn Bill.”

Bill puts down a green four. “Yeah, it’s... It’s ruh-really weird. T-two kids from a grade down went m-m-missing in the last month. The p-police don’t even have leads on them, and it's been weeks.” He says quietly. Angel feels her stomach start to roil with something unpleasant but she ignores it. She puts down a green six and doesn’t say anything.

“It feels like the police don’t even care.” Stan adds, placing down a card of his own. “I mean, they say they’re looking for the missing people, but my dad says that’s just a bunch of bullshit posturing.”

“Really, Rabbi Uris said that?” Angel asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well,” Stan says sheepishly. “Not in those exact words.”

“I don’t know, man, it just feels like things have been different lately.” Eddie says, placing down a reverse card. “Things haven’t really been the same since... You know, ever since...”

Ever since Georgie.

They all fall into discontented silence. Bill is the quietest of them all. The TV continues on behind them, unphased.

“...Hey, uh, can we get a fuckin’ change of scenery in here?” Richie breaks the silence loudly. There’s an uncharacteristic nervous edge to his voice. “I hate the news- it's, uh, it’s killing my buzz, know what I mean?”

They all immediately agree. Angel picks up the remote. “Good idea.” She says uneasily. She starts to flip through the various available channels.

“Your turn again Angel.”

“Oh. Uh...” She interrupts herself to place a card into the middle and then refocuses her attention back on the screen. There’s a baseball game on Channel 4, a hokey soap opera on Channel 10, a couple dull historical documentaries on Channels 14 and 15... Yawn. She continues. Even Channel 27 was nothing but static. She sighs and gets up, disrupting the game briefly to pluck a movie off the shelf instead. She slides her choice into the VCR slot and lets it play, comforted by the familiar sound of product-placement ads she’d heard a thousand times before. Everyone else seems instantly placated by the change of tone in the room too. The Paramount Pictures logo flashes briefly over the screen, and then the sound of a radio host announcing the beautiful weather in the city of Chicago cuts in sharply over the silence.

“Ferris Bueller?” Richie mutters absentmindedly, his eyes flickering up to the TV as he rifles through his cards. “Good choice, Anj.”

“...Ferris? Ferris? Tooooom!”

Two well-to-do parents are fussing over their apparently sickly child. “What, what’s wrong?” His father asks.

“What’s wrong ? For Christ’s sake look at him honey!”

He’s laying in bed, eyes wide as saucers, staring off into space. His father says his name and his spacey stare rolls lazily upward. He seems dazed and fatigued but it’s clearly an act, his voice child-like as he addresses them from under the covers and dramatically plays up his imagined illness. His theatrical performance is laughable and thin but somehow they miraculously buy into it anyway, even insisting he stay in bed as he makes meek attempts to sit up. “I have a test today,” He says, in intentionally weak protest. “I have to take it. I wanna go to a good college so I can have a fruitful life.” His mother adamantly refuses out of concern. “Honey, you’re not going to school like this now.”  Cynical big sister arrives in the room, rightly skeptical of her brother’s supposed ailment but is nonetheless dismissed by her family anyway.

“I’m okay,” Ferris says after she’s gone. “I’ll just sleep. Maybe I’ll have an aspirin around noon.”

After not much deliberation, the parents both agree to let him stay home, telling him they’ll check on him and to call them at work should he need anything. He hams it up even more, buttering them up with weak praise, lauding them for being such loving, caring parents, and they both bid him an affectionate goodbye. They start to leave the room, and his mother tells him she loves him before starting to shut the door behind her. There’s silence. After all is well and the boy is alone in his room, he cautiously sits up in bed. He listens to the door close, and then his eyes dart to the center of the screen. He’s smug.

“They bought it.”

The game continues on as though it had never been disturbed. The unpleasant conversation of before is nothing but a distant memory now, their minds now engrossed in the intense heat of competition once more. A fifth game turns into a sixth, and the better part of an hour passes over their preoccupation. Though the kids seem to have forgotten the grim topic of the disappearances, Angel is less fortunate, and whether she likes it or not, thoughts of it all are starting to stew in her mind again. It was true, Angel had been able to dodge these ruminations lately as a result of her lovesick euphoria, but they had all been buried in a shallow grave rather than six feet under. It was hard to ignore the unease creeping up when she was reminded of everything she’d heard and experienced, and then slowly but surely those thoughts would come rising to the surface again for her lack of delight. She didn’t like thinking of it, of any of it. If she’d had her way, she would happily keep her head buried in the sand with Pennywise and never let her mind linger on any of it ever again. But no such luck unfortunately. The only thing worse than being aware of such strange and ominous dealings was the frustrating knowledge of knowing there was nothing you could do to stop them. Angel had given up a long time ago on any foolish notion of ending whatever force of evil lurked within the town, not that she ever truly had had such a notion in the first place. No, Angel was more than aware that she was fairly inconsequential to this town, even as an apparent fascination for an esoteric guardian angel, and that there was little chance at all she might have any sway over its cosmic fate. But it didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about it all. It was such a futile and helpless feeling she couldn’t control.

Angel pushes it from her mind and tries to become consumed in the game again. In the process her mind starts to wander to other places, and she wonders where Pennywise might be now. He hadn’t been around much in the last few days; though of course, when he wasn’t whispering in her ear or monopolizing her attention on the TV, he was present in other ways. He would leave her gifts and notes just as he had done before, and they were more affectionate now, more personal. He’d leave her things that specifically catered to her interests. Special inking pens he’d conjured up from god only knows where, little pinback buttons and squares of fabric perfect for patch-making, her favorite candies from childhood... She thought it so sweet that he was trying so hard to keep her interest. It was refreshing and new and she, so enamored with him, leaned into the attention wholeheartedly. Pennywise knew it to be important to keep laying on the charm, knew it was crucial to continue in his courting behavior, but he had held off on continuing to be there with her in person, at least for the time being. He wanted her to long for his touch and his presence, wanted her to want him there, holding her, keeping her within the unwavering security of his protection. The time was coming for him to make his return, however, and the reunion would be so sweet, so delightful, the beginning of a new stage in their budding relationship. He had been so patient in the weeks following Valentine’s Day, and now he simply couldn’t wait to be with her again. He would come back to her, and she would welcome him with open arms.

“Oh, you motherfucker.” Richie breathed.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off had finally reached its third act, and now focused on a conversation between the eponymous character’s girlfriend and best friend. They walk through Chicago’s crowded downtown thoroughfares during a lively parade, discussing Ferris and his whereabouts, seeming to have lost him somewhere in the crowd along the way. They’re meandering through hundreds of people trying to find him, the chatter around them loud and boisterous as they make their way down the congested street. The kids paid little attention to the movie, focused instead on the happenings within the fascinating yet frustrating world of Uno. Angel finds herself having forgotten about Pennywise and everything else for the time being, having gotten absorbed in the game herself once more. Bill had a tally of three games won now, Stan with two, Rich with one, Eddie with four somehow, and Angel with two, but the group had now forgotten how many games they’d played, having gotten lost in it for hours. They were playing through the deck for the umpteenth time, and this one had been a real nail biter so far. So many twists and turns, flimsy alliances turned inevitable betrayals, and obscenities shouted at one another that it was truly a sight to behold. At one point Mayor Jello had sauntered into the room, gotten a good, long look at the unfolding commotion, and promptly slinked back out to attend to his own matters.

“You can’t stack draw fours!” Richie had exclaimed incredulously. “That’s against the rules!”

“Nuh uh.” Angel informs him, reclining back on the couch. “House rules. Stacked draw twos and draw fours are totally free game.”

“Yeah, Richie. Read ‘em and weep.” Eds says smugly.

“Fuck that shit!” He’s appalled. “I refuse to honor three stacked draw fours!”

Psst.

“You can’t just refuse, dipshit!”

“Like hell I can’t! I’ve got seventeen cards already, it’s not fair!”

“You’re being a sore loser, Rich.” Stan sighed.

Psst. Hey.

They continue to squabble amongst themselves. Richie is adamant and will not budge, and everyone else is needling him to simply honor it and move on.

“Okay then, if you pussies get to stack draw fours, then I get to do this.” He throws down a blue reverse card.

“Hey, you can’t do that!”

“Sure I can. If you get a pass on breaking the rules then I get a pass too.” Richie says with a shrug. “Draw twelve, asshole.”

“I’m not drawing twelve, Richie!”

Psst.

She finally hears it. Her ears perk up.

Angel.

While they’re arguing, she feels a shiver run up her spine, and she turns to face the source of the sound. The TV. The movie is still playing, Alan Ruck and Mia Sara still journeying through downtown Chicago, the crowd still chattering on in an endless chorus of white noise. A voice starts to address them from a P.A speaker; one familiar, smooth and lilting, but nothing at all like Ferris’s.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re such a wonderful crowd. We’d like to play a little tune for you. It’s one of my personal favorites, and I’d like to dedicate it to a very special girl who doesn’t know just how special she is. Angel, darling, look at me.”

She stares hard, her whole world dissolving into static around her. The camera shot falls on a parade float in the center of the screen, but instead of Ferris dramatically lip syncing the words to Danke Schoen on the stage, Pennywise has bafflingly taken his place on the screen somehow. She’s warm now, she can’t believe her eyes as he walks among the costumed dancers, miming the words and playfully gesturing with his hands toward the center of the screen. He was singing to her.

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for all the joy and pain

Picture shows, second balcony was the place we'd meet

Second seat, go Dutch treat, you were sweet

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Save those lies, darling don't explain

I recall Central Park in fall

How you tore your dress, what a mess, I confess, that’s not all

He turns to face her completely now, and the movie continues on without him uninterrupted. The children don’t seem to notice his voice, or his presence on the TV. They simply proceed in their heated contention. It's just him and her.

“Hello, sweetness. It's so nice to see your lovely face again.”

Warm phantom hands cup her hips now and she has to resist the urge to gasp. He’s firm but affectionate.

“Uh uh, precious girl. Keep it quiet, would you? Wouldn’t want them to catch on to us, hmm?”

She gulps with a nod and holds her breath as those hands start to wander up, over her clothes, toward her cotton-clad breasts.

“Yes... I’m sure you’re not ready to have that conversation, are you? Wouldn’t even know how to explain it... Oh, look at you, your face is already all red. Cute little Angel. Cute cute cute!”

His hands ghost delicately over her breasts and go to her collarbone, stroking sensually there with one feather-light finger until she’s squirming. He cups her cheek now.

“Oh, darling... How good your skin feels underneath my fingers… Did you like my song? Did you find it as lovely as I find you? Oh, hold on- I think I have another one coming up.”

You had better watch me.

Richie smacks Eddie’s cards out of his hand and the argument flares up again. Angel doesn’t even process it. She’s off in her own world now, and his touch is so titillating that she feels that tingle start to work its way from her belly all the way between her legs again, even as Twist and Shout comes on over the loudspeaker. Pennywise is lip-syncing the words to the upbeat number now, shimmying and dancing on the parade float as he pretends to sing into the microphone. All the while those hands are continuing to grope at her body, lewdly venturing over her curves while a marching band spiritedly plays along to the tune. They follow the beats of the song with brassy enthusiasm.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

Well, work it on out

You know you look so good

You know you got me goin' now

Just like I know you would

Pennywise is bolstered by the excitement of the crowd and the sheer look on Angel’s face, the way she can’t keep her eyes off him and his on-screen antics. A small flash mob starts to form in a plaza and they mime the words too as they dance down a small flight of concrete steps. The entirety of the parade seems to have congregated around the float in a circle now; the parade-goers are all caught in their own rhythm, moving in different fashions but all in tandem at the same time as they sing along. And all the while Angel is staring, her heart pulsing restlessly inside of her, ignorant of the kids’ growing dissent amongst one another.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

You know you twist, little girl

You know you twist so fine

Come on and twist a little closer now

And let me know that you're mine

That feeling inside of her belly is only growing more and more as she watches him. The way he struts and sashays across the stage of the float, the way he performs so electrically that it riles up the whole crowd; she can hear the bells on his suit jingling with every one of his movements, the sound ringing in her ears as she fights to maintain some semblance of normalcy and composure. And all the while his eyes keep flickering back into hers, reminding her just who he was singing to, just who he was doing this all for.

Who she belonged to.

“Angel, tell Richie he’s being fucking ridiculous!” Eddie demands, and suddenly she snaps back into focus.

“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous! Now you’re telling me you can use a fucking skip card on yourself?”

“Yeah, I figured if we’re all breaking rules, why not?”

“That just passes the draw twelve onto Bill! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“Oh, so I do deserve it?”

“Guys, for the love of god, shut up!” Angel practically roars, her assessment of the situation all suddenly caught up again.

They all fall quiet. She sighs a labored sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she glances at the TV screen out of the corner of her eye, she notices the movie is back to normal. No Pennywise miming the words to Twist and Shout, no saucy side glances or teasing little gestures, just Ferris amid the cheering parade crowd. She can’t feel his hands anymore either.

“You know guys,” She says with another heaving sigh. “It's getting late- I think you should probably be heading home after this game.”

“Okay but-”

“Richie, just take the damn loss and draw twelve, I’m not gonna watch you two bicker and argue for another three hours.”

He sulks. “Fiiiiiine.” He draws his cards, angry cloud of chagrin palpable in a three foot radius around him.

The game continues. As they slowly make their way through the rest of the deck, Angel finds her thoughts wandering back to Pennywise; wondering where he had gone, if he might come back, finding that she missed him and his touch, not that it was at all surprising. The children have come to a stiff truce and are now quietly placing their cards into the center pile, leaving her to continue stewing over his whereabouts. To tell the truth, the sight of him was such a pleasant surprise that she’d gotten a little… Excited. She hadn’t seen him in days, had only kept correspondence with him through the gifts. He hadn’t even been talking to her all that much; the last time she’d heard his voice was on Tuesday as she had been drifting off to sleep, and though she hadn’t dreamt of him, she could still feel his presence keeping her warm throughout the night. But after that, nothing. If not for the gifts, she would have thought that he was abandoning her again, would have sent that familiar panicky dread roiling up in her gut at the idea of being left behind, but thankfully there was no such feeling of alienation. There was only this delicious feeling of want and desire, bubbling up inside of her as she watched him dance and perform; just for her, only for her, making her feel special. It was a feeling that only seemed to become more apparent as the days went on, this delightful little feeling that made her start to lose her grip on reality. She starts to get lost in that wonderful madness, vacantly placing cards into the pile with every turn, silently contemplating the scenario of his return and finding that a blush was starting to stain her cheeks again at the thought of him. His tall form, his striking eyes, those massive hands; towering over her, looking into her, pinning her against the wall-

“Dirty, dirty, naughty little girl.” His voice whispers directly in her ear. “You’ve got company over, you should control yourself.”

She almost gasps but she restrains herself. She can hear the smile in his voice, can almost see him wagging a finger at her.

“...Need to wait, little thing, need to be patient.” The phantom hands are back at her waist, slowly trailing down to rest at her hips again. Soft and gentle, comforting and sweet. It drives her mad.

“Reverse card. Angel, it’s your turn.”

Suddenly she’s not paying attention again. She’s whining silently, she’s screaming at him in her mind and that only seems to please him more. His voice evokes a shit-eating grin now.

“Wouldn’t… Want to rush things, would we? No, no… We should take our time, we should savor it all…”

Those hands are wandering lower, lower, ever so slightly…

“Angel?”

Her heart is thundering against her chest. She swallows hard, staring off into the space at her feet as she sits, rooted to the spot. He chuckles in her ear as he watches her squirm, clearly delighted at her embarrassment. “Orrrrrr…” He whispers. Her heart stops.

“Angel, are you okay?”

“Maybe... Just maybe... We should throw all that caution to the wind, be bold, adventurous. Maybe I should just wait until they leave. Maybe I should wait until you’re all alone, and then I’ll come... I’ll back you up against the wall, corner you with no escape like a pretty little mouse. Tell me, would you like that?” His hand trails inward, his voice raspy and sonorous in her ear, and her breath hitches in her throat when it brushes up against the tender spot between her legs.

“How about it, pretty girl?”

How about it?

“P-Pennywise…” She breathes.

"Dude, she’s zoned out.”

“Angel!”

She snaps out of it.

“What? What?” She’s pressing her hands to her hot cheeks.

“You spaced out.”

“Are you okay?”

“...What’s P-P-Pennywise?”

She shakes her head quickly. “Sorry, I…” She finally processes the last question and feels her cheeks getting hotter again underneath her fingers. “Nothing, no one.” She clears her throat and thumbs through her hand, placing a red six into the center pile. But his voice is still there, calling to her, teasing her, needling her, just trying to get her to break.

“...Hey Angel,” he breathes huskily. “Wanna hear a poem I wrote for you? It goes like this- Roses are red, violets are fine, you be the six, and I’ll be the--”

Stop. Stop. She tries her best to look normal now but she’s starting to sweat profusely. They continue in the game; there’s a palpable uneasiness settling over all of them but each and every one of them just tries to ignore it. Red nine, red four, blue four, blue skip; blue seven, green seven, wildcard yellow, draw four. Angel is trying her best to ignore him, ignore his little games and rhyming; ignore the pleasure building inside despite her greatest attempts to fight it off, ignore her embarrassment and the way she could feel them all staring at her. The day was long now and she wanted them to go so it could finally be over. She places down another card.

“Oh ho ho, I can see how flustered you are, darling! Poor girl, poor little pet… Be careful now, they’re starting to worry…”

She’s so frustrated that she can hardly breathe. Her face feels like a furnace. She can’t even look them in the face now as she continues laying cards down into the middle of the pile; she can only keep her eyes rooted shamefully at her feet as she listens to the clock tick judgmentally overhead. The minutes crawl by at a snail’s pace, but thankfully the game is nearing its end. Pennywise continues his teasing though, content to torture Angel with his words and devilish sing-song as she fights to maintain her thinly-veiled facade. Stan appears to be pulling ahead, he’s about to call Uno but then-

“Pennywise and Angel sittin’ in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N--”

“OKAY!” She cries out suddenly. They all jump about ten feet off the ground. She immediately processes her outburst, and now she chokes, she struggles to explain herself. “It’s uh…. It’s getting late guys. I think,” She swallows. “Think you should all be getting home.”

“Jesus Christ, are you okay? Your face is on fuckin’ fire dude.”

“I’m fine!” She insists. “I’m just… Not feeling good. But I’ll be okay, I just need to sleep.”

“Angel-”

“Talk soon?”

She practically pushes them all out the door, and they leave behind a mess of Uno cards amid their protest. She reiterates that she’s fine and then they all hesitantly bid her goodbye from her stoop, further unnerved when she doesn’t even reply. She shuts the door, she takes a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. All of his teasing had gotten to her more than she cared to admit; she couldn't help it, no one had ever shown her such attention before, especially not... That kind of attention, not unless they were trying to be insulting. She found it facetious, vulgar in a way that was amusing and fun, though she'd be lying if she said the time and place could not have been any more inappropriate. The worries of what the kids must think is slowly seeping into her brain and she feels her face getting red all over again. What would they think if they... If they knew? It's not as though it were anything bad, she just... Wouldn't know how to explain any of it. How he had romanced her with all of his gifts, the way they'd met... The things he was saying. Oh god. They were privy to a lot of dirty jokes, sure, (Lord knows Richie was incapable of working anything but blue) but she simply couldn't divulge such intimate details of her own romantic courtship like that, they had no business in it. She's sure they wouldn't understand anyway, that they might misconstrue his intentions and try to convince her that he was bad news or something. Children though they were, they were much more mature than most of the adults in this town, and they were not immune to being overprotective of her. She tries not to let her concerns get to her so much, not right now. Now, all she could do was simply splash cold water on her face, put all the Uno cards back where they came from, and leave this mortifying ordeal behind her. She takes another deep breath and sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing her face tiredly. She counts to five and when she turns around she has to bite back a breathless shriek.

[soft-dyke-omo]

all in your head - a supercorp omo fic

I’ve been working on this for weeks and I’ve daydreamed about working on this in intricate detail for months. Not betaed because I can’t stand to look at it anymore.

If this shows up in the supercorp tag even though I didn’t tag it - I’m so sorry, this is about Lena pissing her pants. Don’t look. 

It’s all in your head.

Maybe, if Lena kept telling herself that, she’d speak it into existence.

You’re just nervous. It’s your first date after all.

And honestly, it was bad enough that something as trivial as a date could phase her like this. It had never been like this before, she’d been sure the so-called “first date jitters” were a fabrication of the romance novels her mother had dismissed as mindless drivel. And she’d been inclined to believe her. Up until now, dates had been nothing more but a business transaction to her, and like all business transactions, she’d been calm, collected and aloof throughout. Also, like all business transactions, most of them turned out to be orchestrated by her mother.

But that was before Kara, before weak knees and fluttering hearts and -

It’s all in your head.

You don’t have to use the bathroom.

It didn’t matter now anyway, because at this moment she saw storming into the restaurant, cutting a corner dangerously close and almost taking a waiter with her, before she arrived at the table Lena had reserved for them, out of breath and beaming.

“Sorry I’m late!”, she panted, frantically pulling her blouse into place when she noticed the blue of her supersuit peeking out from beneath. There was no need for pretence between them, but she had to protect her identity to the public, especially when she was this bad at lying.

“Nonsense, darling. I’m sure it was important.”

“Not more important than you. Not to me.”

Well, and there she was, completely disarmed by the charming blonde. Checkmate in 3 moves. She couldn’t fight the smile that spread over her features, and maybe she didn’t want to, because she knew the effect it had on Kara. An effect that became evident when Kara just stood there, smiling back at her, for a total of ten seconds before remembering to sit down in their booth, across the table from Lena.

For a second, Lena wondered idly what her mother would think of her, sitting in a restaurant that had things such as booths and served a food item designated the monster burger. It wasn’t the type of restaurant a Luthor was usually seen in, it lacked the pricey wine pairings and the menu completely written in French. But what it had was a comfortable ambiance, and the glowing recommendations of one Kara Danvers. She’d take this over the stuffy, pristine establishments her mother used to drag her and Lex into when they were children any day.

A memory flared up in some part of Lena’s brain she’d long since thought buried, a memory of white tablecloth and important investors and feet swinging off the chair because she couldn’t reach the floor, not by a long shot and she needed to go so, so bad.

Bad memory. Like touching a hot stove, she immediately forced herself to forget, to think of literally anything else.

She took a sip of her wine to distract herself, a truly bad idea as she immediately felt a pang in her bladder. Fuck. She’d already had quite a bit of wine while waiting for Kara, not mention all the coffee she’d had even before out of a nervous habit.

“Are you okay?” Her girlfriend’s concern shook her out of her ruminations.

“I’m stellar”, she replied, her voice coming out a bit pressed as she crossed her legs under the table. She took a deep breath.

It’s all in your head. You’ve been in worse situations. You can hold it.

“How was your day, darling?”, she asked instead, hoping to shift attention away from herself. Kara gave her a dramatic sigh. “It was torture, Lena!”

Lena chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

And Kara did. It was very strange how Lena used to hate people who couldn’t stop talking about themselves on dates, but as soon as Kara was talking, she had no intention of interrupting her. Just listening to her was enough to brighten a stressful day. The waiter stopped by their table – it was hard not feel a bit triumphant since he had been sending pitying glances over to Lena’s table while she was waiting, insisting that her date will show up any minute now – and they ordered. Kara heartily recommended their home-made elderflower sirup, and just to make her girlfriend beam at her she agreed to give it a try. It was teeth-rottingly sweet and even worse, it arrived in a tall glass, because apparently every item on the menu arrived in a portion large enough to feed a small family. She gulped down the glorified sugar water while pressing her thighs together.

She could just ask to use the bathroom. She should just excuse herself, it would be easy, she never had problems addressing her needs, why was it so difficult now?

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been a bit squirmy...is the sirup that bad?”

She hadn’t noticed her discomfort was so obvious. She really needed to get a grip…

Get a hold of yourself. The memory reared its ugly head again, with flashes of her mother’s iron grip on her hand and an icy voice hissing at her to stop squirming, to sit like a proper lady, and to never ever interrupt like that again.

As hard as she tried to repress it, the common sense that told her to just go to the bathroom got drowned out in a chorus of don’t interrupt, don’t you dare interrupt, just hold it hold it hold it.

“I’m sorry”, Lena answered, her teeth gritted against a sudden wave of desperation. “I guess I’m just nervous.” The lie passed her lips with practised ease, and she immediately felt guilty. Even worse, Kara immediately accepted this.

“Rao, I’m so glad it wasn’t just me! I’ve been going insane for three days because I couldn’t wait to go on a date with you but I was also really nervous. Alex kept making fun of me because we’ve been going out for lunch for years, but it’s different now that you are my girlfriend.” She let out a giggle, and then added: “My girlfriend. I’ll never get tired of calling you that.”

Lena didn’t answer. She had to make a conscious effort to keep from holding herself with her hands. Somewhere far away she heard Kara talking. Lena tried to focus on her words, anything to keep herself grounded in reality, to stop herself from remembering. She didn’t want to relive the shameful warmth spreading through the seat of her pants -

A spurt. No, no, she must have imagined it. Lena Luthor didn’t wet herself, she had better control than that. She surreptitiously adjusted her seating position and froze. She could definitely feel wetness in her underwear. She swallowed, blanched.  This couldn’t be happening. A quick glance downward told her it didn’t show, yet. She desperately clenched her muscles. She had to keep from panicking. With a clear head, she would find a way out of this situation. She came from a family of geniuses, she couldn’t just sit there and wait until her bladder inevitably gave out.

She glanced around – thankfully the restaurant wasn’t very full today, or any day, really. Lena had the sneaking suspicion Kara was the only one keeping them in business. And in this moment, Lena was glad for it: At least nobody would see her sitting on her heel to try and keep from giving in to her desperate need. Her face burned in shame as she adjusted, trying to angle her leg correctly – the second she lifted herself off the seat, she could feel another spurt escaping, but this one didn’t stop. She immediately dropped back down, but it kept going, saturating her pants and the seat cushion below her. Four seconds later she managed to regain control, but the damage was already done, there was no way this mishap wouldn’t be visible to everyone as soon as she stood up.

She forced herself to take deep breaths. Maybe she could salvage this. If she could just hold on until they left, she could just cover the evidence of her leaks with her jacket – but it was midsummer, of course she didn’t bring a jacket. Desperation hit her in waves, made even worse by the feeling of her wet jeans clinging to her, reminding her of the helplessness of sitting on a chair that was far to big for her, the back of her skirt soaked and dripping onto the floor, silently imploring her brother to help her, and Lex regarding her with a warm, comforting smile and icy eyes before announcing to the table that little Lena had an accident.

She didn’t know whether it was the shame of the memory or the pain of holding it, but Lena couldn’t hold back a whimper as she lost another spurt. She clenched her thighs together as hard as she could, but she was leaking periodically now, the liquid gathering on top of her lap in a hot pool. Tears were gathering in her eyes. How pathetic and yet so in character for her to cry in front of Kara – oh God, Kara. She’d be disgusted, ashamed at being seen with a Luthor who couldn’t even hold her pee like a toddler…

“Lena? You’re worrying me.” A gentle voice, and an even gentler touch on her wrist spelled disaster for her. A jolt went through Lena’s body at the unexpected feeling, and without a warning her bladder let go completely. She could hear the muffled hissing of the stream hitting her jeans. And if Lena could hear it, that could only mean that Kara could as well…

“Are...are you peeing?”

Lena couldn’t hold her tears at bay anymore. She jerked her wrist away from Kara and buried her face in her hands, sobbing, not bearing to look at the disgust she was sure she’d see on her girlfriend’s face. Ex-girlfriend, she reminded herself. There was no way Kara would ever be able to look at her and see anything but a pathetic girl who pissed her pants because she didn’t dare to ask if she could be excused. And she was still going, helplessy peeing into her pants, and by now it was splattering onto the floor noisily. She couldn’t make it stop. Finally, after what felt like hours, the stream tapered off, leaving Lena sitting alone in her puddle. She didn’t move, she didn’t want to face the world. She hoped against hope that the ground would just swallow her up.

“Oh, Lena…”

Kara’s voice took her by surprise, she’d expected her to be gone by now.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?” There was a light touch on her forehead, as if trying to read her temperature, and the concern Kara showed her was all too much.

“Stop it!”, Lena hissed, turning to glare at Kara, who shrunk back into her seat. God, what was she doing, pushing Kara away like that even though she’d shown her nothing but care. Then again, she’d always been her own greatest saboteur.

“I’m not sick! I pissed myself because I’m a stupid, worthless -”

There was a burst of superspeed, and the next thing Lena knew was the feeling of soft, comforting arms around her.

“Shh, Lena. You’re not stupid, not at all. Accidents happen, baby. Let’s get you home, hm?”

Absently, she noted that she should probably be horrified at being talked down to like that. Still, as if the whole horrible ordeal had taken every ounce of her energy, she went pliant and let Kara lead her out of the restaurant and into an alley, cringing at the feeling of her heavy, soaked jeans rapidly cooling.

“Wait here, okay?”, Kara whispered to her, and in a flash, she was gone.

Gone.

Lena ran a hand through her hair. What now? The thought of her driver seeing her in this state was enough to make her feel sick, but the prospect of walking home in her soiled pants for everyone to see was even worse. She was just about to take out her phone when Kara reappeared in front of her.

“Don’t worry about Robert, he won’t tell a soul, he’s a good man. And I’m the one keeping his business afloat.”

Lena nodded dumbly, numb to everything happening to her. She felt spent and just wanted to hide in her apartment, never to be seen again.

“Come on, Lena, hold onto me.”

She realised what Kara was offering, and it was almost enough to make her cry all over again – offering to fly her home, despite everything that happened. Lena shook her head frantically. “I’m dirty...it’ll get all over you.”

“I don’t care”, Kara said, holding out her hand. Lena didn’t have the energy to refuse. She clung onto Kara as she felt her gently lift off the ground, closing her eyes and selfishly enjoying her embrace, the last she might ever share with Kara. Typical Kara, always putting others first. No wonder Lena had fallen for her as hard as she had. As they touched down on her balcony, Lena composed herself. She wanted to face their break-up with dignity – as much dignity as she could have in urine-stained pants and tear tracks on her cheeks. She let Kara guide her inside with a hand at the small of her back.

She closed her eyes. Best to get it over with.

“Thank you, Kara. I’ll be fine now. You can leave.”

“Leave? Do- do you want me to go?”

Lena scoffed. She couldn’t help it, lashing out had always been easier than being vulnerable.

“Don’t pretend like you want to stick around after what I did. After how I embarrassed you.”

“Lena, I’d never be embarrassed by you. You had an accident, they happen to everyone sometimes. I won’t leave because of that.”

Lena swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I…”

She couldn’t find words for all her swirling, chaotic feelings.

“I need to get out of these clothes.”

“Yeah, me too”, Kara said and sheepishly glanced down at the wet spot Lena had left on her when they were flying.

“Why don’t you clean up in the shower while I zip home and put on some comfy pants. I’ll be back before you’re done.” Then, as if sensing Lena’s uncertainty, she added: “I promise.”

Lena peeled off her sodden pants and put them in the hamper, then she stepped into the shower. She forced herself to take her time in cleaning up, to get her mind out of fight or flight mode like she’d discussed with her therapist. They’d talked about her past, about flashbacks and anxiety attacks, but so far it had never seemed to help her in the middle of one. After an extensive shower she put on a new outfit, stepping into her living room and exhaling a breath of relief when she saw Kara, dressed in comfy sweatpants, sprawled out on the couch while some animated movie was playing on the TV. Her girlfriend – girlfriend! - lifted one edge of the comforter she had draped around herself in a silent invitation to join her. Without hesitation, Lena crawled onto the couch next to her and leaned against Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m-”, she began, but Kara shushed her.

“If the next word out of your mouth is sorry, I don’t want to hear it. We can talk about it later if you want to, but right now, I think you need some TLC.”

Lena agreed, and snuggled closer into her girlfriend, who in turn pressed a kiss against her temple. Lena relaxed and for the first time today, she let herself believe it was going to be okay.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Simpson is a Richmond-based singer and rapper who you may also know as Babe Simpson, one-fourth of the Tumblr-born rap collective Barf Troop. They dazed the internet back in the early 2010s with their uncensored, forward-thinking rhymes and aesthetics, and even got the attention of Drake. Though the collective has gone silent in recent years, Simpson has since cultivated her own steady following around her soft, and ruminative tunes. Her latest is 'Cherry Ice Cream Sundae,' a song about "treating ourselves with as much tenderness as we treat everyone else," she says, and is backed by a lush landscape of jazzy guitars and drums — a sound that could be considered a close sibling to the rap lullabies of Noname. Simpson's now sharing the song's peculiar video, which features a charming but eerie cast of marionette puppets. Over email, Simpson explains that she wrote the song after experiencing "a feeling that I’ve always been trying to put into words but I don’t think I was mature enough to be able to sing. I reached my breaking point where I was like, f*ck it, whatever happens, happens, and I’m gonna look on the bright side everywhere I can. I’m going to 'smile because I can.' I actually changed the original opening lyrics from 'The world is in the shitter' to 'Life is kind to who’s kind to it back.' The world has always been in the shitter, but that hasn’t made it any less special or sweet. I think that’s made me much more of a realist. I recorded it tipsy, upside down, hanging off my bed as a freestyle, and it felt so natural saying and listening to it back made me feel so proud." [via NYLON]

Earlier this week, Lana Del Rey revealed the artwork and tracklist for her new album Chemtrails Over The Country Club. Back in October, Del Rey shared the album’s lead single 'Let Me Love You Like A Woman.' It was the first song she shared from the album after postponing its planned September release. Now, she’s sharing the album’s second single and title track. She’s also announced that Chemtrails Over The Country Club will be out March 19. In a lengthy interview with BBC Radio 1 — during which she talked about the Trump insurrection and her album cover controversy — she mentioned that Jack Antonoff produced much of the album, minus 'Yosemite,' which was produced with Rick Nowels. Watch a music video for the album’s title track, directed by BRTHR, above. In a different kind of statement, prior to the release of the 'Chemtrails Over The Country Club' music video, Del Rey explained why she is wearing a cast in it: "When you see my second video for this album, don’t think that the fact I’m wearing a cast is symbolic for anything other than thinking I was still a pro figure skater. I wiped out on my beautiful skates before the video even began after a long day of figure eights and jumps in the twilight of the dezert. Anyways my fracture isn’t that bad kind of goes with my new bucket hat. Thanks to my beautiful family for my gifts." [via Stereogum]

Joining forces for the new uplifting track, G Flip and mxmtoon are sharing new empowerment anthem ‘Queen’, produced by Rostam Batmanglij. "'Queen' was written about the strong women around me, the queens that raised me and the queens I’ve met through my years,” G Flip explains. “My idea of a queen is not necessarily linked to gender; queens come in all forms and walks of life. To me a queen embodies power and strength; they embrace all they are fiercely yet gracefully. The song was written one sunny day in LA, I was chillin on Rostam’s lovely white couch and he turned around to me and said ‘how about we write a song about Queens’ and I replied with ‘F@!K yeah!’. I’m also super stoked to have mxmtoon on the track with me, she is an absolute queen. I first was introduced to her when I was trying to find ukulele chords to a Khalid song and found her cover on YouTube years ago. She makes awesome music and her voice has such a cruisy timbre to it so I was thrilled to have her jump on 'Queen' with me. She is also an avid croc lover and part of the LGBTQIA+ community, so obviously it just made sense!” mxmtoon adds, “So happy to be a part of ‘Queen’ with G! she and Rostam were such a joy to work with and so so much fun to collaborate with on creative as well. I’m so glad that it’s still possible to make art and music with someone even when they’re on the other side of the world, and I’m lucky that I got the opportunity to feature on G’s song. ‘Queen’ is a power anthem for any person, and I’m so excited for people to love it as much as we do!” [via DIY]

With her hotly-anticipated new album Magic Mirror out now, Pearl Charles gave us our latest teaser of what to expect earlier this week, sharing new glitzy bop ‘Only For Tonight’. “‘Only for Tonight’ tells the story of a currently bygone era of wild nights out on the town - the highs and lows of one night stands and the crashes of the morning after,” she explains. “The music video, directed by Bobbi Rich, leans into those excesses, paying a sparkly homage to the late-night musical television shows of the 70’s, from Soul Train to The Midnight Special, as well as the gauzy, Vaseline’d lens of ABBA’s music videos. With an added sprinkling of VHS special effects, you’re likely to feel like you’re watching a home-taped recording of a lost episode of Top of the Pops.” [via DIY]

Alt-pop trailblazer dodie has shared her new single 'Hate Myself' in full. Everything the songwriter touches seems to turn into melodic gold, with her debut album Build A Problem landing this Spring. Out on March 5, it's led by new single 'Hate Myself', which made its bow as Annie Mac's Hottest Record In The World. It's an apt title, with this instantly-viral moment offering an "inner monologue" that touches on some of dodie's inner-most feelings. The song depicts "someone who seems to find themselves in relationships of any kind with people who deal with their feelings internally - unfortunately resulting in assuming the issue is with them." dodie co-directed the video alongside Sammy Paul, shooting at the Cornish seaside village Polperro. The pair "excitedly landed on the silly idea of the training leading up to becoming a post-lady, and thoroughly enjoyed planning the many bizarre exercises she would have to perfect. Our excellent Art Director, Louis Grant, worked on bringing her home and training station to life. Though jogging on cliff tops in the rain, carrying a large sack and slipping in the mud was certainly cold and exhausting, I think I preferred it to slowly feeling sicker, licking stamps on a swaying boat by the Excel." [via Clash]

Berlin-based indie five-piece People Club are back with new single and video 'Francine', following on from their last release 'Lay Down Your Weapons', which focused on police brutality.  The new single 'Francine' tackles the topics of addiction and lovelessness. In the words of the band: "The song speaks from the voice of a lamenting partner whose lover (Francine) is helplessly addicted to drugs. Francine lost interest in her relationship with the narrator a long time ago. It's a song about commitment and how love can fade away leaving only wickedness behind."  Regarding the visuals, the band said "The 'Francine' video is a play on the old idiom of 'being your own worst enemy'. A phrase which quite beautifully captures the inner critic which we know so well, especially during the course of the pandemic - we've had to learn to each give ourselves a break. The video was shot in the depth of the harsh Berlin winter, in the depth of the pandemic." Director Felix Spitta added "I love the band and I love the different personalities. It is always heaps of fun working on creative output together. Riding through Berlin only with bikes and all the film equipment in the freezing cold almost felt like a masochistic idea from Saxon. It's inspiring to be surrounded by so many creative minds.”

Pale Waves are back with 'Easy', the third single to be shared from their highly-anticipated second album Who Am I?. Lead vocalist Heather Baron-Gracie describes the new track as "a song about how love can change your whole entire perspective on life itself. It’s saying ‘being in love with you is so easy, you finally make sense in my life because nothing did before'." The new single is accompanied by a James Slater-directed video that shows Baron-Gracie performing at a Tim Burton/medieval-style wedding in an abandoned church. Baron-Gracie adds, "I wore a wedding dress throughout and we shot the video in an old abandoned church. I’m really inspired by the gothic medieval aesthetic and at the time I was thinking of the video I was watching a lot of Tim Burton films whose creativity really inspires me." Pale Waves' second album will follow their 2018 debut LP My Mind Makes Noises. Baron-Gracie says of their upcoming album, "For me, music and art is for people not to feel so alone and isolated. I want to be that person my fans look up to and find comfort in." [via the Line Of Best Fit]

The official video for Zoe Wees’ new single, 'Girls Like Us,' is online now. Like the song, the clip sends a message of togetherness and solidarity to girls around the world who are feeling the pressures of society. Zoe Wees says, “It’s not always good to think about how you look to the rest of the world. It’s much more important to think about how you feel inside. It is not easy to call yourself beautiful but being confident helps you to accept and love yourself.” The 18-year-old Hamburg, Germany-based artist adds, “We’re walking through a world with blinded eyes. At the end of the day, we all go to bed without make-up with the ugliest clothes and wake up with the messiest hair on earth.”

Julien Baker has shared a new taste of her forthcoming album Little Oblivions by way of a new single ‘Hardline’. Julien says, “A few years ago I started collecting travel ephemera again with a loose idea of making a piece of art with it. I had been touring pretty consistently since 2015 and had been traveling so much that items like plane tickets and hotel keycards didn't have much novelty anymore. So I saved all my travel stuff and made a little collage of a house and a van out of it. I wanted to incorporate it into the record and when we were brainstorming ideas for videos we came across Joe Baughman and really liked his work so we reached out with the idea of making a stop-motion video that had similar aesthetic qualities as the house I built did. I don't know why I have the impulse to write songs or make tiny sculptures out of plane tickets. But here it is anyway: a bunch of things I've collected and carried with me that I've re-organized into a new shape.” The video for ‘Hardline’ was directed by Joe Baughman, who notes: “Man, even after having spent 600 hours immersed in ‘Hardline’ and having listened to it thousands of times, I am still moved by it. It was a fun and ambitious challenge creating something that could accompany such a compelling song. The style of the set design, inspired by a sculpture that Julien created, was especially fun to work in. I loved sifting through magazines, maps, and newspapers from the 60s and 70s and finding the right colors, shapes, and quotes to cover almost every surface in the video.”

Teenage Joans are staying true to their world and unveiling 'Something About Being Sixteen', a new single that's sure to cement their 2021 as victorious. It's the perfect successor to 'Three Leaf Clover' and a track that makes it two-for-two for Teenage Joans, further capturing the excitement and energy within Cahli and Tahlia as they trade catchy riffs and thriving choruses with the combo of light-heartedness and intimateness that seems to define Teenage Joans' work, and how they're able to look in at themselves (and out at the world around them) through a lens that keeps it fun and digestable. "'Something About Being Sixteen' is undoubtedly Teenage Joans' great take on the classic coming of age rock tune, generally closing our live sets with audiences singing along every time without fail," the duo say on the single. [via Pilerats]

Kate Hollowell took a risk going by the moniker Number One Popstar when she released her debut single 'Psycho.' However, Hollowell didn’t mind if that choice set her up for failure or not. She goes with the flow. Luckily, that mentality has advanced her even farther. Now, Number One Popstar releases her second single, 'I Hate Running.' New Year’s resolutions are, most of the times, created for the wrong reasons. It’s also no surprise that majority of people’s goals center around exercising and weight loss. 'I Hate Running', however, challenges that mindset, satirizing the toxic nature of exercise industry and diet culture. Hollowell said herself, “The song explores facing the hard, emotional work instead of the physical.  I really don’t enjoy running, and I wanted to troll the exercise industry and write an anti-motivational song.” In terms of sound, 'I Hate Running' shares similar vibes to her first single with its classic 80s pop of saturated synths. But, this time, there’s a hint of disco with the zealous psychedelic guitar and electric drums and keys. The interludes consist of a symbolic, robotic, and almost sinister snippet from a workout instructor. It all complements well with Hollowell’s escapist lyrics. Even though the lyrics say otherwise, the track’s sound might just spark that motivation to workout or dance, doing mindful movement that makes us feel good. Exercise should never feel like a punishment, and Number One Popstar is here to remind us. She makes us want to stick it to the exercise industry, proving to it that we will only work out for the right reasons. [via Earmilk]

Alt-pop riser Chloe Rodgers has shared her new video 'The Algea' in full. The Nottingham based talent sparkled in 2020 in spite of the pervasive gloom, releasing two startling singles. Her third release could be her best yet, with 'The Algea' hitting streaming services just before Christmas. The video captures those mid-winter chills, while providing a platform for Chloe to express herself. Constructed alongside creative director Kate Lomas, it was shot at Newstead Abbey in Nottingham. Chloe comments... "I wanted to use a music box in the video to represent being objectified and getting stuck in the same cycles, as that’s largely what the song is about. I wrote the song when I was 18, but didn’t add the verse at the end about claiming my power back until a couple of years later when I felt a bit stronger. We tried to reflect this in the video too with the Chloe in white sort of protecting the other Chloe of the past." Kate Lomas adds: "This was such a joy to watch come together, the video concept is based around the idea that Chloe is the character in a music box, she’s the performer that’s spinning round on an endless cycle for other people’s entertainment. The video tells the tale of Chloe definitely breaking this cycle and no longer playing this role." [via Clash]

Jaguar Jonze has announced her ANTIHERO EP will be released on April 16 via Nettwerk Records. With the EP announcement, Deena shares the official music video for her latest single, 'ASTRONAUT,' the follow-up to two previously released videos for 'DEADALIVE' and 'MURDER'. Each of the five music videos for the forthcoming ANTIHERO EP will come together through bold-palette videos that transform into an antihero character “in a cyberpunk, anime, futuristic, graphic, almost sci-fi world,” says Deena. Deena adds, “as ‘ASTRONAUT’ delves into my anxiety, I wanted the film to reflect that in a simple way that helped portray how my anxiety can sometimes manifest - a contradiction between feeling lost in vast spaces and trapped in claustrophobic spaces. I had a specific idea in mind, which meant that I had to undergo stunt training with professionals and learn how to maneuver in a wire harness. Most of the video had to be shot in a single take because of the stunts' nature in safety preparation, time consumption, and impact on the body. I'm still recovering from the bruises, but it was all worth it, and the team was amazing in pulling it all together. I'm proud of this one as it is 3 minutes of my rawest vulnerability, visually interpreted. I'm also finally ready to share it.” 'ASTRONAUT' is the sound of Deena liberating herself from a lifelong battle with anxiety.  “It is a human trait. It’s how we survive in the wild,” she says. “We’re all wired as humans to be quite anxious.  As females more so, because we’re more susceptible to danger.”

Rising star Mulay shares the smoking visuals for her new single, ‘Antracyte’. It’s the culminating release in a three-part video series from the Berlin-based alternative R&B singer-songwriter/producer/artist, ahead of her highly anticipated EP, which comes out at the end of the month via Groenland Records. Mulay explains about the single, “'ANTRACYTE' is the intro and title track to my debut EP. It’s the soundtrack to the birth of a villain and captures the moment of complete honesty to yourself about the awareness of doing wrong by the ones you love while feeling the inability to turn around. It’s about the desire to taste forbidden fruits, to cross and explore what lies beyond the line and the self-empowering feeling of playing by your own rules defeating the fear of consequences and the power of moral concepts. 'ANTRACYTE' tells a story of contradicting emotions, a story of love, lust, pain and a longing for more. It’s about facing your own darkness and sins, about self-revelation, emancipation and about paying its price, resigning to your fate.”

Only a band like shallow pools could make a blast of 'ice water' sound refreshing and necessary in the dead of New England winter. But the Massachusetts indie-pop group is usually pushing against the current of what we’d normally expect, and now the quartet hits us with a dose of cold reality through their new single and video. 'ice water' is a vivid new single that confronts the mental health struggles brought on by quarantine and isolation, and even the shallow pools aesthetic has reflected this by shifting from bright glowing neons to a more subdued color palette of beiges and browns. Call it a sign of the times, and call 'ice water' the sound of now; upbeat and jovial on the surface, a comet of pop smarts and hooks, but with the darker shine that resides in our lives when we’re positioned away from the screens and digital scenes. As Glynnis Brennan sings “Every day’s the same and / There’s no breaking out / Like I’m stuck here / Going through the motions now” well, we feel that. shallow pools describe “ice water” as “a departure from the music we’ve made in the past, but it’s the perfect bridge between our old and new sound.” That is certainly the case, and 'ice water' continues to showcase the group as one of New England’s sharpest, following a string of 2020 singles that included pop standouts like 'Haunted' and 'Afterlight'. “We wrote the song with our friend and producer, Chris Curran, and learned a lot about the type of music we want to be making in the process,” the band adds. “The song is about the impact that the state of the world has had on our mental health, specifically in the last year. We’re excited to share it and hope that anyone who has had similar experiences will find some comfort in knowing that there are others who can relate.” [via Vanyaland]