#Ben horne room arranger

[dustedmagazine]

Califone — Villagers (Jealous Butcher)

villagers by Califone

Califone have long been Dusted regulars, with coverage of their last album, Echo Mine (2020), on our current Tumblr incarnation, and plenty of reviews dating back to Dusted’s old site. Seeing as Tim Rutili and co. have been at it for more than 20 years, it’s surprising when another album arrives that belongs alongside their other consistently strong releases. Villagers is no exception. 

If there’s a defining characteristic this time around, it’s that Califone’s raw, bluesy core is coddled in relatively soft-focus arrangements, corralled from the contributions of 20 musicians (the titular villagers, perhaps?), some of whom will be familiar to long-term fans. There’s Rutili’s distinctive weathered croak and fractured guitar playing, Brian Deck’s expansive production, and long-time member Ben Massarella’s inventive junk-shop percussion. But jazzy horn breaks? Twinkling bar-room piano? Doo-wop backing vocals? All this and more crops up in ways both unusual and satisfying. 

Rutili is also in fine lyrical form. Many of the songs begin with strange and imaginative opening lines, such as “Sunrise bakes you in a pie, creates you then forgets” (“McMansions”), “Ghosts are only time machines, just as afraid of you as you are” (“Ox-Eye”), and “When did I become the thief in the story that you wear on your face like a mask?” (“Skunkish”). The lyrics act as a vivid imaginary springboard from which the arrangements take flight. “The Habsburg Jaw”’s bouncing stomp feels like it’s being eaten away at its periphery by chittering digital insects. “Eyelash” hangs on a swinging rhythm track, from which the glorious bassline roves confidently. “Ox-Eye” builds from its slinky verses via droning organ and horn blurts into a breakdown of heavily overdriven guitars. And closer “Sweetly” lives up to its name, rounding out the album with a wonderfully tender and restrained performance. 

Given how long Califone have been going, it’s heartening to hear them continuing to evolve, while maintaining the qualities that make them unique. As a long-term fan, I’d say Villagers belongs up there alongside the band’s finest, such as Quicksand/Cradlesnakes and Stitches. 

Tim Clarke

[smithgreys]

Ben horne room arranger

#Ben horne room arranger software#

(Tollerton, North Yorkshire)ĭr Paul Lasseter Phillips CBE. Chief Executive Officer, Outwood Grange Academies Trust. Chairman and Managing Director, Balmoral Group. (Kincardine, Fife)ĭr James Smith Milne CBE DL. Chief Constable, Police Service of Scotland. For services to Financial Services, to Technology and to Public Service. For services to Diversity and Inclusion in Art. Chief Executive, Leeds Teaching Hospitals NHS Trust. (London, Greater London)ĭr Andrew Francis Goddard. (Worcester, Worcestershire)īradley Fried. For services to Museums, to Publishing and to the Creative Industries. Wolfson Chair, Professor of Materials, University of Oxford. Lately Provost and President, University College London. For services to the Arts, particularly during Covid-19. Lady Susan Carroll Sainsbury Of Turville CBE. Director, Kennedy Institute of Rheumatology. Principal and Vice-Chancellor, University of St Andrews. For services to Young People and to Philanthropy. (London, Greater London)ĭr Ann Geraldine Limb CBE. For services to Business and to the Hospitality Industry. For services to the community in Northern Ireland. Lord-Lieutenant, County Borough of Belfast. (Llanelli, Carmarthenshire)įionnuala Mary Jay-O’Boyle CBE. Geoffrey Moorhouse-Gibson and Royal Society Professor of Chemistry, University of Cambridge. For services to Young People and to Charity. Visiting Professor, UCL Institute of Education, Chair, Future First and Camden Learning. Lately First Minister of Northern Ireland. For services to Nursing, Midwifery, and the NHS. Chief Nursing Officer for England, NHS England and NHS Improvement. (Midhurst, West Sussex)ĭames Commander of the Order of the British Empire (DBE)ĭr Ruth Rosemarie Beverley (Ruth May). Permanent Secretary, Department for Transport. (London, Greater London)ĭames Commander of the Order of the Bath (DCB)īernadette Mary Kelly CB. Knights Commander of the Order of the Bath (KCB)Ĭharles Fergusson Roxburgh. Lately Chair, Nuclear Innovation Research Advisory Board, and Honorary President, National Skills Academy for Nuclear. (London, Greater London)ĭames Grand Cross of the Order of the British Empire (GBE)ĭame Susan Elizabeth Ion DBE. Professor of English and Creative Writing, Birkbeck College, University of London and Distinguished Fellow, All Souls College, University of Oxford. (London, Greater London)ĭame Marina Sarah Warner CBE. Members of the Order of the Companions of Honour (CH) The percentage of LGBT recipients is down slightly from last year, from 5.0% to 4.6%. The proportion going to people from ethnic minority backgrounds, 13.3%, is down from a record 15.0% last year, while slightly more are going to people who are disabled. Read more: The stories of the North East community heroes honoured in the Queens' Birthday listĪ record proportion of Queen’s Birthday Honours are going to women, the percentage this year – 51.5% – slightly higher than the previous record of 51.2% set in 2015. Those behind the selection process said there was more consideration for people who have represented themes such as youth engagement, the environment and sustained public service to mark the monarch’s milestone. People from the world of showbiz, sport and politics have been recognised on a list that claims to represent the monarch's 'invaluable' qualities, long with scientists, educators, volunteers and more. Famous names sit next to those of everyday heroes from across the UK in the Queen's birthday honours list. horoscopes * Choose among Placidus, Koch, and Equal House systems * Choose your own Orb sizes to. StarScopes is designed to help you view the horoscopes for any. astrology charts and horoscope interpretations.

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[overflowing-with-words]

of teddy bears and unicorns

Set after S1 and through the series.

TW: Fluff. Just fluffff. Midnight crack, I am basically brain dead while writing this, so expect a few mistakes. Crappy work but I wanted to write something for the stuffed animals headcanon.

A/N: Lloyd be a kid in the first scene, so will be smol and grumpy child and not evil at allllll. • • •

Lloyd was lost. The monastery was huge, and the hallways seemed to loom over him, dark and shadowy. He clutched his shirt anxiously, trailing down another corridor. He suddenly missed the stuffed bear he had all those years ago, something to hold onto. Scowling to himself, he pushed the thought away. He was Lloyd Garmadon, and very evil—

Oh. He found himself in front a blue door, messy handwriting declaring the room as Jay's. Maybe the lighting ninja could help him find his room. He'd been looking for fifteen minutes now, but no closer to it.

Pushing open the door, it swung open with a small ominous creak. The room was empty, and Lloyd admired the  many space posters decorating the walls, blue staying a big theme through it.  His attention was dragged to the enormous pile of stuffed toys sitting on the bed, colorful animals arranged carefully on the duvet.

He walked to wards it, picking on up on the edge cautiously. It was a small blue dragon, not unlike the one the lighting ninja rode in real life. Cartoon fire blew out of its snout in a pillow, and Lloyd smiled, putting it back down. Another one caught his eye, this time a small gray cat curled up on a pillow.

He's still completely taken by the huge collection of animals, busy looking at each one carefully, and he doesn't hear the door swing open behind him.

"Lloyd?" A voice interrupts him, and he jumps in surprise, almost tripping in the hurry to turn away. Jay stares at him wide eyed, donned in oversized Star Wars pyjamas. Lloyd instinctively clutches the small gray bear to his chest, then realizes what he's doing and puts it down, cheeks burning.

"Sorry, I was l-looking. At the animals." He blurts a apology is a small voice, afraid that he's done something wrong now and they'll kick him out like everyone else—

"It's okay." Jay tilts his head thoughtfully, and steps toward him. Lloyd automatically scurries back, eyes wide. His blue eyes sweep the bed for something, and he picks up another colorful animal from the middle of the bed.

"I like them, too. That's why I collect them." Jay says, holding out the toy towards him. "This one's my favorite, though." He presents him a small cat, no a unicorn, Lloyd thinks from the horn protruding off the top of its head. He holds it gingerly, as if it'll break at a touch. The cloth is well worn and obviously old, but a well kept doll. Rainbow stripes cover every inch of it, and the glassy orbs shine a bright blue, almost the same shade of Jay's own eyes.

"She's weird." Lloyd says without thinking, and then snaps his mouth shut, wanting to kick himself for saying that. He messes up everything, even a normal conversation. "Not weird. Nice weird. I mean—"

"Yeah, that's why I like it." Jay says with a easy smile. "It's odd, but I am, too. Isn't it?"

"Yeah." Lloyd hesitates, before putting the unicorn back down carefully. He doesn't want to mess up anymore. "W-whatever. I'm gonna go back to my room, I think." More like go back to wandering the empty, dark, hallways until he finds it. He pretends not to glance over at the toys again, forcing his eyes back to the ground.

"Wait." Jay stops him, and picks up the earlier discarded bear, light gray fur brushing against his sleeve. "Here, you can keep him." He offers it to the small boy, and he accepts it cautiously, biting his lip nervously.

"Is it for me?"

"Of course! I have way too many already." Jay reassures him "Will you gonna name him?"

Lloyd considers this, and then looks at the miniature bear in his hands again. "My old one was called Ben." he says softly, and Jay smiles again. "I like that name. What about Ben Junior?" He suggests, and this time, Lloyd smiles too. He likes the name.

Jay walks him back to his room later, chattering on about training. Lloyd isn't sure, because the world seems slower, more distant. He yawns, covering his mouth. He suddenly realizes they've stopped in front a door, "We're at your room, sleepyhead." Jay says, smiling at him. Lloyd blinks in surprise, stumbling into his bed uncertainly.

"Goodnight, Lloyd." He says, hand on the doorknob.

"Wait!" Lloyd calls, and the lighting ninja stops in his tracks, looking back at the small figure.

"Uh, thanks for th- for Ben." He says softly. His cheeks burn red, and he huddles under his blanket, tugging the soft cloth over his head in embarrassment.

There's a small laugh, and he peeks over the edge of the duvet curiously.

"Don't worry about it, Lloyd." Jay replies cheerfully, leaning against the doorway. "Take care of him, 'kay?" Lloyd gives a small nod, pulling the bear closer to him. The door closes with a small creak, and the footsteps thud away gently. Light spills in under the small gap, illuminating the

But that night, Ben Jr accompanies him under the covers, and Lloyd thinks the shadows don't seem as dark as they did before.

• • •

(extra scene, enjoy :D)

"Holy crap!" Jay exclaimed, hand on the door knob. "What. Is. That." He says, eyes glued on something in the room.

"What is it?" Lloyd asked curious, sticking his head over Jay's shoulder to look. "Oh my god."

A enormous teddy bear sits in the middle of the room, big bow tie decorating it's neck. It was a brown hazel color, big floppy ears covering half his face. Jay looked shell shocked, and Lloyd was already on it, admiring the toy.

"Why is it so big?" Lloyd asked, looking up at Jay after a few stunned moments of silence.

"That's what she said."  Kai snickered, stepping into the room. Nya hit him on the head, rolling her eyes. "No dirty jokes around the children, dumbass."

"Ow! Fine, Nya, sorry, sorry—When did you get that, anyway?"

"I'm just as old as you are!" Lloyd argued, a frown crossing his face. Ironic how it made him look even younger, Jay considered, grinning.

"I don't know, I just walked in and -bam- there's a giant bear in my room. It's bigger than me, for gods sake!" he answered picking up one of its arms cautiously. "Think someone got it for me?" he asked, shooting a suspicious look towards Nya.

The water ninja shrugged innocently, amused smile on her face.  "Wasn't me. Cole?"

"Cole is too broke to buy something like that." Kai scoffed, and they all nodded in agreement. "You're right, he literally did not have enough money to buy himself a coffee last week." Lloyd says, cementing the thought.

"Zane?" Nya suggests, and Jay considers it for a second, then shakes his head, dismissing the idea. "Zane doesn't do stuff like this."

They're quiet for a few moments, thinking.

"Who gave you that, then?" Nya asked, face scrunched in confusion.

It turns out nobody in the monastery had any idea where it came from, and once it is deemed safe, the bear continues living in Jay's bedroom. And the lighting ninja is sworn to silence, but sometimes he catches Lloyd curled up it in, the giant toy the perfect size for him to sit in.

And he still suspects Kai of buying him the bear.

[bluesfortheredj]

You’re just too good to be true.

You have half an hour until you are supposed to meet Rami and Lucy but you’re frantically changing after spilling some red wine down your dress while Ben is downstairs calling the cab for you both.

“Ten minutes!” he calls up when he’s booked the taxi.

“On it!” you reply, now picking up your pace and wriggling into another dress to see whether you liked it or not.

You twirl around in front of the mirror and scrunch your nose up at the fit of it, then hastily lift it up over your head and throw it onto the bed before choosing another one from the wardrobe. Ben chuckles from the doorway as he watches you and you poke your tongue out at him as you shimmy into the new dress; this time lifting your eyebrows with an impressed smile as you check yourself out.

“Gorgeous,” Ben grins.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Oh will it now?”

“Well, later on anyway; we’ve got somewhere to be remember?”

He pouts playfully as you walk past him and hop down the stairs joyfully before slipping on a pair of heeled boots and grabbing a light jacket, then you throw Ben’s at him when he finally joins you. You open your mouth to say something but you’re quickly cut off by the sound of the horn from the cab outside and you roll your eyes before grabbing your bag and leaving Ben to lock up behind you both.

“What were you about to say before we left?” he asks a few minutes into your journey.

“Uh… you know what, I can’t even remember!”

“Well if you do I’m all ears,” he smiles, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, “are you looking forward to seeing Lucy and Rami again?”

“I’m a bit nervous to be honest, I know I’ve met them a couple of times before but they seem so… I don’t know… like, together, y’know? I’d be the first to get some dinner down me or miss my mouth when I’m drinking, but they just appear as if nothing like that would ever happen to them. I am but a mere mortal in their holy presence,” you sigh.

“Don’t be silly! I’ve seen them in some very embarrassing situations, they’re only human like us; trust me, I’ve seen Rami with a mustard stain down his shirt in an interview and he didn’t even realise.”

“Yeah, but Lucy is quite literally perfect,” you sigh.

“You think?” he frowns, “because in my eyes you’re the one who’s perfect.”

You blush at his compliment and he squeezes your hand lovingly, “stop it you big flirt,” you giggle shyly.

He regularly showered you with compliments which was lovely to say the least but you could never get used to them thanks to your niggling self doubt, and you always tried to brush them off with some sort of joke to make you feel less awkward. Sometimes he did it just to see your cheeks flush at his words because there was no better sight than your sweet little shy expression he’d fallen in love with when he first met you.

“Ben… Ben… we’re here,” you laugh, waving your free hand in front of his face, “where did you go?”

“Miles away!” he says as he snaps back to reality.

You hop out of the cab after tapping the card machine before Ben got the chance then wait for him to shuffle out after you, and you make your way hand in hand to the arranged meeting place just down the road from the restaurant you were heading to. The nearer you get to the waiting couple up ahead, the more you slow your pace of walking down until Ben’s almost pulling you along behind him thanks to your nerves, and you’re very timid when you finally reach them.

“It’s so lovely to see you again!” Lucy smiles as she wraps her arms around your shoulders for a hug.

“And you too!” you reply nervously as you fumble the embrace.

“(Y/N)! You look so well,” Rami greets you.

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Ben whispers as Lucy and Rami lead the way.

You bump into him playfully then split off as he catches up to Rami and you join Lucy’s side for a catch up and general chat. She’s so lovely to you and you quickly feel at ease in her presence thankfully, then when you get to the restaurant you barely stop talking until you realise the boys are waiting for you both to order your food. Ben gazes across the table at you as you quickly scan the menu before choosing something familiar and comforting to eat then Rami takes the menu out of his hands to give back to the waiter as he collects them all.

“Earth to Ben,” he chuckles.

“That’s the second time today he’s gone off into his own little world,” you point out, remembering the cab journey.

“Doesn’t take a genius to see why though,” Lucy smirks as her eyes travel from Ben to you, “she’s as pretty as I remember.”

You laugh out loud and hide your smile behind your hand as your cheeks heat up under the stares of everyone at the table, “don’t be silly,” you mutter, waving your other hand dismissively.

Ben’s smile widens at the sight of you getting all embarrassed and Rami has to nudge his arm to bring him back from wherever it is he went, then the two men continue their earlier conversation as you slowly come out of hiding to speak to Lucy properly again. She tells you all about their holiday, then the new campaign she’s the face of, and you’re in complete awe at all these things you couldn’t even imagine happening to you. You feel quite insignificant when she asks what you and Ben have been up to and your answer is one staycation between your usual nine to five job.

“You must really love your job,” she smiles, “your face lights up when you talk about it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you nod, “love what you do and you never work a day in your life, right?”

“Exactly!” she agrees as her eyes drift over to Ben and his adoring gaze that is directed straight at you, “you’re quite a distraction to our boy over there.”

“I… oh…” you giggle, turning your face away and allowing your hair to fall over your cheeks so he can’t see you any more.

“Don’t forget your food Ben!” Lucy reminds him, snapping him back to reality.

“He’s far too in love to even contemplate food!” Rami adds with a wink directed at you, “the poor man can’t keep his eyes off of her, and he’s certainly not listening to a word I’m saying.”

“I am!” Ben protests.

“What did I just say then?”

“Well… something about… your holiday.”

“That was ten minutes ago!” Rami laughs as he slaps Ben’s arm.

You chuckle at Ben’s confused frown as you feel your cheeks heat up and Lucy gives your arm a squeeze before leaning in close and lowering her voice, “he’s absolutely smitten with you; couldn’t give me any pointers on how to get Rami to look at me like that could you?”

“As if you need any tips!” you scoff, “he’s head over heels, it’s obvious.”

“Not quite as obvious as Ben though...”

“That’s a little too obvious,” you giggle, taking a quick glance over at your boyfriend whose eyes were firmly on you once more.

You loved Ben just as much as he loved you except you could hide it that little bit better than he did; even though his handsome face appeared on both the lock screen and home screen of your phone, in the picture on your desk, and on the keyring that hung from your car key. It gave you a comforting feeling in your heart even though you were feeling unusually warm from his intense gaze, and when you finally meet his beautiful eyes you give him a loving smile and a small wave. By the time dessert is served Rami and Lucy are taking bets on how long he can keep his eyes off of you, and it’s safe to say that Lucy is pretty spot on with her predictions, much to Rami disappointment.

“It was lovely to see you again,” you mumble against the collar of Lucy’s coat as you hug her goodbye, “and I’m already looking forward to next time.”

“So am I!” she says excitedly, “I can’t wait!”

Ben has his arm draped around your shoulder as you wave the other couple off in their cab then he squeezes you tightly before turning you both around to take a short walk to find another taxi, and when you pile in to the back of it he encourages you to snuggle into his side.

“Told you you had nothing to worry about,” he says after kissing the top of your head.

“Alright Mister know-it-all, you were correct.”

He smiles down at you as his tongue pops out and runs over his lower lip then you lean up and kiss his neck before resuming your position against his shoulder. The journey home always seems quicker than the journey there and you’re at your front door within a matter of minutes; the two of you bundling inside to get out of the chilly weather and immediately heading for the couch after discarding your coats and shoes in the hallway. Ben slips his phone out of his pocket as you lay across the sofa with your head in his lap, and a familiar song begins to play through the living room speakers.

“You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…” Ben mines along as he looks down at you.

You laugh as you cover your face to hide your embarrassment but he holds your hands up as he continues to mouth the lyrics at you.

“Ben!”

“What?”

“I really love you,” you laugh.

Hi love! I’m popping in with a request for Ben if you can! It’s inspired by the photos of him with Rami and Lucy. A cute double date with them please!! Maybe throughout the night Ben gets more and more in his own world admiring her and they tease him about being so in love. Lots of fluff please!! And when they get home it might get a little smutty but I’ll leave that entirely up to you..

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @itisjustmethistime @mamaskillerqueen @queenslandlover-93

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Mad About the Boy

Word Count: 1,345 Character: John Whittaker 

(ARTIST APPRECIATION SUBMISSION)

Hi friends! Juuuuust sneaking in before the weekend officially ends here on the East Coast so I can stick to my #WhittakerWeekend schedule. Really- whose demeanor is better suited for weekends than John’s? No one’s, that’s who. So this submission is admittedly a little different than the others that I have written for, because I am actually tying it to Let’s Face the Music & Dance (hope you don’t mind!!) as a sort of side piece, though you do not need to know anything about that story to understand this...or to understand that it is a SERIOUSLY stunning piece of art. When @alraedesigns​ sent me this submission by @pheedraws​ we both admitted to thinking it was a photograph the first time we saw it, and then we talked about how we each freaked out over the fact that no, it is not a photograph, but a painting- a flawless, intricate, beautiful painting. Of a flawless man with a stunning smile. 

So Phoebe, from @alraedesigns​ (and I) and let’s face it anyone who has seen your work: THANK YOU FOR BLESSING OUR EYES WITH THIS MASTERPIECE. YOU ARE TALENTED. YOU ARE APPRECIATED. YOU ARE OUT OF THIS DAMN WORLD. 

(His smile is everything that is good in this world. Prove me wrong, you cannot.)

Mad About the Boy 

There were certain books she read depending on the time of year. The majority of her literary consumption consisted of things she’d never read before, usually new works from her favorite authors, or else recommendations from friends with similarly discerning taste to her own. Mattie’s reliable, but I simply can’t get through the drivel that Angela enjoys. She ran her fingers over the spines of the leather and cloth bound titles that graced the shelf she’d deemed only for her favorites; Madame Bovary, Tess of the D’Ubervilles, A Doll’s House, A Room with A View. Each had their time to shine in her cycle of new and old reads. But she passed them all up in favor of another, one she always read in the final days of Summer, when golden sunlight melted and dripped from the sky to gild the leaves of trees instead, when she was reminded how quickly things can change and how important it was to live now. Lawrence understood. 

She found the book she’d been looking for and pulled it from the lineup. Lady Chatterley's Lover. A door closed somewhere in another room and she sighed, swiping one hand over the cover and greeting it with the sort of smile one would share with a close friend. He needs his time to himself, and I need mine. I don’t ask what he… where he goes. And he doesn’t ask what I… While some… let’s face it, most… women would find their arrangement deplorable, Larita found it quite agreeable, and so did Jim. 

She wasn’t sure if she loved him, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she wanted to. With him it was always more about being seen and heard and respected than it was about physical attraction or romantic feelings. The fact that they happened to have good chemistry was somewhat of a cherry on top of what they’d both come to accept was the best case scenario for a pair such as themselves. If I’m putting myself out to pasture at least the company will be good. She knew that the third time rarely was the charm, and he knew that whatever part of him might have made for a good husband the second time around never made it home from the front. No need to push our luck on love. 

Crossing the parlor, she curled herself into the tufted armchair in the corner, opened her book and began to read. With Jim, she never had to abide by the staunch rules that other men- American, English, I imagine it wouldn’t make a difference where they came from- would enforce on her through marriage. Long lists of expected skills and hobbies, none of them useful in any real way, and short lists of appropriate clothing styles; even shorter ones of acceptable reading material. If that was the price to pay for love, then perhaps love wasn’t what she needed anymore. 

She’d loved her first husband, deeply and completely and he’d loved her too, fiercely and unquestioningly, and it still ended in a heartache she’d never fully heal from. Affection, interaction, physical touch... they could all be had without-  Turning the page, she sucked in a breath as a photo slipped out and into her lap. Larita let the book fall closed against her thighs, thin fingers plucking the photo from where it had landed, unfolding the crease across the bottom from where it had been pressed against the book’s binding. Oh, John… 

It was a photo from their wedding day, his young face lit with excitement, his dark eyes shining like the small but clear diamonds that once graced her left ring finger.  His smile on any given day was the most genuine she’d ever seen, but the way he’d looked at her that day, when he naively promised her forever… No one will ever look at me that way again. She let her fingertips slide over his face in the photo, a wistful smile forming on her own lips. No one ever could. When he’d told her that he couldn’t have loved her more than he did, she knew that he was telling the truth, that he believed with all of himself that he was giving her all that a person could give, all that a person could love. She loved John- loved his light heart and free spirit, adored the wide-eyed wonder with which he viewed the world. She loved the way she felt when they were together and she loved him for making her feel it. But I was foolish to think that it would be enough- that she would be content with what someone else deemed all the love that they were capable of, but only a fraction of the understanding that came with that word. Oh, John, it wasn’t your fault, not at all. Whereas some women- no, most- might turn bitter in the face of a failed second marriage, Larita felt only well wishes towards her ex-husband. I hope you find someone to give all that light to, John, someone who your love will be enough for, someone who’s mad about you.

Unsure of what to do with the photo- I can’t put it back in the book...I’ll only be surprised by it again next year, but… she looked down at it...I can’t throw it away either- she tucked it into the pocket of her trousers just as she heard her name, Jim announcing his return and calling out to find her. “In here,” she responded, closing her book and setting it down on the cushion she’d just vacated. He stepped into the room, expression much more tense than it was when he left only an hour or so earlier. “Everything alright? You look-”

“Hilda’s engaged to be married. Did you know?” His hands went straight into his pockets, a deep frown cutting across his face and she stepped closer to lay a hand on his arm. Perhaps she wasn’t in love with him, but she cared for the man, cared about the things that upset him. 

“Of course I didn’t know, I wouldn’t keep that from you, you know that.” It was true and he knew it. And I know that he knows it. It was easier, avoiding tiffs when emotions could be de-escalated before they came to a head, and Larita saw that she was right, Jim’s brow unfurrowing. “How did you hear the news?”

“There’s to be a party next month at…” he sniffed, “Well at the estate. I’ve just run into Martin Horning and he relayed the message.” Larita winced at the hurt that only she would have caught in his tone- the hurt that he hadn’t warranted an invitation. “Larita? Do you think...should I, should we go?”

Blinking quickly she felt her lips drop open. It had been one thing to see John’s picture unexpectedly, but seeing him in person when things had been left the way that they had… that was something else entirely. She let out a breath and shook her head slowly. “No, Jim, I...that’s not a good-” 

“She’s my daughter! Don’t I...shouldn’t I?” 

“And she didn’t invite you.” She said it as calmly and as soothingly as she could, real empathy in her heart as she took his cheeks between her palms. “Maybe the best gift you can give her, give all of them is…” She thought of John’s face, smiling in her pocket and how he deserved a chance to find someone to bestow it on. She thought of Hilda’s innocence and charm and how she deserved the happiness that came with those things. “Is just to let them move on from…” She felt a tear in the corner of her eye and didn’t even try to blink it away. “From us.” 

Jim brushed his knuckle over the apple of her cheek, ridding the tear as she knew he would. He sighed, the sound sad and low, but his face softened. “As usual, darling,” another deep breath came from his lungs as he conceded, “I believe you’re right.” 

.

.

.

Thank you a million times to all of you fabulous artists! If you are an artist in the Ben Barnes fandom, or you want to surprise an artist with a quick drabble based on their art, send me a message and link me to the posted artwork. Let’s show these talented folks how much we appreciate them and the things that they create!

[megalony]

Fatal attraction- Part 4

Here is the latest part of my Royal! Ben Hardy series that I hope everyone is enjoying, thank you for the lovely feedback so far. Warning, there is angst in this chapter.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Series taglist: @joseph-mozzerella @pippin248 @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in an arranged marriage to form an alliance and they both want to make this marriage work. But when they have to get to know each other and there is a power play in their marriage, things aren’t going to be easy.

Enjoy.

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How was she supposed to bring up the subject?

This wasn't exactly something that (Y/n) could slip easily into conversation, nor was it something that she just wanted to blurt out, no matter how desperate she was to tell him and get it out into the open.

It always bothered (Y/n) that she was taught so extensively about how to be the perfect Queen, but not how to just be herself. She knew how government worked, she knew what her duties would have been, should she have been in charge and she knew how to be democratic. But when it came to how to run her life, (Y/n) didn't know what to do. (Y/n) hadn't known what the first thing she said to Ben should have been, she didn't know how to talk to him or act around him except being overly anxious. (Y/n) didn't know how to interact with people outside of professional situations, she didn't know how to sit when she wasn't in a meeting or at dinner with many people.

She didn't know if Ben noticed when she slouched whilst sitting on their bed, (Y/n) didn't know how to talk to him as a husband rather than a stranger, that was something she had to learn on her own. (Y/n) wished someone had given her life lessons rather than democratic ones that were no of no use because she had married above her station. She married someone of the status she should have been given herself and it rendered her to feel useless and out of place despite how badly Ben tried to make her feel at home.

(Y/n) always thought this kind of situation would have been different.

She thought that when she got married it would be to someone she knew and fetl comfortable around and that would make it easier when or if the situation of children came around. (Y/n) always assumed it would be so simple to find the words to say, but she couldn't think of how to say it. Blurting out that she was pregnant felt so wrong and uncaring, but trying to say it so sweetly or in some sort of cheesy way felt wrong too because she and Ben weren't madly in love and this wasn't something they had wanted for so long.

(Y/n) knew telling her parents this news would be easy, it wouldn't be as confusing or worrying because she knew what their reaction would be. They were counting on Ben and (Y/n) having kids, just like Ben's mother was because Ben was an only child with no cousins, if something happened to him the crown would fall to extended family. (Y/n) knew that if she had married someone else and had become Queen, the need for her to have a child would be just the same because it wasn't about her happiness or wanting to start a family, it was keeping the bloodline going and giving the country and heir.

It was a relief to (Y/n) that she knew deep down that she did want children or she would be a grave disappointment to everyone if she didn't because she wouldn't be forced into having a child she didn't want. It also came as a relief that (Y/n) was married to Ben because they were almost like a couple now, (Y/n) hated to think what would happen if she had married someone she disliked and had a child with them.

Clasping her hands together tightly in her lap, (Y/n) tilted her head up to look at the ceiling like she was trying to pull some courage out of nowhere. She didn't know how to sit.

Part of her wanted to pull her knees up and cross her legs beneath her, but (Y/n) fought that urge because all the lessons she had taught her that it wasn't appropriate to sit like that. Her leg raised to cross over her other leg but then quickly set back down again because (Y/n) remembered it wasn't good for the spine or posture to sit like that. But she knew she looked uneasy sat on the edge of the bed with her back straight and knees pressed together.

Why couldn't she just look and feel comfortable in her own home?

When the door clicked open and Ben re-entered the room, (Y/n) pushed herself to stand up so the anxiety rattling through her mind would die down. Ben didn't care how (Y/n) sat or what her posture looked like, he had been through the same sort of upbringing about how to act but behind closed doors he threw those rules out the window. (Y/n) had stared at him for a good few minutes the first time she saw him sit down and slouch in his chair until she was positive he was about to slide onto the floor.

Ben may tease her a lot, but he never made fun of her or tutted at her or said she was doing anything wrong.

Scratching her nails against her palms, (Y/n) leaned against the bed as she watched Ben for a few moments. He was becoming frustrated with the small buttons on the sleeves of his white shirt, his arm was raised in the air so he could see the three buttons clearly but it wasn't helping him very much.

(Y/n) continued to watch him struggle for a few more moments, maybe even minutes, before she decided it was time he was put out of his misery since he was growing agitated very quickly. Slowly approaching him, (Y/n) realised he hadn't noticed her presence until she was stood in front of him, her hands reaching out for his wrist.

"I'll do it." It was more of a statement than a request but Ben didn't mind at all, he let her pull his wrist closer, his eyes watching intently as (Y/n) did the buttons up without any fuss or problems.

"Bloody things, maybe I'll go into the meeting with my sleeves rolled up to my elbows. What do you think?" Ben was always tempted to turn up to meetings or out to public events looking as casual as he wanted because casual was always better and easier than being prim and proper. The tight collars made him feel like he couldn't breathe and the blazers and dress shirts were always tight and constricting and the trousers were like walking with tubes around his legs that wouldn't bend.

But Ben knew walking into a meeting with his sleeves rolled up, his top few buttons undone and his shirt untucked would not go down very well, despite him being the King.

"I think people would disagree." (Y/n) quirked a brow as a small smile pulled at her lips. Her hands reached out for his other wrist so she could start doing up the other buttons for him.

"One day, I'm going to walk in there and slouch in my seat with my feet on the table, just to see what they would do." Ben would love to see all of the reactions he would gain if he did that. He knew at least one person would call him out and say he wasn't feeling well or he was acting out or being insane. But Ben would love to go into a meeting and do that and see how many people would gawk at him but say nothing and who would eventually slouch in their seats just a little. Or find out how long it would take for someone to break the silence and act as if he wasn't acting inappropriately.

"I wouldn't advise it." (Y/n) finished doing up the three buttons with ease but she couldn't find the will to pull away, she let her hands hover over Ben's and he didn't pull away either.

No words passed between them as (Y/n) decided that it wasn't awkward silence, it was a comfortable one. She was rather surprised by how quickly she was finding herself becoming more at ease and comfortable around Ben when she was so sure they would be locking horns at every passing moment.

Deciding that now was as good a time as any to try and broach the subject of the pregnancy to Ben, (Y/n) slowly lifted her gaze from his hand to his eyes. Trying to find the words that were swirling around in her head but getting lost in her throat. This could go either way, Ben could be thrilled by the news, not bothered by it at all or he could be unhappy. He might know he needed to have an heir but he might not want kids, although (Y/n) was sure he did. But maybe he didn't want one right now, not when he and (Y/n) were only just getting into a rhythm and routine.

But if an arranged marriage didn't seem to bother him at all and being and sleeping with (Y/n) wasn't a big deal to him, kids shouldn't be either.

"Do you have a minute to talk about something?" (Y/n) felt the desperate need to take Ben's hand in her own in a viper's grip but she refrained from the urge. He might think something was wrong and (Y/n) worried about affection, she didn't know what was the right level of affection to show now that he had so easily kissed her. She didn't know whether trying to hold his hand or be close to him or making the move herself to kiss him would be right or going to quickly or not. (Y/n) felt it easier to let him lead this particular dance.

Ben's eyes glanced to the clock on the side table and a sigh passed through his lips. He had a meeting and he was going to end up late if he didn't go now. He didn't understand why most of the meetings he had to go to were so early in the morning, he would prefer it to be later on in the day, he would even do a meeting at nine o'clock at night because he was more awake at night than when he first got up in the morning.

"I have a meeting in five minutes, could it wait until tonight?" Ben's voice clearly showed he didn't want to be rude or seem uninterested but at the same time, he didn't want to be late. Tardiness was frowned upon, especially for him and it took him five minutes to walk from here to the drawing room the meeting was going to be held in.

"It can wait." (Y/n) smiled and nodded her head, part of her relieved to wait because it gave her time to work out exactly what she wanted to say and how she wanted to tell him. But there was still part of her that was disappointed because she had finally plucked up the courage and now the moment was passed. (Y/n) didn't know how long it was going to take her to find this courage again tonight.

She watched Ben bite down on the corner of his lip that was pushed up at one side in a concentrated expression.

"If it's important we can talk now, I'll-"

"No, Ben it can wait, the meeting can't. You go, it's fine." (Y/n) shivered when Ben's hand held her arm and slid up to hold her elbow, his eyes saying thank you but his expression was still concerned. He didn't want (Y/n) to think he didn't value anything she had to say or that he was always going to put his meetings first. If she had to talk to him and it was important or worrying her then Ben wanted (Y/n) to be able to talk to him. "Go." (Y/n) urged with a smile, nudging his arm to give him another hint or he really would be late.

"We'll talk tonight." Ben confirmed with a nod of his head before he leaned forward to place a rather gentle but chaste kiss to her lips. As soon as the touch was there it was gone again and he was retreating, smiling in thanks before he disappeared from the room.

"Tonight." (Y/n) mumbled with a nod of her head, she had all day to find out how to say it and think of all the possible reactions she could receive before the conversation had to happen.

Maybe this marriage wasn't such a bad thing after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'We'll talk tonight.'

Those words kept running circles through (Y/n)'s mind and when she closed her eyes, those words and Ben's expression were all she could see. Ben had said those words to her yesterday morning and they had stayed with her all of yesterday and yesterday night, and they hadn't left her head this morning or tonight either. It felt like he had said 'we'll talk tomorrow' because tomorrow was never here, it was always today.

(Y/n) knew Ben couldn't help it, he had had some kind of problem with the Government and had to leave yesterday afternoon. (Y/n) hadn't seen him since yesterday morning when they'd talked and yesterday it made her wish she'd agreed when he said he could be late for the meeting. At least that way the conversation would have happened and she wouldn't have had to sit on egg shells waiting for him to come back so they could talk.

She didn't know when he would be back, there was talk of Ben coming back tomorrow, but that could be tomorrow morning, dinner time or tomorrow evening. But now (Y/n) was more thankful than anything else that Ben had gone away, the timing had been impeccable as if fate had it all planned out, ready to plant a seed of destruction at just the right time.

Rubbing her reddened, sore eyes with the back of her hand, (Y/n) tipped her head back like she was trying to tip all of the tears into the back of her head to stop them from falling. She felt like she had shed far too many tears already over the past two hours, but they kept on coming and her face felt wet and tight from the saltwater. The shaking she had had for over an hour now didn't seem to be over yet and (Y/n) wished she would just blackout at this point to make everything stop.

The bleeding hadn't stopped yet but it wasn't too extensive, the cramps were dull to the point (Y/n) could ignore them, her body was shaking but not as horribly as she had been earlier. She felt like she was beginning to overheat despite the bathroom being very cold and (Y/n) only being in her pyjama shorts and top. If she blacked out now and went to sleep for a little while it would be a blessing in disguise.

If (Y/n) had told Ben yesterday about being pregnant, she wouldn't have known what to do with herself or how to approach him when he eventually came back home. If Ben hadn't of gone she would have already told him about the baby and he would be here with her now when she realised she'd suffered a miscarriage.

Maybe this way it was better. If fate planned for (Y/n) to lose the baby, she would rather not have Ben know in the first place. She didn't want the pity he would feel for her or the way he would hover around her to check if she was alright or walk on egg shells around her. If Ben knew other people would be bound to know as well, like both of their parents. (Y/n) didn't want them to know in case they felt any disappointment towards her or worse, they felt the need to wrap her up in cotton wool and try to smother her with kindness and affection.

This way, with no one knowing, it gave (Y/n) the chance to try and process this on her own and not feel like people were always watching over her or feeling sorry for her or trying to protect her from any harm.

But despite (Y/n) not wanting Ben to know about this, her mind was still conflicted. As much as she wanted him to be oblivious and not even know about the pregnancy anymore, (Y/n) wanted him here right now. Of all the people she could think of to be with her such as her mother or her old governess or one of the maids here that she had become friends with, (Y/n) wanted Ben. She wanted the person she thought she wouldn't become close with or friendly with. (Y/n) wanted him because he made her feel at ease and comfortable and feel something different.

Even though she knew he would be panicked and desperate to try and smother her with affection and comfort, (Y/n) wanted him here. She knew he would wake up when she wasn't there for him to wrap around like a vine and he would come looking for her. He would find her here and he would sit with her and hold her and make her feel better.

(Y/n)'s aching heart wanted Ben, but her mind was desperate to keep him away.

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"Didn't you want to tell me something?"

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine at those words that sent waves of anxiety rattling through her. Did he know? Had someone found out and let it slip? It was clear that news travelled faster than a car in the palace, it was a never-ending game of Chinese whispers and secrets could never survive in a place like this. Someone tripped, people knew about it, someone stole something or kissed someone or even gave a funny look and it was made common knowledge before dinner.

Gripping her shirt tighter to her chest that she was about to put in a drawer, (Y/n) turned her head but couldn't quite manage to fully look over her shoulder to glance at her husband. The panic would be evident on her features and it would give away that she had a secret she didn't want to tell.

She should tell him. (Y/n) knew deep down that this was something she should tell him about because it was to do with him as well and keeping this secret to herself wasn't going to help her. But (Y/n) couldn't bear the thought of trying to explain. Ben might be mad with her, he might be upset or angry or even worse, he might be indifferent and uncaring about the news. This wasn't the kind of gossip (Y/n) wanted anyone else in the palace to know about and telling Ben just made her feel panicked. He deserved to know but (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to tell him. This was her dilemma to deal with, not his.

"Hmm?" (Y/n) looked down at the shirt clasped tightly in her shaking hands before she tried to busy herself folding it up and placing it back in the drawer.

"The other morning, you said you wanted to talk about something, what was it?" Ben leaned his head to the side as he turned around so he was looking over in (Y/n)'s direction. He had been wondering for the past few days what she had wanted to tell him before he had to leave and he still didn't know what it was. But he was back now and they had the time to talk so she could tell him whatever it was she had wanted to tell him the other day before he had to leave.

(Y/n) refrained from letting a sigh of utter relief leave her lips when she realised Ben was none the wiser about what had happened late last night before he got back. There had been no whispers or rumours spreading around because no one knew what had happened, (Y/n) was safe to deal with this in her own time, on her own terms without having to tell anyone if she didn't want to.

But she now had to tell Ben something.

(Y/n) had been so worried about Ben finding out or the thought of having to tell him and how she would if she chose to, that she forgot about the fact that she almost told him she was pregnant before he left. (Y/n) was thankful that Ben had that meeting the other morning and that he had to swiftly leave for a few days because it stopped (Y/n) from being able to tell him she was pregnant and therefore, if she wanted, he didn't have to know at all. He didn't have to know she was pregnant but now had lost the baby, Ben could be kept in the dark just like everyone else.

It just meant that now (Y/n) had to come up with something to tell him since he remembered she had wanted to tell him something the other day.

Pressing her nails into the palms of her hands, (Y/n) turned around and slowly walked over to the bed, feeling the great urge to just climb under the covers and disappear for hours or even days to try and make herself feel better. (Y/n) leaned her weight against the side of the bed, resisting the urge to rub at her temple in case Ben thought something was wrong, but the headache behind her eyes was becoming a raging storm.

"Oh, um... it's nothing important, it doesn't matter anymore." (Y/n) waved her hand to dismiss the subject, trying to smile but when she shook her head it made the storm in her head rage like a wildfire. Her eyes fell closed for a moment to try and control herself as she hoped her excuse would be enough. But when she opened her eyes, Ben's expression showed that her words weren't convincing enough.

Ben's eyes narrowed and his lips quirked in a way that was suggesting he wasn't believing what she was saying. He slowly approached (Y/n) until he was standing in front of her, his hand reaching out for her arm like he was trying to calm her down or steady her.

"Are you sure? It seemed important to you the other day... you know you can tell me anything."

(Y/n) couldn't tell him this. She couldn't tell him what she had planned to the other day because it wouldn't be accurate, she wasn't pregnant anymore and she couldn't find it in herself to tell him about any of this. She didn't have to tell Ben, it was her choice even though right now it didn't feel like a choice, it felt like hiding and she hated it.

"I know, I was just... hoping that I, I could keep doing the documents? To give me something to do." (Y/n) felt like her head was swaying back and forth as if it weighed too much for her neck to hold up any longer. She knew the excuse wasn't a good one but it was the best she could think of whilst standing under his gaze that felt like a mountain of pressure. It was still a viable excuse that Ben was at least considering she might have wanted to tell him before, (Y/n) did want to keep signing the documents because it gave her a job that was important and made her feel like she was actually doing something here.

Ben pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he debated whether that was actually what (Y/n) had been going to say the other morning. Now he wished he hadn't gone to that meeting so he could have talked to her whilst she seemed to have the conversation ready and in her head.

But he chose not to push the subject, whatever (Y/n) wanted to say before, she clearly didn't want to say now or she felt it wasn't important and it wouldn't be nice of him to keep pushing her for an answer that might not be worth it.

"Of course, it's a weight from my shoulders anyway. If there's any other jobs around, you can always help me with them... are you alright, you don't look very well?" Ben held (Y/n)'s arm just a little bit tighter as his expression went from questioning to concerning when he noticed (Y/n) looked about ready to collapse then and there.

Managing to nod her head, (Y/n) closed her eyes for a moment before she tried to pull away and turn around to climb into bed. All she needed was to lie down and go to sleep, everything would be fine after she slept and felt more recovered from these past few days. But as (Y/n) pulled back from Ben, her body seemed to fall rather than turn in the direction she wanted, and she couldn't find the ability to open her eyes again.

"Oh shit- come here, love."

Ben's hand on (Y/n)'s arm turned into a viper's grip around her limb as his other arm reached around her waist to stop her from crashing into the side of the bed and crumpling to the floor. A sigh left his lips as he tried to be careful when he pulled (Y/n)'s limp frame against his chest, holding her up with ease. He thought she didn't look very well the moment he had seen her earlier and throughout the evening.

Moving his arms, Ben got a better hold around (Y/n) and gently moved her head so her neck wouldn't be strained or hurt before he turned to the right so he could pick her up and settle her down on the bed.

(Y/n) just wanted to sleep, everything would feel like a dream in the morning.

[bowieandqueen11]

Mother’s Day / Benverly Imagine

Request: hi!! can i pls request a Ben Hanscom x daughter (with a stepmom Beverly) where it’s a mother’s day and it’s all fluffy? i love ur writings btw❤️❤️ 

Sorry this is so late love! <3

You stop in the shadows of the Hanscom household, the tray in your arms nearly clattering to the floor. Luckily, your dad had managed to wrap his arms around your waist to steady you just in time, before the glass had shattered across the floor. Placing a finger to his lips, he presses his back deeper into the darkness, just glad to finally be up the stairs. You sigh softly in relief, glancing at the golden hue that was coming from your parent’s room.

‘Hey, klutz, you’re going to give us away!’

‘It was you nearly tripping down the steps that gave us away, not me!’

Ben glanced down at you, letting you go as he bit lightly against his lip. Before the two of you could stop it, the staring turned into huffs of amused air, which turned into giggles that thundered down the hallway like someone hammering into wood: vibrant, and heartwarming, and definitely enough to wake Beverly Marsh up. It came in fits and bursts: loud to soft to nothing at all and back to loud again.

‘I can hear you two! What on Earth are you doing out there!...And so early as well’, she shouts, muttering the last part to herself with a yawn.

It takes only one more second for you to burst through the door and make Beverly jump from where she was sitting up on the bed. Placing a hand to her thumping chest, she laughs brightly, the sound reminding Ben of little bells tinkling, before you push her down again, landing with a thump on the duvet. Reverently rubbing your fingers along the silken mattress, the comforter was thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud. You toppled into it, relieved to finally place the tray you were holding across your mother’s lap.

Beverly sits up, amazed at having been served an enormous platter of food. Eggs, bacon, arranged in a little smiley face that she knew was Ben’s doing. A tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep it chilled. The basket of rolls they set before her would keep her going for a week. 

‘Happy mother’s day, mom!’

Beverly froze. For the first time since she and Ben had married, you had called her mom, instead of Bev or Beverly. She bit her bottom lip, trying so hard to stop herself from crying that she didn’t notice Ben slide onto the bed on her other side, holding out a bouquet of flowers underneath her nose with a smile so desperate and loving she felt a tear slide down her cheek anyway.

‘Happy mother’s day, sweetheart.’

She takes a hold of the flowers, speechless, allowing the leaves of dark green that beneath were as shining silver, like dew of silver light to tickle against his fingertips. Flowers swung upon her branches in clusters of orange flame, formed each to a glowing horn that spilled a golden rain upon the ground, coming forth from them a warmth and a great light. The spring flowers ignite an inner smile, that kind that burns warm and long inside Beverly.

Clasping your arms around your mom’s shoulders, your chests rising and falling together, your breaths in unison, the two of you softened together. She had a look of contentment on her face, the kind Ben hoped he could see everyday for the rest of his life.  

You snuggled in, ‘You're the only person I know that gives indefinite hugs.’

Your mom snickered, ‘Well, love, where else would I rather be?’ 

In that moment, Beverly’s arms squeezed a fraction tighter and you felt your body melting into your mom's as every muscle lost its tension to the spring air. 

Upon the soft blankets the three of you sit. Yet for all of these furnishings, for all the wonderful aromas of the breakfast, they would mean nothing if the three of you weren’t together. I suppose it is the child in us that wants those things, Ben thought, as he glanced at the two of you, that strong sense of love that keeps on going. And he couldn’t wait to be a part of it, forever.

[skeletorific]

man i bet it's super odd for the ancestor trolls to be putting out pale feels on anyone, much less a human. I can just see the most frustrated lil ball of horns and teeth trying to figure out if theres, ya know, *room* in a human's life for moirailegence with this whole platonic structure called a family and the only-one-romance-a-hooman standard/stigma and. they need a pap just tryin to figure it out! If you wouldn't mind, i'd love to hear your take on how psiionic darkleer, n dualscar would do

Me skating the fuck in to answer Ancestors requests. (I’m assuming this is in reference to my Ancestors live on Earth C timeline, but the headcanons themselves will work for just a general human interaction, I promise)

So, a note about Earth C and quad: I really can’t imagine that troll, human, and carapacian concepts of romance wouldn’t start to mingle, at least to a certain extent. After all, the three species come up at the same time, right alongside each other.

Quadrants aren’t exactly the norms for humans even there. Our reproductive needs are different, for one-thing. Additionally, I have to imagine that even without the social coding of Earth-A, a good chunk of humans would probably still tend to be fairly monogamous, especially if one of the primary texts left behind was written by a human woman raised on human monogamy who took only one lover herself. However, there’s probably a healthy chunk of humans who go by quadrants, trolls who go by human romance, and some who mix and match (for instance, “This is Ben, my significant other, and this is Meryll, my kismesis”). Its something most people figure out as they get older.

However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that the ancestors have cottoned on to the nuances of it all. Getting the idea of human monogamy through their heads was hard enough, and once it happens, of course THEN they have to catch pale feelings for one of the squishy fucks!

The Psiionic: So, unlike the other two on this list, Captor has actually had some experience with relationships that are a little more....fluid. Vantas and Leijon’s relationship always fell squarely in the middle of the chart, borrowing elements from all and none. Hell, his OWN relationship with the two of them tiptoed pitch, pale, ashen, and flushed depending on the day of the week. So, while he does still broadly conceive of things like an Alternian, its not necessarily an insurmountable barrier for him.

How he proceeds depends a lot on whether or not the human already has an s/o. If you do, he ultimately just bites the bullet and asks to talk to both of you (bringing Vantas and Leijon along for emotional support). He doesn’t want to move in where he’s not welcome and he’s got no designs on your flushed relationship. He’s quiet and his voice is shaking a bit as he struggles to keep his nerves (and by extent, his psiionics) under controll. But he’s never seen the point in fucking around the pricklefrond. Either you feel the same, or you don’t.  

If you don’t have an s/o, though, he just sort of carefully allows himself to become a feature in your life. He’s a little shakey socially but he puts the effort in to be around you. Captor’s never gonna be the most effusive emotionally, but he does make a point to give the occasional genuine compliment as to how he appreciates who you are, and what you do. When you’re having trouble he has a tendency to just sort of materialize in the background to offer his help. Pale flirting is all about trust, both engendering it, and demonstrating it for each other. No matter how oblivious you are, its hard not to notice that his walls are usually so high for others, yet they seem to come down around you.

Despite aforementioned not-fucking-around-the-pricklefrond, its possible he won’t ever use the word moirail for you unless you ask him about it. You’re human, and he doesn’t see the need to regale you with the complexities of troll romance if you’re both happy with the current arrangement. One way or another, though, Vantas runs at the mouth and spills the beans to you, and you have a good long talk about it.

Executor Darkleer: This guy, on the other hand, is a staunch traditionalist, paired with the fact that he ultimately thinks he’s somehow unworthy of love in any form. 

Years of social conditioning don’t just fall away because you and your former empress shop for box wine at the same liquor store now. As an expatriate, Zahhak was literally forbidden from contributing to the filial slurry, and was far too isolated to acquire a moirail. The best he had was the occasional frustrated shoosh-pap from Mindfang just to snap him out of his moods for a bit. Now, the old empire may have fallen away, but he’s still to some extent punishing himself. As a result, as soon as he figures out he’s catching pale feelings for a human, he starts avoiding you at all costs. He can’t allow himself to fall into any kind of temptation. The very qualities that attract him to you are the same reason he’s convinced you deserve something better.

Fortunately, there was no way you were friends with Darkleer in the first place if you were the type to let social avoidance turn you off. After a couple of weeks of not hearing from him (and a few confusingly smug texts from Mindfang when you ask her if he’s doing alright and her only response was “Go find out. I’m sure he’ll 8e more than alr8 ;;;;)”), you show up at his hive and bang on the door until he finally lets you in.

If you were hoping for a big confession, you’ll probably be a little disappointed: he’s not the type. But he does let you chastise him for withdrawing like that, finally extracting a promise that he won’t do it again. All the while him thinking that this, too, could be part of his penance. To let the human stay with by your side....but not allow yourself the luxury of what you truly want....why its almost scandalous-

Yup. He’s pale edging himself, and will continue to do so until you finally break down and demand he explain why he’s being so weird. Or until Mindfang loses her patience and tells you herself, if only to get him to stop leaving soliloquies in her DMs. Either way.

Dualscar: Another traditionalist, but he’s never really been lucky enough in love to be that picky about the system he falls under. The last proper, long-lasting quadrant relationship he had was his kismesis with Mindfang, and well.....kind of a funny story how that one went, honestly.

Assuming you’re single, his way forward is pretty easy. He reads up on human romance for 48 hours straight and presumes he knows what the fuck is up. Honestly its not terribly different from moirallegiance in some respects. You’re supposed to uplift your partner, and plenty of sources recommend that your s/o should be your “best friend”. Conversations involving your feelings are a norm, and humans even have the concept of a “fated match”, something pretty integral to Alternian moirallegiance. As for the rest, well, he can lean into some of the redder aspects of his feelings, pull out the old Ampora charm, and leave the rest in Lady Luck’s hands, right?

Right?

Well....for the first few months it works fine. You’ve always been close with Dualscar, felt like you got each other on some level, and to some degree a romantic relationship felt like a natural extension of that. He can be sweet, showers you with gifts, and is good at listening to your problems and letting you bitch without making you feel like you’re burdening him. He’s funny, in a bitchy dad kind of way, and frankly kind of dashing. 

But something’s off. You notice he seems to shrink down a little bit when you try to get a bit more physical with him. Not like he dislikes it, necessarily, more like he’s...confused. While you feel closer with him than ever, there’s none of those flowery declarations you find tucked in his journal, dedicated to great loves in his past. Even on your end, you feel like you still just think of him as like.....a best friend, but more so somehow? Being romantic with him as you would be with a human feels...wrong, You reflect each other so well and so closely that its like you’re a piece of each other, and calling him your boyfriend feels like trying to call yourself your own boyfriend.

The truth comes out when you try to break up with him and in a panic he explains himself to you. Running through a long (and somewhat incoherent) crash course on troll romance, with a special focus on moirallegiance. He’s stumbling over his words (unusual when he’s sober), half waiting for your eyes to widen in shock and for you to end things forever.

So imagine his shock when you blink a few times and say “why the hell didn’t you just say so?”

As Peixes would say later, “L-Eave it to an Ampora to mak-E s)(it way mor-E glubbin complicat-Ed t)(an it n-E-Eds to b-E.”

[dgcatanisiri]

I think one of the big things that people miss about the Adoribull relationship is that... As outsiders to it, we ONLY get glimpses of it, little bits and pieces through banter. Banter that we’re overhearing between them, not the actual intimate conversations. And if you’re not paying attention to the characters proper, you’re probably going to miss a lot of the little things between them both.

On Bull’s side, this is a character who is often judged by his appearance to be a literal beast of burden - listen closely, how often are qunari and even Bull himself in specific referred to as ‘ox’ or ‘ox-man’? And Bull is always playing a role. This is a man who’s always wrapping himself up in the ideas of the people around him first, because his Ben-Hassrath training (his spy training) tells him to observe. If he matches peoples’ expectations of who and what he is, then even though he’s a seven foot tall, good 200 lbs of solid muscle, horned grey giant, he’ll blend into the background. It’s when he’s not acting like people think he will that they start paying attention to him. So you CAN’T take anything with him at face value.

Hell, even the fact that he tells you he’s a spy can’t be taken at face value - since the Viddasala says that the Inquisitor’s fate was sealed from the moment they emerged from the Breach, and Bull will turn on the Inquisitor at her order, he’s not joining the Inquisition as a spy, he’s joining as a SLEEPER AGENT for the Qun, meant to get close and turn on them when the Qun demands. He just will abandon the mission if he rejects the Qun and becomes Tal-Vashoth. 

But underneath all of that projected image? This is the guy who broke in Seheron. Who cares about the men under his command. Who is the first to bring feelings into his relationship with the Inquisitor in a romance. Who comes to the Inquisitor and actually tries to ensure that they are willing for the dom/sub relationship before just jumping into the deep end, even offering just a short taste of it before giving them a chance again to back out. Who, if you tell him that he misread your intentions with him for having a relationship, will immediately beat a hasty retreat - if he’s misread a situation, he immediately disengages entirely. He may have Ben-Hassrath training in microexpressions, but he CAN have his readings flummoxed. Hell, if he and Dorian get together, one of the things he says outright is “I hope we’re good for each other.”

Meanwhile, Dorian is all about flashy presentation, but is actively afraid of emotional intimacy. He really just doesn’t do emotional intimacy. Why would he? Even before he learned that his culture and society told him that he could never have a truly loving relationship because of his sexuality, his example was his parents, parents who were married because of an arrangement of their magical abilities and would produce an heir together, regardless of how much they actually cared for one another, parents who, from all accounts, couldn’t stand one another. What does he know about emotional intimacy?

Of course he doesn’t WANT to talk about his attraction to anyone publicly - he is still reacting automatically like his speaking openly of being gay is going to earn him censure at the lightest. Like, look at IRL gay people - unless we’re in places that are explicitly FOR US, bare minimum, we’re often reluctant to even hold hands openly, and often even when we are in those safe spaces. He may be aware that southern Thedas is more open, but he’s still got the near-thirty years of societal training telling him that he should not, can not express this openly. 

But, like Bull, under that facade, he WANTS that kind of emotional intimacy. He is bad at expressing it, hiding behind the bravado. He wants something that goes beyond the back room flings. And, right from the start, he IS shown to have at least some leanings towards bondage - one of his first remarks is “I’ve been told I look good in rope.” He needs a push towards Bull, sure, because Tevinter and the Qunari are long blood enemies - of course he has to work through the initial level of Tevinter bullshit to realize that Bull is a person.

In fact, let me hammer this a bit - in the initial... Actually, looking at the transcript of their banter on the wiki, probably a good fifty percent of their banter, it’s DORIAN who starts shooting his mouth off at Bull, insulting and insinuating things with him. Meanwhile, Bull just takes it. He counters Dorian’s points where applicable, and even makes the point that they ARE very similar - they love their very flawed home and people, and want to see them be better, but don’t know what they alone can do about it, ultimately (best case scenario) giving it up and disappointing the ones they loved because they had to be themselves.

Bull speaking so openly is very much about showing Dorian that IT’S. OKAY. to be attracted to men. The banter is in a safe space, among the party, among their mutual friends/found family with the Inquisition, so he speaks openly about how he can be attracted to men in this place, around these people, and be comfortable in who he is. Hell, by virtue of the dialogue mechanics in the game, that’s more than the Inquisitor actually gets to do with Dorian openly (you’re free to headcanon otherwise, of course, but in terms of what the game presents...). That one rape fantasy banter that people always cite as “evidence” of Bull being abusive is the same sort of thing that we see with Bull when the Inquisitor turns him down outright in their room - “I misread your intentions? ShitshitshitABORT!” and disengaging. But again, Bull is the one who wants the relationship to be good for them both.

I get that Adoribull isn’t for everyone. I get that some people just don’t care for the dynamic, the characters, or just the general idea. I get it. But... It does seem that people intentionally misread it - the relationships and worse the characters - to justify it. It can just not be your thing without inherently being abusive, you know. 

Hell, from my perspective, if anyone’s going to be abusive in this pairing, I’d be quicker to say that Dorian would be emotionally abusive to Bull instead of Bull being physically abusive towards Dorian. Like I pointed out, he is the instigator of a lot of the antagonism in their banter, while Bull just rolls with it. Dorian is very prone to sticking his foot in his mouth, and has a lot to unpack because of Tevinter society’s attitude towards the Qunari. 

(Not saying this has to be the way it plays out, mind, just that I see it as the more likely scenario than “scary abusive dom Bull hurting poor defenseless Dorian”)

But no, I never seem to see people talking about how Dorian can make the relationship abusive and toxic, I just see claims of how Bull is going to be abusive to Dorian. 

Can’t imagine what the basis of THAT might be...

[loserholland]

𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞

𝟎𝟏𝟐 ➺ 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

Pairing ➺  Ceo playboy!Ben Hardy x Reader

Warning ➺ so sorry, i really am

Word Count ➺ 1,519

Summary ➺ An arranged marriage between two polar opposites.

A/N ➺  A new series! So after watching BoRhap I instantly fell in love again with Ben Hardy who plays Roger Taylor! Message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be on the taglist!

Send me your thoughts, feelings, everything! It makes me day/night!

Also send me your theories! Love reading them! TEEHEHHEH

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @hollandfieldblurbs , @beerbottlesandchainsaws, @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine​

❁ 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❁ - @financialinstability , @magicwithaknife , @xrumkugelx , @rogertaylorsblondhair, @hollyissuchahoe , @yourkindabrainy-ilikeit, @fsociety00da1, @lee-519 , @2ptonpt, @sherlokiantheatrenerd , @local-radical-bandit , @calumfornicationx , @softcillian, @kittysblog14 , @peach-barnes , @prettyoddbarnes  , @spideyyypeter, @adepressedstudentslife , @wowza-bowza , @stilesneedsprotection , @anamcg317 , @indescribxbl , @heinz-doofenshmirtz-official , @loveofmylifeben , @captainxmoony , @whateverbakesyourcake , @waving-thru-a-window  , @benhrdy , @beerbottlesandchainsaws , @frietjemeloen , @kirket03 , @emmieliabedelia , @sabbrriiinnaa , @justinemayi , @bummmblebeee  , @wolverinesbeer , @allieburakovsky  , @chocolatekisses8 , @i-the-fangirl, @secretsweetscollectionblog, @ksqueenie, @virtualsheepeat

☞  Masterlist  ☜

𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜

- 𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚒 𝚔𝚊𝚞𝚛

Pain, sorrow, grief, misery, torment, agony and heartbreak. 

She laid in the dark, the sounds of her whimpers and sobs echoed throughout the room. It’s been two weeks since London, those two weeks were slow and dreadful the pain that dwelled in her heart grew heavier each day. Endless amounts of notifications flooded her screen, many miss calls from her mother, text from Vivian and no calls from Ben. That was expected.

Ever since she left London she hasn’t heard from Ben nor his mother, she had nothing to be sorry about nor did (Y/N) have anything against Alexa. If anything she was mad at her son for running back to the person who made him who he was.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t miss him, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to remember the memories, she didn’t want to remember anything about him yet the pillow next to her was intoxicated with his scent. God did she hate how heavy her chest felt and the fact that she could never hate Ben no matter how much she tried. 

“(Y/N)?” Audrey entered her daughter’s apartment, the curtains drew closed on the windows that held a beautiful view of New York. Her heart was heavy for her daughter, after what had happened over the past two months she had shut everyone out. She knocked on the her bedroom door, the small sobs that slipped pass (Y/N) lips began inaudible. Audrey had visited (Y/N) ever since she came back from London and (Y/N) broke the news about how she called off the engagement. 

Everyday her mother would visit her, place some soup outside her door along with tissues and chocolate. Everyday her mother was greeted with the same silence, still placing the small gifts she brought outside her daughter’s door. Giving her time to heal and not push her to come out and talk. 

“I’ll be off, come by soon ok?” (Y/N) listened as the heels slowly became an echo and her front door was shut and locked, she laid there staring up at the ceiling. She wanted to get up, she wanted to get out of bed head back into the office. Yet all she did was lay in bed and cry over Ben, she has every right to but there are times when she’d lay there and think what’s the point? Why should she lay in bed and cry over someone who cheated on her?

Then she remembers all the good memories, all the good memories and milestones they created when they were together, all those memories lead up to the day she walked out and left her ring in Ben’s hands. She wanted to turn back and make him chose, she wanted to turn back and hug him ask him if his actions were a mistake. But she left, she gave her heart to Ben and watched him shatter it to pieces right in front of her.

(Y/N) gave it a few days, it took much energy to get out of bed and head to her parent’s house. She was hesitant at first, unsure if she should go or not. The last thing she wanted as for her mother to not be home but her father was. He was one of the very last people she wanted to see and talk to at this very moment of time.

She stood there on the porch, bringing her fist up unsure if she should knock or not rethinking her decision of coming here. It was raining in New York, it was an exact reflection of her mood. 

Gloomy and grey.

The sound of rain descending from the grey clouds that blocked the yellow sun, (Y/N) stared at the beautiful man that laid next to her, their naked bodies tangled in one another as the duvet covered them. Her index finger traced his nose, then his cheekbone down his jaw and stopped at his lips. She leaned forward placing a kiss on his lips, his arm snaked around her waist pulling her closer to his chest. 

She pulled away with a smile running her fingers through his blond locks and whispered, “Morning bub.” Ben smiled sleepily placing a kiss on her nose.

“Morning love.”

“(Y/N)?” The voice of her mother brought her back to reality, before (Y/N) could respond Audrey engulfed in a big hug, a huge wave of relief and joy washed over her mother as she pulled away to look at her daughter. 

“I’m glad you came, come in from the cold I’ll make us some tea.” Audrey ushered her into the house helping (Y/N) to remove her coat before hanging it onto the jacket rack that was in the foyer. Before (Y/N) could even question the presence of her father Audrey could sense her worry and lead her into the kitchen, “He’s at a hotel in the city.” (Y/N) nodded knowing whom her mother was talking about. 

She sat on the barstool around the marble countertop island tracing the rim of her tea cup, staring into the deep brown liquid slowly zoning out of reality.

(Y/N) sat on the window bench watching the sunset, how the sky was painted a beautiful red orange and the scattered white clouds were now a baby pink resembling cotton candy. Ben walked in holding two mugs handing one to (Y/N) and keeping the other for himself, accompanying her on the bench. 

“It’s beautiful.” she murmured still fixated on the sunset, Ben watched in awe as the sunset slowly glowed through the window kissing (Y/N) skin, the light made her skin look golden and soft. “Hm, but I think you’re beautiful love.” Ben spoke causing (Y/N) to crinkle her nose shaking her head lightly at Ben. 

She took a small sip of her hot tea before continuing, “Thought you might say that, loser.” Ben chuckled leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek, “You liked it though.” (Y/N) bursted into laughter, shaking her head at Ben as she placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“Yes, I did. But you’re still a loser.” 

(Y/N) slowly sipped at her tea, sitting in silence with her mother. She wanted to ask what happened after everything went down and why her father was staying at a hotel in the city. “Mom? Why is dad staying at a hotel?” Audrey shrugged lightly taking a few sips of her tea, taking a deep breath and relaxed placing her mug back onto the counter. 

“Simple, he has been lying to be for the past nine years. He didn’t tell me he still spoke to Presley let alone wanted her to take her COO position.” (Y/N) pressed her lips into a thin line, focusing on the tea that sat in front of her. This was the time to get all her questions answered, well at least most of it. 

“Did he know Ben was Presley’s ex?” 

Audrey placed her hand atop (Y/N) giving it a light squeeze, “No, he truly didn’t. From what he told me, Presley never opened up on who her boyfriend was.” relief ran through her veins, taking a little weight off her heart if her father knew Ben was Presley’s ex and wanted (Y/N) to marry off with him she would’ve gave her father hell for it.

After spending hours of talking about anything and everything with her mother, (Y/N) was about ready to go home, the downpour was heavier making it hard to see the road ahead. The headlights weren’t much of a help either, the light barley expanded out and everything ahead blurry and hazy. 

“Gosh I-” before she could even react the sound of a blaring horn caused her to come to a halt the muscles in her bodies shut down and her eyes fluttered shut. She didn’t know nor see what was currently happening, her car flipped over smoke slowly filled the air as she laid there unconscious.

Giggles filled the hallway, (Y/N) ran after her twin girls scooping them into her arm as they screamed in defeat squirming around their mother’s arms as she settled them back on their feet.

The sound of the front door clicking unlocked brought the girls attention away from their mother as they shouted with glee. “Daddy!” (Y/N) leaned against the doorframe of the foyer watching as her husband of four years peppered kisses onto their cheeks. 

Ben walked over to his beautiful wife placing a kiss on her sweet lips as their daughter screamed “Ew! Daddy kissed mommy!” (Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully at their comment as Ben spoke, “How was your day Mrs.Jones?” she slapped his chest playfully before wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“It was good Mr.Jones, how was your day?” 

Ben placed his head a top her shoulder sighing as she felt him relax into her arms, “Better now that I’m with my family.”

I guess it’s fucking true.

Your life flashes before your eyes just before you die.

[theloniousbach]

50 Years of Going to Shows, Pt. 9: Jazz in St. Louis

I am in the middle of my fourth year of attending shows at Jazz at the Bistro and it is a great joy to have this formative music back so centrally in my life, to make this my go to music, to think about music in jazz terms.  From that first Johnny Winter blues jam, I’ve always been drawn to virtuosic playing.  Certainly rock and ur-jam band guitarists were a start.  But I saw Norman Blake flat pick amazingly in those early years and later Celtic fiddlers and box players amazed me.  Chamber music but also Irish sessions have an intimate conversational aspect.  But it’s jazz that has it all.  I sensed that in the early 70s and it’s where I’ve come home to now.

I kept my eye on jazz before the Bistro, particularly through Webster University’s wonderful jazz faculty and their performances.  I would return to tried and true recordings, starting with Miles, Monk, and Mingus and Bill Evans at the Village Vanguard.  I knew I couldn’t miss Sonny Rollins when he played UMSL’s performing arts center in 2009 and had even better tickets for a return a few years later that he had to cancel.  He was vital, transforming from a tentative, slightly stooped old man into a flurry of ideas dancing lightly around the stage delighted in the choruses he unfolded for himself and others.  He had a guitarist (not a pianist), a trombone, drums and percussion, and Bob Crenshaw.  Standards and Ellington.  But it was a bit of a one off.

It has taken season packages at Jazz St. Louis for four years now to get the engagement and focus that I now have.It’s fitting that the first one was Bill Charlap and his trio.  That configuration is where I’m glad to start, going back to Oscar Peterson when I was 8.  I’m almost too vociferously anti-musical theater, except jazz musicians have done wonderful things with and burnished the Great American Song Book.  Charlap is one of our key curators.  But these aren’t museum pieces in his hands; they are a dynamic legacy kept alive by use.  There’s taste, drive, invention in tradition.  Just like that Johnny Winter concert in early fall of 1969, there was something I had to have more of.Next up was Vijay Iyer, also in a trio.  A different aesthetic but he worked a jam into Epistrophy, so tradition prevails.  And the piano trio’s elasticity continued to win me over.  The Bad Plus begins the year in St. Louis and we were where the rebooted when Orrin Evans replaced Ethan Iverson.  I saw them once with Iverson, couch toured that opening run of BP2.0, saw them last year and plan to see them next in January.  I started to get them seeing them live, seeing how the compositions work and how they work them.  I think they’re a little warmer and organic with Evans, just as smart and clever but grounded.  I’ve seen Benny Green swing hard and Cyrus Chestnutt do so as well but then throw in a good chunk of French Impressionism.  Emmet Cohen’s band was the foundation for an odd mix of horn players I wanted to see:  Marquis Hill and, for a second time, Melissa Aldana.  The five of them didn’t quite jell, but the Cohen trio is a working band I would see again.  Kenny Barron was a monument of taste and command and Chick Corea was impish, a grand old man of the music in spite of himself.  There were standards but also a glorious exposition on Paco de Luca’s Zyriab, pulling together the Arabic roots of Flamenco.  So, piano trios always with the Bad Plus, Christian Sands at the Sheldon Concert Hall down the street (where I saw Eliane Elias with Marc Johnson do wonderful Brazilian stuff but also some superb jazz evoking Bill Evans), and Connie Han ahead.

Now, we’re Miles Davis’s hometown and folks know that.  The SF Jazz Collective came to the Bistro in 2017 with a program of his music (wide ranging—Tutu and Bitches Brew as well as Nardis for an acoustic ensemble) as well as compositions from band members in the ensemble.  It’s a grand concept—a four horn front line with vibes and rhythm section, with some general stability but it’s morphed over the years.  Everyone composes and arranges and they celebrate a composer each season.  Our band was Sean Jones, David Sanchez, Miguel Zenon, Robin Eubanks, Warren Wolf, Edward Simon, Matt Penniman, and Obed Calvaire.  They return to the Sheldon this year for an In a Silent Way tribute with mostly the same folks—so anther chance to see Sanchez and Zenon who were particularly impressive.  Russell Gunn evoked Miles’s Blackhawk set with Jimmy Cobb holding down the drum chair very capably at age 90.

After piano tours and Milesiana, there are tenors.  So I couch toured a conversation and partial set with Benny Golson—not quite in the room with a legend but a vivid experience.  I am intrigued and enthralled at the playing of Melissa Aldana who crafts vivid lines that fill space quite fully (she has some great trio work) with ideas rather than tone.   Her own quartet had over active drumming from Tommy Crane whereas the Emmet Cohen show pulled her in multiple directions (blusier, mostly) than she quite fit.  She is a star in Artemis, but shares the front line with Anat Cohen and Ingrid Jensen, but she is one star among many.  So I haven’t quite heard the ideal Aldana show.  But I am glad to keep trying.

I’ve been able to see Joshua Redmond twice.  As great as his tenor invention is, his band (with Aaron Goldberg) was what impressed me most.  The way longstanding bands like this (and Branford Marsalis’s with Joey Caldazzaro) think together is very special.  Marsalis and Caldazzaro would magically complete one another’s thoughts and both tenors took great delight in what their bands could do, soloing all the better because of it.  In these bands, but most of them, including the trios, I an struck with just how good drummers have become, really playing music beyond rhythm.  Allison Miller has a Jazz Night in America video on “melodic drumming,” so it was a treat to see her with Artemis, listening so hard but happily to inflect the music so well.  She was almost the one to keep one’s eyes on, except that Anat Cohen exudes such unbridled joy at all times.  Her quartet show was a real highlight of 2018-2019.  I am so glad she and Ben Goldberg are making the clarinet a modern jazz instrument.

Joe Lovano came through with the brilliant and adventurous John Scofield who plays with Phil Lesh and Warren Haynes.  I find myself shying away from jazz guitar preferring the piano.  But that was quite a show as was Scofield again with Jack DeJohnette’s Hudson project which jammed out originals and The Band/Hendrix/Joni Mitchell very well.  DeJohnette has quite a palette of drums and especially cymbals.  We were 4 rows back on his side so we had a literally ringside seat for that magic at the Sheldon.

I have made a point to hear the likes of Marquis Hill, Robert Glasper, Stefon Harris, and, most recently, Terence Blanchard to hear how hip hop is being incorporated into jazz as funk was in my youth and rhythm and blues was in the ‘50s.  My younger generation didn’t bring that music home, so I don’t have that sensibility.  But I would be an old fart in extremis if I didn’t welcome those influences.  That said, I am more intrigued with how SFJAZZ takes the essence of electric Miles into acoustic music than vocoders and loops and reverb.  But, every time these newer shows have lots to delight in, including drummers who move the beat around and are not confined by any strictures.

The music is supposed to grow.  And I get to watch it.

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

This entry is the last one of this 10 part series this Fall celebrating the 50th Anniversary of concert going, marked by my second one from 11/4/69 with Led Zeppelin.  Yes, this is part 9, but, rather like the Beatles releasing Abbey Road before Let It Be (actually, not like those monuments at all), I have already posted a part 10 about the shows I didn’t see.  But, wrapping up with jazz makes a certain amount of sense.

[politicalmamaduck]

The Last Shot

A Smuggler Ben Solo/Dark Side Rey arranged marriage fic for @the-reylo-void. Many thanks to @lariren-shadow for her inspiration and betaing, @rapturousaurora for betaing, @cosetteskywalker for the above moodboards, @aionimica for her drawing of Rey in her wedding dress, @roselinathart for her drawing of the wedding, and @lenuca for her chapter moodboards!

Read it on AO3 here, and listen to the playlist here!

Chapter Sixteen: The Rendezvous | Chapter Fifteen: Tatooine | Chapter Fourteen: The First Mission | Chapter Thirteen: Goodbye to Naboo | Chapter Twelve: The Wedding Night | Chapter Eleven: The Aftermath | Chapter Ten: The Wedding | Chapter Nine: Naboo | Chapter Eight: The Time in Between | Chapter Seven: The Negotiations | Chapter Six: The Duel | Chapter Five: The Discovery | Chapter Four: The Bargain | Chapter Three: The Bounty | Chapter Two: The Meeting | Chapter One: The Treaty

Everything was set for Ben and Rey to meet the Knights of Ren at the Ring of Kafrene, then head onwards to Jakku. Space on the Falcon would be tight, as usual, but Ben knew that it would be meaningful for Rey to have her Knights close to her. He had to admit he was curious about the mysterious group of Dark Side users, and knew the Resistance would be as well, even if they were finally at peace. Know your enemy was a lesson nearly every child in the galaxy learned early in life.

Ben was not certain as to why Rey wanted to return to her home so badly, or for what she searched, but he did not mind taking her there in order to foster goodwill and maintain the fragile peace that they earned with their marriage. For his mother’s sake, he could survive and talk his way out of anything, at least he hoped.

The Ring of Kafrene was an exciting trading post, filled with all the carbon dust, grime, and shady dealers that one would expect, but nothing in the marketplace stalls or docked at the landing pads was nearly as interesting as the Knights of Ren. There were six besides Rey, and they hid their faces behind menacing masks and their bodies behind swirling dark robes and armor.

Each Knight was from a different species, Ben learned, when they returned to the Falcon and removed their helmets, making themselves comfortable. They did not, however, remove their weapons.

“Hello,” Ben began, offering his hand to each Knight in turn. “I’m Ben Solo.”

“We know who you are,” the Chiss Knight of Ren said, stepping forward, her red eyes glinting. “I am Chaf’ali’sabosen, but you may call me Falisa. Falisa Ren,” she said, stepping aside and sweeping her cape so that the next Knight would step forward.

“Oona Ren,” a gorgeous blue Twi’lek woman said, her lekku twitching. She stepped aside as Falisa did to allow another Knight to step forward to Ben.

She in turn was a beautiful Mirialan, with intricate tattoos indicating her skills and talents.

“Keeva Ren,” she said, gesturing to her next sister.

Keeva Ren’s intricate tattoos were simple compared to those of the next Knight of Ren, a dark skinned Zabrak.

“Maeve Ren,” she said, showing her teeth and horns.

The next Knight of Ren was as stunning as her sisters, an Arkanian with milky white eyes and hair.

“Fionnuala Ren,” she said, looking down her nose at Ben in a demonstration of her species’ stereotypical arrogance.

The last Knight of Ren stepped forward, a powerfully built Keshiri with lilac skin and eyes to match.

“Riona Ren,” she said, staring Ben down.

“Welcome to the Millennium Falcon,” he said, nodding at each warrior in turn. “Please, make yourselves comfortable for the rest of our journey.”

The Knights of Ren swept from the room, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts and the swirl of hyperspace.

All of Rey’s Knights were beautiful in their own way and prodigiously talented with the Dark Side of the Force.

So much Dark Side energy from such powerful and beautiful women was overwhelming for Ben Solo.

He had been fighting the Dark Side for nearly his entire life, and thought he had conquered that particular beast in the deserts of the planet which they just left. Snoke had left him alone for the past seven years, but even if he was no longer present at the back of Ben’s mind, his presence echoed in his life in a very visceral way.

The Dark Side called to him. It did not sing to him the way the Light Side did when he dueled Rey for the first time, so many months ago now. The Dark Side had other ways; it presented the basest, most human of temptations.

Rey truly was a vision sent by the goddesses at their wedding on Naboo. Her dress suited her perfectly, and even though she was painted in cosmetics for the HoloNet cameras by the Queen’s handmaidens, she still managed to look like her typically bare, fresh-faced self. Underneath that veneer for their wedding he could still see the freckles that dusted her face like stardust.

His dreams were a torment of what she would look like underneath that elaborate wedding dress, of soft skin under his, of kisses tinged with blood.

He wanted her, and it would have been so easy to take her by the hand, and pull her into bed with him. It would have been so easy to give in, to truly feel the depths of what the dark could provide, to feel her prodigious Force presence melding with his while their bodies entwined.

The Knights knew how he felt about his new bride, and did not trust him, he could tell. It was a tilt of the helmet here, a weapon positioning there. Ben Solo learned to read people even without the Force nearly as early as he learned Know your enemy. The two went as hand in hand as the Light and Dark Sides of the Force, it seemed.

Rey presented him with his greatest temptation since the news that his grandfather and Darth Vader were one and the same was blasted all over the HoloNet. Snoke came to him then, found the darkest, deepest recesses of his mind, and urged him to find his true destiny by the dark being’s side.

Ben screamed, and raged, and fled his uncle’s academy for the deserts of Tatooine, where he killed a few too many of the Hutts’ underlings in drunken cantina brawls much like the one from which they had just escaped. He earned the price on his head while fighting the darkness within it. Snoke had always been there, his shadow, his echo, his nightmare.

At his great-grandmother’s homestead, his uncle’s home he found his peace, and his center, and thought he had found his destiny by confronting the ghosts of the past, and the ghost who had never left him alone.

Perhaps he had been wrong. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The Force still swirled around him and Rey; he could feel it even more strongly now that the Knights were in such close proximity. His fingers itched for his lightsaber once more.

The Falcon’s main console started blaring, and Ben headed back into the ship’s main compartment to find Rey and the Knights lounging, some around the Dejarik table, sharing drinks and enjoying a boisterous game.

“We’re coming up on Jakku now,” he said, and Rey met his gaze, as steely as ever. The Knights set down their glasses, shut down the game board, and stood at attention.

“We hunt,” Rey said.

[d0gdaze]

2.

The body swap au a surprising amount of people asked for, actually.

Read on AO3 / Summary

Pairings: Eddie Kaspbrak / Richie Tozier

Warnings: swearing, sexual references

Chapter 2/? 

Prev | Next

Word Count: 4518

Eddie’s playlist

In all honesty, Eddie knew that spending the first half an hour of his morning torturing the hell out of his neighbour by blasting terrible pop songs from over a decade ago was a tremendous waste of time. He knew he could be doing so many other things with it, he could take extra time in the shower, or go running, or leave the house earlier so he could walk to school rather than catch the bus. If he was a smart, sensible, rational human being, he knew he would be using that wasted time to do something productive. But he wasn't, and he didn't, and he chose instead to wake up a minute before six every morning, slide his cd (aptly labelled 'songs that piss off tozier', by the way) into his stereo, and strain his vocal chords until his throat was raw. 

Was it excessive? Probably. Was it worth it? He wasn't sure. Some days he couldn't help but think that the amount of satisfaction he received wasn't nearly weighing up to the effort he put in, and he was, quite frankly, getting really sick of the music. But as much as it annoyed him, his stubbornness, along with the knowledge that it annoyed Richie even more, kept him going. Day after damned day he stuck to his routine, never allowing his energy to falter, always making sure he was stocked up on throat lozenges.

As usual, he kept an eye on Richie through the crack in his curtains as he played out his little game, seeing how long it would take him to crack. It usually took around five tracks- as seemed to be the case today. Sometimes he didn't last even that, though, there had been days when he disappeared before the end of the first song. Those tended to be good days for Eddie, as he got to go around feeling sadistically triumphant. On the other hand, Richie had definitely put him through his paces a handful of times, sitting it out for ten, sometimes fifteen numbers, until he couldn't force himself to belt along anymore and just ended up turning the music up to full volume instead. One time, he had actually sat through the entire album, albeit looking stone-faced and miserable the entire time. Of course, they both ended up being late for school, missing a good chunk of the first period, and he hadn't attempted to do it again since, but Eddie had been so taken aback and, oddly, impressed at the feat that he switched the music off the next morning- out of respect, he guessed, as if to say “okay, you win this round. I'll play fair.” He waited until he saw Richie leave his room, disappearing into a different part of the house, before moving over and pressing the stop button on the stereo, putting a halt on his one-man duet. The room was suddenly flooded in silence, a very faint ringing in his ear. He wondered, briefly, how long he could keep this up before he went deaf, but he quickly decided that he didn't really care, that if he was going to be permanently disabled from something, at least that something gave him a sense of fulfilment.

He then realised how weird – and mildly depressing – it was that this was what gave him a sense of fulfilment.

He didn't let himself dwell on the matter. Instead, he made his way to the bathroom down the hallway.

Eddie's bathroom was the most organised aspect of his life. And that was really saying something, seeing as his sock drawer was arranged by colour and he used print-out labels on his stationary. It wasn't that he couldn't handle clutter – god, he would never be able to step foot in his own living room if that was the case, Mrs. Kaspbrak was about three antique shop visits away from being considered a chronic hoarder – it was just that he preferred if things, or at the very least, his own things, had their place and stayed there. When everything was neat, life was easier; he didn't lose or misplace his belongings nearly as often, and he could better keep up with his routines. Plus, his childhood mysophobia remained etched into the back of his mind, (though it had a much looser grip on him now, thanks to intensive therapy and 'exposure to the real world' - whatever the hell that meant). So he kept his bathroom meticulous, from the toothbrush in it's holder that got thrown out and replaced every two months, to the towels on the rack that he kept pressed, folded, and clean, to the bottles of shampoo in the shower caddy, the same brand he had been using for as long as he could remember. And of course, the medicine cabinet was no exception. He held an odd sort of pride about how tidy it was, how every box and tube and orange pill bottle had it's own spot, how he could have reached up and grabbed the exact thing he needed without even looking because he knew precisely where every single thing was. It was quite a feat, too, as the contents of that cabinet were enough that he could have run a mini pharmacy out of his own bathroom. Not that he actually needed everything in there, but his mother had always insisted that it was necessary to be cautious, and he wasn't one to argue with his mother about those sorts of things.

He started going through his tasks, starting with brushing his teeth for two and a half minutes, counting down the seconds in his head, then flossing – yeah, he was that guy, who would have guessed – then brushing out and combing his hair to his preferred, uniformed style, frowning at the way it had started to curl slightly below his ears, and made a mental note to schedule a hair-dressers appointment sooner than when he had it written in his calendar. With one final fix of his collar, a sharp exhale through his nose, and an affirmative nod to his reflection, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

His mother was rarely ever awake before he left for school in the mornings, not since she started taking sleeping pills that he was sure had to be strong enough to knock out an elephant if they allowed her to snooze through his daily karaoke sessions. He appreciated the brief amount of time he had alone, though, without her breathing down his neck or asking him a million questions like she would in the afternoon.

He glanced at the clock on the wall – an old, clunky, wooden thing that, like most of the house's furnishings, looked mismatched and weathered, and chimed a broken tune every hour on the hour. He hated it, but his mother insisted it was worth something, as with every other knick-knack and painting and piece of silverware that she collected. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea of it, really, but he would never complain. At least she didn't make him wear second-hand clothes.

He knew he didn't have time to sit down and eat, so he grabbed a granola bar from the pantry and slipped his shoes on at the front door before heading out. He was three steps out onto the patio when an overly loud and drawn out car horn made him nearly jump out of his skin. Mike Hanlon's god-awful, alarmingly yellow chevy vega was parked out the front of the house next door. The passenger side door opened, and Beverly something or other – starts with an 'M', he thought – hoisted herself out to lean against the side. She shot him a glance, tilting her chin up with at him, smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. He ignored it and kept walking, not looking back when he heard Richie running and greeting them.

It was only an easy two minute walk to the bus stop, -or a thirty second mad dash to the bus stop on the days where he lost track of time, which was annoyingly often, but thankfully not today-, and he ate as he strolled down the street, breaking off bite-sized pieces of his cereal bar before popping them into his mouth one at a time. He shoved the empty wrapper into his pocket as the bus pulled up and the doors swung open, the driver looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. He gave her a curt nod before moving inside.

The bus was full but not crowded, and his eyes scanned over the rows of faces before landing on Ben, who was already looking expectantly at him, his hand raised in a lazy sort of wave. He shuffled down the aisle and sat down next to him, shrugging his backpack off and putting it on his lap. His hands absentmindedly fiddled with a zipper as Ben moved his headphones off his ears and let them rest around his neck. Eddie could faintly hear the beginning of You Got It (The Right Stuff) playing from them. He thought briefly about throwing in a quip about his friend's music taste, but he knew that would make him just about the biggest hypocrite in the world, so he held his tongue. Instead, he offered up a smile, which Ben promptly returned.

“Are you as totally excited for this math test as I am?” He asked, obvious sarcasm lining his words. Eddie groaned.

The quiz, you fucking idiot, his internal monologue started, it was literally written on your calendar and you forgot the damn quiz.

“Kill me.”

“So you didn't study at all, then?”

“Nope.”

Ben let out a huff of a laugh and patted him on the shoulder.

“Hey, shouldn't be too bad. Besides, it's only, like, five percent of your grade.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie flashed him a tight-lipped smile, and Ben put his headphones back on, shifting his attention to the scenery flashing past the window, grey skies hinting at the storm on it's way, as he had overheard the night before while his mother watched the news. A harsh electrical storm, blowing in from the north.

Eddie didn't like the rain. Too wet, he thought. Obviously.

The bus ride was short, far too short for his liking, and he felt his stomach drop as they pulled up outside the school. He honestly didn't know if he could handle another one of his teacher's “can I see you after class” talks that he would inevitably be facing after he handed in his quiz. They always left him with his chest feeling tight, wound up like a coil, and stubbornly holding back tears. He didn't know why it always made him feel like shit – because honestly, he had had his fair share of derogatory and vulgar comments made about him and to his face that barely made him bat an eyelid – but the disappointed looks and concerned tones surrounding questions like “is everything okay at home?” just hit him hard in a way that nothing else did. He could handle people hating him, spitting on him, drawing dicks on his window (permanent fucking marker) – all those things were fine. He seriously couldn't care less what his classmates thought of him. But an authority figure being less than satisfied with him? He might as well jump off a cliff.

As with most of his anxiety-ridden thoughts that clouded his head, he forced it aside before it spiralled.

They walked to their lockers on the east side of the school, having a one-sided conversation about some book Ben read. Eddie didn't pick up on the name. Something about Omens, maybe. He mentioned angels a few times. It sounded too religious for what he though Ben usually read, but then again, he wasn't really listening. He was too busy trying to figure out who's back it was that was standing next his locker as they approached, talking to Bill Denbrough. Whoever it was, they had Bill grinning like an idiot as he leant against the wall, arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to look casual, but falling an inch short of succeeding.

Neither of them paid attention to Ben and Eddie until they were within earshot, and the aforementioned whoever-it-was turned out to be Stan Uris, holding a takeaway cup with Sadie's printed in a cursive font down the side, and Eddie caught the tail end of what could only be a factoid about birds before he cut their conversation short by clearing his throat. They both looked at him, apparently surprised by his presence, going by their expressions.

“Hey E-Eddie,” Bill started, straightening his posture. “Morning,” Eddie replied, glancing between the two of them. There was an awkward silence that followed briefly after. Ben made the remarkably smart decision to busy himself at his own locker a few spots down. Stan bit his lip, averting his gaze when Eddie made eye contact. “You're in the way,” he stated, as neutrally as he could manage. Stan startled, jumping back from his spot as if the metal door had burned him. “Oh, shoot. Sorry,” he mumbled, then looked back to Bill. “I'll, uh, I'll see you in class Bill.”

“Y-yeah,” Bill returned, “s-s-see ya.”

Eddie watched Bill watch Stan leave, brow furrowed ever so slightly.

“What's that about?” he asked, skimming through the stack of notebooks in front of him.

“What's what ab-bout?” Bill answered with a question, sounding just a little bit defensive. “He's m-muh-my lab partner. I'm allowed to t-talk to my lab partner.” Eddie scanned him for a moment before barking out a laugh.

“Never said you weren't.” He pulled a heavy and battered looking textbook out and closed his locker, clicking the padlock shut. “You were just acting kinda weird, s'all. Smiling and stuff. Were you talking about birds?” “I'm nuh-not weird. You're weird. Shut up.” Eddie raised an eyebrow at the reply. He saw a blush start to creep up Bill's face.

“Okay, weirdo,” he said after a beat, smirking. Bill frowned. “You c-cuh-can't be rude to Stan just bec-c-cause he's friends with Richie. He's actually-” he hesitated, nervously running his tongue over his top lip, “He's n-nuh-nice.”

“I wasn't being rude,” Eddie scoffed as Ben strolled back over to them, clutching his books to his chest.

“You k-kinda were.”

“Okay, well, I wasn't. But sorry anyway, I guess. Don't know why you even care.”

“We should get to class before the rush starts,” Ben cut in, ever the peacemaker. Bill looked like he was going to interject, but snapped his mouth shut.

The trio split at the end of the corridor, Bill turning right and heading towards the art studios and Eddie and Bill going left towards the math department. It was a little more crowded, students starting to file into the building from the quad. Ben and Eddie stayed close to the wall, as always, a precautionary effort to limit the amount of bruised shoulders they would get from the barrage of people pushing past them.

They were the first to arrive, as per usual, entering the room and taking their seats near the window a solid minute before Mr. Young – hilariously ironic name, by the way, the guy was practically a dinosaur – showed up and waddled over to his desk, looking just about as pleased to be there as Eddie was, which was to say, he would rather be getting his tonsils removed. More students filtered in, the bell rang, Mr. Young closed the door and took attendance, and then moved up and down the aisles of desks, placing a short stack of papers on each, printed with daunting mathematical equations.

“One hour,” he instructed as he went, voice absolutely void of energy, “black or blue pen, show your work,” Eddie watched him from his peripheral as he wandered around the room, seeing him pause briefly in front of Richie's desk in the back corner. “No talking,” he bit, and Richie snickered, before he continued on his route. He dropped back into the swivel chair behind his desk with a quiet groan, and adjusted the thin wire-frame glasses on his face. “Begin.”

The rest of the day was slow. Eddie had completely rushed through the test, blanking out on a few more questions than he would have hoped. And despite how hard he had tried to send a telepathic message that he was completely opposed to the idea, Mr. Young had still asked him to come back at the end of the day. Unsurprising, but still disappointing. He made a mental note to work on his telepathy skills.

Really, it hadn't been as bad as he had worked it up to be. He had, in fact, improved since the last test, and he did pass, technically. He was asked the usual questions, accompanied with that pitied tone and concerned head tilt, then Young advised a few extra hours of study, and gave him the number of a tutor written on a post-it note that he would undoubtedly throw away, before waving him off and sending him out of the classroom. Of course he knew the buses had left already, and he would have to walk, so he took his time at his locker, taking the opportunity to straighten it out and re-stack his books. He hadn't noticed it had started to rain, however.

“Great.”

He stood just in front of the heavy doors leading down to the steps at the front of the school, sheltered under a small bit of roof. He stayed there for a few minutes, switching between hyping himself up to just go already and staring intensely at the sky as if he could intimidate the rain away, but quickly realised that, even if it was physically possible, the sky probably wouldn't be even slightly affronted by someone wearing a pink sweater.

Ben would be on the bus, and Bill would have already driven home. He had no choice.

“Just fucking great.”

“Are you waiting for something, or-”

He startled, whipping around and nearly losing his balance in the process. The voice belonged to Stan, he discovered, standing in the doorframe with a deadpan expression.

“Wh- huh?” he asked, apparently too busy trying to regain control of his breathing to say something more coherent.

“You're in the way,” Stan said. After a beat he smirked, then laughed. “Ha, get it? Because you said that to me earlier. That's kinda funny, right?”

He gaped a little, looking confused, and Stan's smile faltered.

“Are you okay? Why are you just standing out here?”

“I- uh. I'm not. It's raining- uh,” he winced a little at his own awkwardness. Stan's brow furrowed.

“Good observation,” he said, looking over Eddie's shoulder, as if he was affirming the fact. Eddie mentally slapped himself. “Can I get past? I have things to do.”

His eyebrows felt like they might disappear into his hairline as he realised he was, indeed, completely blocking the doorway, and that Stan wasn't standing and talking to him voluntarily. He stepped back, mumbling an apology, and Stan sucked his teeth and walked past, stopping at the edge of the stars. The rain started to paint dark spots on his blue button-up. He turned back around, hands gripping onto his bag straps.

“Do you need a lift or something?” he asked, sounding mildly exasperated. Eddie's eyes went wide, and Stan rolled his own. “I have to drop something off at Richie's anyway. You may as well just come.”

He turned on his heal and started walking again, in the direction of the student parking lot. Eddie didn't move for a moment, until Stan turned around again.

“You coming or not?” he yelled, cupping one hand around his mouth. Eddie swallowed, then jogged to catch up to him.

Eddie learned three things about Stan Uris on the short car ride back to his house. One: he liked Kansas, which was actually kind of surprising, – the band, of course. He wasn't sure about his opinion on the state, though he was sure it was probably neutral. Two: he liked birds – there was a keychain hanging off his backpack with a picture of a bird on it. A sparrow, maybe, but Eddie didn't know enough about the topic to decisively say what it was. And three: he was immaculate. The inside of the small hatchback was spotless, not a speck of dust to be seen. He actually felt almost dirty in comparison, which was no small accomplishment, because he literally carried hand sanitiser around with him at all times.

The drive was spent in complete silence – aside from the Kansas album – and he only hoped it was as awkward for the other as it was for him. He didn't attempt to make small talk, and neither did Stan, thankfully. He mumbled a thanks as they pulled up outside of his house and he got out, cautiously closing the door behind him, not wanting to slam it. He watched the car roll over to the front of the Tozier household.

He was barely two steps into the threshold before his mother's voice was ringing throughout the house, coming from the living room. “Eddie-bear! Is that you?”

'Who the fuck else would it be?' is what he thought of saying.

“Yeah ma, it's me,” is what he actually said, kicking his shoes off near the door before rounding the corner to where she was seated in her old floral-patterned recliner, television playing some cooking show on how to properly prepare lamb. He didn't mention that neither of them ate lamb, or that 'cooking' in their house was taking pre-battered fish out of a box and putting it in the oven. Instead, he moved over to plant a dry kiss on her cheek.

“How was your day? Did anything exciting happen?” she asked, sitting up slightly in her chair.

“Same old same old,” he said with a shrug. She hummed, in that light, vaguely condescending way she had perfected. He ignored it. “I've actually got some homework, so I'm gonna go to my room.”

“Alright sweetheart,” -ugh- “just make sure you're cleaned up for dinner.” She punctuated her sentence with a grin. He nodded, kissed her on the cheek again, and hurried up the stairs.

The rest of the afternoon went by, and he finished about half the work he was supposed to get done. He cleaned up for dinner, ate, tiptoed around his mother's questions about school, then went back upstairs, changed, and resigned to his bed, content to lie there until he fell asleep from boredom. It wasn't until around nine that he heard it. The window sliding open, the hushed whispers, the giggling.

Richie had a girl over.

Perfect.

He shot over to the window, pulling the curtain open just enough for him to see through. He kind of recognised her, the girl that sat next to Richie in the science labs, he thought. Sarah or something – anyway, didn't matter. She was sitting on the mattress across from Richie, laughing – obviously an act – at something he was saying, all blonde hair and perfect teeth. There were books open on their laps, but he doubted any studying was actually happening. This was an opportunity, he thought, for what he didn't really know, but he felt like he should do something. He didn't have long to mull it over, because Richie stood up and left the room. Eddie caught the words “bathroom” and “wizz” before he exited.

Now or never, Kaspbrak.

He pulled the curtains open and hoisted the window pane above his head. The noise caught her attention, and she jumped a little, but seemed otherwise un-phased.

“Oh, you're Eddie. Right,” she looked him up and down, the corner of her mouth twitching up, “Now I get it.”

“So, are you guys, like, working on a project or something?” he said, brushing her statement aside – now you get what? - swinging his leg up so he was sitting side-on on the windowsill.

“Yeah, well-” she paused, biting her lip, “no. We're in the play together.”

Eddie nodded, feigning interest.

“So, it's shakespeare, yeah?” he asked, glancing at Richie's door for a second to make sure the coast was clear before continuing, “Has he, like, said anything about that?”

She creased her brow, standing at moving closer to the window. “What do you mean, 'said anything'?”

Eddie sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I don't know if I should say, but-,” he looked to the door again, “he has this... thing. With the shakepeare stuff, it's-,” he hesitated, wracking his brain for something to say, “I mean, I hear a lot of stuff, he leaves his window open a lot, and-”

“Seriously, what is it?”

“I've heard him, uh-,” he gestured vaguely with a hand, flicking his wrist in a circle, “I think he kinda, you know,” he leant over a little, and she mirrored him, “I think he gets off on it.”

“Um, what?”

He shrugged, mouth pressed into a tight, awkward smile. He didn't know at what point he decided he was going for the shakespearean fetish angle, or if that was even a thing, but he figured hey, no going back now.

“Yeah, like, he'll just be reciting it while he's- you know.”

Sarah – Stacy? Shit, he needed to pay more attention to people's names – looked, frankly, disgusted. He wondered for a moment if that might have been a step too far, if she was going to slam the window shut and yell at him for being a creep, which, if he was being honest, he wouldn't blame her for. But she didn't do either of those things, because apparently, Richie only brings home the most gullible people in the world. “Seriously? Jesus, I wouldn't think that he – he didn't seem that weird at rehearsal.”

There was a flushing sound, and Richie sauntered back into view. “Alright, let's get back-” he looked at Stac – nope, definitely Sarah –, then at Eddie, then back at Sarah. His expression dropped, and the girl scoffed, moving to collect her pile of things off the bed. Eddie bit back a smile.

“Wait, stop, what did he say?” Richie pushed almost desperately, hovering over her as she shoved her stuff into a backpack. “What the fuck did he say?”

She shoved past him, leaving in a hurry. Richie watched after her for a moment, then turned his sights on Eddie, who at this point had a shit-eating grin plastered right across his face.

“What the fuck did you say?” he repeated, storming over to the window.

“I didn't have to say anything, Rich,” he jeered, “I guess she just realised how repulsive you are.”

“Get fucked, dude, what the fuck did you say?”

Eddie shrugged, and swung his leg back over the sill, hopping down onto the carpet.

“You're a little shit, you know that?” Richie spat.

“Harsh words, Dick.”

With that, Eddie slid the window back down and pulled the curtains shut, but not before seeing Richie's absolutely defeated expression.

He almost felt bad.

Almost.

He knew better.

Tag list (bolded won’t tag):  @fanficisgoodforthesoul @i-is-gazebo @dandeliontozier @panicatbakerst @howellhxlic @musicalsaftermusicals @bernaynay @bust-a-move-bev @reddie-to-go @richietoaster @omgboiledcabbages @reddietofall @flowersiren @lousytrashmouth @get-fcking-reddie @finnwollfhards @bjrdies @steve-harringtwin @thecastlebyers @books-and-donuts @valenschmidt @grasshoppper @80s-trashmouth @beepbeeprichiellc @little-miss-hellraiser @okay-i-get-it-alreddie @finn-trashmouth

[thewrithingtwilek]

The Writhing Twi’lek - Prequel

There is a lot of mention of past abuse in this bit here and a lot of Ben not caring about what happen to him because of the life he’s been forced into.  So if you’re not down for that, please move on.  :)

Maul is hungry.

It's not a hunger that food can solve.  It's a specific hunger.  Specifically it's the red head twirling artfully around the pole on stage, making it look easy, as if he's some double jointed Twi'lek instead of a skinny human who Maul shouldn't be finding attractive.

Sleek lines and barely enough fat on him to cover the lines of his ribs or the knobs of his spine.  Though Maul knows, not from any personal experience, that to be doing the kinds of moves the lithe, redheaded twink is pulling off, he's stronger than he looks.

Either that, or the tingle Maul has been feeling in his spine all night is the force at work.  But no one on this backwater moon knows that the force is, which is specifically why he comes here.  No one to fear him as a Sith lord, no one to care about his tattoos other than how attractive they make him.

Maul gets more ass on this little shitstain of a moon than a fresher seat and he's not ashamed of admitting it either.

He likes sex.  He likes the power of it. The control of it.  The way he can make his sexual partners write under him with lust and pleasure.  Sex out here, where no one knows his reputation is the only real time he can allow himself to be soft with another living creature.

And right now, he wants to be soft with the pretty fucking thing on stage who's going through his routine with an almost bored look to his face.  As if this is just another night to him.  As if he isn't about to meet the Zabrak who is about to change his entire life.

  Maul swallows the rest of his beer and sets the glass down on the stained and dirty table, getting up and making his way to the stage, a fifty credit stick set between his fingers like the cigarettes he likes to smoke when his master isn't around.  Blue-green eyes latch onto the credit stick, greedy and calculating as they flick up to Maul's.

"Haven't seen you around here before."  The pretty thing purrs and slides down to his knees in a practiced move that puts him on eye level with Maul.  "I'll give you a discount for a first time customer."  

"Yeah?"  Maul leans in and the pretty thing ghosts lips against Maul's before he slips away and out of touching range.  

"Two more of those and I'm all yours for the entire night."  He gives Maul a coy smile and rubs a palm over the shimmering fabric that's just barely covering his cock and balls.  He'd let the Zabrak have him for fifty credits, but if the Zabrak is stupid enough to be flashing that kind of wealth around, Ben is going to milk the idiot for all he's worth.

"Who do I pay for the pleasure of having you?"  The Zabrak purrs and Ben gives him a slow, pleased smile and moves in a slow circle, hips undulating against the air as he turns, showing off his body.  He's a fast healer, always has been, and the lessons he remembered from the temple about using the force to aid in healing injuries means any scars he might have carried are nothing but thin white lines against the paleness of his skin, almost invisible with the shimmer he'd painted on before he'd taken the stage.

Out here the folk are dusty and tanned-leather and there's more than one alien, like the Zabrak, who will pay more for a pure human who looks like Ben does, and he knows it.  He's learned that no one wants to pay more than they have to for sun-freckled skin when they can pretend to be lords for a night.

"You pay me, handsome."  Ben slides back down onto his knees and this time, he lets the Zabrak touch.  Tease them, draw them in, make them him enough they'll pay anything to get their hands on him for a few hours.  He's played this game long enough and well enough that he's almost got enough money saved up for a down payment and first months rent on an apartment near the market.  One hundred and fifty credits puts him that much closer to his goal.  "And then you get to do anything you want."  He leans in again, lets his mouth brush the Zabrak's plush lips.

"Anything?"  The Zabrak quirks a tattooed brow and Ben gives an artful shrug and nibbles over the Zabrak's lower lip, tugging gently.

"Throw in another fifty credits and you can put me in the medi-center."  Ben purrs.  He wouldn't be the first client to like the idea of putting marks on lily-pale skin, punishing the whore as it were.  

The Zabrak chuckles and flicks his tongue over Ben's mouth.  "You like it rough, little one?"

"I like whatever you want me to like."  Ben says with a smile and a flutter of his lashes.  For one hundred and fifty credits he'll let the Zabrak brand him and deal with Kau'an's temper in the morning.  The Zabrak will have to pay a fine of course, but Ben isn't about to tell him that when he's got the biggest payday in a month sitting right in front of him.

The Zabrak draws back and Ben angles his head, watching the Zabrak under his lashes, a move he's perfected in the mirror.  "You have a place?"  The Zabrak asks and Ben slides forward and down, slipping off the stage.

"Of course."  Ben smiles over his shoulder as he starts for the back room, where paying clients get to enjoy their purchases for the night.  Maul watches him walk for a moment, cataloguing the slight limp, the way the pretty thing moves on his toes.  He's got a dancer's way about him, but there's something else, something that Maul can't place.  It makes his eyes narrow and he follows the pretty dancer into the hallway that stinks like sex and then into a little room with a bed and a mirror on the wall.

Maul puts one hundred and fifty credits down on the small table by the door and watches, curious as the pretty thing moves around the room.  There's something *about* the way he moves that makes Maul's horns itch and it stands where he is, just watching as the pretty thin slips up onto the bed, arranging himself as if he's some sort of prize Maul has won.

"Soresu."  He says after a long few moments of watching and it's curious to see the pretty thing startle like a newborn fawn.  Those pretty blue eyes go wide and then dart around the room as if looking for an exit, and that pale skin goes nearly ash grey with a panicked sickness that shows on the pretty things face.

"I-"  He swallows, fighting against the nausea that threatens at the name of the fighting form and then the hot shame of someone *knowing* passes and he raises his chin.  "And?  What of it?"  The pretty thing arches a perfectly sculpted brow and sneers, taking on the perfect air of some Coruscanti courtesan that Maul has had the misfortune of fucking once or twice.  

Maul's face contorts into disgust and for a moment he thinks about taking his credits and finding some other pretty thing to sink his cock into for the night.  It must show on his face because the pretty thing goes from combative to demure and submissive in a heartbeat.

"I'm sorry.  I don't have many lovers who are so in tune with the fighting forms as to know them from the way I move."  Ben purrs the words and moves onto his knees.  "How about we forget about the last three minutes and you come over here and give me something to fill my mouth with."

Maul pushes his cloak off and starts to undress, showing off his body.  His tattoos and the scars almost invisible against the red and black that tangles together from his head down to his feet.  The pretty things breath hitches and Maul smirks.  "Like what you see?"

"You're beautiful."  The pretty thing whispers it and then seems to come out of his trance.  "You know, in a very rugged, handsome way."

"I'll accept beautiful if it's coming from your lips."  Maul says, enjoying the way the pretty thing flushes for him.  "Give me your name."

"Ben."  It's offered up with a smile and a hand held out for Maul.  "Come to bed, mas-"

"Do NOT call me Master."  Maul has to work to not snarl it and there's a carefulness in Ben's eyes.  

"Sorry.  I'm used to -a lot of my other.....they like it."  Ben shrugs and then gives Maul a curious look.  "What do you want me to call you?"  

“Sir.”  Maul says and kicks off his boots, shoving his trousers down to follow them, kicked into the corner.

“Yes sir.”  Ben sits back, knees folded while he waits to figure out what the Zabrak wants from him.  He thinks privately that the Zabrak doesn’t know what he wants, but he’s not stupid enough to voice it.

“Lay on your stomach.”  

“Yes sir.”  Ben gets himself settled, waiting for whatever is coming next.  He slows his breathing, following the old mediation lessons he once hated.  They’re the only reason he hasn’t killed himself yet.  He’s expecting the biting pain of a whip, the burning, lasting sting of the thin rattan stick in the corner, the bright flash of an open handed slap to his ass and thighs.

What he’s not expecting is the weight of a body over his and then a line of soft kisses trailing down his spine.  His entire body tenses up for a moment before he forces himself back into a relaxed state.

“I have a very violent job.”  Maul explains, voice a quiet purr.  “The last thing I want tonight is violence.  Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir.”  

“Good.”  Maul nuzzles a nearly invisible scar just above the swell of Ben’s ass, smiling when Ben shivers.  “Now spread your legs for me.”

XxX  XxX

Ben wiggles his way out of under the Zabrak’s heavy arm as soon as he’s sure the Zabrak is sleeping.  It’s not often he has a gentle client for the night, and the Zabrak had been so gentle with him Ben hadn’t known what to do with himself.

He’s still not sure what to do with himself.

He takes a breath, rubs a hand over his face and gets up, moving quietly to the table by the door and grabbing the credits the Zabrak left for him, slipping out of the door and heading to the dancers lounge to shower and dress, thankful he doesn’t have any injuries to take of.

He’s halfway to the market to shop for food and whatever trinkets catch his eyes when a strong hand grabs his arm.  Ben has his hidden vibroblade out of it’s sleeve pocket before he spins around, holding it out in front of him.  

The Zabrak from last night stands in front of him, letting out a snort when he sees the vibroblade.  And most likely Ben’s stance.  

“Put that away.  You’re going to hurt yourself.”  The Zabrak drawls and Ben glares at him, taking a step back and putting himself in as much of a defensive stance as he can.  

“You got your credits worth last night.”  Ben says quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself when he doesn’t have to.  Kau’an hates it when the dancers she employs get themselves into trouble and after Jatoba got herself in trouble with the local Weequay mob, Kau’an has a ‘you get yourself into shit you deal with it yourself’ policy.  

“I did.”  The Zabrak rolls his yellow and red eyes and then faster than Ben can keep up with, grabs the vibroblade from his hand.  “I told you to put that away.”

“Force save me.”  Ben huffs a disgusted breath.  “Please tell me you’re not here to save me from this life of sin.”  The Zabrak’s lips twitch and then he laughs, a low amused chuckle that makes every single ounce of Ben’s self preservation sit up and scream.

“Nothing like that.  I wanted to give you a tip for last night.”  He takes Ben’s hand, presses a thousand credits into his palm and closes his fingers around them.  “It should help with the down payment.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben spits out and the Zabrak gives him a smile that makes him feel like something small being hunted.  He leans in, draws his finger over Ben’s nose and then tips his chin up, stealing a soft kiss.

“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.  And neither of us want that, little Jedi.”

“Don’t call me that.”  Ben wrenches himself out of the Zabrak’s grip.

“I’ll be back in two months.”  The Zabrak says and offers Ben’s vibroblade, hilt out.  “If you don’t have a place for yourself by then....”  He lets the sentence trail off and Ben understands whatever unspoken threat the Zabrak is making.

“I’ll have it.”  He promises and the Zabrak leans in again, grabbing Ben’s chin for another kiss, this one just as soft as the first.  

“Good boy.”

[dye-ann]

Ooh, rewatching 2x11 and there is a possible explanation for all that chasing around the room with Ben Horne in The Return. I had forgotten but Ben says something along the lines of: if you organize your room perfectly, it creates a special resonance that is beneficial to the individual inhabiting it.

So, is this Ben Horne finally achieving goodness? The room is ringing and, if you keep pacing around, love materializes.

Not sure if that's the reason for the scene, but on the other hand, that is so Lynch. Happiness spreading from interior arrangement.