#Just Shapes & Beats

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FOUR: holy waters

masterlist

“Give it up for Miss Ayesha Erotica, everyone!” Yn announced with infectious enthusiasm over the radio waves.

Miwa, sporting vibrant teal hair and an equally vibrant grin, followed up with theatrical flair, “God, I love emo boy!”

Yn shot her a smirk. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a sentiment we can all get behind, right?”

Miwa didn’t miss a beat, her excitement bubbling over as she declared, “No Yn, I really, really love emo boys!”, being sure to enunciate the s at the end.

Yn’s face contorts as a picture of Megumi flashes through her mind.“That makes one of us,” Yn quipped, “but I see your point.”

“Seriously, though,” Miwa said, barely containing her glee, “today is shaping up to be amazing!”

Yn arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? Do tell.”

Miwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she revealed, “Because Tridant has graced us with 10 free tickets to their show this Saturday, and we’re giving them away!”

Yn’s face twisted into a mix of dread and disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the studio floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered into the mic, trying to cover her panic with a forced grin. “Trident? You know I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.”

Miwa’s eyes widened in playful astonishment. “Huh, since when did you become such a critic?”

Yn leaned over and mouthed, “Just roll with it.”

Miwa nodded, her grin widening. “I know, but that’s exactly why this is going to be hilarious. We’re going to make someone’s day—and maybe even get you to enjoy yourself.”

Yn groaned dramatically. “Alright, but if I have to endure this concert, you owe me a full day of Solange on the station.”

Miwa clapped her hands together, her laughter echoing. “Deal! Alright, listeners, if you want a shot at these coveted tickets, call in now and tell us why you’re the ultimate Tridant fan. And don’t forget to shout out how much you adore these emo boys!”

As the phone lines lit up with eager callers, YN slumped back in her chair, torn between dread and reluctant amusement. Despite her best efforts to look disgruntled, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Miwa’s infectious enthusiasm. And she knew Twitter would have a field day with this one—especially with a certain raven-haired boy likely to make an appearance in the trending topics.

“Megumi, get off your phone! We need to practice otherwise Gojo will be up our asses!” Yuta barked, his voice cutting through the cluttered practice room like a drill sergeant.

The space was strewn with old gear, tangled cables, and random junk, making it look like a tornado had hit a music store. Yuta, already in dad mode, stormed out, his footsteps echoing off the mismatched walls as he went in search of something crucial.

“Yeah, but Toge’s on his phone too,” Megumi shot back, his fingers still scrolling through his screen, barely lifting his gaze.

“Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about him,” Yuji interjected from the corner of the room, where he was perched on a drum stool, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“Suck my dick ,” Toge retorted, his white hair bouncing as he turned, looking genuinely miffed.

Megumi rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reluctantly shoving his phone into his back pocket. He could feel the buzzing vibrations through his jeans and couldn’t help but smirk, taking a twisted pleasure in the fact that he was managing to irk you.

“Ugh, Megumi, why are you grinning like that? A jumpscare warning would’ve been nice,” Toge commented, half-annoyed, half-amused, from his spot by the amp.

“Go fuck yourself,” Megumi snapped back, his smugness evaporating into a gruff irritation.

Did he really find joy in annoying you? Megumi mused, a hint of doubt creeping in.

“Hey, Megumi, you seem unusually cheerful today,” Yuta announced as he reentered, clutching whatever he’d gone to fetch with an air of importance.

“See? Even Yuta’s noticed,” Toge snarked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“So what’s up, big guy?” Yuji asked, his grin widening as he strolled over, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Did you finally get your dick sucked or something?” Toge blurted out, his tone blunt and unapologetic.

“Why would that make me happy?” Megumi shot back, genuinely confused.

“Because everyone can tell when you’re sex-deprived,” Toge replied matter-of-factly, adding with a laugh, “Plus the horny slash hate subtweets you’ve been posting do nothing for your case.”

“I’m not sex-deprived,” Megumi insisted, his face turning a shade of crimson.

“MY BOY!” Yuji cheered, rushing in for a celebratory dap.

“Not like that,” Megumi murmured, his cheeks burning as the room erupted in laughter, the awkwardness of the situation making it clear that maybe he should have kept his phone in his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. We need to nail this new song for our upcoming gig,” Yuta finally says as the laughter dies down, holding a stack of sheet music with an air of importance.

“Finally!” Yuji cheered, bouncing on his drum stool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toge muttered, putting his phone away and grabbing the microphone. “Let’s see what this new song’s all about.”

Yuta handed out the lyric sheets and nodded at the band. “This one’s a bit different—more upbeat. I want to hear energy and precision. Let’s start with the intro and build from there.”

extras!

• the band in sjap is called triDANT not triDENT bc the group collectively came up with the name together but toge was the one entrusted (first mistake) who had to write it down for copyright purposes etc paper work ete anyways this man CANNOT spell so that's why it's with an A instead of an E lol

• yes the group definitely clowned him for it but they couldn't change it so it stuck and they ran with it

• toge did go to the gym but he snuck in when yuji went and they definitely blasted him on their social media page and stuck his face on the wall of shame😭

• the tickets sold out COMPLETLY and yn lowkey wanted one for herself…

• definitely did not smile to herself when panda told them he scored her tickets thanks to toge..

• dramatic ass

• megumi has convinced himself he only texts yn to piss herself and nothing more than that

• i aspire to be at his level of delusion

• yn, panda and nobara all went to whole foods and asked if they had any close to expire tomato’s at the back (they did)

• they went home with 2 crates full of the most saggiest wettest tomato’s in existence

• hope u guys enjoyed the week overdue chap :3

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*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[velarisdusk]

and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

word count: 1.7k author's note: listen.. i may write but i am no songwriter. i dont wanna hear shit abt these lyrics, i drove myself to madness for HOURS trying to come up with them ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The studio smelled faintly of old coffee and cedar, the latter courtesy of Cassian’s obsession with “ambience candles.” Their flickering glow did little to cut through the dim light of the room, but that was how they worked best—shadows stretching long across the walls, a backdrop of soft atmospheric music mingling with the faint hum of amplifiers. 

Cassian was seated cross-legged on the worn couch, his drum pad balanced precariously on one knee. Rhys sat opposite, his guitar cradled loosely in his lap as his fingers absentmindedly picked out a melody that might, one day, become something. 

Azriel lounged across the arm of a chair, his legs draped over one side, notebook in hand. He’d been silent most of the night, pretending to be engrossed in writing, but he hadn’t added a word in over an hour. His pulse thrummed low and steady, though it felt like it was trying to climb into his throat. 

He cleared it instead. “I, uh…” His voice broke the lull, and both heads turned to him, expectant. “I’ve been working on something,” he added, tone clipped, casual—too casual. “Thought I’d see what you think.”

Rhys’s guitar fell silent, and Cassian stilled his restless tapping. “Let’s hear it,” Rhys said.

Az’s fingers curled around the edge of his sacred notebook, the slight crinkle of paper betraying his tension. Still, he began to read. 

“Got a taste of sin, it’s dripping off your skin, Lost in your fire, pull me in, Your body’s a drug, and I’m high on the feel, Push me to the edge, make me kneel”

Cassian’s mouth fell open, and Rhys slowly set his guitar down, leaning forward as Az kept going:

“Whisper my name, and I’m already there, Fingers gripping tight, pulling through your hair. Take me in deep, make me lose control, I’m yours to break, body and soul.”

When he finished, the studio was dead silent, save for the faint buzz of the amp. Cassian stared at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. 

“Holy shit.” Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Az, I don’t know who did this to you, but she must’ve been a damn good lay.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he schooled his features into a mask of indifference. “It’s just a concept.”

Rhys arched a brow, his lips twitching in amusement. “Sure it is.” He didn’t press, though, only added, “It’s good. Uncomfortably horny, but good. Way different from our usual stuff.”

Cassian grabbed his sticks, tapping out a beat on the drum pad with a lecherous grin. “Let’s lean in, boys. This is the kind of trashy filth that gets crowds throwing bras at us.”

Rhys’s lips twitched into a smirk, and he picked up his guitar again, plucking out something slinky, the kind of riff that felt like it belonged in a smoky, neon-lit club. “It’s dark,” he said, nodding to himself. “Sultry. Needs that dirty edge, though. Cass?”

Cassian’s grin widened as he began hammering out a beat—deliberate, aggressive, a rhythm that hit like a pounding pulse. “You’re singing this, Az.”

Azriel froze, shooting him a glare. “Absolutely not.”

Rhysand chuckled, pointing at him with his pick between two fingers. “You’re the one who wrote this filth, so you’re singing it, lover boy.”

“It’s just a concept,” Az repeated, gritting his teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Cassian retorted, his grin feral. “Then why does it sound like you’re confessing to something you did last night?”

Az opened his mouth to respond, but Rhys interrupted, strumming a riff so suggestive it could’ve been banned on public radio. “Alright, focus, idiots. Let’s make this worth the headache.”

For the next hour, the song began to take shape. Rhys layered intricate licks over Cassian’s primal rhythm, the combination dripping with heat and tension. Azriel’s lyrics were sharpened, punctuated with pauses that hit like clenched fists, every word landing like a whisper pressed against the shell of your ear.

Cassian couldn’t help himself. “‘Tie me down, tear me apart,’” he sang mockingly into the mic, voice exaggeratedly gravelly. “Az, I’m learning so much about you tonight.”

Az snatched the mic out of his hand, deadpan. “Learn to shut the hell up.”

Cassian laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool. “This one’ll wreck them. Absolute filth.”

Rhys leaned back, smiling lazily. “Filthy sells. And Az?” He tilted his head, studying his brother like a puzzle. “Next time you’re uh, inspired, maybe don’t hold back. This is… enlightening.”

Azriel only shook his head, flipping his notebook closed as Cassian howled with laughter, already promising to slap the song on the album. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Midnight wrapped around you like a blanket, the world outside still and quiet. The soft glow of your laptop lit your room as you settled further into bed, earbuds in place, ready for this moment. You’d been counting down for weeks, your excitement bubbling just beneath your skin. Finally, their newest album was here. 

It’d been months since the concert—months since you’d stood in that dark, electric space, his voice carving through the air like a blade. You could still feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest, the heat of the crowd, the way his eyes had found yours for just a second too long.

You hit play, and let the first track wash over you, a rush of gritty guitars and smooth vocals pulling you in instantly. The familiar sound of Rhysand’s honeyed voice wrapped around you, rich and magnetic, while Cassian’s drums hit like a thunderstorm. But it was the deeper, shadowed harmony threading through the background that made your breath catch. 

Azriel. 

Hearing him again sent a shiver through you, unbidden memories tugging at the edges of your mind. You’d spent one unforgettable night with him, his low, dark voice murmuring filthy things in your ear—words that had set your skin on fire and lingered long after the moment ended. His presence had been like gravity, drawing you closer, holding you there, even when you weren’t sure you could take it. 

And now, hearing that same voice woven through the music, backing Rhysand’s lead, was enough to make your pulse race. You didn’t know if you wanted to rewind the track or keep going, chasing that sound, that pull. 

You let it play. Each song unfolded like a gift—raw emotion, sharp edges. You found yourself nodding along, your fingers drumming softly against the blanket as you let the music consume you. But you couldn’t ignore the way Azriel’s harmonies caught your ear, his voice dipping into the pockets of the melody, haunting and magnetic. 

The opening notes slinked through your ears, unhurried but charged, the tempo slow enough to make your breath hitch. This was different. Azriel’s voice took the lead, a rare spotlight for him on a track, with Rhysand providing backup vocals—a reversal of their usual dynamic. It was striking, intimate, and laced with something that felt far too personal.

“Past the greenroom, whispers low, ‘No one’ll see, now don’t let go.’ Your nails, your teeth, the sting, the scrape— Pull me under, I’ll beg, I’ll break.”

You froze.

The blanket bunched in your fists as your mind caught up to what you were hearing. 

No.

Your thumb hovered over the pause button, but you couldn’t press it. The way Azriel sang it—low, raw, and dripping with heat—made it impossible to think straight. His voice wrapped around the lyrics like a confession he hadn’t meant to give, and Rhysand’s smoother backing vocals added a dangerous edge, amplifying every word. 

You yanked one earbud out, your pulse thundering in your ears. For a moment, you just stared at the ceiling, the words looping in your mind like a broken record. But the harder you tried to dismiss it the more the connections gnawed at you. His mouth at your ear, his breath hot against your skin, murmuring reassurance as his hands slid under your shirt. You’d laughed, breathless, trying to quiet yourself as his lips pressed to your neck, but he’d just chuckled, low and dark, “No one’ll see. Just let me feel you.”

And “now don’t let go”—your stomach flipped at the memory. His voice, husky and commanding, echoing through his dressing room as he hauled you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. His teeth grazing your jaw, his hand gripping your thigh. “Now don’t let go, sweetheart,” he’d rasped, right before pressing you into the wall and wrecking you. 

Your breath came shallow, heart racing as the memories sharpened, aligning too perfectly with every word. The song ended, and silence pressed heavy against your ears. Before you could think, your thumb hit replay. 

Your knees tucked up against your chest as the opening notes filled the air again. You closed your eyes, the melody threading through you, every word lodging itself deeper. Was it just your imagination? Or was there something unmistakable in his voice—a heat, a pull, that felt like it was meant for you?

Your chest tightened as the song finished, leaving you breathless and stunned. “No way. No way,” you muttered, shaking your head, but your hands were trembling as you pressed play again. 

You got up, pacing your room with restless energy, the song still blasting through one earbud. Each time you heard it, new details jumped out at you—an inflection here, an ad-lib there. It wasn’t coincidence. It couldn’t be. 

The realization hit you all at once, like a weight in your chest. The lyrics weren’t just abstract poetry. They were something real. They were yours. 

You needed to see them perform this live. You needed to hear Azriel sing those words like looking out at a crowd, to watch the way he carried himself under the stage lights. Would he meet your gaze if you were there? Would he falter, even for a second, knowing you’d heard every word and recognized yourself in them?

And more than anything, you needed to talk to him. To get his attention again, to hear the truth from his lips. 

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Beaver Moon in Gemini ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

(I’m ultra-sorry for this PAC being ultra-late!! I’ve been in deep, intense spiritual rehab🙏🏻Also, y’all have NO idea how much psychotic psychic ‘opposition’ I was fighting to get through with this PAC! It was plain insanity at this point. If you’ve found this PAC and you resonate, please, PLEASE, take care of your spiritual wellbeing and amp up your psychic protection for next year!)

☆♪°・.

Collectively speaking, the whole of Mankind is being prepared for a massive transformation that, hopefully, will lead to real, lasting harmony and prosperity. It is high time Mankind grew up and learnt to be responsible for the choices it makes in regards to co-Creation with the Universe. Where attention goes, aenergy goes, right?

Every man’s priority and perspective hold the power to shape—and reshape—Reality. For realz. For we are all part of that same fabric of Reality, we are constantly, with each other, co-Creating various spectrum of experiences that affect each other’s wellbeing. It’s inevitable. Your attention is what gives power to the Matrix. If you want to beat the System, you need to learn its mechanism and ultimately, stop giving your attention to Reality creation that doesn’t serve the highest good of all of Mankind.

Full Beaver Moon was on November 27. Its effects can still be felt by most peeps until at least April Fool’s next year (funny). This full moon is second to last before this year’s final Full Cold Moon on December 26, which will be in Cancer; and so the meaning of this Beaver Moon is for us to gather as much resource as possible before the cold winter.

For this Beaver Moon is in Gemini—the sign of thinking and learning—this implies gathering info, perspective, knowledge, intel as much as possible for us to study and digest all throughout winter. Sounds funny but trust me this will be SO relevant by spring next year. The aenergy I’m tapping into is super intense as the whole of Mankind is being ushered into a phase of rapid growing pains that will affect societies on a global scale.

Death of an old paradigm. Death of the 3D Self. It’s all happening. If you identify as a Lightworker or a Starseed, the message you find here could potentially be more relevant to you than most other peeps you know in your circle. You’re in gestation mode. Get ready because spring might be…weird?

It’s high time Mankind learnt to be responsible for its real power of co-Creation. Those who are more spiritually attuned have always had a craving for a freer, more authentic existence. Use this time to rest your heart, your mind, your soul, and let your Higher Self show you the way towards new avenues and grounds for things and pursuits you’ve always felt a calling to.

Even your weirdest hobbies and interests are no coincidence, hon. 2024 will probably not allow anyone to have a stagnant time—for better or worse… But you? You’re going to have a blast! I just know it🥂

[Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Spread Your Wings and Fly Away

resource – 3 of Pentacles

I hope you acknowledge just how resourceful you are as a person. On top of that, you’re naturally courageous. If you feel like you’re not that brave, it must’ve been your environment and the people you’ve met that have dimmed that fire in you. It is now time to reclaim your authentic voice. And you need to begin with acknowledging just how much your environment is stifling your creativity and/or originality. It is only by understanding the patterns that have shaped the way you view yourself can you then unravel that false perception that, you could say, was imposed on you.

Don’t kill your inner child to please the adults around you—no matter who these adults may be (they could be your peers if you’re already an adult yourself). When you were born into this world you carried seeds of courage, creativity and invention. All of these are such precious gifts for Mankind. You were supposed to develop yourself as one of the new builders of New Earth. You may have forgotten the minute details of your blueprint, but I know that you know it in your heart of hearts that this is the truth of your reason for being born :D

recollection – XVII The Star

You’re literally the only Pile that’s gotten a Major Arcana. Surely you know you’re a Starseed? :D If you don’t, you soon will. Perhaps your parents know something about the ‘waves of volunteers’ that was quite a topic back in the 60s or 70s? (I’m not duper sure about the timeline lol) At any rate, you have a great destiny ahead of you and it is imperative that you acknowledge this of yourself first before you’re launched into initiation*. What’s that about, you ask?

Many of your latent talents that may still be offline right now will gradually be uncovered for you. Throughout 2024, I’m sure you will experience many awakenings of sort that will propel you into remembering bits and pieces of talents you had acquired in other lifetimes. All of these gifts, are your gifts to Humanity. There is a divine reason why you’ve had to work so hard for your own personal transformation before you could assist others in helping themselves transform their paradigm. OK?

respite – 10 of Cups Rx

It is rather common for Starseeds to feel like the family they were born into, isn’t the family they belong to. Many Starseeds even find themselves look quite visibly physically different from the rest of their family. There’s just something there that seems to act as a bridge between your entire existence and theirs. You don’t think the same way; your moralities totally clash; the essences of your values are worlds apart; and so on. You’re right, these people aren’t the people you’re meant to call ‘family’. Their only purpose is to show you how ‘crazy’ develops in people, all for you to learn to navigate it and put an end to generational curses on Planet Earth. And thus it begins at ‘home’.

I have a feeling that for many of you reading this, there is an elder in your family—a much older elder—whom you could actually talk to, who would be able to share information about circumstances surrounding your birth or the bloodline you are born into. In another scenario, this person may not be older but simply possesses immense knowledge pertaining to your raison d’etre or even Life Purpose. In yet another scenario, it may not necessarily be a family member but rather, a teacher, a divine someone you meet serendipitously, or some random-ass wise Boomer you watch on YouTube who holds ideas and perspectives that make you feel seen and validated.

The period from this Full Beaver Moon until at least April next year may involve a lot of healthy grieving. Let yourself feel those emotions and feel Human. You deserve a safe space to be yourself and see all your dreams manifest. You’ve got this, OK? One day you will be serving the Light by sharing your stories😊

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

*I’ve included further technical interpretations of what this ‘initiation’ means for Lightworkers and Starseeds in the bonus content🐛

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Where Have You Come From and Where Are You Going, Dear Traveller?

resource – 7 of Cups Rx

In your childhood, I feel like you were forced to grow up faster than your peers. Your environment was not exactly friendly to the dreams and imaginations of a child. So you grew up to become practical, pragmatic and responsible rather quickly. But it was really hard to grow up like that because you, the real you, are a visionary. A visionary is someone who has many dreams and wild ideas, and in the right environment, a quality like that would’ve been much, much more celebrated! In the wrong environment, a dreaminess such as that is stifled.

This FM in Gemini invites you to revisit this dreaminess of yours because in your imaginations and daydreams lies the map of your Soul. Where have you come from and where are you going, dear visionary? Understanding your place in the world helps you gain insight about your Life Purpose, so to speak. What gifts have you brought into this world to share with Humanity? What challenges have you come face to face that have shaped your unique skills and perceptions?

recollection – 6 of Cups

Your home environment, your family and society have shaped the person that you are. It is important to understand your ‘roots’, kinda, so you know your strengths and weaknesses when standing in the midst of society. The rich kid from the upper echelons of society will possess skills and knowledge the poor kid from the hood wasn’t fed with. But likewise, the poor kid from the hood will possess perspectives and street smarts that are very unique in comparison to the shielded experiences of most privileged kids. Something like that.

One is not necessarily superior to the other. It’s mostly about understanding where you’ve come from and where these experiences, skills and perspectives could get you. Know your own uniqueness and use that to serve Humanity as you use that to take care of yourself and those you care about. A true sense of success can only come from being useful to other people, for the most part…unless you’re a psychopath XD

respite – King of Pentacles

You have so many natural talents that could make you money, that much I’d like to reaffirm. But more importantly than money, it’s that you have such a strong penchant for true leadership. If you work with your Throat chakra, you could become a very appealing public speaker. You could convince people to join your causes. But to become a true leader of the new world, you must possess good morality, so don’t forget to take care of your Solar Plexus and Heart chakras, so you don’t fall into the trapping of manipulation through speech.

Honestly, I think you are such a good person in spite of all the mental/psychological hardships you’ve had to grow up with. Calm your nerves down and enjoy slow moments with, idk, camomile tea or lavender bath, every now and then? Relaxation practices like breathing meditation, or even just fixing your sleeping pattern/schedule, could help you get in touch with your inner child again and I feel that this is something that will be important for you throughout this winter☃️Everything about your Life will become a lot clearer by spring, trust that😉

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Let the Past Die and Live on For Your Soul Tribes

resource – 3 of Cups

Honey, it’s time for you to rejoice. You’ve been through so much disappointment, so much heartbreak, and people have betrayed and abandoned you, and you’ve come through nevertheless. Surely that deserves some kind of karmic reward? Your Spirit Guides, your Soul Family, are applauding you for all you’ve been through. I think you’ve worked hard on yourself. Releasing yourself from past pains, distancing yourself—to the best of your ability—from toxic people and environments, and you’re about ready to serve your Dharmic Purpose.

I know many of you reading this will resonate with having worked on transmuting a lot of generational karma, but plenty of you tapping into this reading have even worked on transmuting geological karma and curses. The geographical location you were born into or the race you were born into, collectively speaking these kinds of things also carry generational curses based on terrible things that have happened on that location. I’d like you to know that you’ve done so much just by existing! You are the magic, the miracle that you’ve been hoping to see in the world🐣

recollection – Page of Pentacles

You’re an individual of many talents, but I’m sure there’s like 2 or 3 things you’re INSANELY good at. Do you know what they are? If you focus all of your aenergy on just these few main talents, you will literally shift your whole Reality to a much higher bandwidth! Try it. By focusing on just these few main pursuits, I sense you will be attracting your Soul Tribes at a much faster rate. I’m seeing these pulsating energetic vortexes that represent you and your Soul Tribes currently incarnate on Earth. These vortexes are spinning and expanding so rapidly that you and your Soul Tribes are magnetising each other into your morphogenetic fields—essentially, your Realities.

You and your Soul Tribes literally have unique missions on Earth and when you meet and collab, everything is going to make sense for you. These seemingly different groups of people are doing things (or exist in industries) that are similar to your own interests and visions for the world. I sense you may have felt a calling to be part of a certain industry and you’ve been studying and preparing yourself for that. ATTENTION! THIS. IS. NOT. RANDOM. You are being manifested by that industry if anything LMAO You have a place there so keep going!🌾

respite – 2 of Cups Rx

With all of that said, let this reading be your confirmation that you can make the choice to die to everyone and everything that doesn’t align with this vision in your mind that you know comes from your Soul. Be a ghost. Hustle in quiet. Don’t spill the beans until they are ready for planting. And when you plant, plant with your Soul Family and not those who are only pretending to be there for you so they can take advantage of you later!

Connections with your real Soul Tribes are going to feel effortlessly uplifting on top of being respectful of boundaries. Interactions and exchanges with your real Soul Tribes are never going to make you feel icky. Trust your gut instinct when you feel that someone you’ve come to trust is probably manipulating you with kind or sweet words imbued with some dishonourable intent. You’re probably right but let’s not take chances; you’ve had enough, so keep your brains about you, too. Best to use this time to build—or rebuild—your world of everything that makes Life worth living🎂

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

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[paingoes]

Destroyer - Battleship

(Masterlist)

(Content: physical violence)

================

Delta sat cross-legged in the command center. He took deep, slow breaths to recenter himself. He’d been given permission to. He still had not made up his mind, but the better answer loomed dangerous and sharp.

It was time soon enough. Delta’s eyes flickered around through the window. Even on a good day, when he was most willing, it would’ve been difficult. Their mothership was drifting slowly, but drifting nonetheless. The target - the battleship - trudged forward like an old and wounded animal. Its guns had been tucked safely away, giving it the impression of something tame and docile.

Simon helped him up the stairs to the main control panel. The platform for the pilot and co-pilots was elevated slightly; it allowed for the best view of their surroundings. The rest of the room was lowered. There the engineers handled the internals of the ship, communications, and rear surveillance from their monitors. The engineers were in the room now, but they were forced to weave in between the number of advisors and admirals who had come to watch the light show. Galatea had been running circles around them recently. They wanted their pound of flesh. Paris was hanging around them, jittery, amped. 

The rebel ship was the target. It belonged to Galatea. It had no emblem. It was painted black, almost invisible against the dark void of space it floated in. But it was a Galatea ship. 

Simon nudged him forward again, a bit closer to the window. Delta made his choice then. It did not bring him much relief. The collar clicked off.

Delta wondered if he could make himself faint on purpose. He’d never tried it. At full power, it didn’t seem like a very safe thing to attempt. He closed his eyes, really pretending to think about it. If he focused in, he was sure he would somewhat grasp the shape of the two bodies and be able to work with them. It did not come automatically to him. He didn’t try.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Simon, “I can’t see it.”

“What?” Simon said. He’d heard him fine.

“I can’t see it,” Delta repeated. He cringed, just a little bit. He was sorry to put Simon in this position. He even felt sorry for Paris. If there were less people around, it would’ve been easier. But he’d already committed to it. He wouldn’t down a Galatea ship. 

Simon looked at him with absolute scorn. “Try harder.”

Delta shook his head. The collar clicked off. He heard Paris approaching from behind him, the light jangles of his jewelry filling up the air.

“What’s up?” There was a small note of irritation to his voice.

“Says he can’t do it,” Simon didn’t hide his frustration.

“What?” Paris said. Delta swore he could just hear him freeze over sometimes. He realized with alarm that the question had been directed at him. Paris moved to his side, only on the periphery of his vision. He forced himself to keep looking forward into space.

“I can’t,” Delta said. He didn’t elaborate any further. He knew if he gave a more clear answer, they’d try to work around it, prolonging the whole thing. 

Paris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Delta looked down, bowing his head in apology. The punch caught him completely off guard. 

Ouch. He knocked into Simon by accident, but not for long. Paris gripped his shirt, throwing him to the ground. He landed on the stairs, their corners cutting roughly into his forearms before he fell the rest of the way down. He reeled in shock. He thought he’d at least have a few hours to prepare himself. He thought Paris would at least wait until they were alone. A sharp kick to his stomach cut off his own thoughts, bringing him back to the present. 

Paris’s anger was explosive. He was not ranting the way he often did in private, but the beating was just as violent. Actually, Delta was pretty sure it was worse. Paris delivered a kick to his shins, then did it repeatedly. He had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making noise, which he did not usually resort to. He caught a glimpse of Simon, whose expression was unsympathetic. He did not look at the other people gathered there, not if he didn’t have to. Another kick, this time to the ribs. He was getting a little alarmed at how long this was going on.

 He tried to sit up. Paris gripped his hair, slamming his head back onto the ground. He was directly on top of him now. Another punch in the mouth. His sharp teeth cut against his own skin, drawing blood. All the violence was starting to blend together. It just kept going. 

He felt the coolness of the rings just before the grip around his neck tightened.

“Alright, Your Highness, that’s enough,” an unknown voice called faintly. The grip did not loosen even a little bit. Delta had been so focused on his own pain. He’d tried not to look at Paris directly. From the position they were in now, he had little choice. There was such cold fury in his eyes. The pupils were too dilated. 

“That’s enough.” The voice repeated. Delta’s vision was beginning to black out. His body jerked involuntarily, trying to get air.

“Enough.” 

Finally, one of the admirals stepped forward, yanking the prince upward by the scruff. Simon joined a second later, both of them fighting to restrain him. Paris had to be lifted off the ground before he could be dragged away. 

Delta rolled over, gasping and coughing. He spit blood out onto the floor, too delirious to even worry about the mess. His chest heaved up and down, taking in as much oxygen as it possibly could. 

Simon reappeared at his side, rubbing circles into his back. Delta got a few concerned looks from the advisors there, which is how he knew it’d been bad. He wheezed. They tried to remove him from the room quickly, but there was a lot of difficulty in getting him to walk afterwards. He had to lean heavily on Simon for support.

Dr.Martino put ice on his face straight away. He was concerned about the bleeding. He always got so mad whenever Paris hit Delta in the head. Everything else was more or less fair game. While Martino was there, Simon couldn’t baby Delta as much as he wanted to. The shock of the beating seemed to have evaporated whatever anger he might’ve had.

There wasn’t much else to do for him. Paris was always careful not to break bones, usually careful enough not to break the skin. It was all just blunt trauma, only designed to cause pain. Dr.Martino wasn’t going to give him anything to numb it. That would defeat the point. They let him rest though, which he was grateful enough for. 

Simon lingered in the room after the others had left. He dimmed the light, mostly obscuring his expression. Delta could have sworn it was guilt. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Simon asked.

“No, sir.” Delta managed to talk around the blood. His head ached. 

“Okay. Get some rest, honey.”

“Yes, sir.” He closed his eyes. 

Thousands of miles away, the battleship floated on without any knowledge of the fate they’d just been spared.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit@indigoviolet311@snakebites-and-ink@vivulapom@defire @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckcapitalismasshole

[igglemouse]

But that wasn't the only conversation Pascal and I had today. Just a little later, while I'm eating, again. (I've been eating a lot lately...), he comes down drenched in his own sweat, riding high on whatever adrenaline he gets from beating up that poor treadmill. There is an intensitiy in his eyes, no, nothing scary, I can just tell he's pumped up.

"Don't forget your fitness!" he blurts out, wiping sweat from his forehead and I swear it almost lands on my plate. "I know how this might feel for you-"

"You don't," I cut in because let's face it, he'll never have any idea how it feels to lug around an extra human while trying to just stay upright, much less fit.

"But you have to keep in shape too!" he presses, still amped up from his workout.

"Ummm, I'll worry about that when its time to worry about that," I wave off, wanting to get back to my meal and more worried about feeding myself and my baby than 'keeping in shape'.

"I know, I know," he starts saying, but he's calming down at least, catching his breath. "I'm just amped up is all!"

I can definitely see that! It's cute, kind of, and while I don't mind the sweat there's a little too much of it and near me while I'm eating.

Frida Varela Index

[myloveforhergoeson]

That's All She Wrote - Chapter 29

Chapter Index

Find me on wattpad + ao3!

Chapter 29: Sick, Sick, Sick (2.8) ~ 15k

“Dawgs! You’ve come a long way…” 

Roxy certainly hadn’t missed the grating tone of Gustavo’s voice over their long winter vacation, but now, it was time to snap back into reality. While Minnesota had been fun, and the five had the chance to masquerade as semi-normal teenagers for a bit, their first day back in Los Angeles was shaping up to be a long, hard work day. 

Back in the studio, Gustavo had the band standing in his preferred military-style line-up, while Roxy and Kelly hung off to the side.

“...But you have a longer way to go before you go multiplatinum and start selling out 50,000-seat stadiums.”

Just the thought of it made Roxy bounce on her heels in anticipation. A song of mine going multiplatinum… 

“James is still too self-centered,” The man spat, standing in front of her boyfriend, who was, for some reason, wearing a white and blue-ringed t-shirt with a picture of himself on the front. Though she thought it was cute, and she’d likely steal it later, she could understand where her boss was coming from. The tall boy tilted his head, looking past Gustavo and giving his girlfriend a small wave. “And too Roxanne-centered.” 

From his back pocket, the singer produced a large hand mirror and his black lucky comb. As he pulled his hand up to brush it through his hair, checking himself out in the reflection, Roxy could see the bracelet she’d made him circling his wrist. In return, her fingers traced over the matching one she wore as he spoke to his reflection, “James and I still disagree.”

“I think he could stand to be more Roxanne-centered,” The writer piped up, shooting a wink back at the boy as Gustavo turned to glare at her.

“Roxanne needs to stop enabling the four of you!” He growled, before returning down the line and sharing “Carlos still lacks direction!” before the assistant could get a word in edgewise.

To his credit, Carlos was standing with his back fully turned to everyone else in the room, but only because he was admiring the large speakers in the back of the studio. “I do not!”

“Turn around,” His producer demanded, and Carlos executed a perfect 360-degree cross-spin-pose, ending right back in his stance toward the back wall from before. 

Gustavo blinked, everyone in the room holding their breath before he silently shook his head and moved down the line once more. “Logan still lacks swagger!”

Smiling, Logan took his words in stride as he pushed the flap of his cardigan aside and revealed a pocket protector sticking out of his button-up underneath. From there, he produced one of the many writing utensils it held and offered it to his boss. “Yes… But if you ever need a colored pencil, who you gonna call?”

Accepting it, Gustavo snapped the red pencil right in Logan’s face, dropping it on the hardwood floor wordlessly before reaching the last boy in line. “And Kendall needs to stop talking back to me after everything I say!”

“And Gustavo needs to take-” Kendall bit back, before his boss held up a large hand in warning. 

“Don’t say it! Not one more word!” 

 All of his friends turned to face him, everyone in various stages of head shaking or fingers sliding across throats as if to say “He’s going to kill you!”

As much as Roxy loved her job and all the opportunities it afforded her and her friends, that only lasted as long as Gustavo allowed. So, if Kendall wanted to take the heat, that was fine with her, just as long as he didn’t push the producer's buttons too hard. 

A few beats of silence passed, and Gustavo let his shoulders relax, “Good!” right as Kendall breathed out, “A chill pill.”

Though it made his assistant laugh, she was soon ducking for cover behind a few extra amps she had left in the corner of the studio as Gustavo’s shoulders scrunched back up in anger. His famous infuriated grunting caused a low rumble to shake the studio floor while she clamped her hands over her ears, watching in awe as white-hot steam curled out of their boss’ ears.  

“Steam…” James and Carlos mused, eyes widening. 

Logan looked equally as shocked, reaching out to run his fingers through the gas. “Oh, that’s a new one.”

Their boss’ face reddened, hands curling up into fists as he brought them to his chest. 

“Run!” was all Kendall could fathom, and he, Logan, and Carlos piled out of the studio as fast as they could. 

James, quickly shoving his lucky comb and mirror back into his pockets managed to pull his girlfriend from her hiding spot and drag her out before their boss exploded at them for the first time in the new year. 

Pontiac GTO be damned, Gustavo chased them through the Rocque Records parking garage before the girl was able to dig the keys from her mini backpack, leaving her and her friends no choice but to run the few blocks to the Palm Woods hotel. It was quite reminiscent of the stage training he had forced Roxy and the boys into all those months ago, but now, running through the streets of Los Angeles hand in hand with her boyfriend, Roxy beamed. They’d come such a long way together on their musical journey, and none of them were planning on ever slowing down - even once Gustavo was completely out of sight. 

By the time they’d made it through the Palm Woods lobby, up the winding stairwell, and safely into apartment 2-J, Kendall slammed the door behind him, pressing his back flat against it as his chest rose and fell while the rest of his friends found any hiding place they could. 

Carlos and Logan had run up the swirly slide, leaving the yellow plastic tube far too cramped for another body. Hurriedly, Roxy whirled around to face James, brows shooting up her forehead as they attempted to find somewhere else to conceal themselves. 

“Trust me?” He asked, completely out of breath, eyes flickering to the loft above the slide. 

Roxy barely nodded before his hands flew to her waist and easily hoisted her up onto the slide’s lowest curve while she let out an unexpected squeal. From there, it was easy to grab onto the loft’s edge and pull herself up and over, using the outside of the slide as a stepping stool, before ducking behind the solid railing. 

Moments later, James followed, smoothly guiding himself over the ledge as she helped haul Carlos, Logan, and Kendall out of the tight-winding yellow tube. 

Just when they thought they were safe, the wooden door of 2-J violently burst down with a bang!

In the doorway stood Gustavo, still fuming while his eyes roamed the room, eventually finding the five cowering together above him. 

The man’s voice boomed off the high ceiling, “Get down here! Get down here right now!” 

“Not until you chillax!” James called back, and Roxy snaked a hand around his arm in solidarity. 

A scoff from below made them all flinch as Gustavo yelled, “Oh, I am chillaxed!” before his pounding footsteps brought him into the kitchen, where he began rummaging through their drawers and cabinets, looking for something.

“Oh, this can’t be good,” Roxy breathed and in return, she dropped her bag to the floor and tried to find something to throw in retaliation. 

Old songbook, keys, chapstick, phone, new songbook… No, no, no, no, no! 

“Where do you keep your knives?” Their boss screamed, just as she pulled out a package of gum and wound her arm back. 

“Um, in the drawer next to the sink,” Carlos replied, always wanting to be of assistance, before the other four began to shout indistinctly in his direction. 

In a flash, Gustavo was pulling the drawer open and dumping whatever wasn’t a knife onto the tiled floor, while James and Logan slapped Carlos over the head, the sound resounding off his black helmet. 

From the bathroom in the back of the kitchen, the door opened, and Buddha Bob walked out, plunger over his shoulder, whistling. When he noticed Gustavo rooting around and the five teens fearing for their lives in the loft, he froze.

“Buddha Bob! Help!” The boys plead, just as the other man held up a steak knife in victory, and the maintenance man leaped into action. 

Slamming the plunger down on the floor, Buddha Bob reached out and pinched Gustavo’s shoulder between his fingers and thumbs, almost like a snake biting into one of its victims. In a matter of seconds, their boss dropped the knife into the sink and let out a small whimper as the other man didn’t let up his grip. 

Then, using both his hands, Buddha Bob smushed Gustavo’s face and sharply pointed it to the left. The sound of bones cracking was resounding, and Roxy felt the package she was holding slip out of her fingers as her jaw dropped to the floor. 

“Ooh,” Her friends winced. They’d all sat through enough action movies to be incredibly fearful of whatever happened next. 

Silence. 

A weak, “What was that?” from Gustavo. 

Everyone let out a sigh of relief. 

“Himalayan Monkey Pinch,” Buddha Bob shared, hands still framing Gustavo’s face. “Then I realigned your chakras.” 

The twisting motion he made with his hands to demonstrate made Roxy’s stomach churn.

“I feel so… So…” Gustavo was at a loss for words.

“Calm?” The maintenance man did his best to help. “Now focus on what matters, not what angers.”

Taking a few slow steps forward, Gustavo swayed back and forth a bit, before looking back up at his employees. “Dawgs, I must write a song for the New Town High soundtrack. I’ll call you when I need vocals… And do you mind if I borrow Roxanne?” 

The girl felt her skin heat up as the four of them looked toward her. Normally, Gustavo snapped at her whenever he wanted to have a writing session, giving her little choice as to whether she was ready to share one of her songs or not. At the moment, she didn’t have anything close to being done - that she was willing to share, anyway - and certainly nothing good enough to make it to the New Town High soundtrack. 

That, and she was quite worried about Gustavo’s strange, new zen state. Is he even in the headspace to write a song for a CW teen drama right now?

She felt James' hand reach out to hers, twining their fingers together with a small squeeze. 

“How about you call me if you need any assistance, Mr. Rocque?” Roxy asked, though she worried his famous temper would reemerge at any moment before adding on, “Or if I think of anything, I’ll call you?” 

“Alright,” was his reply, no yelling, no screaming, no “I own you so do as I say!” The man blinked before heading to the door. “I look forward to collaborating with you. You’re very pleasant to write with.”

Though she didn’t share the sentiment about writing with him, she nodded and gave a small wave as he exited the apartment. 

In no time, her friends were rushing toward the slide, getting down to the first floor to harass Buddha Bob about what he’d done, while their assistant stayed up on the loft, gathering everything she’d dumped out of her bag back inside. 

The small trinkets were easy enough, but once she’d collected her two songbooks she found herself sinking to the floor and flipping through them to see if anything might be fit for New Town High. 

Cool, black leather filled her fingertips as Roxy thummed through the first book, the one she’d written her first Big Time Rush song in. Along with the released BTR songs, there were a few complete songs inside she hadn’t shared with the band, like “Invisible” and “Paralyzed” and a few she’d written after leaving Brand New Day, but those were far too personal to the writer to be released. A few works in progress remained, like her space-themed song she’d begun writing in the observatory, one she’d worked on over the last few weeks titled “Got Something” and one small verse she’d written in the Pontiac with James at the wheel. 

Nope… Not yet, she told herself, before setting the black book down and picking up an identical-sized and shaped journal, but this one was bound in a beautiful, dark red.

Back in Minnesota, after she’d written down the events of the New Year’s party with a drunken mind and blushing cheeks, Roxy realized she’d hit the final sheet of her black journal when she had turned the page and found the small message James had written in there for her after they started dating. 

So, before catching the flight back home, she’d ran out to the store and picked up a fresh, new one, ready to be filled with as many Big Time Rush songs as possible. She’d even picked the deep crimson cover because she anticipated an uptick in her love songwriting, as she and James continued to grow into their relationship.  

All that was in there for now was her diary entry from the previous day, where she got to detail how horrible her flight back to Los Angeles had been, and hundreds of blank pages ready to be written over. 

“You guys should try listening to your boss more often.” Buddha Bob’s words ripped Roxy from her thoughts and she quickly stuffed the two books into her bag before coming downstairs on the swirly slide. “He’ll be less stressed and won’t want to kill you.”

When she reached her friends beside the breakfast bar and snaked a hand around James’ bicep, the maintenance man was out the door, and Kendall had clearly taken his words under consideration.

“You know, he’s right,” The blond shared, pointing a thumb toward the fallen door.

His assistant snorted, “That’s rich coming from you.” 

When James, Carlos, and Logan nodded their heads in solidarity, Kendall crossed his arms. “I’m not pro-Gustavo or anything, but I am very anti-being killed! And, like, the man works his butt off for us, and I do tend to talk back a bit…”

“Yeah, I mean, I kind of do lack direction sometimes,” Carlos added, facing the opposite way of his friends while he admired the racing video game outside the kitchen. To get him back on track, Kendall grabbed his shoulders and whirled him around. 

Beside her, Logan shifted uncomfortably, “I guess I could use a little more swagger.”

“And I suppose I can put down my mirror,” James shared, taking it out of his back pocket and tentatively placing it on the kitchen counter. 

It was an action that shocked his four friends, and Roxy looked up at her boyfriend in surprise to find him gazing right back at her, “Because I can always find myself reflected in your eyes.” 

“Oh,” She gasped, suddenly unable to tear her focus away from him as she accidentally matched his intensity. “Anytime you want, babe-”

Just as she brought her fingers up to push a stray strand of hair out of his hazel eyes, she felt someone grab her wrist and pull her away. 

“Rox!” Kendall scolded her, as if she had done anything wrong, “That’s exactly what Gustavo was talking about!”

While she twisted out of his grip and slapped him on the shoulder, Roxy rolled her eyes. “So what if I encourage you four a bit too much? You do what you want anyway”

Kendall shot her another glare.

“Fine. I won’t enable anymore.” 

 “Then it’s agreed. We are going to listen to Gustavo so he’s less stressed and won’t kill us?”

The band piled their hands on top of one another, like they were in the middle of a team huddle before break, ready to get back into whatever game they were playing. 

Now, Roxy was caught at a crossroads. As a songwriter-assistant, she was at the bottom of the Rocque Records food chain; Almost completely expendable if not for the fact the she and the band cared for each other so much. In theory, if Gustavo wanted to kill anyone, it would probably end up being her. So, she should put her hand in as well. But on the other hand, if she was supposed to stop egging the boys’ schemes on, why would they be waiting for her to put her hand in?

“This is the last time,” Roxy sighed, placing her hand on top of Logan’s. 

“Woah, break!” Her friends called, throwing their hands up into the air to seal their pact.

***

Sitting at the breakfast bar with Logan felt like the safest avenue. 

If Roxy was supposed to work on dialing back her enabling, being around her boyfriend, Kendall, and Carlos wasn’t the best idea. So, she worked on getting a jump start on today’s journal entry before circling back to some of her old incomplete songs, while Logan was typing up a storm on his laptop. Whatever he was doing just looked like a storm of nonsensical numbers and letters all strung together in something the writer didn’t understand in the slightest, so she eventually dove her nose back into her book. 

Can’t goad if I don’t know what’s going on…

Footsteps from down the hall caught their attention and James strode into the kitchen to see them, a very proud look on his face. 

“Okay, so I traded in my James t-shirt for one with all of us!” He shared, gesturing to the white and black-ringed Big Time Rush tour t-shirt he had exchanged his previous look for. “And I’ve decided to make more eye contact with you guys, not just Roxy.”

Leaning over the breakfast bar, James narrowed his eyes and stared at Logan, who looked over his laptop confusedly.

Though his friend attempted to type up a few things and help James with his goal, when the long-haired boy began to quirk his brows it just felt weirder and weirder as time continued to progress. 

“O-kay,” Logan drew out, hitting the enter key and finally glancing back down at his screen.  

Blinking as though he were brought out of a trance, James shook his head a bit.

“Well,” The studious boy continued, “I’ve decided to increase my swagger by creating a Swagger App, which will automatically push the swaggiest trends, clothes, and moves from the net, right to my phone.”

Despite thinking it cute, Roxy held her tongue and simply wrote about the new development in her book, while James burst out laughing, “Dude! You either have swagger, or you don’t. And I have tons, so let me help you.”

“No need, ‘cause I am fully loaded,” Logan shared, pulling his phone off the download cord he had connected to his laptop. Some techy sounds emanated from the phone’s speakers, signaling the app was ready to be put to use. “Now I just press ‘Swagger App’ and…”

Buzz buzz

A host of notifications began to pop up on his home screen, a picture of the five of them at their last Big Time Rush show, and he intently read each one. 

When Roxy glanced over his shoulder, she could see each push notification had a category, like clothing, music, and one ominously titled moves, and a small description of how Logan could implement that into his daily routine. 

“Huh,” she found herself saying, though she really wanted to tell him how cool she thought the app was - especially since he’d built it from scratch in a matter of twenty minutes. Unfortunately, because it enabled his scheme to gain more swag, that was all she could push out. 

Without a word, Logan closed his laptop and hopped off the bar stool, racing down the hallway to what Roxy assumed was his room. A few seconds later, James hopped up on the empty seat and slung an arm around his assistant's shoulders. 

“Flirting with you will just enable your big ego,” she mumbled into the journal in front of her, pretending to be very interested in the flower she was doodling on the top corner of the page. “Which, I don’t mind, by the way. Gustavo’s wrong; It’s stupid he doesn’t want you to love yourself.” 

I really admire your confidence, she wanted to tell him. It’s one of my favorite things about you.

James didn’t respond, but after a moment Roxy felt his smooth fingertips on her face, gently guiding her to look over in his direction. 

“What were you saying earlier about how I could stand to be more Roxanne-centered?” 

“That was just a-” She made the mistake of lifting her gaze, finding herself temporarily lost in the flecks of green and gold in his eyes, “Joke.” 

Seeing herself reflected back amid the hazel she stared into, just like he’d claimed earlier, she felt the back of her neck heat and closed her eyes. “Not enabling, not enabling, not enabling…” 

A feather-light kiss fell over her left eyelid, then the right, and she heard James let out a small chuckle as he dropped his hand, “Whatever you say, songbird… But you know it’s impossible to resist me.”

Roxy imagined lots of things taking place after that, wondering how comfortable it would be for two people to share the same barstool if she climbed over and sat on his lap, peppering his face with as many kisses as she could, before the sound of heavy boots came from down the hall. Daring to peek one eye open, James had luckily turned his head to find the source - Logan, now heading into the kitchen to show off his new outfit. 

Not only was it so much more stylish than his usual cardigan-over-t-shirt get-up, but it was also the outfit he’d let Roxy pick out at the Duluth mall back home. A perfect-fitting black leather jacket, a nice t-shirt, tight black jeans, and a pair of booths she didn’t know he owned adorned him well and made him look quite nice if she did say so herself. 

As he showed it off to his friends, his phone continued to chime, just like he had programmed it to. 

When she felt James tense beside her, his tone deepened as he pointed a finger Logan’s way, “Okay. You look cool, but swagger comes from within,” He drew his hands up to the side of his face and wiggled them as his girlfriend giggled at the silly move, “It’s not digital!”

“Oh-ho, it’s digital!” Logan assured him, doing a cross-spin-pose with an elegant snap and point combination, shocking the couple with how smoothly he’d managed the move. Even with his hours and hours of dance practice, he’d never made it look as effortless as he had just now. 

Without even saying goodbye, Logan trotted out the open apartment door, a never-before-seen pep in his step and James moved to follow him, accidentally tripping over his own feet. As he braced himself on the door frame, Roxy rushed to his side, “Are you alright?” 

Instead of steadying himself on the doorframe like he’d been planning, he raised an arm above her head, leaning over her with a wicked grin, “Aw… Concerned about me?” 

Obviously. Always. All the time, she almost said and thought about bringing a hand out to his arm to ground him as she leaned deeper into the frame behind her. Instead, she settled for, “Not flirting!” 

“No fun…” he mumbled into her ear, dropping down to press a quick kiss to her cheek before dashing off after his friend. “Logan! You’re playing with forces you don’t understand!” 

Buzz buzz

Kendall’s ringtone flooded through her phone’s speakers, startling her as it echoed through the empty hotel hallway. 

Picking up, Roxy held the phone to her ear, “Hello?” 

“Hey, can you meet me in Palm Woods Park in the next five minutes?” 

His tone sounded urgent, as though something was wrong. 

“Yeah,” She responded, trying to keep her cool as she practically ran down the hallway, “What’s going on?” 

“Just the usual; we caused a big huge mess and Kelly’s pretty pissed at Gustavo. We tracked his phone and it looks like he’s just hanging out in the park when the two of you should be writing that song.”

Whatever had gotten into him earlier was starting to scare her. Seeing him be so obedient to the man he’d spent almost a year back talking to was something the writer was having a hard time wrapping her head around. 

“I thought we’d come to an agreement? If one of us thought of something, we’d just call the other… Songs aren’t just magically written because you want them to be,” She huffed. As much as she loved her friend, this wasn’t the first time he’d assumed songwriting was a breeze. 

There was the sound of hushed tones bickering on the other line, meaning he was probably with Kelly at the moment, before he hit her back with, “This one needs to be done before the New Town High execs come tomorrow morning. I’ve seen you write songs on less.” 

Wow, Roxy thought as she reached the bottom of the stairwell and followed the trail out to the park, He’s taking this far more seriously than I’d expected…

“Is there something I’m missing? Hearing you suck up to Gustavo is just weird… Is this Kendall Knight?” 

She could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, a slight exhale coming through the speaker, “Rox… Come on. A Big Time Rush song on Jo’s show - You’ve got to understand the importance of that.” 

Ah…

“You mean a romantic song that you sing being featured on your girlfriend’s show?” Roxy baited, teasing him a bit for his comments before. “Now, why would that be important to you?”

A cool, Los Angeles breeze tossed her hair over her shoulders by the time she finally made it outside, following one of the park’s many trails as she spoke. Eventually, she’d bump into Kendall, Kelly, or Gustavo, so for now she’d just enjoy her walk. 

“Because you know why!” He hissed before taking a deep breath, “It’s a big deal to me, okay? A public display of affection or whatever you call it so the whole world can know that I love Jo Taylor!”

Finally spotting Kendall and Kelly across the way, Roxy watched as Kendall finished yelling his statement into the phone before he noticed her staring back at him with an open jaw and wide eyes. 

Immediately, his whole face turned as bright red as a tomato, but he took a few deep breaths and pressed the end call button before shooting her a weak smile coupled with a small wave. Meanwhile, Kelly pretended to be very interested in the small piece of leather peeling off her ledger. 

“Aw, Kendall!” Roxy called, making her way over to where the pair was standing. “How adorable!”

She was truly elated by his words, a similar feeling settling in her chest as when Jo had admitted her feelings to her over the phone a few days ago. They were the perfect couple, ready to take their relationship to the next level, and it seemed as though Kendall was just nervous about how it would all go down. However, that was no excuse for how he’d spoken to her. 

Sheepishly, his hand flew to the back of his neck, giving a few tentative rubs as he choked out, “Yeah, I guess.”

“If it means that much to you…” Roxy grinned as she trailed off, pulling her new red songbook out of her bag and waving it in the air a few times. Just as Kendall’s smile widened, she shoved the book into his chest. “Write it yourself. Unless, of course, you want me to sweep your girl off her feet with my romantic lyrics and unforgettable melodies…” 

Beside them, Kelly let out a snort of laughter at the girl’s words while Kendall’s brows practically shot to his forehead. His grip on the book she’d shoved into his chest tightened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Imply songwriting is easy one more time and I just might!” The girl bit back, loud enough to draw some funny looks from other park patrons passing the group by. “Now, I know this is important to you, Kendall, and I’ll do my best to write you guys another hit, but first we need to find Gustavo and break his zen trance thing.”

Snapping her fingers, the talent scout pointed to the girl, agreeing with her statement. “My tracking software - don’t tell him I have that by the way - said he should be somewhere in this area. Any ideas?” 

Holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the unrelenting California sun, Roxy scanned the grassy area for any signs of their boss. Instead, all she could see were families picnicking in the enjoyable weather, a few birds taking a bath in the fountain, and some kids from her class setting up a kickball game in one of the larger fields. Painstakingly mundane and not at all helpful. 

“There!” Kendall pointed, and his assistant followed his outstretched finger to the far right of the park, where she saw a quick flash of a red pageboy cap and someone with unruly, brown hair trimming the hedges along the edge of the hotel. 

As fast as humanly possible, the trio made their way over to find the two men engaged in a seemingly one-sided conversation as Gustavo rambled something about trimming the excess from his life, unclogging his mind, and staying away from all the nuts in town.

He can say that last one again…

“What are you doing here?!” Kelly started, causing the man to jump slightly at her words. “You and Roxy have got a soundtrack song to write!” 

Turning to face the newcomers, Gustavo shared a content smile. It was nearly unnerving to his employees since they were so used to seeing a scowl etched like stone into his features. “Kelly. Roxanne. Kendall. This man’s wisdom has just opened my eyes to a life I never thought possible!” 

He grabbed his talent scout and lead singer by the shoulder and squeezed them, leaving the assistant sandwiched uncomfortably in the middle before grinning even wider and wandering off to another area of the park. 

While it was nice he was learning to relax a bit, Roxy almost missed his high-strung and demanding attitude; Like Kendall’s personality switch up earlier, things were getting stranger and stranger as the day went on. Seeing her boss act as though he were an entirely different person was just offputting. 

It seemed as though Kendall was having similar thoughts, turning to Buddha Bob as he continued to neatly trim the hedges with a raised brow. “What did you do to Gustavo?” “Who’s Gustavo?” was the man’s reply, not even bothering to look up as he continued his work. 

Maybe it was because the assistant was so plugged into pop culture, she wondered aloud, “There are people who don’t know who Gustavo Rocque is?” while Kelly and Kendall shook their heads in disbelief. 

As the maintenance man continued down the line of hedges, Kelly had to step away for a phone call from one of Griffin’s many assistants about the song for New Town High, leaving the frontman and his assistant alone to work out the problem at hand. 

Roxy figured if Gustavo was riding the relaxing waves of serenity from Buddha Bob’s “teachings,” the boys could probably snap him right out of it with one of their harebrained schemes. Or, better yet, she could pitch him a song so terrible it might make him angry enough to snap out of his zen mode. 

I think I still have some of my books from a few years ago on my shelf.

Just as she was deciding which song would be worse to give him, “Storm in a Teacup” or “Rip-Off the Old Block,” she noticed Kendall’s eyes light up with a familiar spark of mischief. With a satisfying click of his fingers, he held one up to the sky, and just before he opened his mouth to speak, his assistant clamped her hands over her ears.

“Nope! Not listening! I can’t enable any of your ridiculous schemes today!” She cried but felt a bit bad for being hypocritical in thinking up her own plan. “Whatever you need to do, I don’t need to know, just… Get it done and don’t get fired!”

In response, her friend frowned and Roxy winced as her stomach twisted with guilt. It’s not fair for me to fault him for his attitude change when I’m doing the same exact thing.

She was a far better supporter than a schemer, but if the other boys were committed to listening to their boss’ words, the least she could do was join them in solidarity. 

“Suit yourself,” The boy beside her sighed, “Promise me you’ll work on a song while I take care of this?” Roxy nodded, though she had no idea where she’d get the idea for one. At the moment, all her song ideas had come from hanging out with James, and he was a bit dangerous to be around at the moment. Though, if she just observed him, that wasn’t really flirting… right? 

With a wave goodbye to Kendall, Roxy was off in search of her boyfriend without a second thought, songbook and pen already clutched in her hands and itching to write down some new ideas. 

***

Eventually, she found James and Logan at the Palm Woods pool, still locked in their debate over whether or not the latter was able to digitally create swag or not. Of course, they’d chosen this location over anywhere else in the hotel, considering the pool was where all the popular residents hung out. If Logan’s app helped him fit in with the popular crowd of Palm Woods High upperclassmen, they’d settle this debate once and for all. For them, there was truly no better method than trial and error. 

Oh, Logan, Roxy thought as she quietly approached her friends, Even in his cool, new outfit, he’s still a scientist at his core. 

“Yes, the clothes work!” She heard James protest, picking at one of the stiff leather wrinkles on Logan’s jacket. “But let me show you how to walk the swag walk.” At least, after all their bickering, James was simply doing his best to help his friend. 

“No need!” Logan interrupted, holding up his beeping phone, “‘Cause Swagger App advises: Strut at approximately three miles per hour and cock your head at a 45-degree angle.” 

“You missed ‘Shades up and shake it!’” His assistant added, reading the screen over his shoulder, and finally announcing her presence in their conversation.  

Not enabling… Simply pointing out something he didn’t catch.

Turning her way, Logan stuck out his bottom lip in contemplation as he nodded at her words, “Huh… Good catch, Rox.”

To their right, James was too busy laughing at the app’s advice. “Logan, I am no longer self-centered or Roxanne-centered,” He took a brief pause to mouth Hey, babe, in Roxy’s direction before continuing, “Now, if you’d just listen to me, I want to-”

Wordlessly, Logan cut him off by popping on his pair of dark black sunglasses, turning his head to a sharp 45 degrees, and strutting away from where they stood at the edge of the pool, newfound spring in his step as he made his way to the lobby.

It was hard to miss the way heads turned as she walked down the small stretch of deck as though he were a runway model. Whispers erupted from everyone - not just their classmates - as they took in the singer’s stark change in both attitude and style. Even Roxy found herself following his every move, eyes watching him like a hawk as he reached the door to the lobby and spun on his heels, holding his arms out with smug pride as he showed off his moves. 

James erupting into a coughing fit brought his girlfriend back to reality and in a flash he grabbed her hand, quickly pulling her across the same stretch of deck. 

“Do you need a cough drop?” Roxy asked in earnest, thinking she must have a few at the bottom of her mini backpack somewhere, but James waved her off as he was all too caught up in whatever strange thing he and Logan had going on.

When they reached the boy across the way, James huffed, doing his best to act nonchalant about his friend’s new programable swagger, but his voice slightly rose as he shared, “The walk wasn’t bad, but can you talk the swag talk?”

He coughed again, this time Roxy pulled her hand out of his to root around in her bag, voice cracking on his last word.

Holding up his phone again, Logan’s app directed, “Swag talk: Keep exchanges short and try these nicknames.”

“Nicknames?” His popular friend scoffed, “What are nicknames gonna do?”

“Songbird - Don’t ever stop writing songs about me!” Roxy piped up, poking her boyfriend in the arm as she pointed out his favorite nickname for her, “Whatever you say, songbird…” 

Eyes widening, he cried, “That’s special. I wouldn’t call just anyone that!” as she giggled at how riled up her words made him. 

Too caught up in their own little conversation, the pair almost didn’t notice Logan cock his head back at the suggested 45-degree angle and take off down the pool deck again as if it were his own personal catwalk. With each strut, he became more and more confident in his moves and every single person he crossed paths with in the crowded pool gained their own special nickname. 

“Wow…” The girl marveled, watching as the girl dubbed “Blue Eyes” loudly announced she wanted to date Logan. “You never call me Shorty Shorts…”

James shot her a look of disapproval before his eyes trained back on his friend. “While it may be true…” His hand clumsily slipped into her back pocket. “I don’t need an app to come up with pet names for my girlfriend.”

And that got her instantly. At that moment, Roxy was ready to give up on her no-flirting promise earlier, turning into James and placing her hand lightly on his chest while she looked up at him through innocently batting eyes. 

Just as she opened her mouth to invite him up to her apartment for a little while, Camille’s voice approaching from behind cut her off.

“Hey… Since when does Logan have more swagger than James?” 

The comment snapped him into defense mode and his hand left Roxy’s pocket, “He does not have more swagger than me-”

Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by “This Is Our Someday” blasting out of one of their classmate’s boomboxes in the fire pit area. It seemed as though Logan had struck up an impromptu party in the blink of an eye thanks to his Swagger App. Calling “Check it!” to his friends and attempting to wave them over. “Swag tunes!”

Too focused on the fact the app had determined one of her songs swaggy, Roxy felt the beat flow through her body and summon her toward the scene of the party, completely forgetting about the few lozenges she held in her palms as the sound of James’ coughs was drowned out by the melody.

Unfortunately, her phone vibrating in her pocket prevented her from fully getting her groove on, causing her to step away from the pool area and back onto the path to the park to take the call. 

As she held her phone to her ear, she didn’t even get a chance to utter out a greeting before Kendall’s voice came over the line. “What do rainbows, candy, and the mandolin all have in common with one another?”

“Uh,” The assistant blinked, knitting her brows in confusion, “They’re all… Colorful? Maybe?” she guessed, imagining her bright red electric guitar shrunk into a smaller size.

Kendall made an annoying buzzer sound, “Wrong! They’re all featured on the new Big Time Rush song!”

“Oh, that’s neat. I didn’t know Gustavo could play the mandolin.”

“He most certainly cannot! And so, the song is terrible, and the New Town High execs are coming tomorrow.”

The urge to shoot back, “And what do you want me to do about it?” was strong, but the assistant bit her tongue before she managed to say anything to escalate the tense situation. From his tone of voice, Kendall was beginning to panic, and though she wanted nothing more than to help ease his anxiety, none of the songs she had in her book were New Town High worthy. The complete ones were far too personal, probably to be kept in the off-white pages until the end of time, and the incomplete ones just didn’t have the right vibe for the show. 

So instead she settled for, “Kendall. Seriously? Rome wasn’t built in a day.” 

“But it burned in one, didn’t it? Much like Big Time Rush if Gustavo releases this song into the world.”

As she let out a large, obvious sigh into the receiver, Roxy felt like kicking the bushes Buddha Bob had done such a wonderful job trimming. 

“I know, I know!” Kendall said on the other line, “Just… See if you can make it back to the Crib soon. Kelly wants to have an emergency band meeting at Rocque Records and I figured we’d all go together.”

“That’s fine,” The writer conceded as she pinched the bridge of her nose, switching to a different path in the park that would lead her to the back entrance of the hotel. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Kendall didn’t even bother saying goodbye before the line went dead. 

Entering the hotel, the air conditioning sent a small chill up the girl’s spine, but she ignored it, tossing her bag over her shoulder and pulling out her black-covered songbook. 

Maybe I was wrong about some of these songs… She thought, beginning to climb the stairs to the second floor, but as her eyes cast over the lyrics, she was starting to believe her suspicions to be correct. I wonder if Gustavo still has the portfolio I gave him at the audition. One of those might work, even with my inexperienced writing.

Honestly, she was a bit intrigued by the song Kendall had mentioned on the phone. It might not be as bad as the boy was making it out to be, but she wasn’t sure mandolin had a place in pop music… At least, not in this day and age. 

When she reached the apartment, she walked in on Kendall tugging his coat on and explaining the situation he’d mentioned on the phone to a swagged-out Logan and sickly-looking James at the breakfast bar. 

Completely forgetting what the frontman had said about driving to Rocque Records, Roxy felt her chest squeeze when she laid eyes on her boyfriend, whose hand was shaking as he attempted to pull a spoonful of cereal out of the bowl in front of him. 

I’ve been away five minutes and he looks moments away from death.

He’d traded his trendy outfit for a loose-fitting, battered t-shirt and old sweats, and his paled skin made him look like a vampire from one of the Twilight movies. That, and his normally perfect hair was plastered to his forehead with what she assumed was sweat, suggesting he was beginning to run some sort of fever.  

In an instant, she was by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and bringing the back of her free hand to his forehead. “James! You’re so hot!”

“Don’t I know it…” He coughed weakly, “Babe.”

“Who cares?!” Kendall interrupted, showing no regard for James’ health, “Let’s go!” 

Beside the couple, Logan closed his laptop with a sigh and held up his phone, “Can’t, K-Dog, I’m updating my Swag App for even more swag-itude.”

Not the answer the blond was hoping to hear, which was quickly made evident as he ignored Logan’s answer and screamed, “Carlos?!”

Knock, knock, knock!

Heads turned to the bathroom door in the kitchen, where Katie was pounding on the hardwood. “He won’t come out of the bathroom!”

“Panic room!” He corrected her through the door, leading all five of them to wonder exactly why he was panicking.

Is he just as worked up as Kendall over the song?

Katie crossed her arms, leaning on the counter beside the door. “A bird told him he’s got 24 hours to live. But I got to brush my teeth!” she called into the wood, prompting even more pounding on the door. 

“Well, I’ve got to save my life!” Carlos informed her, before claiming, “Super Parrot knows all!”

No one had a chance to process any of that exchange before James launched into another loud coughing fit, shoulder shaking as he tried to hack out whatever was causing his throat to itch. 

“And I feel cold and clammy,” He shared, though he wrapped an arm around Roxy’s waist as she continued to rub his arm. “Is it possible for someone to lose their swagger?” 

“What?” She and Kendall chorused, looking at James with concern. 

“If there’s a finite amount of swagger in the band and if someone were to gain swagger…” Not so subtly, he glanced over to Logan, who appeared to be downloading the Billboard Hot 100 songs to his iPhone. “Is it possible for someone else to lose their swagger?” 

Attempting to sweep some of his wet hair off his forehead, Roxy puffed out her bottom lip, “That’s a very good question, baby… Do you need anything, like soup, or medicine, or-”

“Okay! I’ll go alone.” Kendall rudely cut her off with a huff, speaking as though his four friends had lost their minds. 

And maybe Roxy had, because seeing James suffering felt like someone had taken a knife to her heart. Forget the song, forget the band, forget anything that would pull her attention from trying to help him feel better in any way she could. He’d always been so gracious with her and her airsickness, right now she wanted nothing more than to do everything in her power to get him better - Swag-induced pain or not. 

“Just keep me updated, please?” She asked Kendall as he turned to leave, though she was still fussing over James' appearance since he wasn’t in the shape to. “And if I get any song ideas I’ll let you know.” 

With his hand on the doorknob, the blond whispered something under his breath she couldn’t quite make out, before throwing the door open and stomping out of 2-J. 

“Douche,” She muttered, and James laughed between a few breathy coughs while he tried to finish the few bites that remained of his now-soggy cereal. 

Letting go of his girlfriend’s waist, the sick boy pointed his spoon toward the door, “It might be a good idea to go with him. I don’t want you getting sick because of me.” 

Roxy was quick to wave him off, “We’ve been butting heads all day since he’s so concerned with kissing Gustavo’s ass… Hanging out with you sounds way more fun than that.”

“Sounds like you need to chillax, cupcake!” Logan butt in, beginning to blast his newly downloaded pop music out of his phone’s weak speakers. “Come party with me for a while and forget about all your worries!” 

From the seat beside him, James wound up for a punch to the arm and miserably whiffed it, though he did manage a weak, “You need to chillax.”

“How about we work on comebacks later, James?” His girlfriend cautioned, moving his bowl into the sink and attempting to pull him off the bar stool. “We can focus on getting you better over in 2-H… It’s much quieter over there.” 

As if on cue, Katie began pounding at the bathroom door again, bickering back and forth with Carlos in his new panic room. If that was enough to make her own head ache, she could only imagine how terrible James felt. 

Though it was tough to move him, mostly supporting his weight with her body as he slung an arm over her shoulder, the pair managed down the hallway to Roxy’s apartment. There, James happily flopped down onto her couch, while his girlfriend ran around the small space to make sure it was as cozy as possible for him. 

Opening the blinds and window, fresh air began to circulate into the one-bedroom, smelling a bit chemical from the pool a floor below. From her linen closet, a clean pillow was propped behind his head, and a blanket she nearly burrito-ed him into. Then, emptying her medicine cabinet she pulled out anything she thought might help alleviate some of his pain and set it on her kitchen counter; cough syrup, cough drops, Tylenol, and allergy medication galore. 

But even then, it felt like something was missing as she surveyed the space.

What would Dad do? She asked herself before running through her mental checklist. Air, comfort, medicine… Music!

Finally putting an end to her scramble, Roxy popped into her bedroom to grab her acoustic guitar before heading back out to the living room where James was lounging. 

With her hip, she pushed the coffee table in front of the couch to the side and plopped down in front of him, running her fingers over the cool, smooth wood in her hands. Since she’d restrung her acoustic to make the boys’ Christmas gifts, she hadn’t used it for much; Primarily writing her Big Time Rush songs on the electric. Now felt like a good time to get some use out of the instrument. 

As she made sure the strings were still in tune, plucking each one with the pick a few times before finding just the right sound, she tried to figure out what to play. James always claimed his favorite song was whatever was number one on the pop charts, which if she recalled correctly was TikTok by Kesha. 

Not sure I can manage that on this instrument… She contemplated, trying to form a chord pattern in her head to no avail. 

When she looked back up from the fretboard, she caught James’ eye from the hole in the blanket she’d left for his head and felt a wave of self-consciousness pass over her. 

“My dad always said music was the best medicine… So what do you wanna hear?” She asked, nervously playing with the green pick between her fingers.

In response, James broke out into a coughing fit and had to untangle himself from the blanket cocoon his girlfriend had put him in to make sure he covered his mouth. After practically forcing a cough drop down his throat, the boy finally managed to say, “Something new,” before falling back into the cushions. 

That was an answer Roxy certainly hadn’t been expecting to hear, but she was more than happy to oblige. Mentally running through the songs in her book, she tried to determine which one was best fit for performance on the acoustic guitar. 

When she landed on “Invisible” and began to strum out the melody she had constructed months ago, she laughed a bit to herself. This song had come from a place of longing and desperation, lines she constructed out of fear James would never do anything about the limbo-like state of their relationship at the time. Knowing what she knew now, she was glad she sat down and wrote it when she did. She’d probably never be able to write a song like this again, especially since she was so happy. 

Humming out the words, Roxy didn’t lift her eyes from the fretboard, though she didn’t need to watch where she was placing her fingers at all. Thoughts of tour swirled in her head - Her first kiss with James, the feeling of being on stage with her best friends, the cheering of the crowd… But also the uncertainty of her relationship status and the sadness it caused her, her time alone on the bus writing “Til I Forget About You,” and how much she’d missed Jo and Camille. Tour was rough, but rewarding, and in turn, she’d written the beautiful song she was now playing for her boyfriend. 

By the time her strumming stopped, it looked like James was half-asleep, so she decided to continue and play her next longest work in progress “You’re Not Alone” even though it was missing most of a chorus, a bridge, and a second round of verses. 

From then on, she improvised, smashing together other incomplete songs she’d written, blending them with chord progressions she came up with on the fly. The combination of the guitar, her quiet humming, and James’ soft breathing as he let his eyelids finally begin to droop was slowly becoming one of Roxy’s favorite sounds.  

Once she finally figured he was asleep, she stopped playing, giving her fingers a little wiggle before moving to stand up and put her guitar away. 

“Rox,” James weakly mumbled with closed eyes, somehow managing to catch her wrist. It felt like Roxy’s heart jumpstarted as she squatted back down to hear him better. “Lay with me?” 

Gently, she leaned in and kissed his temple, “‘Course, babe,” and kicked off her shoes, abandoning her guitar in the gap between the couch and the hardwood floor.

Shedding his blanket, James sat up and let Roxy make herself comfortable, using the pillow against the armrest as she moved to lay on her back. In no time, his arms circled her waist, before he slowly moved to rest his head on her chest, ear falling right over her heart which was no doubt beating over time. When they cuddled, their positions were typically reversed, a fact Roxy tried not to focus on as his chest rose and fell against her own. In an attempt to calm herself down, she returned his gesture and placed one of her arms lazily on top of his frame, beginning to run her nails lightly over his back, slightly zigzagging as her other hand sunk into his plush hair. 

James let out a small groan as he stretched his legs out, tangling them with Roxy’s.

“I love holding you,” he told her, and she could feel his dry lips moving against the skin around her collarbone, “It’s like everything melts away and nothing else matters…” 

She only managed to continue breathing because she knew he’d be able to hear if she stopped. “Oh. Yeah? I suppose it does feel like everything around us stops, doesn’t it?” 

Waiting a few moments for him to reply, Roxy heard his shallow breaths slow.

Falling asleep in the middle of a conversation? What a dork…

***

Hey babe!

Sorry to sneak out on you, but I had a wonderful idea for a new song (yes, it’s about you and yes, you’ll love it) and I didn’t want to wake you by scribbling it out or playing the melody on my guitar so I moved into my room for a little bit. Once this is all written and Gustavo approved, we’ll have all the time in the world to cuddle :) 

I left all the medicine you might need in reach, so feel free to use anything you think might make you feel better. If you need anything just shout.

XX Songbird

P.S. Feel better soon!! <3

P.P.S. Ignore that last line. I wrote that around 2ish but now, it’s nearing dinner time and I didn’t have anything good for sick people to eat. I’m running to the store, so call or text if you need me! <3 <3

***

Even though it had taken about twenty minutes to run to the store across the street from the Palm Woods and back, Roxy was still concerned about leaving her sick boyfriend alone for so long. Of course, she knew James was able to take care of himself, but that didn’t mean he should have to. 

Hopefully, he’d enjoy what she’d picked out for dinner, and she imagined walking into her apartment to see his cute face all snuggled up in her pillow. 

It’s so not fair, she decided, he looks so good both awake and asleep.

A few weeks ago he’d taken a picture of her after she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder during a work meeting, claiming it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, and Roxy practically had to tackle him and wrestle the phone out of his grasp to delete it. 

I should take one when I get back as revenge.

Entering the lobby with a smile at the thought, she weaved in and out of the crowd of hotel patrons to get to the elevators, before a familiar voice caught her attention. 

“All we need to do is create a computer virus to destroy Logan’s swagger app!” Camille cried enthusiastically, and Roxy scanned the area to find her - and James - huddled around one of the small circular tables Bitters had set up. 

A green laptop sat in front of her and she was furiously typing away while she talked. 

“And if Logan’s going to steal my swagger, then I’ll steal his smart brain stuff things!” James shared, just as caught up in their plan as Camille was, while he fluffed the sides of a white lab coat he must have stolen from his friend’s closet, revealing a smart-looking sweater vest underneath. In the pockets, he had stuffed numerous pens and pencils and it appeared as though he’d swiped a pair of Mrs. Knight’s reading glasses as well. 

Did he look good? Of course, he did. It almost seemed like he’d stepped out of her favorite hospital drama Paging Dr. McDreamy. But seeing him hanging out with Camille, alone, caused a strong bout of jealousy to knot in her stomach when she should have been happy he was feeling better.

Despite making peace with what had happened between them, she didn’t like the thought of them alone together.

Whatever, Roxy told herself, resigning to push through the lobby and squeeze into an elevator to get back to 2-H. I’m not enabling today, so if they have a plan I’d just ruin it. And now it wouldn’t hurt to eat all of his favorite snacks myself.

 At the ding to let her know she was on the second floor, Roxy managed to get herself out of the packed elevator and hurried to her apartment as quickly as she could while not thinking about her conversation on the phone with Jo and Camille the other night. When Camille mentioned she might want to see other people, she couldn’t have been talking about James, right? 

Footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, the writer figured she was home free once she reached her front door, setting the grocery bags on the ground and slinging her backpack around her shoulder to root around for her keys. 

There was the faint sound of music down the hall, one of the other many musicians at the Palm Woods must have been testing out a new melody, but as she continued to search among the large collection of items in her bag, the song grew closer and closer. It also grew more familiar as well, and as a group of dancing teens turned the corner, Logan leading the pack, she realized “This Is Our Someday” was now blasting down the hall and if she didn’t find her keys in the new few seconds it would be too late for her to escape into her apartment. 

As the crowd passed, Logan grabbed her arm in a smooth display of synchronized dance with the members of his party, and she was immediately sucked into their non-stop march around the Palm Woods. 

***

Two laps around the entire hotel and surrounding park. That’s how long Roxy was caught up in Logan’s swag parade when all she wanted to do was go home and wallow. At many points throughout their procession, she’d tried to escape but Logan or his posse always managed to reign her back in as “This Is Our Someday” played on a loop. 

In fact, she’d caused them so much trouble, that she’d landed herself in the hot seat - on top of Logan’s shoulders - as they made their way closer to 2-J for the third time.

“If you keep dancing, you’ll die!” Roxy called down to her friend, giving a rough tug to his hair in hopes it would steer him toward the apartment door and not continue down the hall. “Think about it! Get some water in the Crib or something!”

Getting him to stop is certainly the opposite of enabling, right?

Thankfully, Logan headed his assistant’s advice, managing to get the two of them in the doorway and lose the accumulated group that had been following them around. Though, the Big Time Rush song continued to play outside, so it appeared no one else was ready for the party to end just yet. 

As the pair took in the commotion going on inside the apartment, it seemed as though they’d missed quite a lot on their swagged-out journey. 

In the kitchen, Carlos finally decided to come out of the panic room and was standing next to a gorgeous woman in fortune teller’s garb. On her arm sat a majestic blue and gold macaw who appeared to be quite chatty. The moment it laid eyes on Roxy and Logan it squawked, “Get them into the O.R., stat! Clear! Clear!”

A fellow Paging Dr. McDreamy fan…

It took Roxy a moment to realize there were other people in the room as well, until she heard a slow, steady beeping noise emanate from the living room. There, she noticed James, looking a lot worse than he had in the lobby, still wrapped up in the blanket she had given him in her apartment. He was hooked up to an oxygen tank, though she doubted his illness was that serious, and some type of machine taking a few readings from electrodes on his chest. 

And right next to him, helping him sip water from a clear glass was Camille, dressed in a white nurse's uniform and everything. 

“Put me down,” Roxy practically growled, tapping on Logan’s head to grab his attention, but he was already too focused on the scene in front of him, 

“Woah! Is that an EKG?”

Pulling on his hair again, his assistant purposefully cut him off, “Who cares? Put me down!”

Finally, the boy respected her wishes and managed to get her off his shoulders as Camille solemnly replied, “SKG… His swag count is dangerously low.”

The writer bit her tongue to hold back a dumb, anger-fueled retort at the sight of those two together again but was unable to mask a small snort as she crossed her arms, staring the pair down. Had the care she’d been giving James earlier not been enough? Did she have to wear a stupid, sexy costume to make it count?

“As you grow stronger…” James whispered between a few coughs, “I grow weaker…”

“Fine!” Logan shrugged, “You can have it back. I didn’t even want the swagger! My pants are too tight, everyone keeps following me, and honestly, there’s too much dancing.”

Could have fooled me.

Shock riddled her friend’s faces, eyes blowing wide as Camille asked, “Really?!”

“Yeah, look,” The boy assured her as he pulled out his phone and clicked a few buttons, “Swagger App: Deleted!” 

At the same time, the beeping on the SKG rapidly increased, showing what Roxy could only assume was a level of swagger worthy of her boyfriend. As quickly as his readings stabilized, he’d jumped off the couch, throwing the oxygen mask and blanket behind him while ripping off the electrodes under his gray v-neck. His color had returned, and he seemed steady on his feet but threw on a black jacket just to be safe. 

“I’m better now!” He announced, as though no one in the room had eyes, and turned to thank Camille. 

“Oh, whatever,” Roxy couldn’t stop herself from spitting out at the sight of the two of them all buddy-buddy. Gripping the strap of her bag, she pushed past Logan, down the hallway to 2-H, and slammed the door behind her, leaving three confused friends in her wake. 

Not that I need thanks, she told herself, flinging her bag onto her couch, but it sure would’ve been nice.

When she heard James call her name from the apartment next door, she wasn’t quick enough to make it back to the shared door and flip the lock. 

Roxy didn’t want to be upset; She’d made peace with what happened between James and Camille after speaking to both of them about it. At the time, James wasn’t her boyfriend, and Camile had made a stupid decision; She had no grounds to be fuming about it months after the fact. 

But something tugged in her stomach at the thought of James and Camille alone together. She’d felt it on the day of pranks, she’d felt it earlier in the lobby, and now, the feeling was taking root in her chest, gnawing away at her heart and making her seem like a terrible girlfriend for not being able to trust her partner. 

Just as she drew her arms around her sides, trying to combat the ugly feeling, the door to 2-J slowly opened, and James entered her apartment, worry written all over his face. “Babe? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” She bit, far too quickly and far too sharply. The fact that she was starting at the hardwood floor wasn’t helping her case either. 

Between them, there was a moment of silence before James took a long, deep breath. “I can’t read your mind.”

His girlfriend didn’t answer him, but she stalked over to her kitchen to pour herself a cold glass of water. If she held that, he might not notice the shaking of her hands or the color she felt draining from her skin. 

“Is Kendall bothering you about the song again? From the note you left, I thought you were onto something.”

Taking a sip, the girl shook her head, trying to figure out the quickest way to shut this entire conversation down. She wouldn’t look like a jealous, controlling partner if they never managed to talk about it.

“Songs all good,” She finally managed, threading her fingers together as they held her cup. This was her out. “Wanna hear it?”

“Sure,” her boyfriend smiled, and Roxy felt some of the knotting in her stomach vanish. “Once you tell me what’s bothering you.”

James took the cup from her hands and set it on the counter beside them, removing the object Roxy had been attempting to hide behind. She looked to the ground again, trying to slow the fast-paced beat of her heart, and James brought one of his hands up to cup her cheek. 

Gently, he tilted her head so she’d finally look him in the eye, and the dam broke.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” She whispered, even though they were the only two people in the apartment. “That’s not us.” 

“Oh.” James blinked a few times as he took in her words. He hadn’t realized she was mad at him. “We’re not fighting, baby, just talking. So you can tell me, right?”

When she nodded, Roxy felt like the worst person in the entire world. “I- I can’t stand to see you and Camille together. Not because I don’t trust you or I want to control who you hang out with, but… God, James, I don’t know. The thought of you two alone together after what happened I just-“

There was no denying her relationship with Dak Zevon had royally screwed with her trust issues, and Roxy struggled to vocalize this, pausing in the middle of her sentence. The last thing she expected James to do was pull her into his chest, allowing one hand to sink into her hair as the other rubbed soothing circles into her back, yet he didn’t say anything in response. 

Roxy was mad at him and he still made an effort to comfort her. Now she felt even worse about bringing it up. 

“The last thing I want to be is the partner who tells you who you can and can’t be around. Been there already, don’t recommend it. But I feel like… Maybe I have a bit of justification for feeling this way? Obviously, you had some sort of feelings for her if you kissed her.” 

More silence, though this time, Roxy felt herself fall deeper into her boyfriend's embrace.

“I understand,” He breathed. “Thank you for telling me.” 

It was almost impossible to ignore the way her heart dropped clear into her stomach. No apology, no promise to do better, no denial of feelings for her best friend. 

If Roxy wasn’t so concerned with what James had to say next, she wouldn’t be trying so hard to suppress the tears she felt stinging at the back of her eyes. She’d told him, just like he’d asked, and normally getting something off your chest was supposed to make you feel better, but as more time went by without a response Roxy felt guiltier and guiltier. 

When James took another deep breath, she could hear it this time, her ear pressed to his chest, and she clung to him tighter in anticipation of whatever he had to say. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t have feelings for Camille. Never have, never will.” 

“You kissed her!” 

The hand rubbing her back stopped. “Yeah. I did. But like I told you before, that’s a mistake I’m doing my best to make up for. Part of that is being honest with you about why I did.”

Roxy pulled away from him, glancing up at the boy in front of her to catch onto his every word, no matter how much it would pain her to hear. 

“I’m not sure how I can prove this to you now, but ever since I realized I liked you, you’ve been the only girl for me. Maybe you can ask the guys to confirm… But that day Camille and I were practicing, you went off to the observatory with Logan and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wished it was me with you, not him. 

“As the scene we practiced went on, I kept losing track of my place in the script, I kept thinking how pretty you would look in the dress Camille was wearing, and before I knew it, I was leaning in to kiss her when the script called for it, thinking about when we made out by the pool-”

“When did you know?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, almost stuttering as she pulled away, cleared her throat, and clarified, “That you liked me?”

“Gustavo’s mansion.” Now it was James’ turn to look at his shoes, unmistakable pink tint hinting at the top of his ears. “I tried to tell you then but Logan cut me off when the alligator showed up. And then the next day you met Dak…”

Months. James had liked me for months.

His girlfriend cringed, “If we want to talk about mistakes, that whole thing with him was the biggest one of all… But thank you for being honest with me.” 

“Not a problem at all, not if it’s for you,” James assured her, finally able to pick his gaze up and meet Roxy’s. “If you don’t want me and Camille to hang out alone, I understand, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I wouldn’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, but let me know if your feelings change. How does that sound?” 

For the first time that evening, Roxy’s smile returned, and nothing had relieved James more. 

“Sounds like a good compromise…” His girlfriend agreed, gently reaching for one of his hands and bringing his knuckles to her lips. “You’re good at fighting. I thought there’d at least be some yelling, maybe some crying on my part.”

“Roxy… We’re still not fighting!” He said, taking her hand and pulling her toward the couch in her living room, “Trust me. After years of watching others do it, you learn the right ways and the wrong ways to go about a disagreement.” When she opened her mouth to ask a question about his statement, James plopped down on the cushions, pulling her into his lap. “And I know that this is the part where we kiss and make out.” 

“It’s kiss and makeup, babe.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” 

***

Kendall and Kelly had managed to break Gustavo’s zen spell by cleverly hiring an insult comic to pick apart and destroy the original song he’d written for the New Town High soundtrack. Fortunately - and unfortunately - for the band and their assistant, they’d restored their boss back to his angry, hate-filled glory and now had less than a few hours before the producers of the show arrived to hear the song. 

Working late into the night usually didn’t bother Roxy, it was something she’d been accustomed to back in Minnesota, but she suspected Gustavo’s time of peace had led to a lot of pent-up rage, which he subsequently took out on her in the writer’s room. Even if he did love the song she’d written. 

A few writing and recording sessions later, they’d finished the incomplete lyrics and tracked her guitar portions, and he’d managed to call in the band to add in the rest, while Mr. X and the boys worked on a dance routine for the live performance they’d give the New Town High execs. 

In Roxy’s opinion, “Nothing Even Matters” was one of the best songs she’d ever written, and she had a sneaking suspicion the boys loved it as well. That fact was evident on their faces as they moved about the studio, nailing practice dance after practice dance, even as the sun began to rise. 

While the base storyline came from her conversation with James earlier, she did her best to draw in the show’s current story as well. As of the last episode, Jo and Jett's characters, while being some of the most popular students in school, were facing lots of hate for their relationship after going public. Other students were rooting to see them break up; Relationships between monsters and humans weren’t well-liked, so Roxy channeled their characters’ nothing-can-stop-us attitudes and blended that into the lyrics. 

When the show producers arrived and the boys gave their performance, Roxy, Kelly, and Gustavo anxiously sat in the sound booth with them. 

“That’s just what we were looking for!” One of the men claimed at the conclusion of the performance, “And perhaps Big Time Rush will make a guest appearance in our school dance episode…” 

At the notion, Roxy squealed as she jumped out of her seat, moving to stand beside her bosses as they shook on the business deal. 

Music and screen exposure? We sure are headed for the big time.

She knew the boys could see her practically jumping up and down through the glass into the studio, but she let Gustavo deliver the big news this time around.

Pressing the microphone button, Gustavo announced, “Looks like our song is gonna be on TV!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the boys’ room, as the three moved from the recording room to the dance studio. 

“And forget what I said about wanting you dawgs, and Roxanne, to change. Let’s just stay our usual, annoying selves.”

“Good!” Carlos cried, “‘Cause I am done taking advice from birds!”

Pulling his large hand mirror out of his back pocket again, James reverted back to talking with his mirror. “James and I totally agree, don’t we Rox?” 

He turned it her way, framing her features into the little reflective circle, “Yeah… I’m tired of pretending I don’t love participating in their schemes.” 

“And I can get all the swagger I need with a simple pair of shades!” Shared Logan, taking his black aviators from where they hung on his button-up and popping them on. 

James put his mirror down and looked helplessly at his girlfriend, “Feeling woozy…”

The thud that resounded in the studio after his body hit the floor rang in her ears, and she ran to his side to help him back up. 

“Okay, no shades…” The studious boy decided and Roxy did her best to hold James back up, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Kendall and Carlos push them back onto his face. James lost consciousness again, almost taking her down with him this time, and she stumbled a bit to regain her balance. 

“Guys! Knock it off!” She called, reaching in front of Kendall to try and snatch the glasses off Logan’s face. 

Easily, Kendall blocked her hand, and trapped her arms at her sides with a bear hug, teasing, “I thought you said you loved our schemes?” 

“Not this one!” 

Laughter rose from her friends, and once she stopped struggling against Kendall’s grip, Roxy realized she was laughing too. The euphoric feeling of a job well done washed over all of them, including James once he popped back up. 

One of my songs on a TV show… Does it get any better than this?

***

“Roxanne!” 

Though he stood right beside her in her kitchen, James hissed out Roxy’s name as she pulled the strawberry she’d been holding out of the marshmallow fluff container on the counter. 

Since they’d worked through the night, Gustavo had given them the day off, and James had decided the best use of their time together would be a Star Wars marathon in 2-H. Apparently, he had found it appalling she hadn’t seen any of the six films and sought to rectify that immediately. 

Ignoring his words while she took a bite, she shoved him with her shoulder before taking a piece of pineapple from the tray she’d put together in the kitchen and dipping it into the sweet dip. “What? You like healthy things and I like sugary things! Is this not the perfect blend of both?” 

“You dipped that strawberry in twice!” He accused, pointing a finger her way, “Double dipper!”

With a drawn-out bite of her pineapple, her eyes flickered to where he stood beside her, “James. Your tongue was in my mouth not even five minutes ago.”

“That is so different!” 

“Oh, yeah?” She dared to step back and poke his arm with a teasing grin, glancing over to the TV with a paused image of Luke, Han, Leia, and Chewbacca in the Millennium Falcon. “How?” 

James faltered, his argument taking more than it should have to construct itself inside his brain, and when his mouth opened in response, Roxy picked up a strawberry and popped it right in. 

“Ha! You can’t think of anything! Just admit it - It’s the same thing!” Taking the berry in his mouth, James made a display of slowly chewing and swallowing, staring right at her with narrowed eyes, before he reached out and stuck a finger in the marshmallow fluff. 

“Dude-” She started to protest, about to inform her how that was way grosser than double dipping, but he took a quick step toward her and smeared it on her cheek. 

Now it was her turn for her mouth to hang open, this time in disbelief as he snickered at her expense. She couldn’t even think of a way to retaliate before his snickers turned into full-on waves of laughter and he moved again, this time catching her around the waist, hauling her back over to the couch as she screamed about how she was going to kill him.

“This makeup is expensive, you know! You can’t just go around ruining it!” Roxy chastized, legs kicking wildly in the air, though she was giggling now as he let her fall on her back onto the cushions below. 

As his knees slid over her hips, he shook his head, “Didn’t do anything to you…” before leaning down and licking the small amount of dip off her blushing cheeks. 

“God, you’re so annoying-” 

James shut her up with a kiss, and suddenly, Roxy didn’t feel like complaining anymore. 

Just as her hands clumsily fumbled out to find the hem of his shirt to slip under, a sharp knock rapped at her door, giving them both of them pause. 

Looking toward the sound, James just shook his head, diving back down to press a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her throat and whispering, “They’ll go away.” 

But they didn’t, because as her hands found their destination, the knocking came again. 

His sigh was unmistakable, but James pulled away from her regardless, looking between his girlfriend and the door. “Expecting someone?” 

Sitting up, Roxy ran a hurried hand through her hair to smooth it out, finding it nearly impossible to take her eyes off James. Flushed cheeks, pink lips, chest heaving… Whoever was at the door better be delivering the most important news of their life if they were dragging her away from all that. 

Reluctantly, she stood up and willed her legs to move her forward, shaking her head at James’ question. 

When she turned the lock, popping the door open just wide enough to see who was on the other side, her good mood instantly dissipated. 

“Hey, Roxy!” Mag McAllister stood in the hallway, dazzling smile as blinding as ever. He always was quite the charmer, and his pretty boy good looks had earned Brand New Day more than one important booking in the past. 

She should’ve shut the door in his face, or maybe reached forward and poked one of his sapphire blue eyes out, but the emotional whiplash she was experiencing gave her pause, so he continued.

“Long time no see, huh? I wish we had more time to talk at the radio station, but, you know, duty calls! It’s pretty crazy L.A.’s number one morning show wanted us on so early in BND’s career… They haven’t even had Big Time Rush yet, right?”

Roxy blinked, doing her best to appear unphased by his visit. “What do you want? I’m busy.” 

“Always right down to business with you…” He trailed off, reaching into the pocket of his blue and gold flannel before fishing out an envelope. “As you may have heard, our first album is coming out at the end of the week. Galactic Records is throwing us a huge party, so we thought we’d invite you and celebrate this accomplishment together.”

Snorting, because she thought he was joking, Roxy made a big show of rolling her eyes, but Mag continued to hold out the invitation. While the promise of a party did catch her attention, he must’ve been crazy if he thought she would be interested in attending. 

Her mouth was dry. “Mag. You’re not actually serious.”

“Sure I am!” He shot right back, “Dani and I want you there. You were a huge part of our band’s beginning and we want to show our appreciation. This is a huge milestone for the two of us.”

The two of us. That phrase alone knocked the remaining wind out of Roxy’s lungs, and she did her best to bring her focus back to the conversation at hand.

“Unless… You don’t think it is? I know your band already has one album out, but you can’t forget about the little guys too.”

Gritting her teeth at the insinuation, Roxy put on her best fake smile and reached to accept the invitation. “No, it is. Tell Dani I said ‘Congratulations.’”

Mag’s eyes widened, sparkling in that annoying way she once wrote songs about. “So you’ll come?”

“Big Time Rush is very busy… I’ll have to check my schedule,” Roxy admitted, honestly, before feeling the need to tack on, “And I need to see if my boyfriend’s free. I do get a plus one, right?”

“Boyfriend?” 

The writer relished in the sound of his surprise as she continued to keep that smile on her face. “James Diamond, you met him at the station.

The boy in the hall cocked his head to the side, tight curls flying in the same direction, “Is that the one who wears the helmet?” 

“No. He’s the one on the cover of Teen Vogue this month.” 

It technically wasn’t a lie if all of the band was on the cover… In a small picture in the corner. But Mag would never know the difference. He used to poke as much fun as he could at anything mainstream, including the “girly” magazines Roxy would always bring to band practice. 

“Ooh,” He pretended to sound like that mattered in the slightest. “You always had a thing for musicians… How exciting that must be.”

That was something she didn’t even want to dignify with a response. He knew exactly what he was getting at with those words and now, she wanted to step outside and poke out both his eyes. 

“Which songs do you think we should play at the party to showcase our work? ‘From Me To You, With Love or ‘Heartswell Summer?’ Maybe ‘Baby Blue’ or ‘Into the Night?’’”

When she slammed the door in his face, his laughter echoed out in the empty hallway, “Rox, come on! It was just a joke!”

“Go to hell!” She yelled back and threw the invitation in the kitchen trash bin without another word. 

  In her living room, James was standing now, brows knit while his girlfriend strode over to the couch behind him and sat down, beginning the movie again. 

After a few moments, she noticed his hands flex, but he sat back down beside her, draping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest. 

Roxy was shaking, but neither of them mentioned it. 

“I never knew Harrison Ford was so hot,” She said, trying to break at least a little bit of the tension she felt in the air. 

Turning to James, his eyes were still glued on the screen, and she watched his throat work once, twice. “Just wait until we watch the prequels… Then we can talk about Hayden Christensen.” 

Though she nodded and tried to keep her focus on the movie, Mag’s words had their desired effect. Until then, she had wondered if they’d use any of the songs in the book he’d taken from her, but specifically naming those erased any doubt in her mind. 

Brand New Day was releasing their first album and it sounded like it was full of songs Roxy had written.

--

thanks for reading <3 likes are appreciated and be sure to leave a comment so i know people are still reading lol

[leannlyre]

imagine this. you're at a concert and when the time is up, everything is dark. a flicker of red light as ais begins his verse and a portion of fans cheer for his presence, while the other singers mimic his dance but centre him. his movements are sudden and jerky but wide swinging and he doesn't hesitate to risk touching some raised hands and wander around the stage. the others follow his movements.

after his verse finishes, the stage fades to black, but lights up in red as vere starts to sing. the choreography switch to centring him, all fluid and prancing and sashaying. he's less open than ais but luring nonetheless; he inches his face closer to fans who wander close, smiles at them and shows his teeth. he has such an ironclad command on his body, that you feel inclined to watch wherever it moves.

then kuras is in the centre, standing tall and upright. his choreography is less wilder than the last two but complicated nonetheless, more regal and graceful. his sleeves billow in the air, the tail ends of his coat float along with an invisible wind, and the golden ends and accents of them glint in the light. (ymmv) he turns his head to where the fans shout for him, but doesn't wander around the stage.

the lights fade to black. in the darkness he sings, " 'cause everything we touch-" they explode to red and flash and show the five gathered in a line, ais at the front, and the rest behind him - while dancing - writhing and leaning to left and right with their hands and upper bodies.

when the instrumental finishes everything goes dark once again but when it lights up, the light is lighter and on mhin, the others cloaked in shadows. (ymmv) they are the most contained and smoothest in their dance and the most forlorn in their verse. that is, until toward the last verse and the beat ascends, at which point their voice begins to grow powerful and their free arm begins to raise as the others line up behind them and raise their arms in the shape of wings.

cut to black again.

they are forlorn as before, as they sing the chorus, now with the rest spread evenly behind them. they take the background position as leander's part comes up. he amps up the interaction, showing off himself, arms spread wide whenever he can or stretched out to the audience as if he yearns for them. as the music ascends he makes eye contact with all of the fans, here and there. as his verse ends, his arm raises and its fingers snap just as he stops singing, surging out a flicker of green magic. that is the last thing you see before the stadium's lights switch off.

(dear whomever who asked me to post it on tumblr: here it is! i tried to reply with any info to get to it but they keep getting deleted. hope you find this.)

[fruit-salad-ship]

Some more dumb pirateAU things.

After that long alive you earn a reputation. No one approached Peach, no one dared, she put out this air of hostility to keep folks at arms length, and on those days where someone was either drunk or stupid enough to get tangled up with her in a little shady port’s tavern room, well, that was usually a brief, cold encounter. Have some meaningless, pointless sex and then leave to go back to drinking. More to kill time than anything else, there was rarely even an attraction factor to the act. When you become a myth amongst men, trudging through hundreds of years worth of existence, fear clouded most peoples thoughts of her. She was a monster after all.

This all seemed to shift however, the captain was experiencing a multitude of memories from this pirates wife, private moments, caring, sensitive kind moments, things she never considered of this woman. She was seeing Peach for who she truly was, or at least once was all those years ago. Time had made her tired now but she was this romantic pillar of adoration for her partner, someone who’d dote on her loved ones and throw her own wants and needs aside. The more Plum learnt, the less Peach’s hostility and blunt nature seemed to bother her, it was an act, one she was starting to see through. Dreams would come to the captain most nights, but each felt like a new moment in time that she’d never experienced. They were tangible, the pain stung, the joy was light in her chest, the affection received as if she was actually being held. Plum was young, she’d not experienced a lot, but something she’d wanted to find was true undying love, a secret little hope in her heart that someone somewhere would accept she would not just stay at home and be a dutiful wife, that she’d find adventure and excitement beside someone who’d chase ghost stories with her, search for monster and mystery. Despite never finding it herself, she at least had some comfort in living through memories of someone who had. Plum knew that this was not her fate, but it was certainly nice to feel that for a moment, pretend like it was still a possibility, even if she looked like…well. A monster. Her hope dwindled every time she remembered or passed a mirror. There was no blending in, no meeting someone on the fly, she didn’t even have hair anymore, just these stupid tendrils that seemed to get her in more trouble than she’d have liked. Perhaps this was her curse for chasing her dreams instead of accepting a mediocre life. Her crew at least adjusted to her, didn’t seem to mind, she was still the woman who led them, and they respected her regardless of how she looked. It’s not like any of them were oil paintings either, each with their own little quirks and flaws, things that made them unique and special.

In all these memories she experienced, there was one thing she couldn’t figure out. Where did Peach’s soft side go? She saw her, how she truly was, the real version before this misery that fell upon her like anvils, beat the joy right out of her with each slam of the years ticking by alone. She was a shadow of who Plum saw in the flashes of the past. She had a long time to figure out how to bring her back, or at least try, navigating the little gestures that would try to stoke the last embers of any real hope in the woman. Plum started small. Cut fruit the way Peach use to for her wife, making cute animals like crabs or birds with apples, spiralling up some kiwis so they made cool shapes, just for the fun of it. Lord knows there were a lot of failed attempts. Peach found herself lost in the attempts, some wonky looking creatures but there was an attempt, it was sweet, plum had left them in communal spaces for everyone so it wasn’t too obvious what she was doing. The immortal woman didn’t have to eat, but picked at some of it, just…nostalgic, you could see her drift away, glaze over and dive into the past. This amped up when plum got a song stuck in her head, humming it quietly to herself as she worked, thing is, it was not a song that anyone knew. Peach wrote that for her wife, it was never composed properly or shared, hell, Peach didn’t even have the original papers with it written on anymore. The song however was sweet, something that pulled her back to better times. In the depths of the night on deck Plum would hear her second in command playing it after it had been refreshed it in her mind, the tired looking woman had gathered a couple of instruments as she’d travelled, things to entertain the crew. This however was for herself, a tune no one would even know to request. Sat up with an accordion in the dark, playing a tune no one knew, with words no one could follow along with, the only other living person who knew it was the captain. It sounded the same as the memories, and she sat against a wall around a corner listening for as long as Peach played.

With this increasing frequency of moments, one thing stood out to plum, like REALLY felt alien. For all the tough words and hostile actions, Peach in her memories was not like this. Briefly she saw it flare up in the past, a fleeting moment of anger or sadness, quickly halted by her wife with one simple little act, a gesture that’d always seemingly pull this woman from her misery and refocus her. Maybe…It would still work now? Or maybe it was just something her wife was able to do. She didn’t know, but was it worth trying? Plum called her second mate in late, when all the long jobs were done, other crew members handling the night watch. There was a lack of reason at first, but plum found an old folklore book and brought up wether or not some of the tales of treasure in them were real or not. Peach had some ideas, but a handful were a mystery still. She found a small joy in watching her captain grow excited over the hopeful what-if of a treasure hunt. Perhaps this is where they’d sail to next, pulling charts to start spitballing routes to supposed locations related to this old story. The pair sat on the floor pouring over plans, a worn rug underneath, drinks in hand, a pleasant calm back and forth between them.

The more time they spent the more certain Plum was that it wasn’t the time to test a theory, watching her company and chuckling to herself about the notion of even attempting that stupid idea. This caught the broader woman’s attention, glancing up with a raised eyebrow. “What?” The pause as she sipped her drink and let her gaze fall back to the maps as Plum waved it off.“it’s nothing- I had some dumb plan and it just feels like the worlds worst idea now.” Her laugh was bright, something Peach couldn’t help but smile a little at, the flash of sharp teeth and these bright eyes that didn’t look to her, a little embarrassment in her disposition. “Can’t be that dumb, you came up with it. Surprisingly smart all things considered.” The gentle smack to her arm in jest was received well, peach was only teasing, she knew Plum was sharp as a tack, its why their crew kept alive and pulling in good loot hauls. “No really, It was totally out there, I think for once a drink has made me more rational.” Peach grew curious, leaning her head on her hand to glance over, not asking, but the look was almost waiting for a more in depth explanation. The captain topped her glass up and side eyed the woman, clearly searching for something on her, trying to read her expression or mannerisms. “Fine-fine but no sass from you, I know it was a dumb idea already, don’t need you to back that up.” The old pirate held her hands up, a gesture of being honest and less of a dick no matter what’s said. Plum huffed, laughed once more to herself and leant in a little, like she was spilling gossip. “You know I’ve been muddling through these old memories, and you use to be so happy, I thought I’d try to help you get back there a bit- but, the method I had in mind is a little… uh, I guess inappropriate. Feels like something I shouldn’t do, we’re just getting along again, it’d be a shame to ruin that now.” That answer shed no light at all on the thing Plum wanted to do, only confusing Peach more scrunching her nose a little as she thought, a behaviour plum never missed, she had a thinking face, it was very sweet. An old habit that refused to die, clearly. “Guess it’ll be a mystery forever.” Peach shrugged and went back to the maps, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to do? “I- hm… I’ve just noticed a pattern in the memories and I don’t know, maybe it was something your wife could only do, maybe it’s just something you like, I’ve got limited information to go on here.” And here’s where the nerves kicked in, Plum had taken this off the table as an option, but her companion was putting it back on? Peach shrugged, kept calculating the distance from port to port. “At this point, nothing surprises me. Hell, you could stab me repeatedly in the throat and I’d still be fine with it, least it might get some of your frustration out. So do what you want. Not like it’s going to kill me so who cares?” Her logic and dismissive attitude was somewhat reassuring if not a little concerning that her thoughts went to violence firstly, there was really no loss to be had, so at this point what did it matter? Plum watched her scribble down some notes, not taking her eyes off the task at hand, ring clinking against her glass as she picked it up. The creaks of the ship were loud, the only real sound in the space as that notion lingered, being contemplated by the captain until she came to a decision.

Peach found the glass in her hand being pulled out of her grip very slowly, one tactile little tentacle moving it to the table with surprising dexterity. This was something the old sailors wife would do for her, Plum had seen it a hundred times in flashes of the past, and it always broke her bad mood, or reassured in a unique way. Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it’d jump out of her chest, but she had to just push that down and give this one go, an attempt to connect with what was lost in this woman. It took a small movement to roll across a little and straddle her second in commands lap, trying to be brave, trying to emanate the confidence she’d seen work so well before. Each tentacle found itself drawn to Peach as if polar ends of a magnet, they wrapped up around wrists and ran along her skin, nestled up in the tangled mane of hair, brushing it back from her neck gently. There was a gut reaction from the tired looking woman to turn into them, her cheek rubbing against one, catching herself and returning to a central position as if she got lost in that sensation for a moment, had to grab the reigns again, make sure she didn’t slip. Plums forehead bumped lightly against hers, the two of them suspended in that moment, feeling Peach move to look away, tilt her head to one side slowly in an evasive way. Guilt squeezed at her heart, had enough time suffering alone not passed? This was a rare moment of fear, of apprehension. “You’ve got to do something for yourself for once.” Plum muttered, her hands finding this woman’s face, small and soft fingers keeping her from running or dodging this. How many times had her wife said that to her? How many times had it fallen on deaf ears, she not once thought to spend even a fraction of her time on herself, not when she had such an incredible partner to focus on, to devote herself too. But she was gone, and Peach was alone. Or, maybe she use to be. Now she wasn’t so sure. Plum saw her, the real her, the person she was before she even gained this cursed timeless body, before she grew sad and tired. She knew what she liked, didn’t like, what she would avoid or gravitate towards. The insight she’d gained made it so difficult not to feel like she truly knew this woman.

The hands that held her face gently pulled a little, and Peach gave no resistance despite her fear, accepting that she had to let go of her self loathing a little. Since she lost the love of her life, one thing had escaped her, or more appropriately, she’d made sure it never happened again, keeping everyone who tangled with her at arms length as much as possible. Perhaps it was too intimate and personal, or maybe it was a form of self punishment, a way to make sure she never forgot what she lost, to keep it fresh in her mind that she needed to shoulder the blame for what happened. Truth be told Peach didn’t know anymore. The captain gave her all the time to stop this, to say she couldn’t, and yet the woman didn’t say a word, couldn’t even hear her breathing anymore, she’d totally frozen up. The distance between them closed, that sweet tentative kiss not just a passing heated decision, there was familiarity to this, there was a sense of home. Both felt it, felt that sadness, that longing well up in their chests, it was coming home to open arms, it was resting your head on a lovers shoulder, the sensation that something that was very lost had been found. That sweet little kiss stayed, didn’t dare leave, deepening, Peach felt her hands be put on the back of this little woman’s torso, she’d not realised she’d stopped moving, so consumed with what for a brief moment felt like where she so desperately longed to be once more. Back with the woman she’d married, who she’d given everything up for. This was something she had denied herself since the loss, choosing to reject the softness and connection she truly loved, hoping it’d let her hold onto the past for longer. If she was harsh and mean and cold it’d make those soft memories more potent, make them stand out amongst the pointless interactions she’d had over the years. 500 long, lonely, sad years. This broke that cycle.

There was no words, they stayed there for what felt like hours, both wondering if this was actually a reunion. It felt like it. Both had a deep tight squeeze in their chest that couldn’t be explained. If Plum had been handed her wife’s memories, her leviathan appearance, even some of her old habits, would it be such a stretch for this to actually be her in some kind of younger form? Questions neither would have answers for. That kiss did not stop. Not when Peach got up holding the captain, not when they moved to the bedroom off to one side of this central room, not when that door got kicked shut. They had a lot of catching up to do.

[dragonballnewstar]

Hello everyone and HAPPY AUGUST! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend and are staying well~! Let's start this month by AMPING up our week!

I want to start with that I'm so sorry I missed last week..! Life has been crazy, but so far things have been leveling out. Here's hoping August runs a bit smoother than July...

Okay, let's start with some good news:

A life-saving blood test that can detect sepsis in under ten minutes by squeezing white blood cells could be available in as many as 11 US states by the end of the year. White cells in sepsis-affected patients are softer and more squishy than those in healthy people and become flattened and elongated under pressure - so finding a quick solution is sure to save thousands of lives from this silent killer.

In our science news today, an international research team has identified potential signs of an intermediate-mass black hole within the IRS 13 star cluster near the supermassive black hole at our galaxy’s center. This discovery suggests that such black holes, previously rare in observations, play a critical role in forming supermassive black holes. Despite enormous research efforts, only about ten of these intermediate-mass black holes have been found in our entire universe so far! Two conclusions can be drawn from this regular pattern: On the one hand, IRS 13 appears to interact with SgrA*, which leads to the orderly motion of the stars. On the other hand, there must be something inside the cluster for it to be able to maintain its observed compact shape.

Overall, black-holes are extremely difficult to research and are endlessly fascinating. I'm hoping we discover more with the complete construction of the Extremely Large Telescope (yes.. that is it's name).

Finally, music news! I've noticed a few more... uhm, Spider-folk pop up recently and came across this song. Well, actually... Hocu had just been singing it a whole bunch and the beat has been stuck in my head.

Oh, I was also told by an anonymous source that there's another character in the works joining Leche's generation that may end up removing Botan from the muse list. So there may be some adjustments on the blog behind the scenes as the mun is working on art/twitter.

That's it for me for now~! I hope you all have a wonderful week and remember to take some time to yourself and watch the clouds move~ stay hydrated and I'll see you all next week!

[crmsnmth]

My

My hear is encased in a concrete block Hardening and cracking from inner heat It beats like a jackhammer But it's not enough to chip through No chunks fall out into the dirt

My skin is made of sandpaper My touch abrasive and cruel I scratch the scabs until they bleed picking at my arms and face leaving pockmark scars that will never go away

My eyes see nothing at all Chosen blindness as a coping mechanism Shapes and blues and shadows dance on stage or so they say

My stomach is a black hole sucking in any energy it ca and I feel sick again and dry heave There's nothing left I haven't eaten in days

My fingers are betrayal notes Apologies for lies told in touch I swear I never did that to her For her I tried to be a genuine con artist Honesty is only needed when it gives false attention

My legs are broken bones I keep walking until I'm lost again Just make it to the lake and you can find your way home Or sleep on the beach for another lonely summer night The Ferris wheel spins at the same speed as the camera It's all an illusion. Everything is an illusion

My brain is thieving thunderstorms the crack is just a cover to take this all There is lightning in my veins It's the amps that are going to kill you or is it the volts? Do I look like an electrician?

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume Nine, Number 10

Older, but not a bit wiser, the Hives return

Fall comes with its smell of maple in the leaves, its intimations of mortality and, this year, its share of unsettling events—war in the middle east, AI in everything and the murder of our beloved Bandcamp by capitalist privateers.  (We are not equating these things by any means.)  Like always, we turn to music, the annihilating blare of metal, the agile interplay of improvisation, the well-shaped contours of pop, depending on our individual tastes.  We hope you’ll find something to ease your own personal burden in all this as well.  Contributors include Bryon Hayes, Bill Meyer, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers, Alex Johnson, Jennifer Kelly and Ray Garraty. 

Due to technical issues we're posting this in two parts, so don't miss the second one.

Ad Hoc — Corpse (Shame File Music / Albert’s Basement)

Ad Hoc was a Melbourne-based improvising unit, an experimental outfit that should have higher prominence. It only took 40-plus years, but Shame File Music and Albert’s Basement are finally spearheading a reissue initiative. Last year saw the arrival of the trio’s sole release, the hypnotic Distance cassette. It disappeared the moment it became available. Corpse documents an unconventional live performance from the group. They prepared their instruments (guitars, an EMS Synthi AKS synth and tape loops) for performance prior to the arrival of the audience and then shut off their amps. When all were seated, the trio turned on the amplifiers and unfurled an aleatoric blast of sound. The resulting music is far removed from the ambient tone clusters of Distance. The first piece shimmers in a way that calls to mind Matthew Bower’s Sunroof project, while the latter piece bathes in guitar noise so thick that it may have influenced The Dead C’s The Operation of the Sonne EP. Ad Hoc have today’s noisemakers beat: Corpse presents itself with a freshness that belies its 1980 provenance.

Bryon Hayes

Axolotl — Abrasive (Souffle Continu)

The French trio Axolotl existed for a few years in the early 1980s, and it reflects the aesthetic concerns of its time. Guitarist Marc Dufourd’s playing betrays some acquaintance with the work of Derek Bailey and Henry Kaiser, and the fibrous tones and agile exchanges between reeds players Jacques Oger and Etienne Brunet recall Evan Parker. All three double on electronics, hand percussion and utterances. These accessories, in combination with the concentration of the album’s 12 tracks, give the music a truculent attitude and just-the-facts brevity that brings to mind punk and post-punk. This may be free improvisation, but it is improvised from a point of view, and it’s that informed attitude that makes the album worth visiting nearly 40 years after its original release.

Bill Meyer

Will Butler + Sister Squares — Self-Titled (Merge)

Will Butler joins with Sister Squares — multi-instrumentalists Jenny (Butler’s wife) and Julie Shore, Sara Dobbs and drummer/producer Miles Francis — for their debut album. Bouncy, heartland rock garlanded with that 1980s Fairlight and Linn drum sound mixes with touches of art rock as Butler emotes wholehearted. The influence of the 20 years Butler spent with Arcade Fire is inescapable, but it feels like the quintet have also been listening to Billy MacKenzie (“Long Grass”) and Russell Mael (“Arrow of Time”) as well as Springsteen, Mellencamp and company. “Hee Loop” sounds like a mash of Paul Simon and Peter Gabriel. The themes and emotions can be big in that Arcade Fire way that’s equal parts exhilarating and exhausting, but the album works best when the band dial down the melodramatic flourishes as on “Car Crash” and “The Window,” where Butler is right in your ear, tired, disillusioned, real. This is a record I wanted to like both more and less. For every heartfelt moment and interesting musical choice, there’s a cringe-inducing gestural overreach that makes you wince. A bit like his former band but with enough promise to persevere with.

Andrew Forell

Claire Deak — Sotto Voce (Lost Tribe Sound)

Melbourne-based composer Claire Deak’s last release on Lost Tribe Sound was 2020’s The Old Capital, a fantastic collaboration with Tony Dupé. In my Dusted review I said, “There’s so much wonderful stuff going on across these seven songs that it’s a delight to revisit.” As its title suggests, Deak’s solo debut, Sotto Voce, very much sits at the opposite end of the musical spectrum. This is subtle, minimal music that softly arises out of silence and speaks an elusive language. The background to the album’s creation is Deak’s exploration of the work of two women composers from the early baroque era, Francesca Caccini (1587–c.1645) and Barbara Strozzi (1619–1677). The dominant musical elements are strings, harp and voice, with other instruments coloring the edges of these understated, starkly beautiful compositions. Across the album’s 42 minutes the music feels, at times, to be battling the entropy of erasure, struggling to be heard amid the cacophony of these overstimulated times. For that reason alone, it’s necessary to invest your attention and listen closely. The experience is eerie and transportive.

Tim Clarke

Mike Donovan — Meets the Mighty Flashlight (Drag City)

On a musical Venn diagram showing the intersecting circles of garage rock, lo-fi, and psych, Mike Donovan has set up his sandbox. With Sic Alps he veered more noisy and lo-fi; with Peacers he favored a straight-ahead garage-rock sound. On this new record with Mike Fellows, AKA The Mighty Flashlight, Donovan steers in the direction of shambolic psychedelic-pop in the vein of the Olivia Tremor Control. (To anyone who knows and loves OTC, this is obviously a very good thing.) The splashy drums and percussion tracks feel like a gestural afterthought rather than a rhythmic backbone the songs are built around, and Donovan and Fellows steer these songs into some choppy, unexpected waters. Opener “Planet Metley” is the clearest and most successful distillation of their aesthetic, offering up a staggering range of ideas in under four minutes, stopping and starting erratically, the bass roving all over the fretboard. At the other end of the spectrum, “Laurel Lotus Dub” is the kind of experiment that sounds like it was more fun to create that it is to listen back to. Between these two extremes there’s the junkshop boogie of “A Capital Pitch,” which features the hilarious line, “Hanging out on the ramparts with some dickheads in black,” the concise drum-machine and organ instrumental “Amalgam Wagon,” and the plaintive, country-flavored “Whistledown.” Wherever Donovan roams it’s usually worth following, and Meets the Mighty Flashlight is a winning collaboration that fizzes with fun.

Tim Clarke

Everything Falls Apart — Everything Falls Apart (Totalism)

“Somn” means sleep, or more poetically death. It’s the title of six of the seven tracks from Everything Falls Apart, the self-titled album from the duo of Belgian bassist Otto Lindholm (born Cyrille de Haes) and English producer Ross Tones. Those titles (numbered six to 11) and the coda “Wonderfully Desolate” tell you only part of the story of the music the pair produce. Their conversation focuses on the nuance of the Lindholm’s double bass which Tones swathes in electronic effects, stretching notes and motifs into near drones in timbres that rise from the murk like lugubrious sentinels. This is seriously heavy music but the dynamism of the duo’s understanding and interplay distinguishes Everything Falls Apart. Whilst many of the pieces focus on stasis and decay, “Somn 9” is a desert storm with clicking percussion, almost didgeridoo like growls from the bass and screeching electronic noise. On “Somn 11”, deep bowed notes support Lindholm’s move through the registers as if shaking from fitful dreams into the morning light. “Wonderfully Desolate” is comparatively unadorned, a string quartet playing against the end times, shimmers of light through the cracks.

Andrew Forell

False Fed — Let Them Eat Fake (Neurot Recordings)

Is it accurate to call a band including members of legendary underground acts Amebix (Stig Miller), Nausea (Roy Mayorga) and Broken Bones (Jeff Janiak) a “supergroup”? It might help to note that Janiak has sung for Discharge since 2014, and Mayorga has done a couple stints as drummer for Ministry. All names to conjure with (though a few of us first encountered Mayorga as a teenager back in the 1980s Lehigh Valley hardcore scene, when he drummed for Youthquake; West Catty Playground Building forever, man). In any case, the players have pooled their talents to create this death-rocking, sorta goth, sorta post-punk record, and it’s a lot of grim, grimy fun. Most of the music is mid-tempo, grand and romantic in its gestures, but shot through with a crusty growl in the guitars and production tone. The best songs speed things up a bit; both “The Tyrant Dies” and “The Big Sleep” have compelling momentum, complementing the stakes of songs’ ideas. It's Armagideon Time, people. Here’s your soundtrack, from dudes that know.

Jonathan Shaw

Hauschka— Philanthropy (City Slang)

German composer Volker Bertelmann’s 15th album of prepared piano pieces under the name Hauschka is noticeably warmer than some of his previous works. Joined by Samuli Kosminen on percussion and electronics and cellist Laura Wiek, Hauschka continues his exploration of the rhythmic and timbral possibilities of his instrument. At times almost jaunty, there are echoes of Bertelmann’s previous experiments with melancholic atmospherics but the general tone here is welcoming and optimistic. Kosminen adds subtle effects which frame rather than obscure the piano. There’s a touch of Satie in Hauschka’s playful iconoclastic approach to the piano and his deceptively simple melodies, especially on “Loved Ones” where Wiek’s plangent cello lines sustain and decay over an allusive harmony that speaks both of innocence and experience. At the other end of the spectrum, the closing piece “Noise” builds abstract ambience from repeated piano notes, smears of cello and a quiet wash of effects as if the players are enveloped in a thick damp fog. A lovely album for both fans and newcomers.

Andrew Forell

The Hives — The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons (Disques Hives)

There are usually going to be some questions when a band comes back with a new record after over a decade, maybe especially so with an act like Swedish garage/punk flamboyants the Hives; can they match the energy of their youth? Are they still willing and able to give us the old thrills? Or have they (and this is usually asked with a small, tasteful shudder of disgust) matured? It doesn’t take very long into first single/first track “Bogus Operandi” for the concerned listener to have reason for a sigh of relief. Anyone who used to (or still does?) blast “Main Offender” or “Hate to Say I Told You So” or “Walk Idiot Walk” should feel the galvanizing charge of a true, Frankensteinian resurrection once the riff hits. And across these not-quite-32 minutes (the brevity is also a promising sign) Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist and the boys kick up exactly the kind of racket you’d want from them, with tracks like “Trapdoor Solution” and “The Bomb” savoring the kind of gleefully dumb fun they’ve always provided (with a nice sideline in some of Almqvist’s deliberately, over-the-top awful narrators on “Two Kinds of Trouble” and “What Did I Ever Do to You?”). They even continue to throw out small, satisfying variations on the classic Hives sound like the brassy swagger of “Stick Up” and the surprisingly heartfelt thrash of “Smoke & Mirrors”. They may have killed off their “sixth member,” but the Hives are otherwise in rude health.

Ian Mathers

Islet — Soft Fascination (Fire)

The Welsh psych-electronic oddballs in Islet are on their fourth full-length now but show no signs of settling down. Soft Fascination is a bonkers mash up of dance pop, art song, hip hop, noise and folk. “Euphoria” floats a feather-light daze, a la Avey Tare, then punctures it the rat-at-tat of snare, the rifle shot rap repartee of Emma Daman Thomas. Gossamer textures of synth weave in and around the main action, snapping tight at intervals, like sails catching a hard wind. The whole thing is butterfly ephemeral with strong wires holding it up, a combination of daydream and architecture. “River Body,” if anything, tips even crazier, with its infectious sing-song, skip-rope vocals, its tootling toy keyboards, its blasts of noise and friction. And what can you make of “Sherry” which bucks and heaves and shouts out “Ay, ay, ay, ay,” like a lost Matias Aguayar cut? “Ay, ay, ay, ay,” indeed.

Jennifer Kelly

Jute Gyte — Unus Mundus Patet (Self-released)

Unus Mundus Patet is not the most dissonant or challenging record Adam Kalmbach has released during his 20-plus-year run under the Jute Gyte moniker. But neither is this black metal for the kvlt trve believers or for the hipster-adjacent sets, be they transcendental or ecstatic or blackgazy. The songs twist and turn in on themselves, always clear in their expressions of complex musical ideas, and also — somehow, someway — listenable and enjoyable. Avant-garde? Sure thing, and likely a much more authentic iteration of that phrase’s meaning than the music many other metal bands churn out under cover of high-minded beard stroking. See the by-turns undulating and fragmenting “Killing a Sword” or the trudging, vertiginous and then utterly thrilling “Philoctetes.” Jute Gyte doesn’t make music for the background, but if you can give these songs your full attention, you’ll be rewarded. Turn it up and open the portal into somewhere much weirder and more marvelous.

Jonathan Shaw

Danny Kamins / Chris Alford / Charles Pagano — The Secret Stop (Musical Eschatology)

Free improvisation may be a little sparser on the ground in the southern USA than it is in Chicago or New York, but The Secret Stop affirms the vigor of those who participate. Guitarist Chris Alford and drummer Charles Pagano play in New Orleans, and Danny Kamins is a saxophonist from Texas; this encounter took place in the Crescent City. As even players in places like the aforementioned northern cities or London will affirm, travel comes with this territory. Their interactions display a capacity to sustain balance when the energy is high and to back off when doing so will transform the music’s tension. Kamins intersperses long, coarse tones with emphatic pops, and Alford evidences a fluent stutter that suggests he’s spent a lot of time studying James “Blood” Ulmer’s sound grammar. Pagano’s cymbal sizzle and mutating not-quite-patterns provide both forward momentum and a framework within which the action occurs.

Bill Meyer

MIKE \ Wiki \ The Alchemist — Faith Is a Rock (ALC)

The long awaited collaboration between The Alchemist and MIKE took a sudden turn when they took on board another New York rapper Wiki who steals the show here. Both Wiki and MIKE were outcasts recording music in the vein of Earl Sweatshirt, even though MIKE was always a better version of Earl with only possibly a tenth of his fame. Knowing no rest, The Alchemist (that is his fourth collab this year) takes both MCs way out of their comfort zone, refusing to pander to the needs. MIKE and Wiki have to deal with The Alchemist’s fast and thick layered production, and it works for all of them. “Mayors A Cop” is a standout here, and Faith Is a Rock is one strong contender for the tape of the year.

Ray Garraty

Camila Nebbia — Una Ofrenda A La Ausencía (Relative Pitch)

The title translates as An Offering To Absence, which of course raises the question, what’s missing? Camila Nebbia is a multidisciplinary artist who grew up in Buenos Aires, Argentina, but has seems to have spent a fair chunk of time moving around Europe in recent years, and is currently based in Berlin. She has a sizable discography, but this correspondent has not heard most of it, so let’s just focus on the album at hand. Its 16 tracks present three facets of her work — acoustic tenor saxophone, electronically adjusted saxophone and poetry — with the first method best represented. The unaccompanied saxophone performances reveal her mastery of both weight-bearing muscularity and adroit tap-dancing on the far side of the fences that confine conventional tonality. But when she layers long tones and feedback, Nebbia becomes a one-woman orchestra transmitting heavy Penderecki vibes. The one poem included, “Dejo que me lieve” (“I let it lie”), is recited in Spanish, and no translation is offered; perhaps home is what’s not there, so she needs to manifest it creatively?

Bill Meyer

[Continued in Part 2, because Tumblr decided we only get 10 audio links.]

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: May 8, 1989

Lyrics:

OK, you're on your own, it's late

Your girlfriend is on another date with the hero in your dream

Turn around, ask yourself. So, you think you're gonna win this time Manchild?

Is it the pain of the drinking

Or the Sunday sinking feeling

The car never seems to work

When it's late your girlfriend's on a date

And the hero with her in your dream

In your sleep it seemed to like you

Turn around and ask yourself

Turn around ask yourself

Manchild, will you ever win

Manchild, look at the state you're in

Could you go undercover

And sell your brand new lover (could you)

Be someone else for a night

Maybe someone else will love you

You sell your soul for a tacky song

Like the one you hear on the radio

Turn around ask yourself

Turn around and ask yourself

Manchild, will you ever win

Manchild, look at the state you're in

Manchild, he will make you cry

Manchild, Manchild, Manchild

From Monday down to Friday

You're working on another man's car

Or is it in the factory?

It doesn't matter where you are

Just turn around and ask yourself is this communication

Accentuate the positive and give some illustration

See Manchild, you're no one, you turn the microphone on

Control communication when I'm kickin' it and so on

To the point that I need, the air that I breathe

Into an audience that's waiting and ecstatic to receive-

For the meantime another mean rhyme, I keep on sayin' it

I know what the time is the crowd will keep playing it

Through the speaker boxes loud's my diagnosis

'Cause I believe in miracles and words in heavy doses.

Enough R-E-S-P-E and C-T

Respect yourself express no stress the mike is easy

Just believe that all you need is the air that you breathe.

Turn around ask yourself

Manchild, will you ever win

Manchild, look at the state you're in

Manchild, he will make you cry

Manchild, Manchild, Manchild

He's the apple of your eye

Once bitten twice shy, why don't you bite me again

Just take it in the right and go tell your friend

Are you ready for the words I turn the microphone on

A figure of speech to reach you at the back and so on

The style I'm stimulating dance floors

Raise your body temperature now and

This demands for power in the amp you know louds my diagnosis

'Cause I believe in miracles and words in heavy doses.

Songwriter:

Cameron Mcvey / Neneh Cherry / Robert Del Naja

SongFacts:

"Manchild" is a song by Swedish singer-songwriter Neneh Cherry, released as the second single from her debut album, Raw Like Sushi (1989). The single was a top-10 success in the United Kingdom, New Zealand and several European countries. "Manchild" did not chart in the United States or Canada. It was the first song Neneh sat down and wrote. She composed the song on a Casio keyboard (the same one she uses to this day), using an auto-chord setting and ended up with 7 chords in the verse alone. Neneh's stepfather Don Cherry commented on this praisingly, comparing it to a jazz song structure. Nellee Hooper did the beat for the song and wrote the rap with Robert Del Naja. Neneh then gave it to Cameron McVey, who helped to shape the song with the parts and "made it make sense".

The song's lyrics are "directed at a full-grown man who has a little more growing up to do". Neneh expressed the significance of the song for herself, stating it's where she found her sound: "I think "Manchild" was the song where I kind of found my style. I think that song, the style of the song, the spirit and the feeling of the song has reappeared; it always reappears along the way in other songs that I've written; therefore it became the most significant song that I ever wrote, in a way". The music video for "Manchild" was nominated for "Best Video" at the 1990 Brit Awards.

[grison-in-space]

And I think OP's on to something by pointing out the levels of climate anxiety young folks have today: y'all have so many reasons to be afraid. I think that conservative streak you're describing isn't necessarily traditional conservatism in the way @cazort describes it, either--not least because when I think of the failure modes of the kids a generation behind me I see, "don't change it, it's fine" is not exactly a prevailing ethos. I see a lot more of "this is horribly broken, fix it immediately," without necessarily understanding what the functional aspects of the status quo even are or how they came to be that way. To be clear, when I say that's a failure mode, I don't mean you are collectively failures--just that when things go off the rails, that's the shape it takes.

No, what it actually reminds me of is the neoconservative fragility that shaped my political awakening in the mid-00s. The construction of the world as a terrifying place that has to be resisted and shaped around oneself defensively; the prescriptive morality of enforced conformity, the--yes--endorsement of vigilante violence, or abandonment of the protections of law. The PATRIOT act. The rules of the moral universe are different, of course, but it's that atmosphere of reactive terror that pings me hardest. And of course, neocons in the 00s didn't invent that shit whole cloth; much of it flowed from the same root as the Moral Majority in the 80s and before that the Red Scare of the Cold War, before I was born either. That conservatism isn't marked by a reluctance to change so much as it is by a nostalgia for an imagined perfect past, and a drive to change the present to match that imagined past. The overlaps between that and fascist rhetoric aren't accidental. There's always a scapegoat causing the endless fear, but when the scapegoat vanishes or crumbles mysteriously the fear tends to just go and attach to a new target.

Honestly, what I see when I interact with college kids y'all's age? It's fear. It's fear driving a lot of this bad behavior, along with not knowing who to trust.

I'm in my thirties, and I think when I was growing up kids were a bit more sheltered from the realities of the pending apocalypses, yeah? Maybe not the Gen Xers who grew up in the shadow of nuclear war, sure, but even that was always a threat somewhere off on the horizon. 9/11 hit when I was a pre-teen, but my family insulated me somewhat from the fears swirling around that in a way that my older friends didn't quite get, and then there was the housing market collapse as I went to college. And even that's not as rough as some of the things that shaped your recent development.

2017 was a profoundly traumatic year for many Americans, and COVID made 2020-2022 profoundly traumatic for the entire world. Both of those are events that amped up the division and paranoia among many people's families and neighbors. Climate anxiety has been rising, and more and more people are openly discussing climate fears. More than anything else, y'all have grown up in an atmosphere of uncertainty, fear, and unpredictability.

It's maybe not a surprise that the most problematic politics from gen Z are usually marked by paranoia, fear, and a desire to construct a safer-feeling world to exist within.

Now, I do also disagree on this point: I don't actually think, based on my experience working with college students, that there's no willingness to engage with adults as peers among people a generation or so younger than me. I don't think that any generation is uniformly any one thing. I generally find that when I challenge adolescents and early twenty-somethings that they bounce forward and grab the ideas I'm tossing out to them, and sometimes they toss me an interesting idea or two back. The key is to be respectful on a peer level. There's shit I'm too beat up and exhausted to make happen that is, nevertheless, a good idea to do. There's ideas about what fair standards are that I can't make myself believe in without being pushed. There's also some stuff that's just plain silly, or that costs more than the kids pushing for it have accounted for. That's all right. They'll get the shiny idealism beat off them in due time, but the longer I can help protect them while we learn how to labor together in the trenches, the better for all of us.

The kids are about as all right as they've ever been. It's just that the shapes of their reactions are more fear-shaped. To be fair, I'm a lot more broken and jumpy than I was ten years ago myself, so I get it. Let's practice techniques for handling that fear rather than allowing it to reactively control us together.

here's my hot take about my generation and people younger than me (I'm 22 years old)

The reason current teenagers and people in their really early 20s are conservative on accident and have such shitty takes on the internet is because our generation was much more sheltered than previous generations and because we were raised to be ok with orwellian servailence and that is 100% the fault of our parents, Reagan Era kidnapping panics, and the rise of technology all coming together to prevent us from doing the sketchy shit that sends parents into panic mode but which is also completely fundemental to childhood development. If your parents had even a crumb of money to their name and even a shred of free time they started tracking your phone as soon as it was possible to. I did not experience this because my parents are actively trying to live like it's the 1990s and still have not gotten cell phones of their own, and did not let me have one until I was 18 years old and it was no longer their choice, but literally over half of my friends in middle and high school had their phones tracked by their parents at some point or other, and we would occasionally find this out, not because their parents told them, but when we were trying to do the aforementioned sketchy shit and their parent's car would pull up. And I would, like a reasonable person after finding this out, encourage my friends to just leave their phones at home, and their response would be "What if I get kidnapped" or "My parents are just trying to keep me safe"

This in my estimation has lead to a combination of kids being terminally online because they do have internet access and are better at deleting search history than their parents think they are, but don't have the freedom to go out and do shit without their parents' knowledge or consent, so they have the most privacy from the people who control their lives while they're on the internet, and kids not having the real world experiences they should have, not knowing how to connect with other people irl, not feeling comfortable leaving the house because of the horror story lies their parents told them to make them ok with the surveillance they were inflicting on their kids. Kids these days are growing up in the fucking panopticon when they should be out in the woods playing with knives or stealing cigarettes from their older sibling and going out to an empty parking lot to smoke them or whatever and that shit is sticking with them into adulthood. Things that were "tee hee we could get in trouble isn't this so fun and daring" in the 1990s and 2000s have become in the 2010s and 2020s things that are "If I do that without texting my parents some sort of lie to excuse where my location is my parent's car will pull up and I will get grounded for the next two weeks."

Like even when I was 19 I had a 16 year old friend who would volunteer their time at a food shelf and that's how we knew each other. We would talk about dungeons and dragons together, and the game store was 4 blocks from the food shelf. One day we left the food shelf earlier than they had told their parents they would and they got punished for that. We were literally just going to look at dungeons and dragons miniatures and dice, which was self evident if you could see where we started and how far we walked and where too. I have to assume that this isn't uncommon. It's wrong, but it's not uncommon.

[gollumsmygel]

let me brainrotrant about Hansuke

- So her dad's side of the family - the Akashi - used to be obsessed with making the strongest fire quirks. That's why Hansuke's and her dad's quirks are waaaaay too hot. Despite being a respected family, some of them being heroes or part of the hero management thing, they did some illegal things like buying people. All in the name of being that family with strong fire quirks.

So there are times where Hansuke would think 'What if I have that mindset? Who would I pick?' and she would stare and analyze her classmates.

- More often that she'd like to admit, she can't understand any of the slangs she hears Denki say.

- Mom side grandparents always tell her to stick to respectful, kind people. But Hansuke is like Cinderella and sees the good in people but she's also a little introverted and sheltered so making friends was a little difficult

- Being raised by hero parents, knowing All Might since she was little, meeting a whole bunch of heroes and sidekicks, Hansuke couldn't dream of any other profession other than being a hero. Of course she thinks helping people is her calling, but the people around her really shaped her mindset.

- As nice as her family members are, Hansuke being born into a rich family that still does the whole clan leader thing, she experienced a lot of expectations early on in her life. Being the next head of both Akashi and Ishikawa families, she was expected to be strong and smart, and good to lead. Sadly for her grandparents', she's a dumbass.

- Her grandfather (dad side) used to adore and dote on her a lot. All of it changed tho when she ended up not manifesting a quirk. The way he talks and acts around her changed, always telling her that since she's quirkless she has to be strong in other ways. When she did get her quirk at age ten, her grandfather was trying to coax out the fire quirk out of her. Beating her down physically and verbally. She only ever thought of those as training until she realized it was abuse. (Her grandfather went to prison)

- Since both of her parents are heroes, Hansuke doesn't see them as often as she wants. All her knowledge about her parents came from the news, and stories the maids and her grandparents (mom side) would tell her.

- Her hero costume is matte black with gold linings. It has a hood, and paired with thin shoes. She sucks at designing but since her quirk is versatile, she just needed a costume as durable as possible.

- Tho her costume is black, most of her clothes consists of the colors white, red, blue, black, and grey.

- Experienced what it's like to have a crush when her cousin used a love quirk on her. The love quirk is amped to as high as it could work before it started to work on Hansuke. Hansuke hated every minute of it. The way her heart would beat so fast, how she'd stutter and blush, daydreaming of them. It was like her body was forgetting its basic functions (she's overreacting) and she swore she will never fall in love.

- Surprisingly good with kids ages 4 and above. Even more surprising that kids below 4 absolutely despise her.

- Hansuke is overly proud of her last name.

- Only time she took advantage of her parents work and fame is when she was recommended for admission in UA. Other than that she tried to crawl her way up the ranks on her own (people still tie her name to her parents tho)

- She does not like being challenged or forced into rivalries (what happened with Todoroki at the Sports Festival and Bakugo challenging her before the licensure exam) because it honestly scares her. But she let Hachisuka rope her into a rivalry (he wants to avenge his mom who keeps losing to Hansuke's mom back then) only because he wasn't being mean.

- She awakened her quirk after the war.

- She actually did manifest her quirk at age 4 but since the quirk itself takes a lot of mental and physical toll on its user, Hansuke was unable to show any power of the sort until age 10. (For context her quirk is basically a quirk that makes quirks. She couldn't really master it until she's an adult.)

- She usually sleeps early, wakes up at around 2 or 3am to eat a snack then wake up at 5am to exercise.

- Her room back in their house has a black ceiling and a huge bed. It has a connected bathroom and dressing room. All her hero collectibles are in another room, all of which she cleans carefully (especially the All Might ones)

Then her dorm room in UA has a wall-mounted TV, a small couch, blue curtains, and a loft bed. Under the loft bed is her computer and cabinets. It's lowkey All Might themed with the colors but not like Midoriya's room.

- Even a 1yr old baby can have better tolerance to spicy foods compared to her.

- BNHA timeskip wise, Hansuke was able to take the top spot in the sports festival in her 3rd year.

- While the former Class A kept in touch through messaging apps, Hansuke was mostly MIA. Barely messages, never shows up in person for parties or hero awarding.

- Gets shy about calling people by their first names. She'd be fine if she's calling Uraraka by her first name if it's just the two of them.

- Tends to binge eat. If she sees a fruit bowl, best believe she'll demolish all of it in an hour. Would even add some ice and milk to the fruits.

- She has a lot of clay bowls she eats ramen with. Uses her quirk it heat the food up.

- Was referred to as a walking survival kit and gets chosen in "if you're stuck in---" questions the class plays. She always, always go for Yaoyorozu tho.

- Incorporated the way her parents dress to herself as she gets older. She wears clothes the same style as her mom's but has her dad's colors (browns, whites, dark red).

- She initially didn't look like her parents when she was younger (she had more similar to her great grandpa) but as she got older her smile looked more similar to her mom and her reactions and expressions look similar to her dad's.

- As tough as she is, she is actually afraid of ghosts and dark places. That's why she has a nightlight.

- Prefers winter over summer.

[scrawlingwithstyle]

One Good Turn (5/?)

The story of how “you,” an apparently average person, join the Avengers. 

A Marvel fanfiction based on my friend’s recurring dream. 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1434

Tags: @arrow-guy, @ifitistobeitisuptous

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

You can barely sleep that night, but you know you need to in order to refresh your brain for the morning. Stark had said twenty-two hours. That gives you till five p.m.

The morning takes too long to come, so you’re up before the sun, mulling over your options while you eat breakfast. You have a list in your mind of what powers would pair best with the combat skills you’re learning from Nat and the healing factor you already know you want. You just have to shuffle through them to find one that best suits you.

Shapeshifting comes off the list pretty early when you realize that changing your size or shape might counteract all your training. Longer or shorter limbs would make you clumsy. An animal form would be even worse.

Flight also crosses your mind. It’s practical in some ways. You consider the advantage to dodging, and then an even better thought comes to mind: heightened reflexes.

Having powers that aren’t apparent at first would be good for hiding in plain sight or keeping a secret identity. On top of that, a danger sense of some kind would make it easier to make split-second decisions.

It’s barely six a.m. when you realize you’ve decided on your second power. To make sure you’re certain, you let yourself think about it for a bit longer while you finish getting ready for the day. And besides, you don’t know what time it’s okay to call.

It’s five to seven when you can’t stand it anymore and call the number for Avengers Tower.

“Morning,” greets Stark. He sounds like he’s been up for a while. Maybe he hasn’t even been to bed at all.

“I’ve decided,” you say.

“Perfect. How soon can you be here?”

You look at the clock. “I don’t have work today, so… twenty minutes?”

“Alright. I’ll let Banner know to expect you at the lab.” He hangs up without a goodbye.

You frown a little but don’t take it personally. In the brief time you’ve known him, he appears to be a bit brusque with everyone.

As promised, you arrive at the tower within twenty minutes. You pass by very few people on your way up, including Natasha. When you make it to the lab, Bruce is the only one there.

He greets you from the far end of the room and then asks, “What other ability have you decided on?”

“You know how Spiderman just kind of… knows when something bad is about to happen?” you say, unable to hold back a grin. “Something like that. An extra sense for danger.”

He furrows his brow and nods. “I think I understand. Unfortunately, it’ll take some time to program the device given your specifications. Probably at least a couple of hours, give or take.” He looks you up and down. “If you want to spend some time in the gym, or up in Clint’s archery range, that might be a good way to let off some energy.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat disappointed. He’s not wrong, though. You’re feeling pretty amped up. “That sounds like a good idea.”

You haven’t been to the archery range yet, and you doubt Clint is here this early to show you around, so you head back down to the gym and find a treadmill. You figure if a brisk jog doesn’t help, there’s always a punching bag you can beat up.

Steve shows up about thirty minutes in while you’re taking a break and just lying on one of the mats. He reaches out a hand, and despite your desire to stay on the floor, you grab it and let him pull you up. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You smile. “Yeah, just nervous. And excited.” You pause at a thought. “How did it go when you got your . . . ?” you gesture to all of him.

He chuckles. “It hurt like hell, and I wanted to sleep for a week straight.”

Your face pales. “Oh, is that all?” you ask weakly.

He claps a hand on your shoulder, laughing. “You’ll be fine. It’s a different process, and it shouldn’t make any drastic physical changes if you didn’t ask for them.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank God.”

You spend some time watching him, fascinated, as he lifts weights labeled in the triple digits. “What are those things made of?” you ask after a minute.

He finishes a set and sets them down before answering that it’s adamantium.

You gape at him for a minute before you find your voice again. “I know Tony has money to burn, but that is a lot of money to burn.”

Steve nods. “I know. I told him it wasn’t worth it, but he had them made anyway.” He shrugs sheepishly. “Now I use them all the time because I feel guilty that they cost so much.”

You go back to your own workout, now and then glancing over to see what he’s doing. You tell yourself it’s curiosity. You’re lying; it’s his muscles. Fortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to notice, but you have to stop when Nat comes in because she absolutely would.

During another break, lying on one of the mats, you doze off a bit and only wake up when Natasha says your name.

“Are you ready?” she asks, squatting by your side.

Anxiety twists in your chest. “I think so. Is it already time?”

She nods and stands, offering you a hand to help you up. “Bruce is waiting for you.”

Working off nervous energy has made you sweaty and sticky, so you’re hesitant to go directly back, but you’re also too anxious and excited to stop and shower before you go. You take the elevator, nervously rocking on your feet until the doors slide open.

Banner greets you again and ushers you deeper into the lab to a large machine that kind of reminds you of an airport metal detector, except that it’s fully encased in glass. He presses a button on the control panel and the front of the glass opens up.

“I’m ready when you are.” He gestures toward the open door.

You take a breath and step inside, and he closes the glass door behind you.

“Stand in the white circle,” he says, voice muffled.

You look down and center yourself.

“Ready?”

You take another deep breath and flash a grin. “Hit me.”

He hits a few keys and the machine whirrs to life. The very air around you begins to vibrate, and the sensation reverberates through your bones. It’s not pleasant, but it isn’t painful either; it’s just really weird.

You open your mouth a little, but forget what you’re about to say when you feel your teeth rattling against each other. It’s unsettling enough that you opt for closing your jaw tightly to prevent it from happening again. You realize after what feels like a solid five minutes that you never asked how long the process was going to take. But you’re not willing to open your mouth again to ask, so you just shut your eyes and wait for it to stop.

Another strange sensation takes you: a warmth that blooms from beneath your sternum, and slowly spreads to your extremities. Again, it’s not awful, just strange. Once you feel it in the top of your scalp and the ends of your fingers and toes, it grows uncomfortably warm before fading almost instantly, along with the deep vibration.

Your ears start to ring, and your body feels as though it’s still buzzing, even though you know it’s stopped. It takes a moment to relax your jaw, which is stiff and painful now, and your voice creaks when you speak. “I forgot to ask how long that would take,” you croak.

The door opens, and you step out on shaky legs.

“That was twenty-five minutes,” Bruce replies, “but it’ll take a couple days for the powers to kick in and your body to recover. You’re going to be pretty lethargic and weak, but functional till then.”

You laugh a little. “I didn’t think about that either. It’s a good thing I don’t have to walk home.”

“We’ll have someone drive you.” He helps prop you up and leads you to a nearby chair. “Your legs should be back to normal, more or less, in maybe thirty minutes. You can sit in here until then.”

You nod, sitting back. “I think I’ll take a little nap, if you don’t mind.”

He smiles. “That’s fine. I’ll wake you when you’re good to go.”

Your eyes are already shut. “Mm-hm. Thanks.”