#even if he was 14 like STILL-- but god.... he was essentially seven years old why was that his JOB
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dollarstoreartsupplies · 1 year ago
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something I think we as a fandom don't talk about enough is the fact that during his first guide mission grover was 14. And satyrs age half the rate of humans.
grover was emotionally and mentally seven years old. seven. of course he couldn't save everyone he was seven years old!!!!
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johnkingsway · 8 days ago
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Lonely-Behind the sunrise.
Verse one: (John Kingsway)
I never thought it would be so sad, I never thought I could hurt this bad, now that you're gone. I never thought you were hurting too, and now you're scared of what I might do, but yeah, I never thought I'd be glad, that were gone.
Chorus: (John Kingsway, and Leonardo Rodriguez) I'm all alone, but carrying on, even though it feels like I'm the only one, sometimes I'm lonely all the time, ever since I was five, now I'm twelve, and it still hurts like hell, I'm still thinking. Oh god, why would she make herself bleed. (How could she say, she no longer wants to breathe) well you scared me to death, so I tried to do what's best my friend, and even though you hate me, I still love you.
verse 2: I always go for the girls messed up in the head, this was mutual, so don't act like I left you for dead, were done. I've been there too, but I always feel like you're coming at me, so I'm sorry, but I'm glad that were done.
Chorus:
Guitar solo:
verse:
Final chorus:
Personal note: I wrote this song after a break-up in 2018, just before I started seeing Tori. We ended it mutually, because mental illness had destroyed the love in the relationship, on both sides, but more so for her. The first verse expresses my sadness at the end of the relationship, because that same weekend, at a family gathering I felt too depressed to eat, to the point where even my aunt noticed. But in the end, I was glad it ended, because I always felt like I was walking on eggshells, she took stuff out on me, I tried to help her, and she resented me for it, etc. The line "I'm lonely all the time, ever since I was five." Is a reference to the fact that I started suffering in life when I was seven, but I put five, because five years old is still elementary school, and it fit better. I had essentially no real friends, I was bullied, and then I experienced my first betrayal, from who I thought was my friend, who just blamed me for his problems, and tried to fight me, there was even a time at recess that he cut me with his nail, and another time where our class was leaving, and the teacher couldn't find us, because he had started beating me up, into a tree, luckily the teacher saw us, and stopped it, but I would get my revenge by beating him over the head with a binder. The line, "Now I'm twelve, and it still hurts like hell." Is a reference to the fact that when the break-up occurred, I was 12, but I was 14 when I wrote the song, two years later. The line, "I always go for the girls messed up in the head." Is a reference to the fact that most of the women in my life have been mentally ill, there was only one of them that wasn't. In the end, she tried to commit suicide, after saying, "I'm breathing, but I wish I wasn't." So, I told somebody, and she was mad at me for "Telling her secret." and claimed "You always do this." when I never did that before, so a week later, we sat, and talked, and I told her, I felt it was best that we part ways, because neither one of us were happy, and she agreed.
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dietgaymags · 4 years ago
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A definitive ranking of DWTS Season 29′s celebrities thus far
So I'm obsessed with Dancing with the Stars as much as the next guy. I’ve seen every season since number 11, when I was like 9 years old. But I dropped off a few seasons ago, disappointed that they really had the nerve to put the legend Lindsey Stirling on the same season as the other legend Jordan Fisher. That was not fair to anyone, because Lindsey would have wiped the floor in literally any other season. 
But Season 29′s cast was released and I got excited again. About 80% of these names I was not only familiar with, but were people I enjoyed for some reason or another. Skai Jackson, Nelly, Johnny Weir, AJ McLean, Nev Schulman, Carole Baskin, Justina Machado, Monica Aldama, and the list just goes on. They really said “we need to get young people back into the show.” And they did. I was hooked. And though Len is gone and Carrie Ann is going some sort of which way with her votes (we don’t talk about it), I’ve watched every episode with bright eyes and so much excitement. We have some good dancers this season. And some bad ones. But mostly good. So here’s my definitive ranking of this season’s stars (and, by extension, pros). And if you don’t agree, that’s fine. I am simply a nineteen-year-old girl who likes to watch ballroom dancing. 
NUMBER 15: CAROLE MF BASKIN AND PASHA PASHKOV
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Besides the moral obligations to not allow a murderer to appear on the show, I think DWTS did a good job trying to rope people in by bringing her on. When the cast list was released, my jaw dropped because I knew she was going home first and I wanted to be there to see it. 
And somehow, she did not... go home first? She made it another episode? While I’m sure it was a ploy to keep people interested in the show so they didn’t watch the premiere and drop off, Carole Baskin is sure to go down in DWTS history as one of the worst competitors. Her highest score was a 16, sure, but her lowest was an 11. We’re treading Master P territory. And I had a full traumatic episode watching her in a lion-esque unitard. Fuck, I needed to bleach every orifice on my body. (Overall Rating: 1 dead husband/10)
NUMBER 14: CHARLES OAKLEY & EMMA SLATER
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You cannot tell me this man isn’t having the most fun he’s had in a minute. He was another easy-to-spot early elimination, but I actually enjoyed watching him to some degree. Emma danced circles around him, but you could really tell he was trying his damnedest and I appreciate it. And his performances didn’t strike cold, dead fear into my heart like other people.
He also got the same average score as Carole over the first two episodes, but one of those was NOT an 11. Slightly better, imo, just a little less improvement than Carole---which is why Derek booted him in the first place. (Overall rating: 1.5 left feet/10)
NUMBER 13: JESSE METCALFE AND SHARNA BURGESS
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Did they---did they ever dance? I literally don’t remember anything other than that Newsies dance, which I have to say I particularly enjoyed. It might be because I like Newsies. It might be because Sharna’s hair is gorgeous this season. I don’t know, but it probably wasn’t because of Jesse’s dancing. 
That’s literally all I have to say. (Overall rating: 2 confused braincells/10)
NUMBER 12: CHRISHELL STAUSE AND GLEB SAVCHENKO 
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WOAH, she’s coming in with the hot takes! Chrishell hasn’t even been eliminated yet! And look, it’s not even Chrishell’s fault that she’s so low on the list. It really isn’t. She’s been performing, well, okay thus far. Not great, considering her highest score was a 26 on a Paso double where she literally did not even dance (look, I’m not a judge, but I would’ve given it a 21 MAYBE). She’s trying, and she seems to be really enjoying it; I absolutely adore her energy. But most of the issue here is attributed to her partner, Gleb.
His choreography is just... I don’t know... lazy. He throws himself around like a god among men and Chrishell is just there. I don’t really appreciate the pros who prefer to dance over their partners instead of with them. I don’t understand why he thinks this method will get him a mirrorball, but it’s just not gonna happen. (Overall rating: 2 measures of actual dancing/10)
NUMBER 11: ANNE HECHE AND KEO MOTSEPE
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Look how happy they look! No, but seriously, they didn’t do that bad. They just had a bad week. Week 2, they had a higher average score than SIX other couples on the show, and they left with a score of 21. I legitimately think that their Disney night dance was underscored. Sure, it wasn’t wonderful, but it didn’t deserve a fifteen.
I know they had no chance to win the mirrorball, but Keo has a history of being stuck with less-than-stellar partners. Anne was not a bad match; they just had bad luck and better competition. I did love watching them, though. And Keo is beautiful, but need I say more? (Overall rating: 3.5 early elims/10)
NUMBER 10: VERNON DAVIS AND PETA MURGATROYD CHMERKOVSKIY
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I honestly haven’t enjoyed Peta’s choreography since Season 22, when she and Nyle DiMarco ate up the dance floor and left not a single crumb. She and Peta were another pair where I was like, “Wait, who got eliminated? They’re still here?” The judges were right in saying Vernon had a lot of energy on stage, and look at him here. He’s big cheesin’.
They kind of existed for me is all I have to say. The only reason they’re ranked higher than Anne and Keo is because their average score was just overall better. They never scored extremely well, with their highest score being a 22, but they never did too horribly either. They were meh. (Overall rating: 4 touchdowns/10)
NUMBER 9: NELLY AND DANIELLA KARAGACH
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Another hot take? Yes. I can never tell whether or not Nelly enjoys being here until he actually dances. During rehearsal, confessionals, critiques, he always looks a little embarrassed or nervous? I’m not sure. But just like Vernon and Peta, all of their dances have been kind of meh. 
That’s not to put Daniella down in any sense. It’s her first season as a pro, and her abilities definitely shine through in her performance. But like I said about Gleb earlier, she has a tendency to dance over Nelly at times (see: the Freddy Krueger dance from last week). I don’t see Nelly living up to the standards the judges say he’s lived up to thus far, but that might just be my personal opinion. (Overall rating: 5 heeled sneakers/10)
NUMBER 8: MONICA ALDAMA AND VALENTIN CHMERKOVSKIY
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Another surprisingly hot take. I actually really enjoyed each of Monica’s dances this season, especially since she’s someone with essentially zero dance experience. I’m still very pissy that the Ratched dance sent her home---it was one of my favorite dances of the night, and I have no clue why she only got a 22 for it (especially when Chrishell and Gleb got a 26). 
Val has always been someone on the show who can take a non-dancer and genuinely make them better. This is the case with Monica. We saw so much improvement with her over the weeks. We’re getting to the part of the list where I love all of the dancers. Still, Monica and Jeannie should not have been the bottom 2 last week, but in the case between the two, it’s right that Monica was eliminated. Still, I would have loved to see her next week. (Overall rating: 6 cheer pyramids/10)
NUMBER 7: SKAI JACKSON AND ALAN BERSTEN
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Sure, she got the first 10 of the season. Sure, the Chucky dance was kind of spectacular. But she’s also had the lowest score for two out of seven weeks so far. She has yet to be in the bottom, but I’m sure that’s the fans working for her. I can’t deny her talent on the dance floor, but I would argue that objectively, Skai has made the most mistakes out of everyone this season.
She’s been remarkably inconsistent over the course of the season, but when she’s good, she’s really, really good. She was my pick to win when the cast was released, but now I don’t see that happening unless the fans really come to vote on her, which I think they will. But there is no excuse for an 18 on Week 6. She can do better. I know she can. But until then, she stays in the middle of my list. (Overall rating: 6 Ms. Kiplings/10)
NUMBER 6: JEANNIE MAI AND BRANDON ARMSTRONG
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To be completely honest, I had Jeannie Mai pegged as an early elimination from Week 1. But she and Brandon continue to astound me as a team. I love every single one of their dances, sad that they’ve been consistently underscored. That Hannibal Lecter paso was stunning, and the Up dance on Disney night made me tear up a little. 
They’re not higher for the sole reason that others are just better. Not because I don’t love what they put out on the stage every week, but Jeannie just isn’t the strongest technically. Until they get eliminated, though, I’ll be watching with bated breath. (Overall rating: 7 hole-in-ones/10)
NUMBER 5: KAITLYN BRISTOWE AND ARTEM CHIGVENTSEV
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Do I just not see what everyone else is seeing when they’re obsessing over Kaitlyn Bristowe? I mean, everything she’s done so far has been wonderful, but she’s not my favorite. Technically, it’s on point 85% of the time. and she has the second-highest point total so far in the competition, but she has yet to do a dance where I step back and think, “Wow.” That’s what puts her behind the top four.
I did not like the Cruella DeVille paso doble at all last week, but I think that was attributed to the song choice more than anything else. I have yet to be taken aback by Kaitlyn and Artem, but their work is undeniably, objectively some of the best on the show. (Overall rating: 7 roses/10)
NUMBER 4: AJ MCLEAN AND CHERYL BURKE
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Now we’re at the spot on the list where if any of these guys win the mirrorball, I will be satisfied. Something about AJ is simply magnetic. He has such a kind disposition and wonderful talent on the dance floor, it’s so hard not to love him. His samba is one of my favorite dances on this season so far, and I’m genuinely concerned that he’s been underscored this whole time. 
Cheryl is a mf VETERAN at this, too. She knows how to teach this man to destroy a dance floor. The energy he brings, the life he brings, the nasty footwork that he DEMOLISHES. I did not expect to love AJ as much as I do. In my opinion, the most improvement we’ve seen in a star this season. (Overall: 8.5 backstreets/10)
NUMBER 3: JUSTINA MACHADO AND SASHA FARBER
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Justina is living proof that you don’t have to be as big around as my pinky finger to do ballroom dancing well. She’s easily the best female star this season, and Sasha has accentuated her talents on the dance floor without overpowering her, which I enjoy. On top of that, she looks so happy to be here, which translates heavily into her dancing. 
I will say, not every dance from her has been my favorite, but there hasn’t been a single dance out of her that I haven’t liked. Her presence is so powerful and destructive that everyone needs to watch their backs. Remember, this is a sitcom mom, not a professional dancer. (Overall rating: 8.5 days at a time/10)
NUMBER 2: JOHNNY WEIR AND BRITT STEWART
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I am a firm believer that Johnny and Britt should have gotten a perfect 30 on their contemporary back in Week 5. I am also a firm believer that they should have gotten a perfect 30 on their Viennese waltz last week. I am consistently blown away by Britt’s choreography every single week, and their chemistry as a pair is unlike anyone I’ve seen in the show’s history. 
What I like about them so much is how much of a team they are. That really makes so much difference out on the dance floor. Their grace and style is completely unmatched, and as a first season pro, Britt is destroying some of the pros who have been here for years... Gleb. I can’t wait to see their performances every single week, and I hope they continue to dance together somehow even after the show is over. (Overall rating: 9.9 triple axels/10)
NUMBER 1: NEV SCHULMAN AND JENNA JOHNSON CHMERKOVSKIY
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Hey, quick question: did you expect this? Because I definitely didn’t. Catfish has always been my guilty pleasure show to watch when I’m bored and lonely, and Nev has always been this super dorky guy, so when they announced the cast list, I was like “Oh, this is gonna be funny as hell.” Because it could only go one of two ways: 1) Nev fumbles around like a dork and goes home pretty early, or 2) he wins the mirrorball. 
APPARENTLY it’s the latter. Nev surprised me, and I think everyone, with his natural talent, and Jenna is heavily playing off that in her choreography. She’s been giving him very difficult, technical work and he’s has continued to astound. With the first 30 of the season rightfully deserved, Nev is a force to be reckoned with. Like I’ve said earlier, some of the pros like to dance over their partners to hide their weaknesses. I would go so far as to argue Jenna lets him dance over her. Together, they’re an absolute wildfire, and if they continue at this pace, consider the competition already won. (Overall rating: 10 chest hairs/10)
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nadiafm · 5 years ago
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( camila morrone, cisfemale ) hey ! have you seen NADIA PEREZ around ? they work as a ICE SKATING INSTRUCTOR at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 21 years old & they’ve been working here for 11 MONTHS. they tend to be +AMOROUS & +CONVIVIAL, but can also be -LICENTIOUS & -WARY. the other employees have labeled them THE ROMANTIC. thanks a lot ! gold hoops , floral mini dresses , pink lipgloss , overly dramatic eyeshadow , freckles specked across your nose , mascara running down your cheeks , tequila shots chased with salt and lime , lana del rey blasting in your headphones , mirror selfies , golden hour , glitter and rhinestones , blue raspberry dum dums , piled up books you keep forgetting to read.
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hey y’all !! i’m so excited for this wow. i’m sam, i’m 22, and i live in pst !! i’m a sucker for cooking shows and dogs and candles. but more importantly...this is my freaking baby nadia, an absolute idiot with a heart of gold ! i already know this intro is going to be too long but bare with me i will include a tldr at the bottom i promise. also hmu on discord to plot ! capricornmom#1278
here is nadia’s pinterest & here is her playlist
aesthetics : gold hoops , floral mini dresses , pink lipgloss , overly dramatic eyeshadow , freckles specked across your nose , mascara running down your cheeks , tequila shots chased with salt and lime , lana del rey blasting in your headphones , mirror selfies , golden hour , glitter and rhinestones , blue raspberry dum dums , piled up books you keep forgetting to read
character parallels : jackie burkhart ( that 70′s show ) rachel green ( friends ) , cassie howard ( euphoria ) , brooke davis ( one tree hill ) , bianca stratford ( 10 things i hate about you ) , april ( palo alto ) , erica vandross ( flower ) , gigi & triple a ( booksmart ) , snooki ( jersey shore ) , jessica day ( new girl )
full name : nadia paloma perez
birthday : july 23, 1998
zodiac : cancer sun , pisces moon , pisces rising . god help this emotional ass girl
nationality : american 
religion : roman catholic
sexual & romantic orientation : bisexual , biromantic
hometown : aventura , florida ( 20 minutes outside of miami )
languages spoken : english ( fluent ) , spanish ( fluent ) , french ( still learning , takes it in school , somewhat conversational )
likes : candy ( sour punch straws , lollipops ) , watching soccer games ( messi stan till she dies ) , rex orange county , writing , magazines , making empanadas with her abuela , romantic comedies ( her fav is how to lose a guy in 10 days ) , tequila sodas , sex , lana del rey , chipotle burritos , iced chai lattes with almond milk from starbucks , gossip girl , craft beer , margaret atwood
dislikes : quinoa , nuts in things like salad or cookies , star wars , watching golf , oatmeal , church , screamo music , california ( a grudge ) , spoiled rich kids , condescending business majors , quentin tarantino ( and his avid fans )
BACKGROUND
Born and raised in South Florida, a little aways from Miami ! Her mother, Paloma, was an Adventura native while her father, Santiago, was an immigrant from Argentina. Her parents met in college when Paloma was studying abroad in Argentina. They fell in love, rather quickly, and the rest was history. They had planned on moving back to America together, but Santiago’s visa was denied. So, after only four months of knowing each other and 2.5 months of dating, they got married. 
Turns out sometimes you should know your partner better before getting married !! shocker right. It wasn’t so bad at first, though. They were young and in love and their honeymoon phase seemed to last forever, until it didn’t. 
By the time Nadia was born, they’d already begun to realize each other’s faults and flaws. Santiago was a good looking guy, and with his thick Argentine accent, he tended to come off as overly friendly and at times overtly flirty. Paloma was jealous and needy. It never seemed to mesh well when she thought her husband was flirting with every other mom in the neighborhood. 
So, for the majority of Nadia’s childhood, all she remembered from her parent’s marriage was them fighting. She had a close relationship with the both of them, though, and she was particularly close with her father. He was her biggest supporter !! Always hyping her up. He was the one signing her up for sports like soccer (they’re a huge soccer family, the only time her parents weren’t fighting was during Argentina games), gymnastics, dance, and ice skating. Her favorite was soccer, and her for most of her adolescent years, her dad coached her team. They formed a really close bond because of it. 
The marriage was sort of non exinsistant at this point, but in some sort of last attempt to salvage any love they might have had for each other, Santiago and Paloma had a baby. It was more Paloma’s idea than anything. Santiago, at that point, was only sticking around for Paloma. She was seven when her little sister was born, Caterina, and Nadia absolutely adored her. They may have been seven years a part, but they were the best of friends. 
When Nadia was twelve, she woke up with a note on her bed side table. It was from her father, and it read: “Nads, I’m so sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to your face. I wish I was stronger. I am so proud of you and I promise I will be in touch. Te amo. Papa” He hadn’t left anybody else a note, and not even a word to her mother. As close as she was to her mother and sister, she couldn’t help but blame them for her father leaving. Still, she was pretty certain she’d hear from him soon. That he’d come back once he cleared his head. Only, he didn’t. 
Word spread pretty fast around school about what had happened. Suddenly, Nadia was a charity case. PTA moms were coming up to her and offering to bring her lunch or dinner, if she needed it. She was the girl who’s dad left them high and dry. It didn’t help that on top of that, her body was going through changes much more rapidly than any of her friends. She already had gotten her period, and by the time she was in seventh grade she was wearing a D cup bra. So in addition to the sudden spotlight as the girl without a dad, boys started treating her differently. Boys that had never talked to her previously suddenly wanted to be her friend. In eighth grade, Hayden Walker rolled up a small piece of paper and shot it like a basketball into her cleavage. He high-fived his friends after and thanked her for the backboard.  
So middle school was rough. And while Nadia had had one or two boyfriends during that time, she’d never gone past kissing them. That’s not how the rumors went, though. That was the part that hurt the most. The things people said, especially the things girls said about her. Girls she thought were her friends. 
At the end of eighth grade, during the summer before high school, she got a text from her dad. The first one in 2 years! She’d idolized him her whole life, so obviously she was ready to forgive him as soon as she heard from him. He told her he was living in California and Nadia was like, I’m sold! Let’s go! Only her mother was like...are you fucking insane you are not going to California to visit that man. Long story short, she found a cheap cross country bus ticket and essentially ran away from home to see her dad! He was shocked she had come at all, despite his text message leading her to believe he wanted to see her. Apparently it was more of a courtesy text, a text so he could let go of the guilt of leaving an entire family behind. Because in the two years he’d been gone, he managed to start a new one. He had a new wife, and two newborn twins. 
Nadia was pretty furious, but she stayed the summer anyways. She had full intentions of starting high school in California and not going home to Florida. Things were tense at her father’s, though. Her “step mother” obviously didn’t like having her around, and though her bond with her father was slowly rekindling, there was still a sort of distance between them. But they were trying to make it work, at the very least. 
Then came the end of the summer. Nadia had made a few friends around the neighborhood, and was invited to an end of summer kickback with a bunch of high schoolers. Naturally, she lied about her age at the party. She was 14, but told everyone she was 16, and everyone seemed to overlook her baby face thanks to her ass and tits. At the end of the night, a boy drove her home, and the two ended up hooking up in the car. Apparently she had misjudged how much her father actually cared, because he’d waited up for her to come home, and after seeing car headlights out front, he’d stormed outside to find her in the car with a high school boy, half naked. After allowing her to gather her bearings, he essentially humiliated her right there on the front lawn, screaming about how irresponsible she was amongst other things. The majority of the conversation has since been blacked out from her mind, but she’ll never forget the look on her dad’s face when he said, “you’re nothing, you’re just like your mother, and i don’t want you anywhere near my family.”  whew !! ya girl was hurt.  
So, obviously, she was back on the way to mom’s ! Honestly at that point her mom wasn’t even mad at her for leaving she was just thankful she was back. 
GODDD okay this is getting long so I need to wrap this up. I haven’t even gotten to personality KJSHG Okay let’s wrap up high school in one bullet point. Basically she sub consciously searched for every man’s approval because she lacked the approval she needed from her father! This meant lots of boyfriends and never saying no. In her four years of high school, she was maybe single for a total of like ... seven months. not seven consecutive months lmao, 7 months in between relationships. 
one of those boys was connor perch, her first official boyfriend freshman year ! they were really sweet n young and nadia really thought she was in love. but then she gave him a blowjob and this mf recorded it ! and nadia found out after the fact, asked him to delete it, he said it was just for himself to look at, only to find out he’d sent it to his friends a few days later. so that basically set the precedent for how she’d be treated the next four years of high school ! she tried to act like it didn’t bother her but dang. high schoolers can be very mean !
oh my god i seriously have to wrap up okay this will be quick. basically when she was a senior in high school she went on a ski trip to big bear and met a boy named ethan, who she like fell in love with so fast like literally a week give it a rest girl. he was from Colorado but when she left they kept in touch and basically talked every day for the rest of the school year and throughout the summer. She’d decided to apply to Boulder University to be closer to him because this time it really felt like the real thing ! SURPRISE AGAIN ! She got to school and found out he had a girlfriend. She was really mf heartbroken over that. But did she learn her lesson? No. Does she still fall in love with anyone who looks in her direction? Yes. 
Okay and lastly she has been working all sorts of jobs throughout college because her mom is helping her pay for tuition and rent so she’s gotta cover spending money ! She ended up getting a job at Big Bear Resort during her last winter break as an ice skating instructor because she used to do ice skating back in the day. Now she works at Big Bear during her school breaks and on some weekends ! 
TLDR/Tidbits
Hopeless romantic with major daddy issues
Will overanalyze every interaction she has with anyone because she thinks they might like her
EXTREMELY GULLIBLE 
Probably will have a crush if you are even remotely nice to her 
Really dumb but means well. Literally no common sense. Complete bimbo
Cries A LOT. Complete crybaby. Happy or sad she’s probably crying
Heart of gold!! She really always means well even when she fucks up so bad I SWEAR her heart was in the right place 
Can outdrink anyone. She would drink a 6ft5in, 200 pound man under the table any day
Tequila is her choice of drink, but vodka is for her #sadgirlhours
Obsessed with Rosalía, Lana Del Rey, & Rex Orange County. And also 2010 bangers. Anything she can shake her ass to !
She pretty much used to exclusively wear mini dresses because when she realized everyone was just gonna sexualize her anyway, she was like FUCK IT, i’ll show my ass n titties n legs. Except it’s fucking like negative degrees in Colorado so she can’t do that ! Bummer. (she’ll still probably find ways to wear mini dresses)
Obsessed with makeup!! She loves doing adventurous things with eyeshadows and lipsticks  like ok euphoria 
Kinda crazy. Major crackhead vibes especially when she’s drunk! She loves going out, she’ll go out on a Tuesday, she just likes to have fun ok and dance on tables and make out with cute people
She’ll have a one night stand but just know for HER she’ll probably get attached. I’m so sorry it won’t last that long but she’ll pine for at least a week
ok that is all i’m so sorry for this shit show of an intro but here is a messy list of wc !
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notafightr · 5 years ago
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i dont have any specific questions but id really love to hear any thoughts on It that youd like to share!!!
okay so i have a big note in my phone of all the things i thought to point out or write down from the most recent time I read the book (the past month or so) because the time I read it before this one I annotated the whole thing and I was just gonna chillax with this time but I realized I was still finding new things that I even didn't find when I annotated it and I wanted to remember them so yeah a lot of it isn't coherent bc I figured I'd be the only one to ever see it and I'm not gonna transcribe it so enjoy what makes sense
I think the first chapter is told by Georgie. at the very beginning of the chapter, the pronoun "I" is used for the first time, "so far as I know" and then again at the end of the chapter, for the LAST time in the book, "I do not know where [the boat] finally fetched up", where the rest of the book doesn't once use this first person kind of syntax. the entire book as I've analyzed before uses third person POV, in which it is third person but not limited to one character, following the emotions/thoughts/etc of several different characters at different points. the first chapter is the first, last, the ONLY chapter that takes the third person point of view of Georgie, as he dies so we do not see from him again. since this chapter is the only one we see as Georgie's point of view, and it's the only chapter that uses I as a pronoun, making it first person, it's not really third person, but more of Georgie's first chronological look back on the beginning of the story, starting with his first experience of the events of It. it's even further proven to be less of an omniscient narrator than that of an unknowing one, such as Georgie, when the story begins saying "The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years—if it ever did end—began, so far as I know or can tell, with a boat made from a sheet of newspaper floating down a gutter swollen with rain.". This quote contradicts everything we know and come to find out through the course of the story, which is that It has been an ever present being in Derry since the beginning of time. It did not begin in 1957, like this narrator believes, which makes it clear that this is not the same narrator we read from for the rest of the book. So all in all I think this is some spiritual version of Georgie, any amount of years after the story, perhaps 27 years, perhaps a hundred, telling what he knows to us, the reader.
WHAT IF ITS MATURIN MORE ON THAT LATER
"Arms can be symbols of strength and power. We use our arms to carry and lift and move things, but we also use them to protect ourselves and others. “Arms” may also be used to refer to weapons that attack, or as “armour” to defend."
eddie lost his arm protecting the others
some sort of parallel with Stephen and Adrian.. both writers, s straight a gay, s ditches things that take longer than a few months to write, a 12 years on one book
PENNYWISE REFERS TO ADRIAN AS DONS FRIEND—
richie49 251 Richardsalley485
mike67
eddiec 251 901
I just realized no kid was killed in their home I think? no Frederick Cowan was
IGMMS on nightmare on elm Street in chapter one
possible reshoots: one from book one from not
Audra bike ride
mummy
photo album
eddie corcoran
the bird
dead boys
photo album dos
fridge
final flood
I'm caught
literally refers to Eddie as queerboy
a phantom appeared in the form of an old man.
Stan "looked like the world's tiniest adult" Stan was said to have the soul of an old man. tragic when you think about his fate. phantom in the form of an old man could refer to stan
427 ocd
14 430 parallel
584 Richie adhd
all losers only child
maybe in the end it's the voice that tells the stories more than the stories themselves that matter
Bowers HELPED them defeat it by bringing them all together
"'The victim was a gay and rather childlike man name Adrian Mellon. He had a bad case of asthma.'
Eddie's hand stole out and touched the side of his aspirator." (see page 507)
I need not cite anywhere that Eddie is asthmatic, this is common knowledge. But if we go back a few pages, specifically page 493;
"[Eddie's] face was prematurely lined (although in his movements he seemed somehow younger than either Richie or Ben),"
What do these descriptions of Adrian and Eddie have in common? Descriptive of how they are childlike, compared to those around them, and that they are both asthmatic. Not shown above but also common knowledge to anyone who's read the book, they both have other parallels including their death (killed by pennwise/It in which one of their arms is torn off) as well as the fact that the only use of the phrase "my love" is from Don to Adrian and Richie to Eddie.
I know we all know their deaths and the fact that they're asthmatic sets up parallels between them, but I really wanted to acknowledge the fact that within just 14 pages of each other, Eddie and Adrian are BOTH labeled as childlike (in Eddie's case, at least in comparison to those around him) which I think is VERY purposeful. This makes Adrian's only significant trait not explicitly mentioned about Eddie, that he's GAY. Therefore, heavily implying Eddie is as well.
jesus christ
so you're telling me. when Eddie goes down the street Greta and the Tracker Brothers both live on when the seven split up after the chinese food meet up, that he reminisces both on Belch and Greta, two people who bullied him, looking back on when they would play a sport (Greta croquet in her backyard, and Belch baseball in the tracker Brothers field), and then sees Belch as the leper offer him a blowjob? like the original leper? and so you're telling me, a little after that he sees It taunt him again as Greta but in a non sexual way? so basically you're telling me, Eddie sees It as Belch and Greta back to back, who both serve essentially the same character type, paralleling themselves in Eddie's point of view, only difference being their gender, and you're telling me, It chooses to taunt him as the leper offering a blowjob in BELCH'S form? not Greta's? you're telling me all that? that It sexually taunted him as a boy instead of a girl? so basically you're telling me Eddie is gay and It knows it
singer/reddie parallel Richard Penniman Eddie Cochran
"the two up cards were both the ace of spades"
"most spiritual card in the deck"
"SEVENS SEEM TO SURROUND THIS ACE"
BRUH STAN
preconditions 526 619
624 foreshadows Eddie's death when It taunts Henry as the losers but not Stan or Eddie
bruh eddies sexuality is so repressed he don't even know it but Richie he knows something. he knows he likes Eddie. that world of it book says paul Bunyan represents the masculinity Richie is attracted to... literally though... like Richie doesn't tell anyone about it ONCE not even once he never tells ANYONE he only tells his first experience as the one with bill!!! wtf!
check page 959 of annotated copy
ok i think the fact that henry deliberately chose Eddie first to kill is absolutely foreshadowing his being the next death of the losers club, he could have gone to the closest one being Richie on floor two but he for some reason chose the one furthest up? ok worm
973 did kaspbrak have a wife? maybe that was a stupid thing to say.
huh I wonder why Henry would have any doubt that Eddie has a wife
THEN HE CALLS HIM A SKINNY LITTLE CREEP
WHATS THE NUMBER ONE REASON A HATEFUL MAN WOULD CALL ANOTHER HARMLESS MAN A CREEP
982 Henry literally calls Eddie a fag i
all the slurs henry uses are specifically geared toward a fact based trait of each loser
rocks symbolise strength and stability
very repeated through the book since the apocalyptic rock fight
I kinda don't like that Eddie's ability to navigate was so lately introduced seemingly as a plot device
thank god for small favors... he slapped eddies can....... z z. xxnejsm
ONE OF EDDIE CORCORANS ARMS WAS GONE IN ITS WEB!!!!! THE FORESHADOWING DOESNT STOP
spiders symbolize fear turtle symbolizes creator, persistence, endurance, longevity
1098 Eddie goes to Bev first because he's the most "frightened" he goes to her as he would go to a mother. he does this sexual act with a GIRL in a maternal context
send more questions and headcanons to my inbox!
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codyfernaesthetic · 6 years ago
Text
Dichotomy
 Part 14
Summary: Mallory is searching for answers. Michael is searching for his path. They both find each other.
Author’s note: Context, context, context!!! I’ve never been more nervous about a chapter. lol. This monster might confuse you, especially if you didn’t spend hours researching the Salem Witch Trials in both history and AHS canon. This is deep cut stuff. If it’s wanted, I can answer any questions on who or what an event or person is, or whatever. It’s mostly the first part, so after you get through that you should be in the clear. Hopefully it’s explained well enough to not be confusing. I know you guys are smart, I’m just anxious about where this takes things. I want it to be interesting and evident how it’s relevant to the story. But enough rambling. Let’s find out what Michael and Mallory find out about themselves and each other! never 
Warnings: Blood, language, NSFW (Nothing explicit)
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A lone woman, a refugee from her broken home, found herself weeping in a dingy motel room in the city. She was pregnant, the catalyst for her ostracization from her abusive parents. She didn’t know where to go or what to do. She’d stolen cash from her father’s wallet and run away. The guy who’d gotten her pregnant had hit the road the moment she told him, and she couldn’t afford an abortion. She’d decided to make her deathbed the ugly, stained spring mattress of the motel room. Her face was wet, her fingers trembling as she poured out a bottle of pills in her hand.
A burst of white light shot through the room. The woman screamed, dropping everything and backed up against the wall, staring as this light took on a humanoid shape.
“Do not be afraid, Agatha.”
The voice was gentle, it sounded as if it came from everywhere and nowhere at all.
“Who are you?”
The light hovered closer.
“Do not be afraid to bring forth this child.”
Agatha felt a warmth caress her belly like a hand.
“I have set aside this child for a great purpose. You shall give birth to a daughter, and upon her 18th birthday she shall become pregnant, through no will of man, but by mine. And her child shall be my chosen one, who will save this world from destruction.”
She gawked at the message, doubts and fears assailing her.
“How can I possibly take care of this child? I have nowhere to go!”
Tendrils of light spread about, “Take no care as to how you will be provided for; behold, lilies of the valley neither toil nor sow, and kings are not clothed like one of them.”
Agatha crawled closer, enraptured. She reached out her hand to touch the light, electricity buzzing on her fingers.
“All right,” she answered breathlessly, “I’ll do what you say.”
The light faded, leaving Agatha in blissful assurance that all would be well.
When she took a shower that night, she noticed a new mark on her body, like raised scar tissue.
A single star over her heart.
1692
Sarah Good was among the first to fall in the Salem Witch Trials. She was a homeless, pregnant beggar despised by the community; she was tried and imprisoned, leaving behind her husband and 4 year old daughter Dorothy, who was also taken into custody upon suspicion of witchcraft. After the 4 year old was released, the trauma she suffered left her unable to function and she spent the rest of her life as an invalid. Her mother meanwhile, gave birth in prison to her sister Mercy; but the newborn died mere hours after her birth, then Sarah was led to the gallows and hung declaring to her judge and executioner, Judge Matthers, “God will give you blood to drink.”
Heartbroken and desperate, Sarah’s husband begged the newly risen Supreme of the escaping witches to raise his daughter back to life and give her a chance to live freely. She agreed, bringing the newborn back to life. Mercy Good was given into the care of Hephzibah Green and her young daughter Jescha, and was renamed Mara, meaning bitterness. The witches escaped, leaving the horrors of Salem behind. Years passed and justice for Sarah Good was left undone…
25 years later
The town of Salem, Massachusetts lay sleeping under the pale moon, its people having put away their business for the day and said their nightly prayers for protection over their souls during the night.
All except for Judge Matthers, who sat at his desk by the candlelight working into the late hours. He stifled a yawn, dipping his quill in the ink pot.
A noise disturbed him. Something against the window. He inspected the origin of the disturbance, seeing and hearing nothing else. He had just made it back to his desk when the front door swung open with a loud bang. The old man jumped and stilled his heart, shuffling over to close the door.
“Working late into the night, Your Honor?”
He turned, startled at the new voice. A young woman in her mid twenties stood in his home, dark eyes flashing with rage.
She lifted her hand, “Detendo.”
His body was thrown against the wall, his limbs gluing to the wooden surface, paralyzed. He couldn’t make a sound.
The woman strolled toward him, “Dost thou remember a woman by the name of Sarah Good?”
His mind raced back to a gallows, a fiery, deranged woman he’d condemned as a witch.
She continued, “The woman you hung 25 years past in your self-righteousness?”
She stepped closer, “I am her daughter.”
His eyes widened in terror.
She gave him a malicious chuckle, “Aye, the one pronounced dead when you showed my mother no compassion. I hath returned from the grave to exact her prophecy upon thee. Innocent blood you spilt, but in thine own sin-cursed blood shall ye drown.”
She reached into her cloak, whispering, “Patentibus.”
His mouth opened without his consent. He started shaking.
She held up a closed fist to his face, “Behold the vengeance of Almighty God, Most Honorable Judge, and the vengeance of Mercy Good.”
She opened her hand, blowing a white powder into his mouth. He coughed violently, his body trembling harder as she waved her hand to drop him to the floor. Blood poured from every orifice, his skin turning a disgusting gray as his blood splattered all around him before he collapsed dead. She spat on his corpse and left the Judge’s home, slipping away without a trace.
_____________________
Jescha confronted her upon her return. Mara hung their clothes on the line, her adopted sister asking, “Where wast thou really?”
She didn’t look up from her work, “Repaying a life for a life.”
“Hast thou no regard for your own safety?” She scolded.
“Not since my birth hath the town known me, and even then presumed dead.”
She crossed her arms, “Thou canst not put the coven in such danger.”
She looked up at her, shrugging, “I have not. No man recognized me and I did not use my given name. All is well, justice has been done.”
She huffed, stepping beside her to help her finish her chores, “Some justice shouldst be left unto the Lord.”
Mara nodded, “‘Twas if I be His messenger.”
“Beware of pride, Mara. Lest thou think thyself too important.”
“I have thee to blame. Thou hast told me I am special.”
She smiled, “And ye are. Thou art also as stubborn as the ass of Balaam.”
She bumped her, “Aye, but the stubbornness of the ass twas the Lord’s will.”
Mara had no desire to become Supreme; she was happy to spend her days tending her garden and living in peace, despite both Jescha and Hephzibah’s insistence. She did eventually attempt The Seven Wonders at their behest, only to fail the very last.
“T’would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed,” Jescha told her after the tests as they sat by the river.
She laughed, “Should I take that as compliment or criticism?”
“Both.”
“Why?” She skipped a rock, “If I am not the Supreme, then I am not the Supreme.”
Her sister pouted, “I had such faith that ye were.”
“And why hast thou not attempted the Seven Wonders? Go and show thyself to be the Supreme.”
She balked, “If thou couldst not do it, then surely I cannot. I am merely a garden witch.”
Mara feigned offense, “Careful of thy words, I am merely a garden witch.”
She leaned her head into the crook of her neck, “No, not merely. You are among the most powerful of our coven.”
Mara patted her, “Thou art just as essential as I. Providence will grant you great things, dear Jes. I’m sure of it.”
“As I am sure of you, Mara.”
The two women continued in their happy states. Jescha eventually moving away, marrying into a rich family. Meanwhile, Mara’s descendants continued the line of powerful witches. Until a girl was born with the power of special connection to the spiritual world, claiming communication with the entity most commonly called God. This woman’s name was Agatha, who did give birth to a daughter she named Leah. And according to Agatha’s predictions, Leah did become pregnant at 18 years old, though no one ever knew who the father was. And Leah gave birth to a beautiful baby girl she named Mallory.
_____________
Mallory sat on her grandmother’s knee, listening to her story. When she got to the end, Mallory clapped gleefully, “That’s me!”
Agatha ran her fingers through her granddaughter’s hair smiling wistfully, “That’s right, Mallie. Grandma knew you would be born even before she had mama.”
“Do I have magical powers?” She wondered in awe.
Agatha cupped her face, “You have more power than anyone, Mallie. You have the blood of Salem and the heritage of divinity.”
She bit her lip excitedly, “Do you still have the star?”
“No, but you do, don’t you?”
She nodded, “Mama says it’s a birthmark.”
“It is. It’s a very special birthmark. It’s a sign that you are gonna save this world one day, Mallie.”
Leah and Mallory’s stepfather found them sitting out in the garden, dragging a pouting Mallory from Agatha to go home. Leah would always try and undo her mother’s damage, telling Mallory that her grandma was senile and delusional. But to Mallory, she was the only one who understood her, the only one who confirmed the deep sense of destiny she’d felt even as a little girl. She especially became a safe haven when Mallory turned 13 and was found levitating in her bed by her stepfather. Her parents dragged her to several priests as more powers manifested; the ability to manipulate fire, psychic visions, disappearing and reappearing, etc. They believed she was worshiping the devil or possessed by a demon. Mallory was forced to endure several painful exorcisms, her powers manifesting in the middle of them due to her emotional distress. This only fueled their fear. The worst incident was when Mallory found a dead rat in their yard, torn to shreds by a local stray cat. She brought the rat to the front porch, cradling it in her hands. Her parents screamed for her to put it down, but she only placed one hand over it, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
The rat stirred to life, its wounds completely healed, even appearing younger. It scampered off in its new life while she stared in amazement at her own power.
It was the last and worst exorcism she had before running away to live with her grandmother. When her grandmother died, she felt like she’d lost her only home.
Then, a woman named Cordelia Goode announced nationwide that she ran a school for women with exceptional powers, witches.
Mallory packed her bags and left for New Orleans.
_______________
There is no love which is not pain
There is no love which does not bruise
There is no love which does not fade
There is no love which does not live from tears...
Michael felt as if he was thrown back into his body; like he was snatched away on the cusp of discovering the final truth. He gulped in air desperately, looking around him. Mallory lay there still in a peaceful trance. She should have woken up with him.
He went to her, touching her face, “Mallory…”
She remained unresponsive.
“Mallory!”
She was still breathing, but was lost in his past, being buried beneath his darkness.
He picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, lovingly laying on his black silk sheets, propping her head on a few pillows.
Hours passed...days...weeks…
“Mallory, please,” he begged everyday, “Please come back to me.”
He refused to leave the house. His food, his work, everything was ordered to be delivered to that single room. Several Cooperative members pleaded with him snap out of it; they promised to place a guard at the house, to set up a cycle of servants so he could be notified if or when she woke up. They were met with fury.
All the while she was plunged into the deep dark waters of Michael’s past. She witnessed everything, felt everything he experienced. It was enough to surely kill her.
She finally came to after nearly two months of unconsciousness. Michael was at her side immediately, caressing her sweat-soaked face. “It’s ok,” he whispered over and over again, “It’s ok, I’m here.” Her breathing calmed, her mind cleared; she looked at him, seeing beyond him. It was as if she’d journeyed through his soul, seeing every crevice, every hidden thought, surveying every molecule of his essence. It was terrifying. She saw slit throats and corpses, demonic claws sinking into his heart, endless dark. It was sorrowful; brimming with abandonment and loss, desire to change, but no one to help, a small, scared child thrust into the arms of people who only saw him as a means to an end, a tool. Bottomless loneliness and a starving for love, true, faithful love. But more than anything... It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Despite it all. She should hate him, she should want him dead. But only love flooded her heart. There was a bond between them now that their souls were bare before each other, a golden thread that weaved among their atoms, threading them together; they were darkness and light, a dichotomy, two coexisting infinities that could never be separated. She took his face in her hands, admiring every detail of his face; she touched their foreheads together, breathing him in. “You will never be alone again.” Tears sprung to his eyes, his fingers brushing over her neck. The thread tightened, pulling them closer and closer together until their lips connected. Michael groaned the moment their lips touched, ferociously pouring out every ounce of built up sorrow and desire. Emotion overflowed in both of them; tears began to fall upon their lips, and they shared them, letting go of every pretension. Michael snapped his fingers, their clothes disappearing. They became a mess of entangled limbs and passing breaths. He kissed all the way down her body, wrapping his arms around her thighs. She sighed, her skin burning with each touch of his lips. She entwined her fingers in his silken hair, threading through it assuringly. He gave a gentle bite on her stomach, earning a surprised moan. He looked up, concerned, searching to see if she was displeased. Her pulse quickened, slick heat burned between her thighs as she looked into his pleading gaze. “I’m fine,” she whispered, “That felt so good,” she pressed her lips to his forehead, “You make me feel so good, Michael.” A desperate noise left his lips as he pulled her closer, leaving more love bites on her stomach and inner thighs, relishing every utterance of praise from her. He snaked his hands under her and started to lay on his back, Golden hair spilling on the black silk. He looked up at her under heady eyes. “Take your throne,” he begged breathlessly. She bit her lip, pulling herself over him; he made quick work with his tongue, tasting her with desperate ferocity. Her legs trembled; her grip on the headboard tightening as the pleasure exploded through her body, primal moans and worship flowed from her like a hymn. Michael’s fingers gripped and dug into her flesh; the taste of her dripping on his tongue sent a jolt of need through him. Unable to bear it, he reached down and attempted to relieve some of his growing desire for release. With a heavy breath, Mallory slid herself down his body, straddling his stomach. He was taking in air like a dying man, his tongue running over his lips with little moans of pleasure. He looked up at her, eyes begging and submissive. He traced his hands over her, cupping her breasts, massaging them, treating them like sacred objects, reverently venerating her skin. He slid his fingers up to her throat, slowly curling around it gently, whispering in an uncertain tone, “Mine?” She kept her eyes on him as she took his thumb and wrapped her lips around it, biting and sucking. His other hand traced down her body to feel her wetness coating his stomach. She leaned into his touch, sighing and raking her nails across his chest. Her own need curling into thick tendrils in her core. She leaned down, giving him a passionate kiss, “Yours.” He groaned, bucking his hips, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Please, Mallory,” he could barely speak, the need building within him stealing all of his words. He sat up to grip her face and pull her into a desperate, devouring kiss. “Take me,” he whined, “Please, take all of me.” She kissed him again, but he pulled back with a needy grunt, “I need you. I need to feel you surrounding me, please. Oh, please, Mallory...” the rest of his pleas were unintelligible noises of wanton hunger. She slid down further, lowering herself; he released a shaky, prolonged moan as she took him. She vocalized her pleasure with each thrust of her hips, her rhythm and speed building with her desire. Faster. Harder. Both of them riding out their pleasure, their bodies relentlessly chasing its zenith until Their release struck them like lightning. Michael couldn’t temper his volume as he screamed out her name like an irreverent prayer. Mallory could barely breathe as pleasure like bursts of light shot through her veins. They collapsed together, slick with sweat and languid. Michael, with little strength, wrapped his arms around her, planting lazy kisses on her face and neck. She clung to him like a survivor to her last hope. “Mine.” He breathed into her ear. She kissed his neck, “Mine.” They would delight in each other several more times that night, much slower and gentler. A sensation washing over them that neither of them had felt in a long time... Peace
__________
The two new lovers were wrapped up together, sleeping as they hadn’t in years. Michael’s face was buried in Mallory’s neck like it was his refuge; her legs circled his waist, hands still entangled in his hair.
A faint hum disturbed her rest. She opened her eyes to find herself staring up at a night sky, stars dotting the velvet canvas. She eased herself up, glancing around at the field where she had first met the being posing as Cordelia. Only this time, instead of the greenhouse, a large, wispy tree curled its silver branches up to the sky, gorged, white fruit with speckles of gold hung low upon it. She approached, curious at the sight.
A rustling of footsteps caught her attention. The woman stood there, still in the guise of Cordelia, staring at the tree with forlorn eyes.
“This is not how I intended this to happen,” she sounded far away, “It was all supposed to be much simpler than this.”
Mallory glared, feeling no sympathy, “Why couldn’t I bring Cordelia back?”
She sighed deeply, meeting her gaze, “You can’t cheat death forever, Mallory. Eventually it comes to claim its due.”
She stepped toward her, “You’re lying.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple, “I won’t let you, that’s why.”
“Who are you?” She demanded.
The woman shook her head, pouting slightly, “I have imagined this moment for years, eager to welcome you with open arms. And now here we are, and you already hate me.”
Mallory took another confrontation step, “Who are you?”
She smiled ruefully, holding up her arms as if in defeat, “Simply...I am God.”
Mallory stared.
“I am the bringer of light and creation. I am the light from which the daughters of Salem draw their power. And you” she dared to come closer and brush the back of her fingers over Mallory’s cheek, “...are my daughter.”
“I don’t understand,” was her dumbfounded response.
“You see, Michael’s father and I,” she chuckled, “Satan as he likes to be called, he and I are a balancing scale...a dichotomy which brings the universe into order. There is good and evil, light and dark. From the very beginning of time, we have fought for balance in the universe. However, there came a point where we stopped fighting for balance, and began fighting for dominance,” her face darkened, “He decided that he wanted to tip the scales, create chaos and violence over the whole earth. And now it is time to tip the scales back again. I am tired of his malevolence and wrath, I want to create a new world. One where death and disease is an ancient memory,” her smile returned, wistful, “And I will use you Mallory. I will use you to build this new creation. You were born to rule a new earth.”
The memories of the stories her grandmother told her crashed over once again.
“I’m just a witch.”
She cupped her face, eyes widening, “No, Mallory. Oh, you are so much more. Don’t you understand? No witch has ever been able to do what you can, because you are not simply extraordinary, you are divine.”
That doesn’t explain why you refuse to let me resurrect Cordelia.
She threw her hands down, turning in a huff, “Can’t you think of anything else?!”
Storm clouds began to gather on the horizon, “I have just told you that you are the daughter of God who will bring about a new world, and you’re worried about one stupid witch. Cordelia had to die. So did every other member of the coven,” she shook her head, frustrated, “Mallory you are my daughter, but it is also true that you are a witch. If every other witch was dead then the power of Supreme would transfer to you.”
Her words from before crossed her mind, “I wasn’t the next Supreme.”
She turned away from her, “No, Coco was.”
That was a punch to the gut. A sudden flash of a vision appeared before her. Her ancestor, Mara...and her adopted sister Jescha, who faded into Coco.
Her knees trembled. The woman went on, belligerent, “She was a vapid, stupid little girl but her powers were growing and given time and attention she would have ascended after Cordelia.” She faced Mallory again, a regretful expression scrunching her face, “Michael planned to kill everyone in the Outpost, I made sure that if no one else, Coco wouldn’t survive.”
“You wanted Michael to kill the coven,” the revelation shook the ground beneath her.
She held out her hands, almost in penance, “I know you cannot understand, but what I did was for a greater plan, a greater good.  The witches had to die...Mead had to die. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Michael’s father and I knew that in order for both of our children to be put on the right path...there had to be a catalyst. Mead’s death forced Michael to the Cooperative and allowed me to ensure that you would have all the power you needed to stop him.”
Fire exploded from Mallory’s fingertips, threatening to consume the woman; but she stopped the fireball, extinguishing it.
“You killed them!” Mallory screamed.
“Me?” her shoulders sagged, hurt, “Mallory it was Michael who walked into Robicheaux’s and erased your sisters.”
“You not only watched it,” she cried through gritted teeth, “you set up the pieces for it to happen.”
She tried to touch her, holding out her arms as if to embrace her, “I know my ways are difficult to understand!” Mallory knocked her back, “Don’t!”
The woman regained her stance, watching her daughter with pleading eyes.
“You think you’re different from Michael’s father? My life, Michael’s life, all of our lives are nothing but a game to you! You didn’t care about stopping the Apocalypse, you cared about winning. You and him are the same thing with different masks.”
“I am trying to make a new world!” she screamed, thunder peeling from the distance, “I want to mend everything that Michael has broken. And the only way for me to do that is if you defeat him.”
Mallory was shaking visibly, “I won’t hurt him. I won’t.”
She scoffed, “He sheds a few tears and suddenly you think you know him? He is a curse, an ugly blot on creation that should never have taken his first breath.”
She attempted to embrace her again, “You are my chosen vessel, my beautiful shining light that will destroy darkness once and for all.”
“I don’t want whatever world you create,” she spat.
The woman grew deadly serious, her voice dropping to a low, threatening tone. The storm rolled closer and closer, “Mallory, don’t make me hurt you. This will end on a battlefield, whether you choose to go willingly or not.” Mallory turned away from her, “Go to hell.”
She opened her eyes in Michael’s bed, hearing his steady breathing beside her. She clung to him and began to cry.
He awoke with a start, looking her over and trying to comfort her, “What’s wrong?”
“I know exactly who I am. And I wish I didn’t.”
He held her tightly, fully aware of their plight. He caressed her hair, “Every light casts a shadow, Mallory.”
She sobbed, “I won’t hurt you.”
“We won’t have a choice. Prophecy-“
“Fuck prophecy,” she pulled back, “fuck their stupid games,” she kissed him, “I love you.”
He breathed in deeply, laying his forehead on hers with an expression that declared his knowledge that this bliss couldn’t last; it was never going to.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
...there is no happy love.
But it is our own love.
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virgiliananxiety · 6 years ago
Text
The Dark and the Light
GUYS I FINALLY GET TO POST THIS
This is the first chapter for my fic for the @sanderssidesbang! It will update approximately every two weeks, but updates won’t start for at least another three weeks (I really need a break from this fic). Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety
Word Count: 6.2k 
Warnings: Mild violence and non-graphic gore, panic attack
Read it on AO3
This was really not how Virgil had planned on his evening going.
First off, the date he had been on was actually going pretty well. The guy was nice, and seemed kind of into the whole “dark and mysterious” aesthetic. That was, probably, until Virgil got a text with his latest assignment. Which started in five minutes.
Secondly, once he reached the location, a small concrete warehouse, which housed the head personnel of Deceit’s main rival drug ring, there were...complications. The mission was simple, go in, get the information he needed, slit the throats of whoever saw him, and get out.
Complications came in the form of the little asshole who saw him not being too cocky to call for backup.
“Deceit?” He snarled in response to the chatter in his earpiece. He was hidden in the shadows behind a crate, but by this point, the shadows were starting to fill the room. “What do you want?”
“Anxiety, dear,” Fuck, one of them is right there. “It’s come to light that some of our intel on this base was a little...off,” No shit. Left hook, hit him with a few more shadows, dart to the neck. Why the fuck did he have to scream? Think, Virgil, think! “It turns out that there are about fifty guards on the premises, and from what I’m seeing of traffic patterns, more are on their way.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Footsteps, there were more coming. But suddenly, the room went completely black. Not shadows black, that would take up too much of Virgil’s energy, but the pitch darkness was–
“Unfortunately,  I am not. Though I did shut off their power,” That would explain it. “Which should buy you a little extra time. So I would get that information and get out quick, if I were you.”
Of course, because it was fucking Deceit, he still needed to get the information. Great.
Looking down at the map on his wristband, the exit from the main storage room was only about 35 feet away. But in that 35 feet, there were seven sentries. Just fucking dandy.
The first was, well, an idiot. They charged blindly, and Virgil blocked their throws easily, flipping them over his knee. The second was more tactful, parrying as he jabbed. Their dance lasted for a while, the preamble to each move hidden in the darkness, before Virgil finally stabbed a tranquilizer into their neck.
The third was fast, but not fast enough. The fourth fell after an elbow to the solar plexus, and the fifth slashed Virgil with a jagged blade before he knocked them down. Shit, that might be deep. No time to think about it, and he hit the sixth, but they swept a leg behind him, knocking him clean off of his feet. He landed on his side. Hard. Shadows in their mouth, down to the lungs, and...release as they let out their last breath. Dammit, Virgil, why’d you have to follow that instinct? The power flickered back on, and Virgil hit the seventh with a quick dart to the neck, now that he could finally see. He could feel through his shadows, but that didn’t mean he could see in the dark.
Third left, up the stairs, override the lock, down the hall to the main hard drive. And he ran, long midnight purple jacket trailing behind him as he jumped up the stairs. In the distance more footsteps trailed behind him, but he cloaked himself in shadows, keeping close to the walls. Pressing the device Logan had given him (though he’d modified it for more...sinister usage) against the lock, Virgil took stock of his injuries. Cut in the crook between his left shoulder and neck, scrapes and bruises lining his sides, and even through his gloves he could feel his knuckles splitting. Again.
The unlocking mechanism gave a satisfied click, and Virgil shouldered the door open, reminding himself of the additional bruise he had there. He broke into a sprint again, the servers were finally in view.
But because Virgil wasn’t planning on downloading anything remotely tonight, his software wasn’t activated. So, he had to call his roommate.
“Hey, Roman?”
“What’s up Virgil? You need me to pick you up from somewhere?” It was a well know fact that Roman was the only one in their friend group with a car.
“No, I’m good. Is Logan there?” Virgil and Logan were supposed to meet up for post date (over) analysis about seven minutes ago. Logan was never late.
“Yeah, one sec.” There was a rustling as Roman’s cell was passed from one side of the room to the other, where Logan was, most likely, parked in his customary spot in Virgil’s desk chair.
“Hey, Lo, I’m really sorry I’m running late.”  He heard a huff from the other side of the line, but knew that Logan didn’t really mind. “But I need you to do something on my computer.”
“Is this a simple request? Or one that would require a seperate... technological interfacing?” Virgil could practically see him skeptically eyeing Roman from across the room. Virgil was the only one that Logan had ever told about his powers, how he was able to interface with most technology, and how that allowed him to develop some inventions of his own.
“Simple. I just need you to log in, and press activate on the window that’ll pop up.” He heard the keyboard clicking as Logan typed in his password, and then a mouse click as he activated the software, punctuated by the affirmative beep from Virgil’s wristband. DOWNLOADING FILES: 3% COMPLETE.
“What do you need remote downloading for?” Logan asked, seemingly trying to pass the time. 16% COMPLETE.
“Oh, I had to stop at the library and get a book, but I didn’t feel like getting a thumb drive out.” He felt bad lying to his best friend, but he knew that if Logan found out, it would result in a) Logan trying to get Virgil to stop, and ending up captured or killed by Deceit, b) Logan trying to help Virgil, and ending up captured and used by Deceit, or c) Logan trying to get Virgil out of his predicament, and ending up captured or killed by Deceit.
What was his predicament, exactly? Well, that traces back a long way, through many past traumas, foster homes, packed bags, and escape attempts. Back to when a man with scales on his face told a scared 14 year old boy that he could take him in and make the shadows stop. But that man ended up not being so nice, and now Virgil was trapped.
Footsteps broke through Virgil’s thoughts, but they were far off. 47% COMPLETE. “Logan, I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call, cutting off his friend’s goodbye, which he was surely going to hear about later.
He scanned his map, and found that there was only one other way out, straight up through an abandoned elevator shaft. Clambering onto one of the server towers, he hunched in the dark as the first hostile entered.
“I don’t see anything here,” they said into a crackling walkie-talkie. Virgil took another slow step, but the circuit below him creaked. Shit. “Wait, hold that thought.” 89% COMPLETE.
“Fuck it,” Virgil cursed under his breath, and broke into a sprint, his feet pounding against the metal. He heard the sentry yell something into his comm system, and Virgil fired a dart messily over his shoulder, he didn’t have the energy for more shadows.
93% COMPLETE. He raced to the end of the room. 94% COMPLETE. More guards charged into the room. 95% COMPLETE. Bullets whizzed past him, one passing only a few inches from his temple. 96% COMPLETE.  He skidded to a stop as he reached the end of the room, a large piece of plywood blocking his exit. 97% COMPLETE.  The running footsteps were coming closer, and Virgil traced the outline of the board with his fingers. 98% COMPLETE. He attempted to pry the plank from the wall, but couldn’t find an opening. 99% COMPLETE. He felt another bullet scrape by him, and it went straight through the plywood, which meant it was thin enough to be broken through.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, and body slammed through the opening, bursting through in a hurricane of splinters.
“Download complete.” An automated voice sounded from his wristband. Well thank god it’s complete, lest I die falling with an incomplete download.
Virgil fired a grappling hook, and pulled himself up onto the roof, surveying the city below him. The lights were beautiful at this time of night, and the lit windows framed by dark buildings looked like the stars.
But he couldn’t stand there for long, for the night wasn’t over yet.
Roman hadn't had an extremely clear vision of how his night would go, but this was definitely not it.
"There are only eight planets! Pluto is essentially a glorified moon!" He practically yelled. He had progressively grown closer to the other man, and they were now a mear couple of feet from each other.
“Falsehood! There’s a current debate discussing the redefinition of ‘planet’, which would make your every argument null and void, and Pluto securely in planetary status.” Logan crossed his arms, nudging his glasses further up his nose. “In other words, Viva la Pluto, and fuck you.” He raised an eyebrow smugly, and Roman opened his mouth to retort.
“Hey, guys,” Virgil stumbled through the entrance to the dorm, clutching his left side. “I hope I’m not too late for some spicy space symposium.” He smirked, but winced in pain.
“Yeah, you’re not participating in anything right now.” Roman walked over and clutched Virgil’s shoulders, lowering him to the bed. “I think you just need some rest,” He motioned for Logan to dim the lights, and he reached over and turned on Virgil’s desk lamp. “And we’ll have you all set by morning to talk about Pluto.”
“M’kay,” Virgil murmured, allowing Roman to shrug off his sweater, and Roman winced at the open gash in his shoulder. He didn’t know what was going on, but this was at least the fourth time Virgil had come home banged up like this, and it was starting to seriously concern his roommate. “‘M gonna sleep now.”
“Okay.” Roman took a last look at Virgil’s already sleeping form and went to go grab his medical supplies. His nursing-theater double major had few perks, but being able to patch up his friends at any time was something that he cherished. Especially after Virgil had said “no hospitals”.
Roman returned from his desk to see Logan hunched over his friend, worry painting his features. As much as the other man tried to uphold his apathetic facade, Roman had seen several cracks throughout the years, several being caused by Virgil.
“Logan, can you stroke his hair to keep him calm while I look at this cut? It may be deep and need stitches.” Logan nodded, and Roman took a look and the cut. It definitely needed stitches, which meant that Roman would have to make a quick run to the nursing lab. “Ok, Xavier, you keep him here. If he wakes up, give him water, half a protein bar, and then back to sleep. Find his phone in whatever pocket it’s in, and confiscate it. He needs to rest.” He grabbed his jacket, and broke off into a sprint to get more supplies.
Several hours and seven stitches later, Roman fell back onto his bed. Logan had left only a few minutes ago, but now Roman was alone, trying to shut down his mind. But truly, how could he when his crus–roommate was lying there with a gash in his shoulder and bruises lining his body. When the boy who put on makeup every morning to cover the bags under his eyes had come home beaten and battered once a week for the past three months, but this time was the only time that he’d let Roman take care of him.
Though Logan had assured Roman that Virgil wasn’t in an abusive relationship, he couldn’t help but jump to that conclusion. He couldn’t help but remember his mom’s screams in the middle of the night. Images of dents in plaster and bloodied tissues clogged his mind, and he felt himself grabbing a piece of blanket and balling it in his fist.
It would be fine. They, being Logan, Roman, and Patton, would ask Virgil what was going on tomorrow morning. Tonight, though, Roman just really needed to get some sleep.
“What the fu–” Virgil awoke with a start as someone shook his shoulder. He sat up and immediately regretted it, groaning as pain shot up his side and into his shoulder.
“Hey, kiddo, glad to see you’re awake.” Virgil turned to see his three closest friends standing over him. Patton gave him a small smile, but there was visible concern overtaking all three of them. Judging by the bandages on his shoulder, and the fact that he was wearing a clean hoodie, they were going to ask him what happened last night.
“Virgil, you know that we only want to best for you, right?” Logan asked.
“What is this, an intervention?” Virgil murmured. What the hell was he going to tell them? That he could control shadows and drain people’s life energy by being in physical contact with them for too long? Yeah, that really wasn’t going to work.
“No, but we do need to know why the hell I needed to put seven stitches in you last night.” Virgil looked up to see Roman leaning against the wall, and he seemed almost...hurt? Jesus, the last thing Virgil wanted to do was hurt the man he was in love wi–his roommate. This was no time for intrusive gay thoughts.
“I–I fell?” He tried to keep his his tone level, but it ended up coming out as more of a question. In response, Roman slammed his fist against the wall.
“Onto a fucking knife?” He exclaimed, and the hurt in his voice turned to anger. Patton placed a soft hand onto his arm, but Roman shook it off as he stepped forward. “You came stumbling back here, an hour late for your and Logan’s post-date. You were delirious from pain, and I had to go to the fucking storage in the lab to get shit to stitch you up, and we’re extremely lucky Terrence was there last night. I’ve seen the missing medical supplies in my kit for months, Virgil, so for the last time, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” He raised his voice to a yell at the end, causing Virgil to wince back.
“Roman!” Patton turned on his Dad Voice, and sternly turned on the other man. “I understand that you are upset, but you have no right to jump on Virgil like this!”
“Look, it’s my fault.” Virgil murmured, and felt the pit in his stomach from lying grow a bit more. “I didn’t want to tell you guys this, but after dates I’ve been walking through...some of the less accepting neighborhoods. Looking for fights, or to get beat up.” It felt awful to lie to them, but truly, what choice did he have? “I guess it’s a form of self sabotage, or something.”
“Jesus, Virge.” Roman stepped closer, this time to plop down next to him on the bed and place a comforting hand on his thigh. Which sent more tingles through Virgil than he would willingly admit. “I’m so sorry. Please, in the future, call me, I’ll pick you up from wherever, whenever.”
“It’s my fault. I’ll try not to do it as much,” Or rather, he would hide it better.
“Or at all.” Patton lovingly rubbed his back, leaning into his side. And Virgil felt like literal human garbage.
Roman had always loved the snow. But that was before he had to fight some guy who wore all dark and conjured shadows in it.
He hurled another branch at the guy, dubbed by the papers “Anxiety”, catching him in the side. He didn’t want to hurt the guy, but on the other hand, he...really wanted to hurt this guy. Or at least do equivalent damage to what had been done to his pride.
Before this, Roman had been a freelance hero, or at least your friendly neighborhood super-strengthened and bulletproof man. He was able to rescue kids from doing dumb shit, stop a couple of drug deals from going down, that kind of thing. But that was before some dumb asshole in an annoying cool jacket starting fucking with him.
At the start, it was just interfering with his anti-drug operations. But then it became active antagonization, ruining everything Roman tried to help. And when the person didn’t fight with bullets, only really bad lighting, it became an issue.
“You didn’t have to kill the people in this ring!” Roman shouted as he circled around his emo enemy. “You could have just given them to the actual justice system!”
“If you knew anything about me,” A shadow swept towards Roman, curling around his neck and slightly infiltrating his mask. “You’d know,” he motioned a hand upwards, and Roman found himself having trouble breathing, “I couldn’t do that.” Roman tried to run after him, but in a rush of darkness, Anxiety ran off through the night.
“Virgil, dear, it’s been a while since you’ve been down here. What’s the occasion?” Deceit didn’t even bother to look up from his table, writing down some formula or another.
“I need to see Elliott about the new tech and get patched up. I would go to their place, but they said they’re here?” After coming out as non-binary, the hyper-intelligent and slightly emo kid had found themself homeless, and went through the same Deceit process Virgil did. Except after much negotiation, they were paid, and so they lived in a small studio apartment in the part of town where no one asked questions, only using Deceit’s lab when absolutely necessary.
“And here I thought you’d come to see your dear old ferocious father figure.” Deceit drawled, turning around and gesturing towards the staircase at the far end of the room. “He’s downstairs, and make sure you’re good as new before coming up.”
Virgil backed towards the stairs, having known Deceit long enough to not leave his back unwatched. He finally turned to walk down the stairs, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, and hearing a soft laugh emit from the other man.
“Hey, Ell, what’s going on?” Elliott was positioned at a microscope, and something was heating up on the bunsen burner next to it. They held up one finger, and wagged it towards a bench, motioning for him to sit. Virgil shouldered off his jacket, wincing as he touched bruised skin. Pulling up his shirt, he did a preliminary assessment, but there were just scrapes and bruises. He also needed a little energy boost, because the guy was seemingly impermeable, making Virgil’s job a bit harder.
“Ok. I’m done here. What’s it this time?” Elliott stripped off his gloves, grabbing his rather eccentric med kit off a shelf.
“Asshole threw a tree at me.” Virgil grumbled as they took a closer look. “Just slather it with your magic ointment shit and let me go.”
“No, dickhead, there’s to big of a surface area, and it’s too close to your intestines because you have a zero percent body fat.” Elliott grabbed a tube, and started applying small amounts to the already scabbing area. “This might sting a bit, start talking to distract you from it.”
“How’s...Mitchell doing?” Virgil emphasized the syllables of Elliott’s boyfriend with a particular hatred. “Any new assholic behaviors I should know about?” They rolled their eyes, starting to strap a bandage onto Virgil’s side.
“He’s fine, and we’re fine. I started seeing this new therapist, too.” They finished the bandage, and whatever that cream was really started to sting.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Dr. Picani.” Elliott nodded, smiling, they seemed to actually like this one. Unlike the last guy, who was, to say the least, a transphobic asshole. Virgil didn’t like to waste innocent lives, but there was a special place on his knife for those who hurt the one he considered a little sibling. “His methods are...unorthodox, but I think it’s going to work well.”
“And how does your boyfriend feel about you seeing him?” Virgil asked, eyebrows pinched in concern. Elliott shrunk back, though slightly, and grabbed another product to help with the bruises.
“It doesn’t matter.” That place on his knife? Mitchell was starting to qualify. “Speaking of love lives, though, how’s it with you-know-who?” They raised an eyebrow, slightly wiggling their shoulders.
“Fuck you,” Virgil lightly punched them in the shoulder, but couldn’t help the blushing grin from his face. “He’s extra, beautiful, strong as hell, and the other day he was singing to himself while he got ready. His voice is just incredible, I can’t believe that I live with an angel.” He stopped himself, meeting Elliott’s eyes and their knowing look. “And also, incredibly out of my league.”
“You’re wrong, but that’s something for another time.” Elliott stepped back, allowing Virgil’s shirt to fall over his injuries. “Those should only take a few hours to heal up, bounce coffee shops until the bandage adhesive starts to crust and loosen. Then you should be good to go home, but make sure to use the lotion I gave you every day to keep your skin okay. I just have one more thing, but I think we should talk as we walk, I need to get home.” They glanced over to the corner where they and Virgil had discovered the bug placed by Deceit. It wasn’t always running, but they had no way of knowing when it was.
“Okay,” Virgil grabbed his bag, trading his long coat for a hoodie, “Let’s go, then.”
They sat at a bus stop, waiting for a bus to pull up for Elliott. The wind blew Virgil’s purple streaked hair over to the other side, causing his companion to smirk. He watched as they fiddled with the hem of their skirt, obviously nervous for whatever they had to tell Virgil.
“I had a breakthrough.” Elliott jerked their head up to meet Virgil’s eyes, and stammered on despite his incredulous gaze. “On the fear toxin-esque chemical? Y’know the one he’s been forcing me to make?”
“Shit.” Was the most eloquent thing Virgil could muster.
“I haven’t tested it on humans, but the chemicals should act, when inhaled, as an extreme anxiety amplifier.” They looked so small, and so scared. Elliot had once said that their brain would be the death of them one day, and by their current state, Virgil couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t be. “Virgil, this thing that I’ve created, it could cause panic attacks that paralyze people. I–I don’t want him to have it.” At the last part their voice dropped to a whisper, and tears started to track down their face. Elliott sniffed and rubbed their cheeks, not looking up to meet Virgil’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Hey, hey,” Virgil crouched in front of them. “Breathe. I’ll figure something out, I promise. Just keep breathing.” They took a shuddering breath, matching Virgil’s strokes on their hand. “It’s okay. Just go home, hug your sister, and take a shower. It’ll be okay.” And as much as he wanted to believe that, Virgil didn’t know if he could.
Roman burst the door to his dorm open, expecting the apartment to as empty as he left it. Instead, he was confronted with his purple haired roommate. Shirtless. From the back, he was all lean muscle and sticking out shoulder blades, the curve of his hips falling into his perfectly shaped–
“Roman?” Virgil turned, pausing the toweling of his hair. Roman ripped his eyes up to Virgil’s (only after a glance at his abs, Roman could appreciate art), and nervously scratched his neck. “I wasn’t expecting you to come home this late.”
“Ditto, dude.” Look anywhere but him, you gay motherfucker, anywhere but him. “You’ve been like a ghost the past couple weeks.” It was true, they’d barely seen each other except for studying and occasional ramen breaks since Thanksgiving.
“Yeah, that’s my bad, I’ve been working on a film project that’s mostly being shot at night.” Virgil explained, pulling on a hoodie. Roman walked over to his bed, dropping down and kicking off his shoes. “What’s your excuse, Mr. Double Major?”
“Well, my fucking double major,” Roman laid back onto his pillow, relaxing a bit for the first time that day. “But also, trying to think of a Secret Santa gift for Logan?”
“Oh, that’s a toughie. I got Patton, and I have no ideas, ugh.” Virgil sighed into his hands, plopping cross legged onto his bed. He stuck out a lip, blowing the bangs out of his faces, which was far more endearing than Roman would ever admit.
“But then of course there’s finals,” Roman pulled out his laptop, opening the study spreadsheet that Logan had helped him make. When they had been roommates Roman’s freshman year, the tension and hatred between the two would take a knife to cut. But over time, new friends, growth, and two “frienterventions” (the name was Patton’s idea), they had overcome their differences.
“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Virgil stretched up, his hoodie riding up above his hips, and Roman found himself staring. Not at his body, but rather the faded purple bruises that adorned his hips. Virgil’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but after following Roman’s eyes, he dropped his arms, pulling his sweatshirt over his hips.
“Virgil–” Roman started to reach out, only to be cut off by the other man.
“I need to go shower.” He all but sprinted out of the dorm room, leaving Roman to fall back onto his bed, a million thoughts racing through his mind. And not a single one was good.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. He saw the bruises, even though Virgil had been so careful. He’d been so careful for two months not to come home if he was too beaten up, he’d been so careful to slather on Elliot’s cream whenever he could. He’d been so fucking careful, and yet Roman had still seen the marks.
He threw his towel over a hook, stripping down and turning the shower up as hot as it could go. It burned his skin, but he deserved it, deserved to have all his flesh stripped from his body for hurting him. Deserved to feel the ache on his sides turn to a roaring fire as he pressed inwards, curling into himself. Deserved to feel the hard force of metal on his back as he slammed into the wall of the shower stall, doing his best to breathe as the tears fell, but the oxygen was catching in his throat, and he couldn’t force it down. He stood there for a few minutes, and felt shadows start to envelope him, holding, comforting.
Slowly, he turned the water down, his energy drained from the tight spiral of shadows that still curled around his body.
“Virgil?” Logan’s voice filtered through the steam. Virgil heard the “shink” of the outer shower curtain opening and a muffled “What the hell?”
He turned, trying to collect his racing thoughts. “Logan, what the fuck are you doing?” Virgil thickened this shadows around his body, and he felt the energy leave his body. Logan pushed through the last curtain, a look of pure shock coming over his features. “This isn’t gay fanfiction, you can’t just waltz in here.”
“Well, at least explain all of this.” Logan asked, waving his hand through the lingering shadows. “Is it–is it some sort of concentrated element? It’s fascinating.”
“What? Okay, no, that isn’t–they’re shadows, Logan.” Virgil clenched and unclenched his fist. “Will you please let me put on some damn clothes?”
“Fine. But you are going to explain everything to me as soon as you’re done.” Logan crossed his arms, and Virgil wrapped a towel around himself, the shadows finally dissipating as he exhaled. “Seriously, though, how does it work? Do you conjure them, what the range on it–”
“LOGAN!” Virgil yelled, more forcefully than he intended. “I just had a fucking panic attack because Roman saw the bruises and found out I’ve been lying to him for months. Also, yes, I can manipulate shadows, it’s a sort of dark mattered energy that I’m not exactly certain how works.” Logan just stared at him, eyes wide in front of Virgil’s outburst. “It’s the reason that I kept running away from the homes, until I was fourteen and a fucking criminal mastermind or whatever you want to call him picked me up off the goddamn street.” He could feel the words slurring as he worked himself up, but he needed to tell someone, even if it was just shouting it at his best friend. “You know that guy, the one the news has dubbed ‘Anxiety’? That’s fucking me. I’ve been doing this shit for nine. Fucking. Years. And I’m trapped, and the only thing I can do is keep working for him, keep killing and stealing and breaking for him. I have to keep doing this because if I don’t, he’ll torture and kill everyone I love, and make me watch. I’m so scared, Logan. I’m so fucking scared that I can’t breathe sometimes.” His voice cracked on the last words, and a sob finally escaped his body. Logan reached out, but all Virgil could do was push him away, throw on his clothes, and escape into the starless night.
“Hello?” Phone calls from unknown numbers were something most people were accustomed to, but Elliott didn’t get four in a row from the same number at 1:37 in the morning most nights. Well, five, counting this one.
“Hello. I am attempting to reach Elliott?” They weren’t sure what was going on, but the person on the other side sounded panicked, so they sat up and closed their laptop.
“Yeah, that’s me. What do you need?” Elliot replied, and a heavy exhale came through the phone speakers.
“I’m Logan Xavier, and I’m trying to find Virgil Sanders.” As soon as they heard the words, something clicked inside Elliott. Virgil’s best friend Logan, who appeared to have been affected by the same injections that Elliott and Virgil had, and that his powers were interfacing with technology. How Logan didn’t know about their mutual friend’s shadows, and how Elliott was saved in a private section of Virgil’s computer and phone that could only be accessed if you knew where to look. Or, they guessed, if your brain could automatically hack any system you touched.
“He told you?”
“Yes.” Logan paused, and the weight of his words settled on Elliott’s shoulders. “And now he’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere, and you’re the only one in his contacts I don’t recognize.”
“Yeah,” Elliot threw on a pair of jeans and ran a hand through their hair. “Give me two hours, I can find him.” Logan let out a relieved sigh as Elliott pulled their jacket off its hook. “Oh, and Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Just let me talk to him, okay? I know where to look, and I know what to do.” They could practically feel the older man opening his mouth to interject. “As good as you are for Virgil in a lot of situations, this isn’t one of them.”
“I understand. Thank you, Elliott. Goodbye.” The line went dead, and Elliott opened their door, stepping out into the city at night.
“You know, sitting on the roof of an abandoned building at 2:30 in the morning kind of marks you as emo.” Virgil looked up from his stare at the tops of surrounding buildings to see Elliott climbing up the last rungs of the access ladder.
“And you joining me kind of marks you as one too.” He responded, smirking through his chapped lips and smudged makeup. “How did you know to look for me?”
“Logan called.” Virgil felt the smirk fall off his face as he turned back to the streets below him. “And we don’t have to talk about him.” He heard footsteps come closer as they neared the ledge he was perched on. “Just scooch over.”
“Well, how did you know where to find me?” Virgil couldn’t help but lean into his friend as he stared at the cars passing by.
“There’s trackers embedded in all your coats, and this was the third abandoned rooftop I checked.” Elliott chuckled under their breath. “Pigeons are much less impressed with my witty one-liners.”
“I have to keep them somewhere, and there’s a lot of abandoned rooftops in this city.” Virgil said in half-hearted protest. The coats were good, they had everything he’d ever needed on a job. And the fabric was warm and comforting, an he didn’t have the energy for any more shadows to blanket himself with.
Elliott leaned back, raising both hands in mock submission. “I wasn’t judging, just observing.”
“Well, they are made by a master of all seam work.” Virgil laughed, a real smile finally adorning his face.
“You flatter me, V.” They joined in his laughter, and Virgil cracked a few more jokes, letting the conversation flow into the night, the sounds of the city drowned out by the sounds of their happiness.
By 3:26, Roman had completely given up on sleep.
After Logan had left around 1:15 with Virgil’s contacts on his phone, Roman knew the night would be long. He’d poured a cup of tea, and cracked opened his textbook, attempt to read about possible respiratory issues in postanesthesia care unit.
By 1:43, Roman had completely given up on studying.
He opened his laptop, a fresh face mask applied to his skin. It was going to be a long night, so he figured that a little bit of Riverdale couldn’t hurt. As it turns out, after watching an episode and a half in his bed, Roman didn’t really care about who was a Southside Serpent and who kissed who. So, naturally, he decided to go to sleep.
That had clearly not panned out.
So that’s how he’d ended up at here, at 3:26, scrolling through his music library to find something to soothe his ever-heightening nerves. He clicked on a random Spotify mix, and opening guitar chords filtered from his speakers, Rihanna’s voice resounding through his speakers.
I think I’ve had enough.
I might get a little drunk.
Roman smiled, and for some reason the song reminded him of others. He started queuing up what he needed, slowly beginning to sing along to the woman he hailed as a queen.
Cause all of my kindness,
Is taken taken for weakness.
He laid back onto his bed, closing his eyes and losing himself for a moment. For a moment, every thought of Virgil, every thought of the purple clad villain almost constantly plaguing his thoughts, every thought about his classes and his upcoming show, they all dissipated. For a moment, he was lost in the beats and instrumentals and melodies. For a moment, he was lost and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be found.
But that moment was shattered as a very tired looking, beaten up Virgil stumbled through the door. He looked up with surprised as he saw Roman was still awake, and fumbled to pull off his headphones.
Roman stood up, his instinct telling him go to him, comfort him, before the events of earlier came crashing down onto his shoulders. He pulled back, giving Virgil some space, and ran a nervous hand through his hair.
“Virgil, I’m sorry about earlier. I overstepped my bounds, it was really uncool of me. I just want to apolo–”
“Roman, stop,” Virgil cut him off, his voice firm and low. Roman looked up at him, and watched a tense, forced smile plaster itself on his friend’s face. “Please. Can we just, can we just talk about this sometime else? I can’t–I can’t really talk about it right now.” He moved to sit on his bed, shedding his long coat and headphones. “Oh, is this that album you wanted me to listen to?”
Roman had completely forgotten the music that was still playing, and he tuned in to hear the first chorus of a song he’d been begging Virgil to listen to for months. Deciding to let the subject change, he switched his queue to the rest of the album, leaning back on his bed once more.
He wanted to say something, to comfort Virgil, but every time he opened his mouth the words died in his throat. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do. There were his powers, of course, but how could he use them to protect Virgil when he didn’t know who was hurting him? If he asked, he could end up in a state like tonight, or worse. There was just no right thing to say or do, and Roman turned the thought over and over in his mind until a restless sleep finally claimed him.
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kabane52 · 6 years ago
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The Liturgical Transmission of Tradition in the Church
[To let you know where this is going, the ultimate conclusion I draw is that during the forty days mentioned by Luke, Jesus gave to the apostles the essential structure of the church’s liturgical life. He told them how to celebrate the original Divine Liturgy and how to baptize. This corresponds typologically to the setting up of the tabernacle sanctuary in the wilderness. Israel comes out of Egypt and during the forty years receives the exact instructions for its cult, after which it goes into the land. Likewise, Jesus’ resurrection is the exodus, He spends forty days teaching about the kingdom, and then He ascends into heaven. Israel’s journey to the land from Egypt is always described as “going up.” Typologically, the periods match, as the Apostles received from Jesus Christ the instruction about the liturgy of the new covenant. In the process of writing this, it has become apparent to me that the New Testament holds a concept of tradition which is really quite specific and well-defined, if one knows how to appropriately relate its statements.]
Basil the Great (and, if I recall correctly, a number of other Fathers) mentions the existence of an unwritten tradition from the apostles in connection with the Church’s liturgical life. The Bible is the written Word of God, being the written incarnation (as Maximus refers to it) of the Hypostatic Logos of God, in which the whole counsel of God is set forth to His children. The sacred liturgy and the worshiping life of the Church is the concrete focal point of the Holy Spirit’s enduring presence with the Church. I mentioned the other day how the prophetic promises of the return of divine glory to Zion were fulfilled in Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem and institution of the Eucharist. It is the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete of Jesus, who is sent into the Church to make manifest the life of the incarnate Son who dwells in the Father. The Son is never made known except through the Spirit of God, and the Eucharist, together with the liturgical life contextualized by it, is the preeminent embodiment of that pneumatically constituted presence of the Son. As the Manna and the Scriptures together were stored in the ark of the covenant, so also the Gospel (symbolizing the entire Bible) and the Eucharist is set before the Lord in the altar of the new covenant.
Tradition has been described as the “life of the Holy Spirit in the Church.” While this is true, it is too abstract to function as a concise definition of the tradition. The word “tradition” in English comes from Latin “trado, tradere”, meaning “to hand on” or “to transmit.” The Greek word “paradosis” which the English New Testament translates as “tradition” has the same etymology as “handing on” and “transmitting.” Thinking of tradition as something which is “handed on” gives it a concreteness which is not captured by describing it as “the life of the Holy Spirit in the Church.” Calling it the life of the Holy Spirit in the Church is true, but it fails to ground the Spirit’s witness in the specific historical earthed-ness of the church through the ages. The Spirit does not merely witness to each Christian or each body of Christians independently, but carries out His witness through an historical process which one can point to and say “here it is.”
The preservation and handing on of the tradition is linked, of course, to the apostolic office of bishop, who has his priestly calling through a chain of transmission proceeding forth from the mouth of Jesus the Messiah on the Apostles. As I will explore more below, Jesus declares in John 10:36 that the Father “consecrated” and “sent” Him into the world. The language of “consecration” is unambiguous in its connection to the priesthood and is exactly harmonious with John’s intense focus on the christology of Jesus as High Priest. This language, moreover, is used to describe the apostolic calling in John 20: “As the Father sent me, so I send you”, Jesus says as He puts the Spirit on them. People have speculated about the relationship of this event to Pentecost, but to me the relationship is fairly clear. Apostle Paul calls Timothy in 2 Timothy 1:6 to “fan into flame the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands.” This is almost certainly not the gift of the Spirit given to the whole church on Pentecost, but a specific calling to the priestly ministry. 
Additionally, the Pastoral Letters are written as instruction in exercising the ministry as leaders of the church, serving as a set of apostolic instructions in this matter before the apostolic age comes to its conclusion. I would argue that the tradition of Timothy and Titus serving as monarchical bishops (which I firmly hold is an apostolic institution- the arguments against it strike me as paper-thin, but this is not the place to argue the point) best explains the background and content of the Pastorals- Paul’s instruction to Timothy on how to select worth “overseers” presumes that Timothy has the authority to make those choices in his locale. While the word “overseer” will later become a technical term describing an office, that is not how it functions in the New Testament. Too often commentators assume that the terms “elder” and “overseer” are equivalent in the sense that they both were names the early church used to describe a particular office, and that they described the same office. This is not the case. “Elder” is used against the background of the Hebrew Bible where the word signifies those with the authority over Israel. When the covenant between God and Israel is sealed, it is sealed through seventy “elders” who represent Israel in a covenant meal with God on Sinai. It is closely associated with the priesthood. The word “overseer” should likewise be understood not as a title for an office, but according to its etymological meaning: “one who looks-over.” Here, the significance lies in Israel’s liturgical cult. The lampstand in the Holy Place of the Tabernacle and Temple is described as having cups like “almond” branches. These trees, literally, were called “watcher-trees.” [Might we connect this with the “Watchers” appearing in the heavenly council in the Book of Daniel and later Jewish tradition? More study is needed on that potential link.] The seven-branched Menorah with cups like “watchers” overlooked the Twelve Loaves of the Bread of the Presence, representing the Twelve Tribes of Israel.
The light signifies the light of divine presence watching over the people through Israel’s priesthood. We can see the association of the almond branch with the priesthood in Numbers 17, when those who contest the unique consecration of the Tribe of Levi as the priestly family are answered when the Rod of Aaron blossoms and “produced ripe almonds.” Thereafter, the Rod of Aaron dwells in the Holy of Holies together with the Manna and the Ten Commandments. In the Holy Place, the Bread of the Presence corresponds to the manna and the almond-branched menorah to the Rod of Aaron. The use of the word “overseer” to describe ministers in the church of the apostolic period is a literary allusion to the particular features of Israel’s sanctuary rather than being yet a technical term for a Christian office in its own right. The office in the church which it does signify, moreover, is associated with the priesthood. The actual word “priest” would naturally be avoided because the temple was still standing and a functioning priesthood was operating in Jerusalem.
In 2 Timothy 1:12-13, Paul refers to the deposit with which he was “entrusted” by Jesus as an apostle, then enjoins Timothy to follow his model, carefully guarding the deposit entrusted to him by Paul, and finally entrusting it to others in 2 Timothy 2:2. In 1:14, Paul draws the important theological connection which is essential for a balanced understanding of tradition, calling Timothy to “guard the good deposit entrusted to you” through the power of the “Holy Spirit who dwells within us.” Tradition is something which is very concrete in that it is an historically embodied reality handed down in an historical process through a chain of transmission. Tradition is also something which only exists through the work of the Spirit. Even with an unbroken chain of transmission, the tradition would inevitably decay or become corrupted through the ages without the vivifying work of the Spirit of God animating the historically earthed body of Christ. The content of that tradition is sustained in its relationship to the Bible, as Paul tells Timothy in 2 Timothy 3:14-17. In his description of the scriptures which Timothy has known since his childhood, he (in my strongly held view) does not simply refer to the Hebrew Bible. Timothy is a young man, and this is written in the early to mid-60s. Assume for the sake of argument that Timothy’s childhood refers to him as he was at ten years old. By the time Paul writes the Pastorals, Timothy would be in his early forties. Given my view (defended elsewhere) that Matthew was written by AD 33 and that the entire New Testament was written by AD 64, there is little reason to exclude the New Testament in principle from those texts which Timothy is called to interpret rightly. This is obvious from 1 Timothy 5:17-18, where the Gospel of Luke is quoted with the Torah as the word of God. Moreover, as the Apostolic Age nears its close, one sees that Peter as well warns about the necessity of interpreting the books of the New Testament in particular correctly (2 Peter 3:16). In his instruction to interpret the scriptures correctly, Paul declares that the comprehensive inspiration of scripture is ordered to the making competent of the “man of God.” This phrase is not merely a way of describing a person who wishes to obey God. Rather, in the Old Testament it almost always refers to a prophet or someone who was authoritative in one way or another. The first reference is to Moses, and many other references describe the prophets as “man of God.” To be a prophet is to be filled with the Spirit, so that Joel’s prophecy of the Spirit being poured out on “all flesh” makes allusion to Numbers 12 which contextually contains Moses’ prayer that “all the Lord’s people be prophets.” Insofar as every baptized Christian is indwelt by the Spirit, all the Lord’s people are prophets. We see in texts like this that consecration to the apostolic office through the special grace of the Spirit that the prophetic calling subsisted in a distinctive way through the church’s apostolically ordained episcopate who were the heads of the churches.
Understanding this dynamic sheds light in the Didache’s statement that a visiting prophet should be permitted to celebrate Eucharist as he pleases and also that the prophets are “your high priests.” The Gospel of John can be read fruitfully in light of the charges given to Timothy as successor to Paul in Ephesus. I will discuss the liturgical significance of these texts in more detail below. For now, simply take note of the fact that was noted above: when Jesus puts the Spirit on the Apostles in John 20, He uses language of them which He used of Himself specifically in relation to His consecration as High Priest. The Apostles are chief priests under that one High Priest. The gift of the Holy Spirit given here is that of exercising leadership of the Church. In the traditional sacramental language of the Church, this is where Jesus ordains the Apostles with the grace of the priesthood transmitted in apostolic succession.
How does this relate to the preservation of tradition as it is linked inseparably from the interpretation of Scripture? I have argued elsewhere that one of John’s thematic undercurrents is the completion of the biblical canon, which he intentionally organizes and hands to the church in a canonical edition. I will not repeat the argument for a canonical edition here, except to point to what I take to be one of John’s many uses of double or fuller meaning. When Jesus is with the Apostles at the Last Supper, He tells them “No longer do I call you slaves...but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you” (15:15). The Logos of God has revealed the entirety of His Father through the incarnation, and the reality of the incarnation is signified by the completion of the Book of God in its entirety, which textually makes manifest the whole counsel of God, thus John concludes Revelation with the famous warning to neither add nor subtract “from the words of the book of this prophecy.” This most directly references the Apocalypse itself, but contextual descriptions of the Lord as “God of the spirits of the prophets” and “your brothers the prophets” suggests a more expansive meaning for the “words of the book of this prophecy.”
Likewise, Revelation 19:10 declares that the “witness of Jesus is the Spirit of prophecy”, and John 14:26 describes the coming of the Holy Spirit to “bring to your [the Apostles collectively] remembrance all that I have said to you.” 15:26 describes the “Spirit of Truth” who comes upon the people of God as “bearing witness” of the Son. John ends by categorizing his Gospel as a textualized witness of Jesus as Messiah (21:24) and the reference to the Apostles as a whole receiving the “remembrance” of the teaching of Jesus through the witness-bearing Spirit links them with the “Spirit of prophecy” of Revelation 19:10, and thus the “words of the prophecy of this book” at the end of the entire Bible. The prophets and the apostles together bear witness with the one Spirit of prophecy of the crucified and resurrected Son, and their Spirit-breathed witness is textually embodied in the Holy Bible.
The Bible is the concrete sign that the Son has “made known” “all that I have heard from my Father.” The Spirit’s role is the attestation of the Son. The “Spirit of Truth” comes to “bear witness” of Jesus and to “bring to remembrance” His teaching. This work is fulfilled in the Spirit’s authorship of the apostolic witness called the New Testament, and also in the faithful teaching of scripture throughout the ages according to the church’s tradition. The Spirit who carries out these works is given to the Apostles in John 20 in their priestly consecration. This integrates thoroughly with what we read in 2 Timothy, where the Spirit fills Timothy in his consecration to the apostolic office of bishop as successor to the Apostle Paul. Timothy is called to receive the apostolic deposit from the Apostle Paul and then “guard” that deposit before ultimately entrusting it to others who will be expected to do the same. The preservation and transmission of the deposit occurs “by the Holy Spirit who dwells within us.” (1:14) Such a tradition is never separated from scripture but always exists in relation to it and as proceeding from it: Timothy’s gift from the Spirit is that by which he is called the “Man of God”, and it is that specific office through the Spirit that he is able to interpret scripture for the church. At once he is to “continue in what you have learned...knowing from whom you learned it” and continue his deep acquaintance with the “sacred writings, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.” Timothy is to remember “from whom” he learned the tradition because he learned it from an apostle of Jesus (2 Timothy 1:13).
Remember how we began, by discussing Basil’s reference to the “tradition” which the church has from the apostles as relating specifically to its liturgical life. Above, we’ve explored how the witness of the Son in Scripture is brought to memory by the Holy Spirit in the church’s historical development, within which the apostles entrust the tradition to the bishops whom they set over the churches, the bishops being expected to carry on this chain of transmission. In this context, Timothy is instructed to continue in the “public reading” (that is, liturgical reading) of Scripture as well as “teaching” and “exhortation”(1 Timothy 4:13). Timothy is called to remember those sacred writings which are able to make wise unto salvation in Jesus the Messiah and simultaneously to remember the tradition he was taught because of its apostolic source. 2 Timothy 4:13, which instructs Timothy to gather up and bring the collected “parchments” and “books” to Paul in his next visit suggests that the bishops of the churches were responsible for maintaining collections of the books of the New Testament, faciliating the identification of the canon. It was the bishop who was called to publicly read scripture and exposit it in accordance with the apostolic tradition, so that part of his role in “guarding” the tradition through the Spirit was the possession of a set of scriptures. Seizing the copies of New Testament books became a focal point for persecution of Christians because of the way in which it distinctively marked out the church’s identity and calling.
This all takes place in a liturgical setting. The books of the New Testament are read liturgically and are expounded according to the apostolic tradition in this same setting. The liturgical nature of the tradition at this early period is confirmed in an examination of 1 Corinthians, where Paul uses technical terminology known in the wider Jewish world for the transmission of a chain of teaching. Paul in 1 Corinthians 11 commends the church in Corinth for “maintaining the traditions even as I delivered them to you.” The language of “tradition” and the apostolic “delivery” of the tradition is technical, and is used in reference to the discussion of the oneness of the Eucharistic Cup which binds the Church together in the “communion of the blood of the Messiah” in 1 Corinthians 10:16.
Paul moves from this to a discussion of head-coverings for women in a liturgical setting, which he commends as the “practice” of the “churches of God.” [no debates whatsoever about this issue in the comments, please.] The language used for the Eucharist and the potential provocation of the Lord to jealousy draws on the inspection of jealousy in Numbers 5, where the bride suspected of adultery ritually drinks down water sanctified by the tabernacle and is either blessed or cursed according to her guilt or innocence. This ritual is never described as being enacted, but it is many times described as a symbol for God’s inspection of Israel for covenant fidelity. The bride, when approaching for the inspection, brings a “Tribute” of Bread to the Tabernacle, then consuming the sanctified water mixed with tabernacle dust because it has the trace of the Presence of God: the implications for the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist are obvious. This is the ultimate key for understanding the theological context of head coverings, because the woman who approaches the tabernacle to be inspected wears a head covering which she ritually unbinds as she swears her oath to God. The exact meaning of this relationship remains unclear to me, but that there is a relationship is clear. The Eucharist is a corporate inspection of jealousy, where the Church as Bride approaches the Lord Jesus as Bridegroom with a Tribute of Bread and Wine [the Eucharist is described in terms of the Tribute Offering which is an “Offering of Remembrance”, that is, to call God to remember the covenant, in Leviticus 2]. She drinks the presence of God in the elements and is inspected, either being blessed or cursed: “for this reason many are sick, and some have died.”
The language of transmission of tradition is again used in 1 Corinthians 11:23: “For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you.” This concerns the instructions for the celebration of the Eucharist and clearly is related to what Basil describes as the church’s unwritten tradition. This is the church’s practice, had from the apostles, in carrying out its priestly, sacramental ministry. The apostles ultimately received it from Jesus the Messiah, who equipped them with the Spirit in their installation as rulers of the regathered people of God. The language of the Twelve Apostles sitting on the twelve thrones, as Michael Barber points out, is allusive of texts describing the role of the Levitical priesthood. The Apostles, so to speak, replace those halakhic authorities who “sit on Moses’ seat” and make rulings by the authority of Deuteronomy 17. The apostolic episcopate inherits this authority (which does not always entail that it is exercised wisely) which is collated in what we as Orthodox Christians call the “canonical tradition.”
1 Corinthians 15:3, finally, uses the language of the formal transmission of tradition: “for I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received.” What follows is a creed affirming the death of Jesus as Messiah in fulfillment of the Scriptures, His burial, His resurrection, and His appearances to the apostles and other witnesses. Given the prominence that professions of the death and resurrection of Jesus take in the creeds of the church even to its earliest days, I think we have some warrant in thinking this to be a liturgical creed. Why mention the appearances? My suggestion is that the appearances function to affirm what we affirm in describing “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church.” We see the apostolic leaders of the church mentioned: Peter, the Twelve, James, and a group called “all the apostles.” The “five hundred” brothers could signify the entirety of the church, though this is highly speculative. What it more important is that this recitation of witnesses serves to authenticate the named individuals as specifically designated and authorized bearers of the authority of Jesus the Messiah.
1 Corinthians 8:6 may well have been part of the same creed, as the reference to “One God, the Father” and “One Lord, Jesus the Messiah” is ubiquitous in early and later Christian creeds. As is now well known, the text is an expansion of the Shema: Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. In Deuteronomy, a major theme is the development and maturation of Israel into unity. The exodus-generation symbolizes the protological, the conquering generation symbolizes the eschatological. There is One Lord, One People, and One Place where the whole people are gathered together. Deuteronomy 17 thus gives the provisions for the one throne as the lynchpin of the unity of the nation. The Creed is today recited as the Eucharist is blessed and presented before God as Bread and Wine, as the church’s gift of thanksgiving, before its becoming Body and Blood. The Creed joins the gathered people of God together in a single faith by which they identify with the baptism into which they were baptized, where the same creed was recited. “Calling on the Name of the Lord” is that which gives the family of many nations its internal unity- common fidelity to Jesus Christ. It would make sense for 1 Corinthians 8:6 to be recited as part of the same creed as 1 Corinthians 15:3-7. One God, One Lord, One People gathered around Jesus as Messiah under the authority of the Apostles and those authorized by them, since the Apostles had been given authority by Jesus directly.
Luke’s Prologue uses the language of a chain of transmission, describing his Gospel as the writing down of that which was faithfully transmitted by the “eyewitnesses and ministers of the word.” The “ministry of the word” is used in Acts 6:4 to describe the authority and function of the Twelve. Their self-description also echoes Acts 2:42, where the apostolic church devoted itself to the “apostles’ teaching, the communion, the breaking of the bread, and the prayers.” The reference to “breaking of the bread” is a reference to the celebration of the Eucharist, and “the prayers” suggests an organized liturgy. But where did this come from? We’ve seen how Basil refers to the “unwritten tradition” in relation to its liturgical life, and how the concept of the apostle “receiving” something from Jesus which they then “hand down” is concentrated in New Testament references to liturgical worship.
We’re told in Acts that during the forty days between the resurrection and ascension, Jesus was teaching the apostles about the kingdom of God. What was contained in this teaching? Some clues:
1. This is when the apostles are baptized. Jesus instructs the apostles to baptize the nations in Matthew 28 and Mark 16 after His resurrection, and it makes perfect sense, then, for the apostles to be baptized during this period. There is a tradition that the Lord Jesus baptized Peter personally, who baptized the Twelve, who then baptized their close associates. So the practice of baptism and its particular form must have been laid out then.
2. In John 20, Jesus breathes on the Apostles (except Thomas, who undoubtedly received the same gift when he met the risen Jesus) and gives them authority to remit and retain sins. Throughout the Gospel of John and the Apocalypse, one of the major themes is the gathering together of the people of God in the body of the Messiah which is the dwelling of God in the Spirit. In other words, the new temple. In connection to this, the Gospel of John lays a major emphasis on Baptism and the Eucharist.
In keeping with the sets of seven throughout both John and Revelation, there are seven specific images of the Eucharist and seven specific images of Baptism. The first “I am the...” statement is “I am the Bread of Life” and the last is “I am the true Vine.” Bread and Wine. The Spirit is the one who gathers together the children of God into one house for God’s dwelling, and the Apostles are given the grace of the priesthood.
This, I think, is the right way to read the relationship of John 20 and Pentecost. John 20 gives the Spirit to the Apostles for their consecration to the ministerial priesthood, while Pentecost is the Spirit for the whole church: all the baptized are priests of creation and, in terms of their access to the presence of God, are higher than the High Priest of Israel under the old covenant.
Jesus says to them “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” In John 10:36, Jesus, in the context of His self-identification as the Shepherd of Israel, says that the Father “consecrated and sent” Him into the world. This is the language of Jesus as the High Priest. If the Apostles are sent as the Father sent Jesus, the Apostles are the chief priests under Jesus the Messiah as the one High Priest. There’s more- in John 21, Jesus places Peter as the head of the Apostles (something clearly taught in our liturgics and patristic tradition, before and after the schisms- the specific relation of this to the papacy is beyond the scope of this comment) and instructs him to “feed my sheep.” Jesus as High Priest is the Shepherd of Israel, Peter is also called a shepherd. “Feed my sheep”, Jesus says. This is strongly eucharistic. This is stated in the context of Jesus serving the Apostles a meal of bread and fish where the Lord tells them to “take, and eat.” This is language used only of the Eucharist and quotes the Words of Institution. There is only one other place in the Gospel of John which speaks of “feeding” and “food”, and that is John 6, where Jesus is the “Bread of Life” who “feeds” God’s children with His “flesh and blood.” Rolling this all together, Peter is identified as the chief of Jesus’ priestly under-shepherds who is responsible for feeding God’s children with the Eucharist, the flesh and blood of Christ.
One more point on the apostolic priesthood and Peter. In John 20, the Tomb is described as the Holy of Holies. Jesus, the incarnate Lord, had dwelt there, and there were two angels inside, “one at the head, and one at the foot” of where Jesus had lain. This is a clear reference to the Holy of Holies where the seat of Yahweh had two cherubim on either side. This fulfills the Prologue of John: “The Word became flesh and tabernacled among us.” We read about this Tomb that Peter and the Beloved Disciple ran to the tomb together, but the Beloved Disciple waited outside until Peter entered, and then he went. In John, the Beloved Disciple symbolizes the whole people of God whom Jesus “loved to the end.” This is why “Behold your Mother” is commanded to all of us of the Virgin, not just John as an individual. That’s why when we hear of the Beloved Disciple “at the breast” of Jesus as the Son was “at the breast” of the Father in John 1:18 (the only two times the word is used in John), we are to read this as a statement about the whole church which dwells in the Son who dwells in the Father. If the Beloved Disciple symbolizes the people of God, Peter symbolizes the Bishop who celebrates the Liturgy and gathers the church into the Inner Sanctuary around him. And indeed, there is a consistent tradition linking the keys of Peter to the person of the Bishop who holds presidency over the Eucharist.
3. The period of forty days between the resurrection and ascension is a typological fulfillment of the story of the exodus. Israel is baptized in the Red Sea, dwells in the wilderness for forty years, and then ascends into the land (the land is always described as “up” in relation to Egypt and is a symbolic ascent) in fulfillment of the promise. What happens during those forty years? It is during this period of Israel’s history that the whole system of tabernacle worship is laid out in the Torah. The order of sacrifices, the rules for the dwelling of the divine presence, all of this occurs in those forty years. Paul in Romans 5 makes the period from the fall of “Adam to Moses” a particular epoch. I think we can see what happens at Sinai as essentially the restarting of what Adam was supposed to start doing on the morning he fell.
The garden of Eden surrounded the presence of God which dwelt on the holy mountain and came in glory to meet Adam on that Sabbath- there is a strong case that Adam fell on Sabbath evening, tried to cover it up by spending the night making fig leaves, and was found by God that morning, when He came in glory, with the original intent of providing Adam with the formal instructions for his task in developing the creation. Exodus 3 does not tell Moses to demand that Israel permanently leave Egypt. Rather, Moses is to ask for a three day period where they can go to the holy mountain to worship with “peace offerings” the only sacrificial offering partially consumed by God and partially by Israel. That is fulfilled in Exodus 24 with the meal of the Seventy Elders of Israel where Moses sprinkles the blood on Israel and says: “This is the blood of the covenant.” That is quoted by Jesus in the Words of Institution.
With Adam’s exile from Eden, the access of man to the presence of God was cut off and sealed up. At Sinai, the ladder from heaven begins to operate again, though in a form that made provisions for the deep sinfulness of the children of Adam. That is the covenantal significance of Sinai for the whole world and the whole history of redemption. The forty years was a period where the exact order of Israel’s worship at this sanctuary was set up. This is the liturgy by which Israel related to God through the Temple until the coming of the Messiah to tear the veil and open the presence to man for the first time since Adam.
That forty day period is the typological fulfillment. Between resurrection and ascent there is a miniaturized wilderness where the order of liturgy under the new covenant and the way of accessing God’s presence through the Eucharist was taught directly by the Resurrected Lord to the Apostles. Hence, when we find the Apostolic Church of Acts, from the very beginning they know how to baptize, how to seal that baptism with the Holy Spirit, and how to celebrate Eucharist liturgically: “the apostles teaching and the communion [koinonia, the word used by Apostle Paul for the Eucharist as the “communion of the blood of Christ in 1 Corinthains 15] and the breaking of bread and THE prayers.”
The “apostles teaching” is likely the liturgical reading of the Torah and Prophets followed by the apostolic interpretation of the Scriptures, what we call the homily. As the books of the New Testament were written, they were added to the liturgical readings. We know directly that Apostle Paul commanded his letters to be read liturgically (a place reserved in Judaism to Scripture) and in 1 Corinthians declared that a person who does not regard his epistles as the “command of God” is to be excommunicated. I think this may well be the impetus for writing the Gospel of Matthew in Hebrew in AD 30. It was written in Hebrew since it was meant to be used liturgically and that was the liturgical language they knew, written in AD 30 to provide the Messiah’s teaching (since Matthew is arranged as a teaching gospel, organized into five blocks of messianic teaching after the pattern of the five-book Torah) in a liturgical setting.
Okay, so there we go. This actually explains more data than I thought it did when I began writing this. It explains the particular liturgical nature of the “unwritten tradition” identified by the Fathers, explains the necessary background for what we know of the Apostolic Church of Acts, and it fits like a glove what we see Jesus actually doing after His resurrection, in the Gospel of John especially. These things were not written down explicitly in the gospels because the gospels were meant for public proclamation, while the liturgy of the faithful was that which manifested the “Kingdom of God” and was accessible only to the baptized.
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lalainajanes · 7 years ago
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96 & 81. I’m a new fan of your writing! Ugh I love klaroline so much
96 Scars + 81 The Missus and The Ex
She’s known Klaus forabout a year, has recently been out on three excellent dates with him, when shefinds out his deep dark secret.
She'd have beenpissed it but it’s too freaking hilarious for her to work up any righteousindignation.
One quick Google andCaroline gets why he’d kept his mouth shut. She’d made some questionablechoices at nineteen, ones she’s really glad aren’t immortalized on the internetforever.
Klaus Mikaelson, ubersnob about popular culture, prickly unless sufficiently motivated, and scornfulof vast swathes of humanity, had once starred on a reality TV show.
And not just anyreality TV show. He’d been on what had essentially been a Jersey Shore rip-off.Just set in a swanky London apartment and with fancy accents. It had onlylasted one season.
The partying anddrunken fights and hookups appear to be pretty much the same.
Klaus had sportedhighlights and worn baggy t-shirts and baseball caps and belted his pants toshow off his boxers. Teen!Caroline probably would have thought he was hot butpresent day Caroline has a plan to slip some cheap ribbed tanks and self-tannerinto Klaus’ birthday gifts.
His exasperated faceis super cute.
She’d taken thebombshell pretty well and Klaus had endured her giggling over old pictures (toa point but Caroline wasn’t going to complain about him kissing her as adistraction).
When she’d gottenhome it had been impossible to resist pulling out her laptop and looking forclips.
And when it turnedout the series was all online? Well, she’d ordered takeout and settled in for amarathon.
Six episodes in andshe’s kind of obsessed. The version of Klaus on her screen is fascinating. Shesees tiny glimmers of the man she knows but he also seems to be a bit of ajerk. He sneakily leaves little sketches of his roommates on their beds. Thenot so flattering ones cause some drama and the good ones end up pinned in thecommunal kitchen. He oozes cockiness and has a tendency to flex when he’sshirtless, sometimes walks in a way that could only be called a swagger.
He flirts shamelesslybut his interest in one of his housemates seems genuine. Unfortunately, she’salready in a relationship.
Caroline has amillion questions, starting with why in the world had he ever even auditioned,and she’s considering making a list.
Caroline (9:14 PM): I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were involved in AN ACTUAL LOVETRIANGLE!
Caroline (9:14 PM): I’m kinda jealous.
Caroline (9:15 PM): I’m think I’m rooting for Lucien though. Sorry. He’s just so freakinginto her.
Caroline (9:15 PM): Making out with Aurora’s visiting BFF was a dick move, btw.
Klaus (9:17 PM): Sadly, that was far from the worst of my poor decisions.
Caroline (9:18 PM): Oooh, ominous.
Caroline (9:18 PM): I’m excited.
Klaus (9:19 PM): I don’t suppose I could convince you to stop watching?
Caroline (9:20 PM): Are offering me sexual favours? ;)
Klaus (9:20 PM): Obviously.
Caroline (9:21 PM): Sorry, I’ve gotta pass. Something tells me you’re going to be pretty easy.
Caroline (9:22 PM): But don’t worry. I promise not to hold anything you did 9 years agoagainst you.
Klaus (9:23 PM): I appreciate that.
She starts up episodeseven. It opens the morning after Klaus’ attempt to make Aurora jealous, thecamera lingering on him in bed, very naked under a single crumpledsheet.
Is it pervy thatshe’s ogling him? Probably, since he’d been practically a baby.
Klaus is awakenedrudely by Aurora upending a large-ish bucket of water on him, he leaps from thebed, shouting slurred profanities.
Screw it, Carolinethinks, as she turns up the brightness on her screen and leans in, eyeing theareas where the wet sheet now clings. No one has to know about the ogling.
Aurora and BabyKlausengage in a fight that is loud and rambling and Caroline thanks whateverproduction grunt had been tasked with painstakingly subtitling it. Aurora triesto cite friend code, Klaus counters that she has a boyfriend so it really isn’ther business what (or whom) he does. He scoffs at her assertion that he’d beentrying to hurt her, smiling cruelly and informing Aurora that she’s just notthat important.
Caroline winces whenAurora bursts into tears. Klaus’ regret is plain but he storms away withoutapologizing.
She fast forwardsthrough some plot involving other housemates, pauses when she sees Klaus again.He’s at the club they seem to hang out at most, the kind with pumping music andflashing lights. Caroline assumes the venue had some kind of deal with theproducers. He’s slamming back shots, his mood less than festive, and Carolineassumes he’s about to do something dumb.
Approximately thirtyseconds later the camera captures him punching Lucien.
Angry drunk boys, sopredictable.
It’s chaos on herscreen, other people seem to pile on and the cameras are constantly jostled.Caroline can barely make out who is who. Aurora’s red hair is distinct, andshe’s in the corner of the frame, yelling, having climbed on the bar.
When things calm downKlaus is bleeding. His hand clutches his opposite arm and the sleeve of hisshirt saturated and dark red.
Caroline (9:45 PM): No fair. You totally have a way cooler how I got this scar story thanme.
Klaus (9:46 PM): So you’ve never needed a dozen stitches after a bar fight?
Caroline (9:47 PM): Nope. But I guess I’ve still got time.
Klaus (9:48 PM): It’s good to have goals.
She feels a littleanxious watching Klaus get loaded into an ambulance, seeing him in pain andstruggling to answer the EMTs questions. Silly, since he’s perfectly fine andjoking with her via text, only a few blocks away.
The episode ends withthe ambulance door closing, his roommates huddled together for warmth on thesidewalk watching it drive away.
Caroline checks thetime, debates moving on to another episode. She doesn’t actually have to go tobed for another hour so she could watch some more. She knows Klaus andAurora must hook up at some point - Caroline’s watched plenty of reality TV andKlaus’ show was less subtle than most.
She hasn’t feltjealous yet, doubts she will. She’d lose her shit if Klaus were to up and getweird about her high school boyfriends. They weren’t any of his business andCaroline’s not going to make a fuss just because she can see one of Klaus’ pastrelationships with her own two eyes thanks to the magic of technology.
Veering in a more romanticdirection with Klaus has been really good, and he’d made it clear it wassomething he’d wanted for a while. His past has no bearing on their present.
Besides, Carolinekind of likes Aurora, or at least the version the cameras capture. She’s a littledramatic, sucks at any and all forms of housework, but is at least willing tolaugh at herself. Plus, the poor girl’s family seems nuts - a phoneconversation with her parents had been icy and her brother had appearedonscreen only to lecture her about how unbecoming it was to associate withpeople beneath her and how Aurora was shaming the family.
Caroline doesn’t havesiblings but her knee jerk reaction had been a big fat yikes.
Plus, it’s not hardto see the behind the scenes manipulations. Aurora’s confessionals often havingher comparing and contrasting Klaus and Lucien, waffling about her feelings,and Caroline can easily envision the leading questions that she’d had to dealwith.
The results ofshoving young, attractive people together, forcing them to interact, andsupplying copious amounts of booze, are pretty predictable.
See: the bajillionvarieties of Real Housewives.
There’s no wayCaroline’s curiosity will survive not knowing how things end but she can wait abit. She shuts her laptop and stretches out the kinks in her back, grabbing herphone once more.
Caroline (9:56 PM): Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?
Klaus (9:57 PM): So you can interrogate me, I presume?
Caroline (9:58 PM): Yep. You don’t have to answer anything if you don’t want to though. I’mjust super fascinated by how that guy became, well, you.
Klaus (9:59 PM): Not sure how to take that, love.
Caroline (9:59 PM): I meant it in a good way. I like you. The you I know.
Caroline (10:00 PM): Past you seems kind of exhausting and I want to reach into my laptopand shake him sometimes.
Caroline (10:01 PM): Mostly because his commitment to hats is out of control.
Caroline (10:01 PM): Please tell me you got rid of those.
“Oh my god, I need tostop,” Caroline mutters. She closes her eyes, huffs out a laugh. Maybe sheshould have just gone to bed. She resists the urge to apologize for rambling.No need to call attention to it.
Klaus (10:02 PM): The only hats I own are functional, designed for warmth
Klaus (10:02 PM): I like the you that you are now too.
Klaus (10:03 PM): I can meet you at 1. Does that work for you?
She smiles down ather phone, taps out a quick affirmative. Retro trashy reality TV can wait,she’s got a fourth date outfit to put together.
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dailyaudiobible · 7 years ago
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07/16/2018 DAB Transcript
1 Chronicles 22:1-23:32, Romans 3:9-31 , Psalms 12:1-8, Proverbs 19:13-14
Today is the 16th day of July. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It's great to be here with you today. And I know I say that most every day, but we all need somebody who thinks it's great to see us, right? And it's great to see you. It's good to be together around the global campfire as we take the next step forward, which will take us back into the book of 1 Chronicles and back into the life of King David. We're reading from the Christian Standard Bible this week. 1 Chronicles 22 and 23.
Commentary:
Okay. So now that we are in Paul's letters, and as I've said, we'll kind of be camping out in Paul's letters for a little while. And in spending time in those letters, we'll understand exactly what it was that Paul was teaching. And what we'll find is that it is the core of the Christian faith. So for example, in our reading from today, Paul took us right to the bedrock of the faith that in the essence of it all. And that was simply this - no one is perfect. And we all know that. But then the problem comes in that we are trying to be in a relationship with a perfect, righteous, holy God. So how do we get beyond our inability to become perfect as we pursue this relationship with perfection? So as we've been working our way through the Old Testament, we see that the law of Moses was given and the Hebrew people believed that if they could obey the law fully, that if they could do it with all of their heart, wholly and unimpeded, then they could become righteous before God. The problem was that no one could do it. So Paul's point that he was making was that the law was to reveal sin and to reveal that no one could become perfect and righteous on their own. So in Paul's own words from our reading today, "Now we know that whatever the law says, it speaks to those who are subject to the law so that every mouth may be shut and the whole world may become subject to God's judgement. For no one will be justified in his sight by the works of the law because the knowledge of sin comes through the law." So for Paul as a religious Jew who was a Pharisee, devoutly trying to obey to the letter of the law everything in the law as best as he could, he realized even when you apply yourself completely, you're still gonna fail. So on the one hand, that's kind of a hopeless situation. Everything you are trying to apply yourself to do to become righteous before God is, in the end, not going to succeed. So what can a person do? How is the unachievable achieved? As Paul began to look at Jesus, he began to see how this could work. And I'm quoting him from our reading. "But now apart from the law, the righteousness of God has been revealed, attested by the law and the prophets. The righteousness of God is through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe, since there is no distinction. For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. They are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." That is an essential bedrock core truth of the Christian faith. And thank goodness. Because we're not in a hopeless situation. We can never make ourselves righteous before God. It was a hopeless situation. We would never be able to get there, would never be able to come into God's presence and say, I deserve to be in your presence because I have made myself righteous like you are, right? That's not going to happen. So hopeless situation. But as we look at what Paul is saying hope comes springing forth. Yes, all have sinned. All have fallen short of the glory of God. But God, in his grace, freely makes us right in his sight and he did this through Jesus when he freed us from the penalty of our sins. Which means that we are made righteous, that we are perfected before God because of his grace. So we can't go into God's presence and say, I deserve to be here because I am righteous and I have made myself righteous, but we can go into God's presence boldly as our Father and say, I deserve to be here because you've accepted me through Jesus. I haven't earned this. I in myself don't deserve this. But you came for me. This is the good news of the gospel. And may we rejoice in it today.
Prayer:
Father, we do. We certainly do today and every day. Because there will never be a day that we have achieved righteousness on our own and deserve to be in Your presence. And yet You welcome us into Your presence every day because of Jesus. And so we're thankful. Jesus, we thank You. We were hopelessly lost and You rescued us and we didn't deserve it. And we still fall short and You still are merciful. So we are grateful today. We invite Your Holy Spirit to lead us to be grateful and to concentrate and contemplate and meditate upon the grand good news that You have offered to the world. We ask, Father, that You would help us share the good news. All are welcome. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In Jesus name. Amen.
Announcements:
dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, it's where you find out what’s going on around here.
So, be sure to check it out.
Check out the prayer wall. Check out the resources that are available in the Daily Audio Bible shop.
If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link. It lives on the homepage. Thank you profoundly for those of you who have clicked that link over the years. Thank you for your partnership as we move through the summertime. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996, Spring Hll, Tennessee, 37174.
And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.
And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for here tomorrow.
Community Prayer and Praise:
Hello my beautiful DAB family. This is Tulu calling from Canada. I haven’t called since 2014. So, this is a big step for me. I’ve been a listener since 2007. Just want to thank you all. I love you guys so much. I listen to your calls and all your prayers, prayer requests, praise re-ports, and advice - really bless me. I just had to call today when I heard Jeff from Syracuse call. I’m so sorry about your loss Jeff. This is why we are here and I just pray that the Lord will hold you that this time and comfort you. And for everyone else who’s mourning a loss at this time, I pray the same prayer for you, that that hole, that void that has been left by your loved one, the Lord is the only one who can fill it and I pray that you just feel His comfort and His love and feel His warm embrace and hear him speak His words of comfort, His words that are the word for this season of your life. And I pray that you would just know His comfort and blessing. Family, I know that these are perilous times and this DAB community isn’t a coincidence and it’s not a mistake. And God has brought us all together for such a time as this we are so much is happening in the world and sometimes it’s like some things are being called home. And those of us who are here have a mission to carry the name of Jesus and to be His hands and feet and spread His love. And I pray that the Lord will just give us the grace and the courage and the strength to do that. I love you guys. I will call another day. I hope, soon. Giving you big hugs and kisses. Love to everyone. Thanks Brian, Jill, thanks Sarah Jane. Thanks all the team. Love you all. God bless
Hi family this is Kim from Eastern Kentucky and it’s Thursday, July 12th and I was just calling in because Standing Firm had called in and saying he hadn’t been standing firm. And a Scripture came to me when you started talking, and it’s Proverbs 24:16, for a righteous man falls seven times and rises again. And, the only way we stand firm is in the strength of our Savior. And James tells us that when we confess our sins, our faults, where we missed the mark, we confess them one to another and then the Lord hears our prayers and we get healed. And, so, Standing Firm, I appreciate you calling in and I know you’re still a righteous man and you are going to rise again, that’s what you’ve done. And you ask about people with depression and loneliness, praying for them. And my son is 20 years old and he struggles with that and his name is Josiah and I ask that you would remember him. And Jeff called in saying he had lost his wife, 55 years old. I’m 56, Jeff. I lost my husband 20 years ago to a brain tumor and it was rough in the beginning, very rough. But God is faithful and I know He will be faithful to you as well. So, prayers for everyone, I love you all, I love the podcast Brian and Jill. God bless you. Listening always. Bye.
Hi this is Victoria Soldier calling to pray for Stanley. He’s the young man from Greenville South Carolina. He was suffering depression and loneliness and I really want to pray for you because God loves you and He __. He doesn’t want you to be alone. And I just want to pray for you that whatever the challenges that God will provide. God is able to do exceedingly my brother. You continue to be strong in Him and let Him give you the joy of your heart in the name of Jesus. I want to also pray for the brother, he says that his brother’s wife is having some mental problems so they need to get the daughters. I want to pray for them. And I also want to pray for the baby who has water on the head. And I want to pray for him to live and not die. And I also want to pray for Jeff and that he said his wife died at 55. That’s a horrible thing and that you wanted to be with your wife. And God has an answer for you. We don’t know what it is. But we know that it’s always good. Lord, in the name of Jesus, You touch these people Lord. You know everything about them. You know the hairs on the head. Oh Lord You are a God that can do anything but fail. Lord You help them to understand. You bless them, fill eel that spot in their heart, in their mind, in their lives. You heal that body Lord. You heal that baby Lord. You direct Lord. You keep them Lord and You work there miracles Father in the name of Jesus. You Have Your Way, Lord. You are a present help in the time of trouble. You never leave them nor forsake them. Lord continue to bless, continue to bless Your people. They’re going through loneliness, their going through depression. Lord, bless them to find each other __that would love them, that they would love, that they can __...
Hi DAB family. This is nobody gets left behind in Colorado. I don’t call…I probably have only called maybe four times in the eight years that I’ve listened but I did want to make that a goal, something I start doing more and I just felt God pressing on my heart today to call in and just tell you all about a little story about something that happened yesterday. So, I have a brother Jeremy and he’s been in prison for 16 years. And he’s gotten more like a father to me and a brother and a best friend. And he’s just, these last, probably three years, he’s been getting stronger in his faith. And I love to just bounce Bible scriptures and we could talk for hours about the DAB and what we’re listening to and what God is doing in our lives and stuff like that. Anyway, I hadn’t heard from him in a couple weeks and I was really worried about him. The systems are down for the messaging in the prison that he is at and everything. So, I was really just praying every single day. I got a call from him yesterday. My brother had a breakthrough. My sister who has dropped contact with him for a long time, she sent him a quick little note and said I love you brother. And my brother, it just did something amazing to him. And he asked me to find this song and it’s called “your love defends me” __ . And, so, I played it on my husband’s phone so he could hear it on my phone and he let the song play through it I just had, I was just envisioning him on the other end crying and just worshiping God and if you knew my brother you would understand how powerful this is. He’s a shot caller, he’s a gangster like…
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libraryofmegharoni · 4 years ago
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The Heart's Invisible Furies [John Boyne]
started: March 21, 2021 finished: March 24, 2021 rating: 5/5
review:
its now been 2 weeks since i finished The Heart's Invisible Furies and tbh i still dont have the words to describe it.
first of all i've apparently wanted to read this book for at least 3 years. after i got it i found it on a random list of books in my notes of books i wanted that i made couple years ago. i have absolutely no idea where i heard about it the first time. i actually dont remember where i heard of it or why i put it on my list a couple months ago but evidently i did.
this was one of the (many) books that i intentionally didn't read the synopsis of and didn't want to know anything about it before reading. i knew bits going into it. i had the general info that it was about a boy born in Ireland who was adopted, it's set during The Troubles, and its gay enough to have the 'LGBT' tag on goodreads.
after a day of reading it my only comment i wrote down was: i think i cried 6 times reading the first 100ish pages.
which honestly sums up my entire experience reading the entire book.
the novel is organized so that each section is every seven years. there's a total of 11 sections so it covers 77 years all about Cyril Avery's life. the first section is about his mother dealing with being an unwed 16 year old pregnant woman in mid-1940s Ireland. and let me say: the actions of most of the 'adults' are absolutely horrific. the first chapter is Cyril's mother, Catherine, being kicked out of her village at Sunday Mass. her entire family and the rest of the village are against her and back the priest who tells her she has like an hour to leave the village and never come back.
when she gets on a bus to Dublin, she meets Seán who is also escaping his village to Dublin. they arrive and are greeted by Seán's 'friend' Jack who reluctantly agrees to let Catherine stay with them until she can support herself. its pretty obvious that Seán and Jack are a little more than friends but Catherine doesnt think anything of it until the end of the section. before the end tho, we meet the only valid adult / person of a previous generation, Mrs. Hennessy. i absolutely loved that she makes an appearance the the following section and gets name dropped throughout the rest of the novel. this first section is where we learn her general backstory and god fucking damn it i was appalled. at this point its less than 50 pages into the book and i was nearly full on sobbing. and the tears dont let up from there either! right after finding out what Mrs. Hennessy has gone through, Catherine returns back to the apartment she shares with Seán and Jack and once again there's adult and parent who is absolutely horrendous. this is finally when Catherine learns that the two boys are actually in a relationship because, who we later learn is Seán's father, who Seán was escaping from when he left his village, forces himself into the apartment. within the next few minutes, there is a filicide , someone left on the brink of death, and a birth.
this is literally all 50 pages into a nearly 600 page book. it sets the tone for the rest of it and gives a solid understanding of the mindset of Ireland in this time.
7 years later, we finally meet Cyril as as not just the concept that is causing issues for Catherine. we're introduced to the couple that adopted Cyril, who are odd to say the least. they are the type of parents that didn't really want a child because they were ready but instead as a show piece. the Avery's also constantly remind Cyril (and others) that he is 'not a real Avery'. hmm i wonder if this will have an impact on Cyril's future relationships?????
his relationship with Julian Woodbead is one of the most important to Cyril's life. i think its talked about later in the novel how their friendship is built on a lie. from the start Cyril is obsessed with Julian and Julian doesnt acknowledge it really. the perception of their friendship is so biased since we are viewing the world from Cyril's point of view and how he is effected. because of this perceptive, its so hard to believe that Julian didn't know that Cyril was in love with him. but i think Julian was such a product of the environment his was raised in and living by the acceptable ideas of the time. from an early age one of his defining traits is essentially being a womanizer. its hard to tell how much of him is just for show and how different him, and Cyril, would be free of a society with such strict exceptions and definitions of right and wrong. was Julian truly completely straight? or was he lying to everyone and himself to fit in with society?
Cyril deals with his repression of being gay in such a detrimental way the entire time he lives in Ireland. he constantly lies to everyone in his life and forces himself to live a lie. his inability to confide in anyone leads him to getting engaged to, sleeping with, and ultimately marrying Julian's sister, Alice.
oh my god the lead up to the marriage ceremony and the events after hurt so many people and i didn't know who's side i was on for them. Cyril ends up in a relationship with Alice and somehow engaged to her. he almost breaks it off with her but every time he cant say the words. its heartbreaking thinking about Cyril was just so fearful to tell the truth to people who loved him.
its finally on the wedding day that Cyril confesses to Julian that he doesnt love Alice in any romantic way because he's gay and is actually in love with Julian. Cyril wants to Julian to allow him to not go forward with the marriage but with Alice's past (she had a previous fiance that left her at the alter) Julian tells Cyril that he's going to marry his sister and be a perfect husband to her.
Cyril does it. partially. he marries Alice then flees the entire country. coming from Cyril's point of view, i was relived that he was free from lying to everyone. but on the other side -- he just left everyone hurt and unhappy in the wake of his actions. its so easy to see how Cyril feels forced into his decisions but understanding how those decisions affect the people around him make it hard to support Cyril.
7 years later we meet the most important man in Cyril's life, Bastiaan. after leaving Ireland, Cyril ends up in Amsterdam, where it is so much more acceptable to be gay holy shit. he meets and starts dating Bastiaan there. Bastiaan helps Cyril unlearn a lot of what he was forced to live by and accept who he is as a person.
he also meets Jack who opened an Irish pub in Amsterdam with the name of Seán's last name. when i realized it was Jack from before and Jack named his pub after Seán made me weep like a fucking baby.
i could list all the times i started crying but i would end up crying all over again and have to add more to the list.
anyway in Amsterdam Cyril and Bastiaan acquire a foster son, Ignac, who just like everyone else in this novel, has a tragic past. after some events (another murder, this time the dick head is the one killed instead of the one doing the killing) and the three of them end up in New York.
they are in America during the beginning of the AIDS crisis and holy shit. yeah more balling. thats the main takeaway.
in New York, Cyril volunteers to talk to AIDS patients who are dying but have no family visiting them. one of the patients is Julian. once again i turn into a fucking baby. Julian reveals to Cyril that he has a son back in Ireland from the one time he slept with Alice. im gonna cry if i think about Julian and Cyril talking anymore i stg. but uhh Julian makes Cyril promise that he'd be the one to call Alice when he died and once Julian does pass, Cyril has every intention on doing just that. but before he can, him and Bastiaan are jumped by a group of thugs who end up seriously injuring Cyril and killing Bastiaan.
7 years later, Cyril is back in Ireland with Ignac. this time he is in Ireland as an openly gay man and is attempting to build a relationship with his son.
there's so much more that happens that i can't even convey. but holy fuck was it so god damn fucking good.
finally when Cyril is in his 60s he figures out that he is the son of Mrs. Goggins, who has never really left the story. Cyril and Julian run in to her when they are 14 in boarding school, Cyril runs into her multiple times when he works almost with her, the morning of his wedding at a cafe, and when he returns he works in the same building that she does. so throughout his life his birth mother was right there but neither of them knew it.
after 7 years, they go together back to the village that Catherine was born, raised, and kicked out of. its finally here where we learn the identity of Cyril's birth father (Catherine's aunt's husband).
bro i gotta be done now. like there's much more that i want to talk about regarding The Heart's Invisible Furies but i just cant think of them rn.
tl;dr - ballin like a baby the whole way through. also society sucks.pls read its worth it
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dcathwithoutglory-blog · 6 years ago
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it’s jay. again. my browser just crashed. so i’m just gonna copy and paste my old intro. there’s no time to try and make it better. rip !
⌊ priyanka chopra, cis woman, antigone ⌉ ⏀ have you spoken to ALEXANDRA “ALEXA” MEHRA recently? the THIRTY-FOUR year old who’s been in seneca for SEVEN YEARS or so? either way, they always seem to remind me of FLOWERS PLACED ON A GRAVE, A RUSTY COMPASS, STORMS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT whenever i see them on main street. on a good day they’re pretty MORALISTIC, but they can also be RESISTANT. ⌊ jay, 19. est, she/her ⌉
the story of antigone that y’all probs already know but jic.
triggers: brief implication of incest but like wbk, brief mention of suicide, death, creon bein a bitch
brief overview of antigone (character + eponymous story):
antigone was born to oedipus and jocasta.
we all know what happened there. after that, oedipus was like “see no evil feel no evil” and jocasta yeet’d out of living.
her brothers went to war against each other. when creon ascended to the throne, he allowed burial for eteocles with honors, but was like “lmao if u bury polyneices i will kill u”
but antigone was like ‘lmao SURE JAN’ and tried to convince ismene, her sister, to help her bury polyneices. ismene was like ‘ok that’s a rly bad idea like good luck but count me out tbh.’
antigone is rly bad at digging graves tho so polyneices’s body was found and creon was like ‘oh my GOD’ and she’s like ‘fuck the government viva la morality!’
then creon was like ‘ok anyway rmr when i said u wld die if u buried polyneices so ig now u have to be buried alive in a tomb’ then antigone was like ‘actually i’ll be hanging myself before u can do fuck the government’
then he was like ‘at least u’ll be dead! oh wait -
Y’ALL GO SAVE EVERYONE’ but then it was too late
antigone and his son had both killed themselves and everyone, including himself, were just like
“get WREKT creon!!!!!”
alexa ( play despacito ).
triggers: suicide (x2), death (x3), mental illness implications, war, brief mentions of torture and murder
ok now onto alexandra ! so, like i did for valda, i looked up names that shared the same meaning as ‘antigone’ (which essentially means “against”) and one of the suggestions was alexa but i also wanted it to sound. super valiant. but at the same time. i wanted it to be something that could have a conversational nickname. so im already hc’ing that she has ‘despacito’ saved on her phone. also alexandra is my middle name so like?? stan list?? OK ANYWAY.
alright, so alexandra was born to a very upper-class family. her father was a politician and her mother was a successful lawyer. they provided well for the perfect nuclear family –– two sons, two daughters, a golden retriever, two cats in the yard life used to be so hard now everything is easy cause of-
like... her early life, say birth to age 14, was... nice. actually normal and nice. have i ever done that before? has my own edgelord ass ever done that before? i don’t think so.
which is why things obviously took a turn for the worse
but yeah. when she was 14, she was like “hey mom idk how to do pre-algebra” (a mood) but there was no response from her mom. so shrug city, you know? she just went to her older sister instead. but like... so much time passed.... and nothing....
finally, this nosy bitch decided to be like “ok i’m gonna go see what tf she’s doing” and that was just... a terrible idea. instead of finding her mom doing her nails or talking on the phone or any number of reasons she may not have come out yet, she found her mother hanging from the ceiling fan.
she tried to get her brothers’ and sister’s help, and they tried so desperately to help (you know, while also calling 911 and their father), but it was to absolutely no avail.
after this hella traumatizing experience, the children grew closer as the father grew farther.
he began getting lost in his own mind, sometimes accidentally mixing the past with the present, a la willy loman style. he would hold slight conversations with their ‘mother’ while at the table, then began holding them with various others from the past. it was pretty clear that his mind had just been looking for an excuse to snap, and the death of his wife had been the perfect scapegoat.
although it had originally just affected him in his home life, he began holding said conversations in the presence of people outside his family.
this is not good for a politician.
i mean it’s not good for anyone but...
his support immediately began dropping. his team gradually left him, finding there was no way he would ever be able to gain another victory if he kept on living in a limbo between the past and the present. given that he’d started ‘talking to his brother’ during one of his speeches... 
rest in peace to his career.
alexa (play despacito) was 18 at the time, her sister - 20, one of her brothers - 21, the other - 24.
they were all legal adults! some of them had even moved out! so their father figured his next move would not affect him in the way their mother’s death had!
so he shot himself.
the only people who showed up at his funeral were alexa and her sister. her eldest brother proclaimed that flying across the country would be too much of a hassle for that, and the other brother simply did not respond.
her eldest brother did, however, enlist in the army after setting legalities in place that would allow him to send money back to his siblings. he had joined simply because it was an easy opportunity (what with all of the propaganda), but his decision prompted the other brother to do the same –– this time because he was talented at ‘the art of fighting.’
and bc more money but like... get wrekt.
alexa’s sister dropped out of college to work a full-time job –– one that paid fairly handsomely. alexa took some odd jobs.
aka, everyone was trying to make money.
creon was right when he said “money! nothing worse”
so things kind of dipped when the eldest brother was killed. after an accusation that he’d become a traitor, their other brother had taken it upon himself to ‘anonymously’ torture and shoot him. but the other side did it!
which everyone knew was a lie.
because of the accusations, he was not only not allowed a military funeral, he was also not meant to be buried in any honorable fashion. instead, his body was returned to his hometown to be buried there following a quiet and uneventful funeral.
his grave was left unmarked.
nonetheless, the grave was visited every day, new flowers laid atop.
meanwhile, their other brother was considered a newfound military icon. he’d gotten rid of a ‘traitor’ (they continued to pretend it was someone from the other side, of course), he’d killed many an enemy, he’d done this and that and this and that and it all made him look so morally grey to alexa and her sister (who, granted, had yet to find out he’d killed their other brother), but like such a white knight to his fellow soldiers.
he truly rose in the ranks. it was what he was meant to do.
but the more he killed, the more he tortured, the lack of grief towards his brother’s death...
alexa’s sister wasn’t buying her hypothesis. it wasn’t necessarily because she saw their other brother was some pure being, but because she simply didn’t believe he was capable of that.
the next time alexa saw her brother, she got confirmation enough. what to do with the information, she wasn’t sure, but she knew she had to do something...
murder wasn’t the solution... she didn’t have any military connections that would allow for her to spout some lie about why he needed to be dishonorably discharged... but what he did couldn’t skate by...
to this day, she is still wondering what she can do to fuck him over. his success in the military keeps growing grander and grander, thus rendering any fake dishonorable discharge excuses completely moot. her sister still doesn’t believe that there really is a solution –– that, while it is greatly harmful, there’s absolutely nothing they can do and ruminating on it is worthless –– trying to find some quest to defeat their own brother is absurd.
although she has since moved to seneca, attracted to its small town appeal, she continues to visit her eldest brother’s grave every week –– it’s about a two hour drive, so it’s worth it.
she’s taken up work as a cemetery caretaker
because of COURSE she would.
and, although its pay is.... lousy, she’s been making due. for the tombstones no one visits any longer, first she’ll look them up to make sure they weren’t slave-owners or anything, she’ll bring them their own flowers. the dead deserve just as much respect as the living, hm?
personality.
i just realized i didn’t do this for valda (aka, i’m about to update her intro with it), but a total enneagram type 2.
too empathetic for her own good, too ‘this person whom i do not even know deserves flowers’ for her own good, too ‘i’ve got to protect _______ by doing _________’ for her own good
a capricorn
so driven by her own moral compass, she does not CARE about anything that says she has to go against it
her moral compass can be super faulty sometimes tho
pretty quick to make assumptions tbh, but has so far been right abt most of them.
so also driven by gut feelings ig
dramatic tbh. i mean she’s the adapted version of a character whose first lines contained “there's nothing, no pain—our lives are pain” SO.
also p independent (as in i said valda was independent), but her vendetta isn’t against men in general, rather just her brother who is still alive
so like,,, that said,,, holds grudges.
im bad at personality sections!! as has been stated before!! but i think the gist has been gotten across!!
wanted connections.
so rn i only have one specific one which is her sister and can be found on the wc page
will come up w/ unique ones later but until then open 2 hearing urs/brainstorming!
tl;dr.
(refer to triggers listed before the bullets.) a lot of death? like mom kills herself then dad turns into willy loman then dad kills himself. brothers both join the army. one brother kills the other brother for being accused of being a ‘traitor.’ said brother doesn’t get a proper funeral and his headstone is unmarked. the other brother rises in the rankings and alexa knows what happened. convinced her sister of it, but her sister is more logical and let her know that she was very angry too, but making her entire life about it would do nothing but endanger herself and others. moved to seneca because she liked the small town feel. still visits her eldest brother’s grave every week to leave flowers. works as a cemetery caretaker bc WHY NOT. brings flowers to graves that are either unmarked or no longer visited. i hope you read all of that and just thought ‘oh my god fckin EDGELORD’ because you’re right.
alright ! fin.
like this or hmu if you’d like to plot !
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ethreesixty · 5 years ago
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The world’s best-selling books list
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In my previous blog, I shared some of the most expensive books in the world. In this blog, I will again share some other world’s best selling books list. As I am hoping that you would be enjoyed the previous list of expensive books. So Today this list might excite you again to know some more best selling books. So let’s get started on the list of best-selling books. No.1 Geoffrey Chaucer the Canterbury Tales 7.5 million$:
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The story goes on with the Canterbury Tales written by Geoffrey Chaucer. This book is actually a collection of 24 stories that runs over 17,000 lines written in Middle English circa 1387 to 1400. Which makes the book extremely fragile and old. Although most of the story is written in verse and prose typically for the medieval age. It focuses on a group of pilgrims as they travel from London to Canterbury to visit the shrine of St. Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral. There were only 12 copies made of this book and one of them was sold for a huge amount of 7.5 million dollars back in 1998. This expensive copy has had quite an interesting journey. It was acquired by the first Earl Fitzwilliam for only six pounds back in 1776. And then passed it on for generations until it was sold for millions of dollars 20 years ago. This cost is no wonder to anyone since the book has had a huge impact on English literature. If you're more into films than books then maybe watch the 1975 BBC 2 TV adaptation by Alan platter. Oh by the way if you're into books and audiobooks as much as I am. I recommend you go to a Lux calm / free book and get yourself a free audiobook when you sign up. No. 2 William Shakespeare comedies histories and tragedies 6.16 million $:
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If to be or not to be is still the question that pops into your mind then you paid attention in English class. William Shakespeare is one of the most famous and respected writers in the whole world. He contributed to the development of the English vocabulary and no matter who you ask. They sure know one of his famous tragedies Romeo and Juliet. Even though most people have heard of him or have read Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet. Shakespeare wrote many other comedies tragedies and plays. In this exclusive list, we're talking about the folio William Shakespeare comedies histories and tragedies from 1623. And it's considered to be one of the most influential books ever published in the English language. Not a lot of copies were made back then and only a third of them survived since the 17th century. A few of these copies that did make it are now stored in libraries. Where people can see them and if need be use them. One of them was actually sold for 6.16 million dollars at an auction in 2001 by Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen. And to think back than just one copy was sold for one pound. Today and nowadays they are one of the most expensive books in history crazy. No. 3 Gutenberg Bible four point nine million $:
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Flipping some pages we end up to a special book a unique piece of history and modernism. The Gutenberg Bible is the initial major book printed using mass-produced movable metal types in Europe. And the book that recorded the beginning of the printing press. keet in mind that this beauty was printed by Johannes Gutenberg himself in manes Germany back in 14:50 ish. That fact alone makes the value of this book skyrocket to a few million dollars. Even though it's written in Latin. Doing some further research I found out that only 49 copies have survived over the years. And one of them was sold for 4.9 million dollars back in 1987. Of course, it's hard to set a value of money for the Bible the holy book God's words. But for one of the first-ever printed versions, it can. And by the way, have you guys noticed that one of the first books that Gutenberg printed was the Bible? Today we can find around 2.5 billion copies of the Bible translated into two thousand languages. No. 4 Henri Louis Duhamel Du Monceau Treatise on Fruit trees 4.5 million $:
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Moving on to the best-selling books list. I have an amazing and useful illustration book the treatise on fruit trees by owner Louis Duhamel Du Monceau. One of the most significant books of its sort. The first edition the one I am talking about here dates back to 1768 and it has 181 full-page edgings. It is written in collaboration and up to this day, the essays still provide essential and necessary instructions for gardeners. It might not seem interesting for some of you. But growing and keeping fruit trees in the best condition is not easy peasy. It takes a lot of skill and knowledge and not everyone can master it. This book although it's from the 18th century still holds the techniques most people use today. The first edition with beautiful red Moroccan leather and gold lining is estimated to be worth around sixty-five thousand dollars and 4.5 five million dollars. Which is a lot of money on fruit trees exclusively but there's good value for money. Since the book consists of a five-volume set of illustrations and text by the author himself. It’s a rare book from the late 1700s with fundamental work knowledge and culture of fruit trees and the Pierre. And Pierre Jean Francois Turpin's illustrations were sold for 4.5 million dollars back in 2006. If you know an agronomist or you have a plant or tree lovers in your family then they will definitely love it. No. 5 JK Rowling the Tales of Beedle the bard 3.98 million $:
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It is probably one of the most famous female writers in history JK Rowling. She's one of the first authors to become a billionaire. And her beloved Harry Potter series is the best-selling series of all time. Yes, she's full of World Records and inspiration the Tales of Beedle the Bard is a children's book. That is also mentioned in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The last book of the Harry Potter series as a gift Dumbledore gave to Hermione. The book has been released in a limited edition of seven copies only handwritten by JK Rowling herself. One of the books the moonstone Edition was sold at auction for 3.98 million dollars and the profits were donated to charity. That's such a JK Rowling thing to do at this price. The innovative literature book has become the most precious book of its sort scoring another record for its great author. Other than the money stats about this book I did some more digging. To find out about its limited edition books and seems like the other six copies were gifted to those who were involved in the Harry Potter series. Another fascinating thing about this book is. It acts as a vehicle for introducing the Deathly Hallows to the Harry Hermione and Ron trio. Read the full article
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the-chubbiest-dumpling · 8 years ago
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Endings and Beginnings: Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen: Midnight Memories
Summary: You’re just an ordinary 25-year-old photographer working in a small studio in downtown Toronto. Your life is as normal as it could possibly be, except the fact that you are given an opportunity most people only dream of.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 20 017
Warnings: Swearing. 
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter EightChapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue
Tags: @shamvictoria11 @blazeshira
August 10th
It’s been a busy five days in the compound.
Tony hardly ever mentions why he goes to New York every now and then, but you just suspect that he has his business to take care of. This time though, he actually told you why he went. Turns out, he was planning on officially introducing you into the Avengers, and was planning a little party to celebrate at the Avengers Tower in New York. You had no idea that there was an actual ceremony or whatever to be introduced into the Avengers as a full-time member, so you were mildly surprised when Tony told you everything that entails. Given the fact that you’ve been operating with them for nearly three months now, you guess that a little press conference couldn’t hurt. Besides, you’ve been caught on camera a few times; might as well let the public know what’s going on.
You stand in your room, dressed head-to-toe in your suit, mask and all. Your hair is tied up, and you keep fiddling with your gloves. You twist and turn as you look at yourself in the mirror. Everything is in place, but you’re a little worried, if you’re being honest with yourself. There’s no guarantee that someone in the press room is going to recognize you as you. They could all be strangers from across the city and out of state. As long as you keep your face covered and let Tony do all the talking, everything should go over smoothly.
Fingers crossed.
And since there’s going to be a mount of reporters in the compound, Bucky can absolutely not be seen. At all. Under any circumstance. The safest place for him is in his room, and as far as you know, he’s in there right now. You haven’t seen him all day because of the press conference, but it’s for the best. Better for him to be safe rather than sorry.
“Let’s go kid,” Tony says, knocking on your door.
“Just a minute!”
You take one last look in the mirror. There are no eyelashes in your eyes, your ponytail is tight, and your uniform is spotless. Your mask is fit securely around your face, and your boot laces are double knotted. You take one long, deep breath before leaving your room and following Tony down to the main floor. Tony talks to you on and off the whole way until you’re standing in front of the doors to the east wing main ballroom. You can hear everyone murmuring inside, and your heart thumps in your chest.
“Listen,” Tony starts, putting a hand behind your back. “There’s fifty reporters behind those doors. Real ones, not bloggers. When you’re ready, I will introduce to the world, the newest, official member of the Avengers: Hellfire.”
You can only nod in response, and force your nerves to calm down. Tony notices your anxiety, and tries to calm you down a bit.
“You’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “I’ll be doing all the talking while you stand off to the side. I know every answer to every question, and know how to smoothly change the subject. Trust me. You won’t be in the spotlight.”
Just then, a woman with orange hair wearing a white dress emerges from the room, looking quite distressed. You recognize her immediately.
“What’s going on?” she asks, eyes towards Tony. “Everyone’s waiting for something spectacular to happen.”
“Oh my god, you’re Pepper Potts.”
You speak without thinking because you’re so entranced. She’s a huge figure of authority (to you at least), and you’ve never met her before. She seems to be in charge of the conference, given the fact she just left the room. She gives you a glance when you acknowledge her, her expression never changing.
You feel like an ant under a magnifying glass under her gaze.
“I-I’m sorry,” you say, looking at the floor. “I just haven’t… met you before and I blanked. Sorry.”
“Is this her?” she asks Tony, her tone still the same.
“All in one piece,” he says.
“Let’s get this going then,” she says, rushing you in. She gives you a handshake and a friendly smile as she leads you inside the press room. “I apologize for being so forward. But they’ve been waiting.”
“I get it,” you say. “I’ll do my best.”
The moment Pepper opens the doors, there’s flashing from every direction. You keep your head down and away from the photographers as Pepper leads you up to the podium, Tony following close behind. The reporters are shouting and pointing their recorders and microphones at you, while the news crews monitor your movements with their cameras. You feel like you’re being scrutinized by everyone, but it’s probably their job. You stand with Pepper, behind the podium, and let Tony take the lead. He raises his arms to calm the crowd, but some journalists are still shouting their questions. Some of them don’t even have to do with the purpose of this press conference.
“What do you have to say about the rise in crime in the Los Angeles area?”
“When can we see the newest suit to the Iron Man collection?”
“What are the Avengers doing to stop global domination?”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes to save face. You can’t have the public see your sassy and annoyed side. They would start attacking you the moment your eyes settled. You just keep your eyes trained on Tony, and listen intently to what he has to say.
“There are no cue cards this time, in case you were wondering,” he starts, referring to the time he identified himself as Iron Man. There’s a small, collective chuckle from the crowd before Tony gets down to business. “Speculation has arisen that there has been a strange woman living here at the Avengers compound and not paying rent. I am here to put those rumours to rest.”
You sigh at Tony’s little poke of fun at you. You know it’s part of what makes Tony who he is, and lord knows you hate him sometimes for it. But you just smile underneath your mask. Hopefully he won’t go overboard.
“It’s true,” he says. “Though she has no reason to pay rent. Because she is a new addition to the Avengers team.”
The room goes into an uproar, everyone getting out of their seats to shout more questions. Tony goes on, speaking over them.
“She had to be deemed fit to be a part of this team,” he continues. “We evaluated her skills and attributes to determine if she was a good fit. Not anyone can just join us. She’s gone through extensive training, is calculative, and thinks quickly on her feet. I’m sure she can be seen in low-quality videos shifting through the internet fulfilling her good deeds. We recruited her a few months ago, after viewing her putting out an apartment fire by herself. Since then, she’s become a valuable asset to this group and will continue to be for the foreseeable future. Ladies and gentleman, may I humbly introduce, Hellfire.”
Pepper smiles at you and gives an encouraging nod as you sheepishly step forward. You stand beside Tony, and let your eyes wander around the room. Reporters and journalists begin their shouting match again, their bodies turned in your direction. You can’t make out any questions clearly because they’re being thrown at you so rapidly. You remain stoic, and fold your hands behind your back.
Head up. Chest out. Legs apart. Eye contact. You’re the boss. You’re not submissive.
You mutter comforting words to yourself as you try to filter out all the unnecessary noise everyone is making. The clicking of pens, the tapping of feet, even people scratching their skin. You stare straight ahead, and endure this fiasco to let Tony take the wheel. He first casts a glance your way to see if you’re doing alright. When he sees you putting on a brave face, he smiles before moving onto questions. The first one is to be expected.
“What is her ability?”
“She describes herself as a pyrokinetic,” Tony explains. “She is able to create, control, and manipulate fire, flame, and heat. She’s our portable fireplace.” A few laughs resonate through the crowd before someone wants to see a demonstration. Tony leans against the podium and gestures to you, letting you do your thing. You nod and hold your arms out, and produce flames that go up your forearms. Some people lean back in their seats, already feeling the heat. You tone it down a bit, and opt to not tease the crowd by producing fireballs and circling them around their heads. You evaporate the flames and stand with your hands behind your back again. Tony looks at the crowd, visibly amused, and points to another reporter.
“Why is she hiding her face?” You do an eye roll over to Tony to let him explain. He’s a little sassier when it comes to things like this. Less aggressive, unlike you. “Well like any great superhero that still has friends and a family, it’s important to protect your face in order to protect them. She’s not ready to let the world know who she is. And anyone who says otherwise can leave the room right now. Next.”
“Her suit is designed by you, Mr. Stark?”
“That’s right.”
“Why does she resemble the number one assassin in recorded history, the Winter Soldier?”
You widen your eyes at that one. You give the reporter an incredulous look, and turn to Tony for help. Even though Tony’s touchy about that subject, he deals with it calmly and smoothly.
“Like I said,” he starts, his voice firm. “It helps to protect her identity. The mask is an essential part of her uniform, as it filters out smoke and potentially dangerous and poisonous substances. As she is the only one capable to withstand temperatures climaxing to 3000 Kelvin, she needs the most safety precautions as part of her attire. She is more flexible in a one-piece suit, and can maneuver with ease. And I do not see the resemblance between her and that assassin. Need I go on?” The reporter sits back down, slightly flustered. Tony gets right back on track and points to another person.
“If she was a good fit and has been with the Avengers for this long, why wait a prolonged period of time to make an official statement about her arrival?”
“Again, she was being trained,” Tony explains. “Furthermore, just because you’re gifted with a certain amount of power, doesn’t mean you get a special invitation to join the Avengers right away. You have to… prove yourself, so to say. Help give us a reason to include you in this band of misfits. That’s how it was with all of us. We were approached, evaluated, and offered the chance to be a part of the team. Miss Hellfire here went through the same process. As for the amount of time we waited to introduce her… call it another assessment. She has dealt with four separate incidents in and out of the Los Angeles area. Only two casualties have been recorded in all occurrences, not by her doing. She is a fundamental part to this team, and will continue to be as long as she’s with us.”
“Mr. Stark. Aren’t you worried about the possible collateral damage that comes along with an individual with literal fire power? How much control does she have over herself?” Tony seems to be getting a little aggravated at these ridiculous but completely rational questions, given by his weary facial expressions. Nevertheless, he answers it with professionalism.
“Trust me,” he says. “If any of us were in immediate danger, we keep fire extinguishers at the ready. She is not a danger to herself, nor anyone else. She has an incredible amount of control over her power. We are not concerned.”
“Can you tell us about the events that occurred recently at the Skyspace in downtown Los Angeles?”
“I was not present during that incident,” he answers. “I do not know the details, nor do I have the authority to give comments.”
“Maybe Hellfire could speak for herself on this one,” one reporter suggests. Tony backs away from the podium, and turns to the side to let you take the lead if you’re willing. Pepper seems a little anxious, but she still gives you an encouraging smile. You nod at Tony, and take your place at the podium. You do not remove your mask as you speak.
“I took a trip to downtown Los Angeles on the afternoon of August 5th to take a tour of the OUE Skyspace,” you explain calmly. “I was in the elevator when it unexpectedly failed. I heard three consecutive explosions, and descended from the thirteenth floor to the eleventh floor where I followed the suspect out to the streets. I destabilized a bomb he planted, and chased him down to the City National Bank. He turned out to be a suicide bomber, and killed himself before I had the chance to question him. I supressed the explosion by… wrapping him in hotter air, so to say.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well. I, uh. This is a little difficult to explain. Um. I concentrated my energy around his body to prepare myself if he set off the bomb. Explosions happen in the blink of an eye, so by taking control of the heat surrounding him, it allowed me to be ready for when the impending fire and heat from the bomb escaped.”
“Why could you have not talked him down, or took the opportunity to kill him yourself before he went on the run?”
Jeez these guys are brutal. Now I know how Tony feels.
“He did not give me much of a choice,” you say, sounding a little fed up. You clear your throat and continue on in a polite manner. “I tried to talk him out of it, but there was not enough time. Furthermore, I could not take him down without putting innocent civilian lives at risk. I needed him isolated, but he did not give me much of a choice in location either. I cleared the bank before he took action, and no lives were lost that day. There were minor injuries, but nothing fatal.”
“What about the incident in San Francisco?”
“Are any of these events related?”
“Should the city of Los Angeles be on high alert?”
“The people have the right to know what’s going on!”
You stand still and keep your mouth shut as everyone keeps shouting their questions and making their claims. You stare blandly at the crowd, lazily sifting your eyes over their faces. You don’t recognize anyone, but given the fact that these people came from all over the country, you weren’t expecting to see someone you knew.
Unfortunately, you’re proven wrong.
In the back corner of the room, you see none other than Phil Coulson himself, the agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. that almost got you killed that one time. You have no idea why he’s here; maybe to see how you’ve progressed since that particular mission. Or maybe just for amusement. He probably wouldn’t miss your introduction for anything. You narrow your eyes at him, and he just nods his head. You shift your focus on Tony now, silently asking him to take his spot back so you don’t have to listen to these people anymore. He steps forward, and you join Pepper at the wall.
“We won’t be taking anymore questions at this time,” he says. “As far as we know, these events are not related in any way.”
Finally. He’s wrapping it up.
“This will conclude the press conference. Once again ladies and gents, Hellfire.”
Tony opens his arm to you, and you stand beside him as the photographers take their photos. You keep your eyes trained on Phil, however. To be honest, he’s the safest one in this crowd. Apart from the deviousness and lying, he’s the only one you trust after Tony and Pepper. Reporters can be shifty sometimes, twisting words and spreading false information to make their story bigger and better. But you’re not about that life, and you’re not going to let it happen, nor ruin you, if it comes to that.
“Alright. Let’s go, champ.”
Tony leads you out of the press room, and you take the biggest sigh of your life. You put your hands on your thighs and take deep breaths.
“Well,” you say, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t think it’d be that intimidating. Apparently I was wrong.”
“You get used to it,” Tony says. “You did great in there, kid. Props.” Pepper gives Tony a “what-the-hell” kind of look, and silently urges him to do more. He obliges, and awkwardly gives you a pat on your back. “Really, _______. You did great. Take some time for yourself now. They’ll be here for a while, so you may have to stay dressed like that until they leave.”
“I’m sure you can think of something to convince them to depart earlier than planned,” Pepper chimes in sweetly. “It’s best not to have stragglers wandering the facility and have unwanted eyes in private places.”
You have no idea if she’s hinting at Bucky being kept in the compound. You don’t see a reason why she does need to know about him, but then again, it’s Pepper Potts. She’s much more than Tony’s on-again off-again partner, because she’s the current CEO of Stark Industries. But there is a lot of information at the compound that is kept from the public for security reasons. Surely she’s talking about that. You wonder now if “official Stark business”, as Tony would tell you whenever he left for New York, meant that Tony was seeing Pepper. It’s a safe bet. But you’re not about to question him about it in front of her. You stand up straight again and put your hands on your hips.
“I’ll just go back upstairs,” you say, still not one hundred percent sure. “Ummm. Call me, I guess? If you need me for anything.”
“Will do,” Tony says, giving your back a small slap. “Now get outta here before someone named Phil gets to you.”
“Why would he–“
“Get a move on!”
“Okay, okay! It was nice meeting you, Miss Potts.”
“Likewise, _______.”
You follow Tony’s order and start making your way back upstairs. You don’t look behind you, nervous that you’ll see something you don’t want to. Tony wraps an arm around Pepper’s waist, and watches you ascend the stairs.
“She seems to be doing well,” Pepper comments. “No red flags, no deaths made while on her account, she plays well with others. She seems to fit right in.”
“Yeah, she’s a good little fireball,” Tony says as you disappear. “She clicks well with everyone. Even me.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.” Tony smiles at Pepper, and she smiles back. They share a private moment together before Phil Coulson approaches them.
Back upstairs, you hide in the safety of your room, and close the blinds over your windows. You never know who could be roaming around in the backyard with their camera. You double-check to make sure nothing and no one can see into your room, then take off your mask. You breathe in the fresh air, and sit down on your bed. It was a little frightening to be in a room full of people looking for answers that you weren’t sure you could give them. Questions about yourself you can handle, but when it comes about widespread panic, that’s more up Tony’s alley. You hear a knock at your door, and instinctively put your mask up back to your face.
“Who is it?” you ask.
“It’s me,” Bucky answers.
“Oh. Come in.”
As he opens the door you lower your mask and put it down beside you. He closes the door softly and leans against the wall. He’s dressed a little more normally today: jeans and a long-sleeve shirt instead of sweats and a tanktop. He must still be nervous about this many unfamiliar people at the compound; you can see it in his eyes. You smile softly at him.
“How did it go?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“Okay,” you reply. “I let Tony do all the talking until I had to step up for a minute to explain myself.”
“About what?”
“When we went to the market. I didn’t mention that I was with anybody, so they don’t know that you were with me. I made sure of that.”
He approaches you, and sits down beside you when you move over to make room. He folds his hands together, smiling warmly.
“I’m sure I’ll see how well you handled them when they play the press conference again later today,” he teases.
“Shut uuup,” you smile, nudging his arm. “I didn’t panic, I didn’t cry, and I didn’t lie. Mostly. I just did my job and looked pretty for the cameras.”
“How could they see how pretty you are with that mask on your face?” he says.
“Can’t let them know who I am,” you say matter-of-factly, completely ignoring his compliment. “They might be ready to know who I am, but I am not. And like Tony said, I still have friends and a family to worry about. It’s the right thing to do to keep them safe.”
“You’re doing a great job, you know,” he says. “If I haven’t told you already.”
“You know what,” you say, mulling it over. “I don’t think you have. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he grins. “You were already doing a great job before you came here, I hear. Four months of keeping your identity and power under wraps? That’s pretty impressive, even with that loosey-goosey piece of fabric you had at the time.”
“That is a relic,” you say, feigning being hurt. “It’s been with me through thick and thicker. I still have it, too. It hasn’t been washed in a while though. So it’s kinda nasty.”
“Can I see it?” he asks.
You nod, then get up and search through your dresser, palming the bottom of the drawers until you can feel the stiff fabric under your fingers. You hold it with your finger through one of the loops, and dangle it in front of his face.
“I got it when I was eighteen, believe it or not,” you say as he turns it around in his hand. “It’s been with me ever since. I bought three at the time, but I wore that one the most because it was just plain black. The other ones are more fashionable.”
Without even smelling it Bucky can tell it needs to be washed. There’s stains on the inside of the mask. Some of it dirt, but mostly makeup. He can smell some leftover ash and smoke. He raises a brow, then hands it back to you.
“It certainly is vintage,” he comments. “I can see it in a glass case on display already.”
“Oh, stop it,” you say, gently whipping his arm with it. You put it back in its resting place and close the drawer. “I don’t really have a need for it anymore, but it’s still a nice reminder of how I started out. No matter how much we grow, I think we need at least one thing from our past to remind us of how far we’ve come.” You look over your shoulder at him. He’s smiling sadly, and it makes your heart lurch for him. “Sorry. I know that sounds stupid but–“
“It’s not,” he cuts you off. “I, um. A few weeks after I came here, Steve found and gave me my dog tags from the war. Whether he found them or stole them from some exhibit, I honestly didn’t really care. All I cared about was having a part of myself back. I felt like I could remember more when I held them.”
“And could you?”
“Sometimes. Bits and pieces, maybe someone speaking, or even a smell. All that mattered is that I was able to remember me as me before I was captured. Again.”
It’s moments like these with Bucky where you have no idea what to say. The tone of his voice, his posture, his facial expressions. The way he talks about himself before and during the war is like a sad reminiscence, but it’s like trying to remember what you did when you were four years old. The smallest of flashbacks are there, but it’s not a complete picture. Trying to place names and dates without really knowing the truth. It’s a difficult thing to try and piece back together. But Bucky’s come a long way since his time as the Winter Soldier. He’s bettered himself, and he’s reconnecting with the world, albeit in a tiny way. But he’s trying. You sit down beside him again and give his shoulder a squeeze.
“You’ve come a very long way, Bucky,” you start, hoping this comforts him. “I’ve never seen someone with this much perseverance in my whole life. You’ve been through so much, yet you always put forth a smile at least once a day. You know, I just… I try to think of comforting things to say to you when I see you in a slump, but nothing ever comes out. I tell you a thousand times that you can come to us if you’re having problems. But I know that some things have to be left unsaid. I would know. Anyway, I–god I can’t even–j-just, you gotta keep telling yourself to put aside the Winter Soldier, and become who you were born to be.”
“And what’s that?”
“You have to figure that out for yourself. If you spoke with your younger self, what would he want you to be?”
Bucky lowers his head and stares at the floor, mulling it over in his head. What would his younger self want him to be? His first thought is a soldier, because that’s literally what he wanted to be. Another thought is a protector. He’d been protecting Steve for a while against anyone that tried to bully him or steal his money. And another one is to just be himself. Charming, easygoing, caring, swanky guy that he was. But he’s not that person anymore. And to be honest, he doesn’t know what he wants himself to be. For now, he just wants to stay sane.
He doesn’t give you a verbal answer, but you weren’t expecting one anyway. You just wanted to remind him of how remarkable he is. You drop your hand from his shoulder and blow your lips.
“I’m gonna be bored for a while,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “I have a feeling not even Tony can make these reporters go away.”
“Maybe I should go down there,” Bucky jokes. “I’m sure they’d all disperse if I looked at them the wrong way.”
“Is it bad to say that that actually sounds funny?” you ask hesitantly, smiling just a bit.
“Prrrobably,” Bucky admits. “But I won’t. It’ll just cause inexplicable trouble for everyone.”
“I wasn’t about to let you,” you say. “You’ll just have to stay in your room for the remainder of the day. Or until those fucks downstairs have the brains to clear out before I make them.” Bucky’s lips quirk up into a smile when you speak so vulgarly and violently. It’s such a contrast to your usual behaviour, and he can’t help but laugh at the change.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing,” he says. “It’s nothing.”
“Okay then.”
You reach for your mask and pull it back on, making sure it’s secure around your ears. You’d rather not wear your suit all day, but it’s an opportunity to get used to it. You haven’t worn it out in the field yet, so testing its movements and durability isn’t such a bad idea. It sucks that Bucky has to be cooped up in his room all day, but there’s no other choice. You plan to visit him throughout the day, chatting him up and bringing him something to eat. Maybe teach him a thing or two about anything he’d like. But for now, you need to keep yourself busy.
“I’m gonna go to one of the training rooms,” you announce, getting up on your feet. “Might as well get the most out of my suit. I guess I’ll see you later, Bucky.” You smile at him, even though he can’t see it. You squeeze his shoulder again as you walk by, and tip toe out into the hallway, then disappear to the elevators. Bucky lingers in your room for a little bit, seeing how well you’ve accustomed to living here. There’s a slight clutter on top of your dressers, your electronics dominate your glass desk, with assorted wires hanging out the back. Besides those things, your room is pretty bare. But the one thing that really stands out for him are the phrases written on the wall beside your bed.
He’s not in your room much, but on the off-chance when he is, he sees a new quote added to your collection of motivational sayings. You have a lot of wall space, and you’ve been making the best use of it. He stands up to get a good view of the whole wall, muttering some of the sayings.
“Fall down seven times, stand up eight.”
“If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you.”
“Your only limit is you.”
“Do no harm but take no shit.”
“The struggle you’re in today is developing the strength you need for tomorrow.”
“If you don’t sacrifice for what you want, what you want becomes the sacrifice.”
That last quote really resonates with him. He’s been trying to think of ways to tell you, in the least juvenile manner possible, how he truly feels. He didn’t know if he would be able to get back into the game, considering what he’s done. He knew he was attracted to you soon after he left Wakanda, but he pushed that aside because it wasn’t his primary focus. It was to stay hidden and not cause trouble. But over time, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He was nervous about expressing himself because it’s been decades since he even looked a woman in the eye. But he slowly and gradually got into the groove of things again, which you seemed to enjoy. He’s your closest friend after Steve, but now, he wants to be more than that. If he doesn’t get a move on, what he wants will be sacrificed for something completely different. Anything can happen, so he cannot wait anymore.
He heads back to his room and pulls out a notebook to brainstorm ideas about what to do, how to do it, and when to make it happen.
After your press conference, F.R.I.D.A.Y. triple-checking that every unfamiliar face to the compound has left, and taking a much needed shower, Tony calls everyone to the family room for an announcement. You all shuffle in one-by-one, each looking fatigued. The hype of the press conference died down an hour after they were forced to leave, so because of the inconvenience, everyone is in a sluggish mood. Except for Tony, apparently.
He whistles and uses hand motions to tell everyone to get a move on. He munches on some blueberries. He suppresses a smirk when he sees how unimpressed Steve looks like right now. Sam even more so. Once everyone has gathered and is listening, he explains the reason behind this meeting.
“Since everyone looks like they didn’t get their morning coffee, I’ll just get right to it,” Tony starts. He shoves a handful of blueberries into his mouth before continuing on. “As we all know, today was _______’s official initiation into this team. Well, it being revealed to the public, anyway. So, we’re going to have a celebration. Clear your schedules, because it’s going to be tomorrow night at the Tower in New York. And before I hear any objections, I have everything already set to go. I sent out a few invitations to close friends as well. No outsiders allowed.”
Out of respect, Sam, Natasha, Steve, Wanda, Vision, Tony, and Bucky smile at you. You close in on yourself for a second because all of their eyes are on you. Though you don’t mind, it’s a little uncomfortable. However, having a party sounds great. It’ll give everyone the chance to relax, kick back, and have a little fun.
“Thanks, Tony,” you say, smiling in gratitude.
“Anything for our little devil spawn,” he grins. You’re too tired to think of a comeback, so you just roll your eyes.
“When are we leaving, then?” you ask.
“Just after noon,” he says. “Are you gonna be up?”
“Gonna have to be,” you reply, shrugging. “I’ll even make an alarm for it so I won’t be late and slow everyone down. Happy?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says. “There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?” you ask curiously.
Tony shifts his eyes to Bucky, nodding his head. “Him,” he says simply. Bucky pulls his mouth to the side and shifts his weight on his feet. “He’s a dead giveaway. I don’t know if he’ll be able to-“
“He’s coming,” you interrupt. Tony sighs quietly, not quite in the mood to have an argument with you. Before Tony has the chance to speak again, you keep your ball rolling. “All this technology and you have no way to conceal him? ‘No way’ my ass. Give him a face synthetic and a hat, then put him on the plane. ‘Cause I’m not leaving without him.”
Steve doesn’t even try to conceal his smile when you admit that. You can see his grin from the corner of your eye, and you do your best to not smile. You’re completely comfortable saying something like that out-loud, but it feels slightly embarrassing at the same time. It’s something usually said on a mission when you’re not willing to leave anybody behind. An emotional attachment. And you’re certainly attached to Bucky.
“Alright fine,” Tony says. “I’ll have something ready for him in the morning. Everything is still as you left it at the Tower, by the way. A room has been prepared for the two newcomers as well. Pack what you need. The essentials are there. Everyone be up and raring to go.”
And with that, Tony gives you all a little wave as he leaves the room as a silent goodnight, leaving little room for questions. You yawn widely, and stare at one spot on the floor for a few seconds before blinking again. You give everyone a weary smile before bidding them goodnight as well.
“I’ll see all of you guys tomorrow, then,” you say. Wanda comes up to you for a hug, and you return it tightly. You’ve never hugged her before, but you can already tell that she’s been in need of one for a while. You only let go of her when she pulls away first. Steve and Sam rub your head affectionately on their way to bed, mumbling a small goodnight. Vision does the same, but without patting your head. Natasha joins in on your hug, and the two of you smile and giggle at her action. Wanda finally drops her arms and departs for her room as well.
“Goodnight, _______,” she says. You cannot get over how adorable her accent is. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, Wanda,” you smile. Natasha puts her hand on your shoulder, grinning widely.
“I’m proud of you,” she says, squeezing gently. “You’ve come a long way since I met you. You’ve grown in every aspect, and I couldn’t be more pleased with how you turned out.”
“Well, I am your student,” you smile, tilting your head. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re like my second mom. The most badass mom anyone’s ever had. But I know you’re a lot more than that.”
Natasha’s bright smile turns into a solemn one. You never bring the topic up directly, but there’s always a hint there, letting her know that you recognize her as what she is, but more so as who she is. She is, and always has been, much more than what people recognize her as. And you make damn well sure she knows it. She pulls you into a hug, and pats your back a few times before nodding at you and going to bed. You sigh contently, feeling faintly energized from Wanda’s and Natasha’s hugs. You smile to yourself and turn around, ready to hit the hay as well. But it seems that Bucky has been waiting his turn.
He stands before you, somewhat shy, yet hopeful. He produces a small smile, and uncrosses his arms. You don’t know if he’s asking for a hug, or requesting a small chat before going to bed. Whatever it is, you’re both in silent agreement. You stroll up to him with a gentle smile on your face, your arms parted expectantly, ready to receive a hug. You shrug as if to say “what-the-hell”, making Bucky smile even more. He closes the distance and wraps his arms around your frame, squeezing tightly. You hold onto your wrist behind his back, and comfortably rest your cheek on his chest.
You’re never hugged Bucky before either. You’ve linked arms with him, but that was the only amount of prolonged physical contact you’ve had with him. You hoped and wished that you’d finally be able to give him a real hug; and now that you finally are, you do not want to let him go.
His metal arm tickles your back, the cool surface tingling the end of your spine. He moves his thumbs back and forth as you smoothly sway side to side. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, feel the strength of his chest, and smell his comforting scent. Your smile stretches broader; it feels so right to be hugging Bucky like this right now. The atmosphere is calming, with no one to interrupt you. You rub his back, something you’ve always wanted to do. You can feel his sigh, and you press your forehead against his chest. Your head rises and falls as he breathes. You could cry from how tender this moment is. It’s just a hug, but an extremely long, overdue hug.
Neither of you want to let go, but it has to happen. You release your wrist and put your hands on his waist, pushing yourself away from him. He reluctantly drops his arms, and peers down at you. You look up at him, and you swear you could kiss him right now if you had the courage. The way he’s gazing at you, the way his hands ghost over your fingers, and the way he opens and closes his mouth, like he’s dying to telling you something he’s been holding in for a long time. Instead of saying anything, he grasps your hands and brings them back down to your sides. He brings his right hand up and rubs your shoulder a bit, giving you a small smile before nodding and walking away. You hug yourself and press your lips together to suppress your squeal of delight. However, you manage to keep the tone of your voice under control to send him a farewell.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
He stops and looks over his shoulder, smiling warmly at you. “Goodnight, _______,” he whispers back. You wait until he disappears around the corner to cover your face, and spin in glee. Bucky peeks around the corner, witnessing your enjoyment before returning to his room to prepare for the morning. Tomorrow will be the optimal time to confess himself to you, and he’s not going to screw it up.
Your alarm goes off at eleven in the morning, and you can only describe yourself as lethargic.
You had a hard time falling asleep last night because you were so giddy from your hug with Bucky. You couldn’t stop replaying it in your mind, nor could you stop smiling and rolling around in your bed. Taking a melatonin pill wouldn’t have come close to putting you to sleep. You managed to fall asleep somewhere around three in the morning, with Bucky still floating through your thoughts. Now that you’re awake, you sort of regret not taking that pill. However, you’re so excited about the day that you don't care about the amount of sleep you got. Tony’s hosting a party for you, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.
You packed a small bag of things, mostly your electronics, notebooks, your suit (just in case), and a few clothes here and there. You’re sure Tony’s equipped your bathrooms with the essentials, so you deliberately leave all of that at the compound. You sit up and stretch your arms over your head, yawning tiredly. You have your outfit planned, and take your time putting it on. You didn’t know what kind of mood or aesthetic to go for, since it’s New York City, so you opted for some cut-off shorts, a white loose-fitting shirt, a light grey cover-up, paired with some black Doc Martens. You apply some light makeup, fix your hair, and grab your pack. You stroll into the kitchen to cut up some fruit for breakfast, and surprisingly, you’re alone. Everyone else is probably already up, but you wonder where they could all be. They could possibly already be assembled at the jet, waiting for your arrival. Instead of guessing, you ask your go-to pal, F.R.I.D.A.Y.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., where is everyone?”
“Mr. Stark is in sub-basement level one, along with Mr. Barnes,” she explains. “Captain Rogers, Sam Wilson, Vision, Wanda Maximoff, and Natasha Romanoff are currently making headway to the airstrip.”
“Thanks.”
You figured they’d all be up and ready to go before you, but you didn’t know how ready they’d actually be. They seem to be a step ahead of you when it comes to a morning routine. As long as you get there on time, then nothing else matters. After finishing your fruit bowl, you skip down to the main floor and trek through the forest to the airstrip. You can see Sam, Steve, Natasha, Vision, and Wanda from where you are, their bags at their feet, and enthusiastically wave to them. They all wave back, then you check the time on your phone. It’s nearing noon, and Tony and Bucky still aren’t out here. You were sure that they’d be the first ones to arrive; or Tony, at least. You wonder what’s keeping them.
“Hey, guys,” you greet once you reach the group. There’s a chorus of “hey”s and one “good morning” from Vision. You grip the strap of your bag and look behind you. “What’s keeping them?”
“Tony said that he had multiple things to take care of regarding Bucky,” Steve explains, crossing his arms. “Didn’t say what, though. I didn’t think that it’d take this long.”
“Tony’s not one to disclose his private practices,” Natasha says. “Knowing him, he’s most likely being absolutely technical and ensuring that everything is being executed efficiently. He’s not one to take miscalculations lightly.”
You absentmindedly nod your head along with what Natasha says as you look in the distance for any sign of them. The jet isn’t leaving without either of them, and since Tony’s the one that set the time to depart, he better be here when it’s time to go. Otherwise, you’re going to give him an earful of hypocrisy.
After a few minutes of idle chatter with the team, Wanda points out that she can finally see Tony. But nothing about Bucky. You turn around, putting your hand up to your eyes to block the sun. You squint at the two figures, one obviously being Tony, but the other… you can’t quite place. You don’t see Bucky’s metal arm give off any sort of glare. In fact, you don’t see it at all. As they get closer, you’re not even sure that it’s Bucky walking with Tony. Did Tony find a look-a-like to replace Bucky? It wouldn’t make sense, for one, and what’s the point of bringing a stranger along who isn’t what you want? The guy doesn’t look like Bucky at all, so why is he even here? He’s got a backpack on, so he must be staying with you as well. Maybe it’s one of the friends Tony invited? You cross your arms when the two of them come within earshot distance, and call Tony out.
“Who the hell is this?” you ask.
Tony waits until he and this new mystery person are standing directly in front of the group to speak. “I did what you asked,” he says. He folds his hands together in front of him, awaiting your response.
“What I asked?” you repeat. Tony side-eyes the new person, who isn’t really new at all. What you asked Tony? You remember telling him to give Bucky a face synthetic and–
“Wait,” you say, halting your inner monologue. “Are you telling me that this… is Bucky?”
“As promised,” Tony replies. You give “Bucky” a once over, then cast Tony a confused expression. The rest of the team are right behind you, wondering who the hell this guy is. He has the same hair as Bucky, but not the same face. His nose is pointier, his lips thinner, and his eyebrows are kempt. His eyes are brown as well.
“Face synthetic?” you say. Tony nods. You take a step forward, and look into “Bucky”’s eyes. “Is that you?”
“Not what you were expecting, was it?” he says. That certainly is his voice. But there’s one thing that’s out of place.
“If this is Bucky,” you start slowly, shifting your gaze back to Tony, “then where the hell is his metal arm? Do you rip it off and give him a flesh one?”
“You have such little faith in me,” Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “See, Cesario and I here needed a little bit more time to prepare for this trip. And since you asked so politely the night before to change his appearance, I did exactly that. Except, instead of just granting him the ability to hide his face, I went the extra mile and used synthetic skin coupled with high-tech holograms to conceal his metal arm. I pulled the schematics from one of my and Dr. Banner’s many projects, and applied our method onto a willing candidate. I would have expected a ‘thank you’ instead of this unnecessary backlash.”
You blink in surprise at Tony. You didn’t know this kind of technology was possible, but when it comes to Tony, nothing is impossible. You reach out and grasp Bucky’s hand. Your eyes widen from how realistic the skin feels.
“Wow,” you whisper to yourself. Bucky gladly lets you man-handle his new arm, his mouth twitching into a smile. “Damn, Tony. This is impressive.”
“I hope you would expect nothing less from me,” Tony says. “You can examine it more from the jet. I would like to arrive in New York before six.”
Tony brushes past you as he steps onto the jet first, followed by the rest of the team. Bucky follows after you, and the two of you sit across from one another. Everyone else is scattered about, with Steve and Wanda on the couch, Sam and Natasha across from each other as well, while Tony and Vision sit by themselves respectively. Tony immediately pulls out one of his many advanced tablets and picks up where he left off. You all settle down, placing your bags on the floor, and make idle conversation with each other as the jet prepares to take off.
You cross your arms and stare hardly at Bucky. Your eye twitches, and you pull your mouth to the side. Bucky tilts his head in confusion, wondering if he’s done anything to make you uncomfortable or annoy you. You can’t take this anymore.
“Okay, take it off,” you say, holding your hand out.
“Take what off?” he asks.
“The face synthetic,” you reply. “Take it off.”
“Why?”
“Because I cannot take you seriously with that thing on. It doesn’t even feel like I’m talking to Bucky. I might as well be talking to some weirdo look-a-like named Benny. Now take it off, for god’s sake.”
Chuckling, Bucky reaches behind his neck and grasps the fake skin, and begins to pull it off. You see the hologram flicker as he removes it, making a face as he does so. When he puts it down on the table between you two, you sigh happily.
“Ah, there he is,” you smile. “Now I’m talking to Bucky.” He smiles right back then stares down at his lap. Your smile only grows bigger, knowing fully well Bucky’s reactions when you give him compliments or tease him. You shift your gaze to his arm again, and sigh in disbelief.
“I still can’t believe how lifelike that stuff is,” you comment, leaning forward in your chair. You place your arms on the table, crossing your fingers. “You can hardly tell the difference.” You flick your eyes up to him, and he’s already looking back at you. You glance down at his arm again, silently asking for permission. He holds his arm out without question. The jet leaves the ground as you grasp his arm, jerking you forward a bit. You shake off the sudden jolt, and delicately turn Bucky’s arm.
The skin is smooth to the touch. You request Bucky’s real flesh arm to do a comparison. You continuously flip them around, eyes shifting left and right, picking out the small details, and analyzing how identical they are to each other. You know that they won’t look exactly alike, but it comes pretty close. To the fingernails, veins, and even arm hair; Tony really does give a bang for his buck.
“It’s incredible,” you comment, smoothing your fingers over his forearm. “Almost impossible. But I guess that’s not a word in Tony’s daily vernacular.” You finally let go of his arm when you feel like you’ve touched it for too long. You sit back in your seat and cross your ankles.
“It’s different alright,” Bucky agrees, inspecting his arm now. “He marked specific parts of my arm, then had it hooked up to all these weird wires. I didn’t know what was going on or how it worked. All he said that he was going to hide the metal. It didn’t hurt, but it felt really strange. The synthetic skin started to form over my arm once he got it going. He told me not to touch it, so I watched instead. I’ve never seen anything like it. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the finished product.”
“Neither could we,” you add. “It’s truly unbelievable. I didn’t even know Tony could do stuff like that.” Your eyes skim over his arm once more before looking out your window. It’s a bright, sunny day in Los Angeles, the city raging with life below you. Your heart beats faster in your chest from excitement. You have no idea if Tony has anything special planned once you get to the Tower, but whatever it is, you cannot contain your enthusiasm. You grin as you look upon the city, setting your chin in your hand. Bucky looks on, amused.
“Excited?” he muses.
“What gave it away?” you joke. You sigh as your smile grows. “Yeah. I haven’t really… I dunno. I’ve been to formal parties before, but the hype for this is through the roof. I just don’t know what to expect.”
Bucky sighs through his nose, and wracks his brain. “Well, from what I remember, something like this usually entails drinking, sharing stories, and enjoying oneself.”
“Yeah, something like that,” you say. “It’s nice when we all get together, too. We don’t do much of that unless a mission is involved. A chance to kick-back and celebrate something is what we all need. Like with Steve’s birthday. But you know what the best part is?”
“What’s that?”
“I get to share this experience with everyone,” you answer. “Steve, Sam, Vision, Tony, Natasha, Wanda, you. I’ve never felt more special than I have right now.”
“Well you’ve always been special,” Bucky rebuttals. “We all have something to bring to the table. And you happen to bring a lot. Which, I’m sure, is refreshing for everyone. Especially myself.”
“Thanks,” you smile. “I appreciate it. A lot. It’s uplifting to hear things like that. I crave validation, so it makes sense. I hope I won’t disappoint you tonight.”
“What makes you think you’d disappoint me?” he asks. “From the very beginning, all you’ve done is surprise me and take care of me. I have no way of repaying you, but I am eternally grateful for your help. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Well. That certainly doesn’t want to make you cry. You’ve grown close enough to be at that stage in a friendship, so you might as well. You allow yourself to sniffle, and smile through the tears that well up in your eyes. You hastily wipe them away so they don’t mess up your makeup. You turn away from him to console yourself.
“Go raibh maith agat,” you say.
“I’m sorry?” he says, leaning forward.
“It means ‘thank you’,” you tell him. You sniffle a little more, and a tear manages to slide down your cheek. Without hesitating, Bucky reaches over and wipes it away. He smiles warmly at you.
“You’re welcome.”
As the flight continues on, you and Bucky converse with each other, and everyone else on the jet. Sometimes in random spurts, to add in your two cents, or to actually hold a conversation. Every chance he gets, Bucky compliments you. Subtly, of course. Your makeup, your hair, your clothes. He does it all. And this time, you notice, and think of them as signs. Maybe it’s time to start making a move too. You’ve been complimenting him too and purposefully being more physical, but enough is enough. It’s time to do something about it.
You manage to take a power nap, and wake up refreshed as the streets of New York come into view. You stare out the window while fixing the crick in your neck. You smile as you see more of the city. It’s always one of the most talked about places, even before the New York incident. It’s also really busy; but if you can handle Toronto, you can handle The Big Apple. You see Bucky is still fast asleep, his fake arm supporting his cheek. You sputter a laugh, and gently nudge his leg under the table.
“Wake up, Benny,” you say. “We’re here.”
Bucky starts, blinking several times to wake himself up. He sits up straight in his chair and stretches his arms. Yawning, he looks out the window too. He can’t see anything quite clearly, but he knows how many people are outside and bustling. The thought of being seen concerns him, but with his new synthetic face and arm, he’s at ease for the time being. He stares at his fake face on the table, and sighs before putting it back on. You watch him struggle to centre it, offering no help just to see how he puts it on. And to give him some practice.
The pilot–F.R.I.D.A.Y., of course–announces an ETA of three minutes. Everyone begins to gather their things to prepare to leave. You grab your bag from the floor as Bucky tightens his grip on his backpack.
“Nervous?” you ask him gently.
“I haven’t been home in a long time,” he answers, glancing out the window one last time. “I don’t know what to expect.”
“You’ll do great,” you encourage. “You have nothing to be worried about.” Just to be safe, you knock your knuckles on the wooden table. The jet descends to the landing pad of the Tower, then comes to a full stop. Everyone stands up, and proceeds to walk down the steps of the jet once they’re put down. You and Bucky get off last, and speed-walk inside the Tower to avoid any unwanted eyes. A jet just landed on the Avengers Tower; there’s bound to be news about it. Or at least speculation.
The lot of you make way to the elevator, down from the party deck to the private quarters. Tony points out everyone’s rooms, then makes an announcement before heading down to the reception and lobby to see if any of the other guests have arrived, or when they plan to.
“Okay, listen up,” he shouts to get everyone’s attention. “It’s just after five. Party gets going at six. This is a semi-formal party, so dress like it. A map of the Tower is available on the go. There are restricted areas, so stay out of them. Yes, everyone is safe. No, no one can see in from the outside of the Tower. Food and drink are at your disposal, and try not to break anything.”
After that, he skips downstairs to see if his invited guests are on their way. You toss your bag on your new bed and sigh. Now you’ll have to get used to sleeping in another bedroom that isn’t in your hometown, in Toronto, or at the compound. You flop down on the bed, which is surprisingly soft. Maybe it’s memory foam. You could fall asleep again if you could, but you can’t so you shan’t. Tony said the party is in an hour, so you must use that time efficiently to look presentable.
Thing is, you brought nothing that can pass as “semi-formal”.
You wouldn’t think that Tony would keep gowns and party dresses on the ready if someone was ever in need. You hope that he does, but as you open the bedroom closet, it’s bare. You think about going shopping to get a new one, but there’s absolutely no time for that; plus, you have no idea where to go. Sighing in frustration, you close the closet doors and mull over what to do. You spend a good fifteen minutes thinking of ideas when Wanda and Natasha pop into your room. You give them a pathetic wave as they stand over you.
“Didn’t think you’d be in this much of a slump,” Wanda says, crossing her arms.
“Is a private party too much?” Natasha teases.
You groan from under your pillow, and pull it off your head to face them. They’re both smiling down at you, waiting to know why you look so dejected. You yawn and sit up, crossing your legs.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” you say. “I didn’t bring anything that fancy.”
“Why not?” Wanda asks.
“Because I don’t have anything that fancy,” you explain. “I didn’t think that bringing stuff like that to the compound would benefit me much, considering what I was going to do. So I just settled for nice dress clothes. Pants and shirts and old clothes for lounging around. Nothing too out there. The best I have is a pantsuit, but I am not wearing it. This is a party, not a work dinner.”
“That’s why we’re here to help,” Natasha says.
“Pfft did you guys know that I’d end up in this situation?” you joke. Wanda and Natasha cast each other a glance before nodding in unison. You groan and smush your face back in your pillow. “I am hopeless. I have nothing, and there’s no time to go out and get something. It’s time to improvise.”
“Orrr,” Natasha says, prompting you to look at her. “Instead of being melodramatic, you can borrow one of our dresses for the night.”
“Oh.” You thought about that as an option, but you didn’t want to cause them any trouble. Plus, you didn’t think you’d do their clothes justice. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Wanda smiles. “It’s no party if you’re not dressed for the occasion. Now come on. Stop moping around and let us find you something.”
You give them a sheepish smile, then push yourself up and take Wanda’s hand. They lead you to Natasha’s room, and begin to rummage through her closet to see what you can wear.
When six o’clock rolls around, everyone has gathered on the party deck level of the Tower. Tony, Steve, Vision, Sam, and even Bucky are wearing dress clothes, with Tony the only one donning a jacket. Since Bucky didn’t have any clothes of the sort, Steve lent him something of his own: black slacks and a deep grey button-up shirt. The two top buttons are undone, but the hem is tucked neatly into his pants. Tony said that no one can see into the Tower from the outside, but he still chose to wear the face synthetic. This is your special night, and he wants you to see him as Bucky, not same wannabe version of himself. He has something planned for you later on; something private, and only you are allowed to hear. But since there are more unfamiliar guests, he’ll have to wait until they’re gone to give you your present.
Tony’s invited guests have all arrived except for one. Maria Hill, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, and Phil Coulson (by Pepper’s request) are currently present. Clint Barton, another member of the Avengers, couldn’t make it because he wanted to be with his family. But he sent his regards to Tony, along with a hearty “congrats” to be passed down to you. They’re dressed in similar fashion to everyone else, with Maria in a red mini dress with a leather jacket, and Pepper wearing an off-the-shoulder, white, form-fitting dress. James, Happy, and Phil are dressed alike, black slacks with white, grey, and black dress shirts, with Phil and Happy wearing a jacket. The lot of them make conversation with each other, champagne in hand. They’re all curious to see who the new member is, minus Pepper and Phil.
Back downstairs, Wanda and Natasha are ready to go, but they’re putting some finishing touches on you first. You think they’re being a bit too over-the-top, but they just told you to shut up and bear it, because it’ll be worth it in the end. You sit quietly as they both fiddle with different sections of your hair. You admire them in the mirror, mentally running through the scenario of when you’re going to compliment them when they’re finished with you.
Wanda has her hair in her signature waves, and is wearing a blood red, off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved knee length dress with thin silver earrings and black flats. Her makeup has an all-natural look to it, and she couldn’t look more beautiful. You’re smiling so much from staring at her that you have to force yourself to look down in your lap. However, you peek up at the mirror again to observe Natasha.
She dons a classy black, sheath dress, paired with some black heels and has her hair done in her signature curls. Her makeup is also all-natural looking, but with a little more colour. She has diamond earrings for jewelry, along with a silver interlocking bangle bracelet. It’s amazing how she can look this beautiful but kill you at the same time. The duality of a woman.
Yourself, however… you look like you’re going to a premiere.
You borrowed one of Natasha’s dresses. It’s a royal blue, V-neck, sleeveless dress that goes all the way to the floor, with a sash tied around the waist, and a split down the left side. From what you can tell, Wanda and Natasha are giving you a half-up half-down hair style, and are working on curling some bits. Your makeup is more noticeable. Flawless foundation, perfected eyebrows, winged eyeliner, a simple, shimmery white smoky eye, paired with a bold red lip, and some small, silver hoop earrings. You try not to move around too much or lick your lips. You can’t ruin what they did for you. You leave your gloves behind because they clash too much with the dress.
When Wanda and Natasha are finished with your hair, they step back, and allow you to drink it all in. You stand up, careful not to step on the hem of the dress. The silver two-inch peep toe heels go well with the dress, and you’re actually happy with that aspect. They’re easy enough to walk in, but as you observe yourself in the full-length mirror, you shake your head.
“Isn’t this a bit too much?” you ask, turning to the side. “I appreciate this, honestly I do. But this party is just for me being added to the team. Not–“
“Well it’s just that, isn’t it?” Natasha cuts in. “This party is for you. Everyone is here for you. Wouldn’t it be considered a little impolite to not be the centre of attention at your own party?”
“Ehhhh,” you whine, shaking your hand. “Agree to disagree?” Natasha visibly sighs, her shoulders rising and dropping with her breath. She turns to Wanda, and she smiles, stepping forward.
“You look beautiful, _______,” she says, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Like Natasha said, this night is all about you. It’s nothing more than a simple celebration for your accomplishments and being welcomed to the team. Don’t worry about how dressed up you look. You deserve it, and quite frankly, I’m sure it’ll be much appreciated by someone other than us.”
You know exactly who she’s talking about. You playfully roll your eyes at her and find an interesting spot on the floor to stare at. Wanda giggles and gives you an encouraging squeeze.
“If he doesn’t make a move, then I will,” Wanda says. Your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat. She can’t be serious. But when you see a hint of determination in her eyes, you’re kind of worried. And excited.
“O-Okay,” you squeak, standing up tall. Wanda nods her head approvingly, and lets Natasha approach you.
“Remember what I taught you?” she asks. “About confidence?” You go over what she said in your head: straight back, chest out, head up. You got it all in your head, but you hope you’ll execute it flawlessly when you go upstairs.
“I got it,” you say firmly. “I’ll do my best, but you never know what happens in the first beginning moments. But I’ll just take a breath and go for it.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she smiles. “Just be yourself. I’m sure that’s why you’ve grabbed his attention.”
“I don’t have much to offer other than that,” you joke. Both Wanda and Natasha give you “come-on” expressions, and you clear your throat. “I know, I know. That’s me being me. Isn’t that what you want?”
You snort as you walk past them, poking your head out the door to go to the elevator. You practice your confidence walk as Wanda and Natasha trail behind you, smiling to themselves and at each other. They share a bonding moment over you as you press the button for the upper levels.
“Nervous?” Natasha asks as you all wait.
“Now that you mention it,” you start, placing your hand on your chest, “a little bit, yeah.” Your heart is beating a thousand times per second as you think about everyone staring at you from the top of the stairs. You have no idea how they’ll be judging you, but you just hope that they’ll all smile or do something positive that doesn’t make you want to crawl into bed and die. The elevator dings, and the three of you step inside. Wanda hits the floor button, and the ride to the party deck is silent. You take deep breaths the entire time, doing your best to settle your heart thumping in your chest.
When the elevator stops, you step out first, but let Wanda and Natasha walk ahead of you. It’s best to let the person being celebrated enter last, right? Make a dramatic entrance, let everyone stare at you for a few seconds, then descend the stairs. That’s how it goes most of the time, doesn’t it? You sigh, then pull yourself together. You shake your hands and roll your head side to side, preparing yourself before walking through the doors. Natasha takes the lead first, while Wanda lingers behind to give you a few more quick, comforting words. You keep your eyes on Natasha as she addresses everyone to gather their attention.
“There’s no need to freak out,” Wanda says. “We’re all your friends in there. And you get to make new ones. And maybe something more for a special someone. Just remember to breathe, and like Natasha said, be yourself. Nothing could go wrong.”
“I hope you’re right,” you say, smacking your lips together. Seeing as how you’re still slightly jittery, Wanda smirks and presses a kiss to your cheek. You freeze up immediately, your eyes widening and your heart stopping. She walks away after that, throwing a cheeky look over her shoulder.
“Wanda, what the fuck,” you squeak. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. If you were trying to calm me down it didn’t work!”
Wanda completely ignores you, and skips down the steps to be with everyone else. Your jaw drops open at her bold action. You can’t believe she had the nerve to just kiss your cheek and go on her merry way. You’ll get back at her later. She’s wearing matte lipstick, so there’s no mark on your cheek. For now, you need to get through tonight. And it starts by walking through those glass doors. You smooth down the front of your dress, hold your head up high, and march towards those doors.
You can see everyone on the other side as you grasp the handle and open the door. You keep smiling out of nervousness and embarrassment as you walk along the raised platform, and approach the glass railing, looking over everyone in the sitting room. They all stare up at you as you arrive, sporting soft expressions. You notice three new faces among the crowd of twelve. You come up to the railing, and fold your hands in front of you. You feel stupid making an entrance like this, but what else can you do? You give everyone a polite “hello” before joining them, keeping your strong posture.
While everyone else is watching you fondly, Bucky’s heart stops. It stopped the moment you stepped into the room, actually. Your nervous smile, your dress, the way you carried yourself… his lips parted and he needed to blink a few times to make sure that you were really there. His throat felt dry, and swallowed thickly. As you introduce yourself to James, Maria, and Happy, Bucky keeps his eyes trained on you, admiring you from afar. Steve teasingly shrugs his side, but Bucky doesn’t budge; he’s too mesmerized by how beautiful you look tonight.
After meeting Tony’s newest invites, Tony raises a glass to toast your achievements while being with the team, to which you smile again in embarrassment. He’s cheeky in his speech, but still sincere and thankful. They all raise a glass to you while you stand there awkwardly. Champagne isn’t exactly the tastiest alcohol you’ve had. Beer is the scum of the earth, so if Tony has it, you’ll be taking some coolers. You all sit down on the white leather sofas, and ask Tony to fix you up a drink. He goes to the bar without question, and comes back with a six-pack of Palm Bays, Smirnoff Ice, and Vex beverages. He plops them on the table, and you flick your eyes up at him.
“What?” he says. “I’m just giving you some variety since our stuff isn’t good enough for you.”
“Thanks,” you say, reaching forward for a Smirnoff. “And it’s not that it isn’t good enough. It’s just gross.”
“Whatever you say, sporto.”
You make a face at the nickname an old man would give to his son, and pop off the cap of your drink. You look around the table, and ask Tony one more thing before he sits down.
“Do you have any straws?”
“Straws?”
“Yeah. I can’t drink without a straw.”
“You know t–“
“I am twenty-five years old, Tony. I am very well aware that you get drunk faster when you drink with a straw. You’re only the thousandth person that’s told me that. Just… do you have them or not?”
You stare him down, daring him to say anything else that would prompt you to be sassy with him again. You smile when he says nothing else and goes to get you a straw. You drop it in your drink when he comes back with it.
“Thaaank you,” you sing, instantly taking a few sips. You settle back into the couch beside Steve, shimmying your shoulders in comfort. As Tony takes his seat beside Pepper, the conversation finally gets going.
“So _______, may I call you _______?” Happy asks.
“’Course,” you smile.
“This may as well be the first question any newcomer is going to ask,” he starts, slightly embarrassed, “but can you do it?”
There’s a collective groan from Tony, Pepper, Steve, and Sam, prompting Happy to shrug and raise his hands in defence.
“Wow, sorryyy. Didn’t know that I wasn’t allowed to see it up-close.”
“Oh, don’t mind them,” you say, setting your drink down. “It’s fine, really. It’s fun to show people.”
You lean forward in your seat, and stretch your arm out towards Happy across the table. It hardly takes any focus at all for flames to forge around your hand. Happy flinches in surprise and jumps back a bit. After his initial shock, he leans forward again and stares in amazement at your hand.
“Wow,” he says to himself. He reaches out to touch your hand himself, but you reel yourself back.
“Whoa there, Mr. Hogan,” you say. “They’re real flames. You could burn yourself.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry.”
“You couldn’t tell from the heat?” Tony jumps in. “She can power that up to 3000 Kelvin, Happy.”
“Well I didn’t feel much heat from it is all,” Happy defends. “It’s like a fire pit. You don’t feel the heat unless you get close enough to it.”
“I can assure you that I have control over how much heat I emit,” you say, extinguishing the flames. “I won’t accidentally blow up the Tower.”
“You better hope not,” Tony warns. “Otherwise that’s coming out of the rent money for your friend.”
“Don’t do her dirty like that,” you fight back. “I promise that it will never happen. Here, at the compound. Anywhere. Cross my heart.”
“I believe you, so don’t worry about it,” Tony says. “I won’t get your friend kicked out.”
“And this friend being…?” Pepper comments, looking from you to Tony.
“She has a friend back in Toronto,” Tony explains. “One of _______’s conditions were to ensure that her friend always has her rent covered. It has been.”
“Does her friend know?”
“She was the first one to know,” you cut in. “She’s very observant, and can keep a secret. Mostly because she forgets half the time. She knows that I’m here too, obviously. She’s been very… enthusiastic about it. And I can also promise you that she won’t sell me out, or anyone else if that ever happened. She may be annoying sometimes, but she’s loyal.”
“How many others know about you?” James asks.
“So far, just her,” you say. You notice you’ve finished your drink, so you grab another, moving your straw to the full one instead. “My family and work friends don’t know. And I’d like to keep it that way. They all think I’m on this… vacation, so to say. Working with high schoolers and teaching them about photography. Sort of like a workshop.”
“And no one has asked any questions about it?” Vision asks.
“Nope,” you say, taking a considerable sip. “And I hope no one does. Most of my family is pretty gullible, and Natasha was more than convincing explaining it to my boss. I haven’t received any calls or emails about it, so I suppose everyone’s forgotten, or quite frankly, they don’t care. Either way, as long as no one knows I’m here, everything’s fine. Knock on wood.”
“So you’re telling me,” Sam starts, a little shocked himself, “that you’ve been living at the compound for three months, without your friends and family knowing?”
“Yes.”
“And no one, besides Maeve, has bothered to pick up the phone and call you about any of this? None of them are suspicious?”
“Nope.”
“Gotta hand it to you, Spyro. Even when you do nothing, you’re doing something.”
“Well I’ve been lying all my life. It’s not that hard to do once you’re used to it.”
There are some discerning looks from a few people in the room, but you reassure them that you mostly did little white lies. A few big ones here and there, but it was to spare feelings and to avoid family drama. There was always too much of it; so now you’re glad that you’re far away from your family, no matter how bad that sounds. Everyone needs a break sometimes. You have another family now, and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.
You notice that Bucky has been quiet the entire time. He’s sitting by himself in a single chair, shying away from everyone. His fingers are crossed in his lap, his eyes are cast down, and he’s periodically chewing his lip. He must be nervous as hell to be in a room full of this many people, even more so with three new faces. Even so, he’s confident in himself. He can blend in and deceive people when need be; he’s just getting comfortable, unbeknownst to you. You have full confidence in Bucky anyhow, but you always worry in situations like these. Not as much with his face and arm hidden, but the thought is still there.
“Have you guys been introduced to our friend here?” you ask, gesturing to Bucky.
“I don’t believe we have,” Maria says. “Who is he?”
“He’s a friend of mine from back home,” you lie smoothly. “Benny. Benny Noble.”
“No offence, but what is he doing here?” Maria continues.
“I felt that I’d be more comfortable with him here,” you explain. “He’s been a very good friend of mine for a few years now. Helping me through the good and the bad. His presence calms me in anxious times. Plus, I thought it’d be nice to share this with him.” Maria gives you a skeptical look, but in the sense that she doesn’t believe Benny is just your “friend”. Or, at least, he doesn’t want to be your friend, going by the look on his face. He wants much, much more. Maria can read the mood well, and keeps her mouth shut about it.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Noble,” she smiles, raising a glass to him.
“And yourself,” Bucky replies, albeit quietly. He fixes his posture, sitting up straight in his chair and spreading his legs a little more. He clears his throat, and is ready to be engaged in conversation if it arises.
And it does.
As the night progresses, the atmosphere is less quiet and strained. Once Tony turns on some music, everyone visibly relaxes, a drink in their hands. You open up quite a bit, since you get very talkative and smiley when you drink a lot. There’s three different conversations going on between everyone, and they’re all wearing a smile. That definitely helps you calm down. But you’re so hyper focused on your own conversation with Pepper that you wouldn’t even notice. Bucky speaks with James and Happy, both men appreciating when Bucky laughs at their jokes. You smile and laugh even more when you see Bucky smile. It’d be a lot better if you could see his real face, but this will suffice. Besides, you can feel the heat rushing to your face by the minute. You’ve already finished five drinks, and gone to the bathroom twice. You can hold your liquor, but not your bladder. After you finish your sixth drink and come back from the bathroom, you realize the conversation has taken a turn for the most interesting.
“Sooooo,” you sing, flopping back down in your spot, squished between Sam and Steve. “What’re we talkin’ abouuuuuut?”
“Past relationships,” Phil answers. “Not many in the room are as inconspicuous as others.”
“Pffft we all know who you’re talking about,” you laugh, rolling your head over to Tony. “I hear you were still quite the playboy, Tony Stark. But now that you have the most amaaaaazing woman ever, this lovely Pepper Potts, those days are behind you. Aren’t they, Mr. Genius Billionaire Ex-Playboy Philanthropist?”
Tony glances at Pepper, who smiles lovingly at him. Naturally, you’d think that Tony would reply in a slightly cheeky tone, but you were not expecting to hear him sound sincere.
“Yes,” he says, reaching over to hold her hand. He gives her a squeeze before letting go. “I guess it’s not in me anymore to sleep around.”
“Well ain’t that the sweetest thing to come out of your mouth,” you comment. “Would it kill ya to be like that more often?”
“Would it kill you to not be overly arrogant and sassy?” he challenges. You shrug.
“Ehhh. I can’t help but be sassy,” you retort. “It’s part of who I am. But I do get told to shut up when I’m buzzed so maybe I’ll start that now.”
“Ohh no no,” Sam says. “I don’t think so. We’re just getting started.”
“On what?”
“The current topic of discussion,” Natasha pipes in. “I believe the one being celebrated should have first say in the matter.”
You blow your lips before sputtering into a laugh. You’re genuine for a good twenty seconds before dying down and realizing that everyone is waiting for you to give an answer or some sort of story. You pick up your drink and sit back into the couch.
“Look, all I gotta say is that I like my men how I like my women,” you say, sipping hardly on your drink. All eyes are on you now, waiting for you to continue your joke. But as you look around at all of them, you understand that they don’t get it.
“Which is…?” Steve eggs on.
“Well, that’s it,” you say. “That’s the joke.” Natasha and Wanda seem to know what you’re talking about, but everyone else does not. Do you really have to spell it out for them? “I’m bisexual, guys.”
There’s a chorus of “oh”s from everyone, making you roll your eyes. It’s not like it’s important anyway, but it still surprises you how surprised other people are when you tell them or they find out on their own. You don’t know how old fashioned everyone is in the room, but they don’t seem offended by it. Just genuine shock.
“Well, congratulations,” Steve says, causing you to burst into laughter.
“It’s not like I just find out myself today,” you joke, nudging him. “But, thanks. I don’t need to be congratulated for that, but it’s a very Steve thing of you to say.”
“What does that mean?” he smiles.
“It means you’re very polite,” Sam answers for him. “You can’t go a day without being nice and respectful.”
“You’d think it’d be natural for people to be like that,” you comment. “And as far as I can tell, all of you are.”
“Okay, enough of this being nice stuff,” Tony cuts in. “Natasha made a very simple, polite request that you have yet to answer.”
“Ohoho?” you chuckle, grabbing another drink. “Are you really that eager to hear about my non-existent love life?”
“Very much, actually,” Wanda says. You look over at her, and she leans forward to hear a clear answer. “We know quite a few things about you, but none of your past, really. So please, do tell.”
You snort at her, setting your drink back down on the table. You can feel all eyes on you as you think of how to begin your answer. You sit up and nod your head side to side as you chew on your tongue.
“There’s not much to tell, honestly,” you say. “The ones in elementary school don’t matter, and I never had any in high school either. I was close to one, but I never acted on it. I didn’t want to be wrong and embarrass myself. And still nothing throughout university. Sorry to say, but I got nothing. No experience what-so-ever. Which is a little embarrassing now that I think about it… But, yeah. Sorry I’m not as interesting as you think I am.”
“Oh, come off it,” Tony says, sounding very unimpressed. “You’re telling us that you’ve never been with somebody before? Not even a one-night-stand?”
“Not in person, no,” you reply.
“So you have been with someone then?” Maria jumps in.
“Well, yes and no,” you say. “Long distance. We met online, and neither I nor she had the money nor time to meet. We knew each other for three years before confessing, and that only last for half a year. We still talk a lot, though. This was when I was nineteen. Since then, I’ve been with no one. In real life, or online.”
“Sounds like you’ve lead quite the boring life,” Sam laughs, prompting you to elbow him.
“I told you I wasn’t that interesting,” you say. “I mean, I’ve kissed people sure, but only when I was drinking. They weren’t that meaningful. And they were all with girls too. I seem to repel boys, apparently.” You pick your drink back up and sway side to side as you drink it.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Natasha says. “You’re plenty interesting. Maybe you have no direct experience with them because you do not approach them first?”
“That’s one way of putting it,” you agree. “No way in hell am I gonna go up to one of them first. You can forget that. You know how well I faired against scar-face in my first mission. What a treat that was.”
“But you’ve grown to be better,” Wanda smiles. “You’ve shown significant improvement these past few weeks. It should be a piece of cake for you to attract the one you want.”
Oh, Wanda. Please stop being so obvious.
You shift your eyes towards the floor as you sip on your drink. You betray yourself as you break out into a huge smile, and almost choke from laughing to yourself. You clear your throat and put your empty drink on the table.
“Anyone else willing to talk about how successful or unsuccessful they are in the dating department?”
More of that conversation goes on, but Bucky couldn’t care less. He now knows that besides that one online girl, you have no experience in the art of dating. Men, at least. And he finds that surprisingly… hot. He has a feeling you’re not exactly innocent, but shy enough to not know what to do. He pulls himself out of the gutter, however, and smiles instead. He hopes that later tonight when he presents his love to you that you accept it. He has a feeling you will, but there’s always a chance that you won’t. Despite that, he can already imagine the smile on your face, the tears forming in your eyes. It’s a sight that he so dearly wishes to see, because you’d be happy by his own doing.
He’s gone over the facts of being in love with someone, and infatuation. Infatuation is sudden, based on a feeling, seeking to find happiness, possessive, idealistic, and in love with “emotion”. Love is gradual, realistic, based on commitment, seeking to give happiness, freeing, and in love with “devotion”. He did not fall in love with you at first sight. He had no idea who you were, or what you wanted from him. He does want to seek happiness, but it cannot be found in one person alone. He is definitely not possessive of you, nor is he going to cut you off from certain people just because they’re not him. He’s not an asshole. He did gradually begin to grow fond of you, like you, love you. You make him happy, and he wants to give the world to you. It pained him tremendously to see you in agony after getting shot, and even after the market incident. He wants to protect you, but he knows first hand that you can take care of yourself. Still, he wouldn’t mind shielding you from danger, stepping in front of you and taking that bullet. Your personality, your heart, your bravery. He was attracted to it all. The small touches, the soft words, moments you had together; he loved all of it. And tonight is the night to tell you about it in his own way. A way that you’ll definitely approve of.
After a few more rounds of drinks, conversations, and laughs, you’ve reached the point of not giving two flying shits about what you say, or do. You’ve taken it upon yourself to crank the music loud, get up on the steps, and perform to your heart’s content. With a bottle in hand in high spirits, you sing loudly, boldly, to “I Love Rock ‘N Roll”, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, “Bohemian Rhapsody”, “Under the Bridge”, and “Icky Thump”. You point at everyone during your sequences, and encourage them to sing along and come up to dance with you. You even managed to get Bucky up too! You all danced poorly, if anything. You’re not as sharp not precise when drunk. None of you are. You wonder if you’re going to remember this in the morning. But all that matters right now is living in the moment.
After another bathroom break and time to fix your appearance, you decide to have some time to yourself and head to the terrace for some fresh air. The humid night air flows over your skin as you open the door, and you sigh contently. You’ve never seen the streets of New York lit up at night in real life before, only in pictures. And it’s even more breathtaking gazing at it with your own two eyes. You step out of your shoes and tread down the steps to the cool cement platform, and approach the glass railing. You settle your hands atop, and breathe in all the extraordinary scents of the New York. It’s a clear night, with a waning moon in the sky. You have an incredible view of the Chrysler building and the Manhattan Bridge, but they cannot compare to the horizon line.
The countless buildings scattering the streets all have their lights spilling through their windows, creating a yellow, hazing glow of the city. You can hear the familiar beeps of impatient New Yorker drivers, hurrying to get on home or to the bars. It makes you smile and lean over the railing; the wind passes by, whipping your hair as it goes. You push the stray strands behind your ears and sigh. It has been a really great night, with some really great people. Despite being the wooziest you’ve ever been, you know you’re going to remember, even if your brain refuses to. You take a deep breath just to smell the air again, and you break out into a giant smile and giggle from how good the earth smells, past all the pollution and artificial fragrances. It always calms you right down after a hard day, or just for pure pleasure. You were hoping to have a few moments to yourself, but there’s always that one person that decides otherwise.
Bucky comes strolling up to you, looking as fake as he’ll ever be, and leans against the railing to admire the skyline with you.
“Hey,” he says, smiling at you.
“Hey,” you say in return, smiling back.
“Why’re out here by yourself?”
“A breath of fresh air usually gets me back on track. And to admire the view.”
“Yeah, it is beautiful. But not as beautiful as you.”
You smile wider and look down before casting him a small glance. His words have been affecting you more and more. At first, you thought they were just that: words. That they didn’t have a lot of meaning, that it was just Bucky being Bucky. You don’t take compliments to heart sometimes, so it’s easy to brush them off. Thinking that someone wants something or they do it just to see your reaction and don’t mean it. And just because Bucky is from nearly a century ago doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do the same thing. Nevertheless… you’ve noticed time and time again how small his compliments would be, how close he would put himself beside you, the looks he gave you. You didn’t want to believe in any of it just to be disappointed in the end. You’ve never been with a man, you said so yourself. You thought about what it’d be like being with one, what he’d say to you, what he’d do for you, the kinds of shenanigans you’d get into with each other. But your luck with them has been clear as day for many years. You’re too afraid to approach them yourself, and the ones that approached you were crusty boys with shit personalities. You didn’t need that kind of toxicity in your life. Or drama. But now, in this moment, you’re hoping that he’s being completely genuine. Otherwise this could turn out to be one of the worst nights in your life.
“I really wish I had my camera right now,” you say, standing up straight. You slowly trail your eyes along the entire skyline. “It’d make a really great panoramic photo.”
“Well there’s no use in dwelling on that,” he says, straightening up as well. He holds out his hand and smiles tenderly. “May I have this dance, _______?”
You stare down at his hand before smiling sheepishly at him. “But there’s no music,” you say. “How are we–“
“We don’t always need music to dance,” he says. “Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.”
It’s not like you’d turn Bucky down anyway, music or not. You gingerly take his hand, and he pulls you towards him. You place your left hand on his waist, and he places his right on yours. You have trouble keeping a straight face from being so close to him, so you opt to hide your face on his shoulder instead of keeping eye-contact with him. He sways you side-to-side, and gently fixes his grip on your hand when it gets too clammy. He didn’t know how nervous he’d get by doing this, but he’s glad he is. It’s about damn time one of you says something.
“Is this your first time dancing with a man?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone.
“No,” you smile, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve danced alongside men before. But nothing too… serious, I guess. Intimate. And held meaning. So that kind of dance? Yes. This is my first time.”
“Really?” He’s genuinely surprised. “Not even at a wedding?”
“I haven’t been to any weddings,” you explain. “And I don’t go out as often as someone of my age should be. So I don’t get a lot of moments like this. But… I’m glad you’re the one I get to do this with.”
Bucky closes his mouth, because he was just about to say the same thing. “You beat me to it,” he says, pulling you in as close as you can go. “I’m glad I am too. And might I say that uh… I–My heart stopped when you walked into the room tonight. You looked incredible.”
“Are you saying that I don’t look the same now?” you smirk.
“O-Of course not! I mean, of course you still are–“
“I’m joking, Bucky, I’m joking… And thank you. You are as well. Though, it might’ve been a little more gratifying to see your actual face instead of this ‘Benny’ imposter.”
“Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it?” he agrees.
You embrace the ensuing silence and close your eyes as you dance with Bucky. He smells wonderful, his (not really) clothes compliment his form well, and he’s holding you so compassionately that you want to stay like this forever. He’s warm and comfortable and protective, and feels like home. In that definite cliché way. You muck up the courage to raise your head and pull back to look him in the eyes. They’re not exactly his because they’re brown, but you’re looking at him nonetheless. You bring your hand to his cheek, and tilt your head to the side as you continue to sway back and forth.
“I wish I could take this off,” you whisper. You gaze over his shoulder at everyone else inside. “Guess I’ll have to wait until the newcomers leave.”
Bucky looks over his shoulder and gazes at them as well. He sighs, wishing for the same thing. “Me too,” he agrees, turning back around. He gently grasps your wrist and brings it back to his shoulder. “But I have a feeling their time is almost up.”
“Are you gonna storm in there and demand them to leave?” you ask, smiling playfully.
“No,” he chuckles. “That’d be too rude. It’s late, they had a lot to drink, I’m sure they all have very important plans for tomorrow. They’ll want to get some rest. And I’m sure that spending time with the newest recruit tired them out. That was a lot of energy you brought upon them.”
“Well, they’re… aging,” you start, trying not to be too offensive. “They get fatigued faster than before. They need a lot more rest than the lot of us nowadays. With the stressful lives they’re leading, it’s easy to get worn out and wish for an early death.”
“That wasn’t morbid at all,” he chortles.
“I thought you’d gotten used to me saying morbid things,” you grin.
“It still surprises me every time,” he admits.
“Good. I need to keep you on your toes.”
“And why is that?”
“Makes for a more interesting day.”
“You make every day interesting for me already.”
You stare at him for a moment before giggling into his chest. You don’t say another word and just keep holding on to him, and dance into the night. Back inside, your friends are having unique conversations of their own.
Maria, Natasha, Pepper, and Wanda are having a bet war, debating on who, when, where, and how either you or “Benny” will confess to one another. Maria and Pepper did not know of any past interactions between you two, so Wanda and Natasha gave them plausible lies to give them an idea about who each of you are.
“Okay, so, Benny is a romantic,” Pepper starts, swishing her wine glass around. “He’s known _______ for seven years. He delved into her personal interests, even the ones he didn’t exactly like. Heeee’s complimented her and took her to her favourite places and saved her life once. If I was him, I’d propose already.”
“I can’t believe they haven’t kissed yet,” Maria comments, sipping her wine. “Seven years of pining, mutual love and they don’t even know it? I’d call that bullshit any day. But there’s a first time for everything.”
“We can’t believe it either,” Wanda agrees. “It’s truly astounding that they cannot freely speak about their feelings for each other. It’s been too long. They need to get a move on.”
“With the way they’re dancing outside,” Natasha interjects, nodding towards the terrace, “I believe they’re doing just that.”
The women turn their attention towards you and Bucky outside, observing your body language and how close you’re dancing. They all sip on their drinks in unison before laying out their guesses about what’s going to happen between you two tonight.
“My guess is that Benny is going to confess first,” Wanda says. “I’d sayyy… when they’re in private so no one can see. Maybe an hour? I don’t know. And he’s going to do it by presenting her with a gift.”
“I second that,” Maria chimes in. “Though I think he’s going to do it when all of us leave.”
“Benny’s the quieter one from what I can tell,” Pepper says. “I think _______ will say she loves him first. And she’s going to do it in a few minutes while they’re having a moment together. Then she’ll kiss him.”
“I too think that _______ will break first,” Natasha agrees. “But she’ll do it in the privacy of one of their rooms once the night is over. She’ll present him with a gift. Something that’s important to him.”
There’s a small silence before Wanda speaks up again. “All bets are in?” The women nod, all in silent agreement about their inferences. They also decided that the loser(s) must pay up $50 and do something of the winner(s) bidding. It’s a fun little game until you’re told what you must do. Who knows; maybe none of them will win. It’s hard to say when the ending result could go in any direction. Meanwhile, the men are in their own little group, betting on the same thing. But instead of going into detail, they’re just betting on who’s going to break first.
Tony, Sam, Phil, Vision, Happy, and James believe that _______ will confess first, while Steve and Phil believe that Benny will confess first. The losers will have to pay up $100. A steep price, but it’s a fun bet. Might as well raise the odds. It’s a little juvenile for everyone in the room to make bets on who will confess first, but every once in a while the adults can have a little fun.
Back outside, you and Bucky have been laughing nonstop about telling each other funny stories about the past that you haven’t told one another yet. Well, it’s mostly you doing the storytelling, but it’s nice all the while to hear Bucky laugh and see his beautiful smile. You’re not afraid to look him in the eye anymore; not when you’re having the greatest time of your life with him. But every time to do look in his eyes, you think about just saying it already. To just open your anxious mouth and tell him how much you love him. It seems easy, in theory. You’ve spent enough time together to admit it already, but the nagging thought of him rejecting you is still in the back of your mind.
So when you think he leans in closer to kiss you, you back away and opt for hugging him instead. He’s disappointed to say the least, but he’s not giving up yet. He still has one more chance to prove his love to you. But he’s waiting until you two have some absolute alone time. All he’s waiting for is the newcomers to make their way home. Bucky leads you back inside as he mentions the chillier weather, arm wrapped around your back. Some heads turn in your direction, but you don’t mind. You’re the centre of attention tonight, right?
You yawn for the first time tonight, and feel the fatigue catching up to you. Everyone takes that as a signal for the night to come to a close. Maria, Pepper, James, Phil, and Happy all go to you to give their final goodbyes. But not before paying up. Pepper reluctantly hands over her $50 to Natasha. Natasha isn’t the winner, but Pepper will be notified of who won. As will Maria. The men will find out later as well, when the night is over. For now, they return to the lobby of the Tower and make their way home.
You face your amazing team members and friends, now overwhelmed with how much they did. “Thank you very much for tonight,” you say, smiling tiredly. “It’s surely something I won’t forget. It wasn’t overboard either, so kudos Tony. I don’t have any way to say ‘thank you’ than to just say it, but–“
“That’s all we need to hear, _______,” Steve interjects, smiling warmly. “And that you had a good time, of course.”
“I had a great time, Steve, thanks,” you smile back. “I couldn’t have made it this far without any of here you. Every single one of you have helped me in some way ever since I became a part of the team. This is so cheesy, but you’re my home away from home. I couldn’t ask for more, really. I love you all, and I’m tired as hell, so I’m gonna go to bed.”
You curtsey to them, sputtering a laugh before waving at them and turning around to return to your room. Wanda and Natasha give each other a knowing look before following suit, the men staying behind the clean up.
You don’t know how tired you really are until you try unzipping your dress. You yawn every thirty seconds, and your eyes are droopy. You stop a few times to blink to keep them open. You eventually slip out of your dress and leave it on the floor to put on some pyjama pants and shirt. Then you go to the bathroom to start ridding your face of the beautiful makeup Natasha and Wanda put on. But not before getting a few selfies in.
Back on the party deck, Steve is telling Bucky to get on out of there to do what’s he’s gotta do. Bucky’s about to tell him he has no idea what he’s talking about, but one smirk from Steve tells him to just put down the empty wine bottles and go. He mutters a small thanks to him before skipping up the stairs and to the elevator. Once he reaches his room, he takes the time to practice what he’s going to say to you when he presents you with his gift. He doesn’t rush himself, because he knows you’re a night owl. Then again, you’ve had a lot more drinks tonight than any other special occasion, so a give-and-go might be the useful tactic right now. Sighing deeply, he heads down the hall to your room.
He doesn’t hear anything inside as he approaches your door. Not like he would anyway, but sometimes he hears your music or the shower running. Right now, he hears neither. He takes one more, relaxing breath before raising his hand and knocking on your door. You answer within a few seconds, and do a double-take at him.
“Bucky?” you say, squinting a little. “Is that you?”
“Uhhh,” he hums. “Yes?”
“Really?” you say, opening the door wider. You smile a bit. “Because those aren’t his eyes, or his nose, or his lips.”
“What?” He takes a second to realize that he’s still wearing the face synthetic. He chuckles before removing it with one hand and roughly tucking it into his pocket.
“Ahh, there he is,” you say, stepping aside to let him in.
“Thanks,” he smiles, walking into your room. You close the door behind him and wander over to the window, leaning against the glass. “What brings you by?”
He stands off to the side, hands behind his back, fiddling with the small box he carries. It’s now or never. He clears his throat and sets his gaze upon you. You look incredibly cozy in your pyjamas, and the soft glow of the city coming through the window really makes him want to kiss you. Hopefully he will, if this ends well. He steps forward with a tender smile on his face, and brings his hand around.
“This,” he begins, “is for you. I know this isn’t your birthday or Christmas or anything, but I thought I’d get you something for your initiation.”
“Bucky, honestly,” you scoff, shaking your head. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to,” he says. He holds it out further so you’ll take it. You take it with a sigh, still shaking your head. You don’t mind of course, but you honestly were not expecting anything from anyone. It’s a small, rectangular, light blue box with a black ribbon wrapped around it. You undo the ribbon, then lift the lid of the box. Your eyes widen at what’s inside.
“Is this… a mixtape?” Clearly it is, since it has “_______’s Mixtape” scribbled on it. It’s not a real mixtape, since the casing is rough and looks freshly made.
“Yeah,” he smiles, looking down at it. “I uh… I didn’t really know what to get you, so I made you something instead.”
This means more to you than Bucky thinks. No one’s ever made you a mixtape before, let alone a playlist. Music is something that can always, no matter the situation, make you feel better. Bucky said he didn’t know what to get, but according to you, he got you exactly what you wanted.
“This is… wonderful,” you say, tearing up just a bit. You turn it over in your hands, wondering about how to listen to it. “Um. How do I listen to it?”
“Down here,” he says, pointing to the ports on the underside. “I didn’t know where to find a cassette player, so I went a little modern and did this instead. The actual mixtape is on the inside of this casing, but the earphone jack is here on the bottom. It charges by plugging it into your laptop.”
“Ohhhh.”
You nod along, and look around your room for your headphones. It’s in your purse if you remember correctly. You dig through it as it hangs off your bedpost and grasp your knotted headphones. Bucky’s taking his leave, but you tell him to stay.
“No no no!” you tell him, pulling him back in. “I want you to stay here while I listen to it.”
“I’m not sure if that’s–“
“Hey, I opened it, but I can’t enjoy it to the fullest if you’re not here to see it!”
He sighs, and reluctantly sits down in your desk chair. You excitedly jump on your bed and sit cross-legged against the wall, plug in your headphones, and press play. All the songs Bucky put on the mixtape are love songs, songs that perfectly describe how he feels about you. You don’t know that yet, though. You’re only on the first song. And sooner or later, Bucky will have to face your response, and decide what he’s going to do about it.
As time drifts on, you shift in your bed. Laying on your back, your side, sitting up and bobbing your head. The longer you listen to the mixtape, you realize that he’s used songs from decades ago, and songs that you would know. They all make you smile, simply because Bucky’s the one that put thought into each and every song. You also realize that they all have a common theme: love. At first you thought it was a coincidence, but after half an hour of listening, you know that he did it on purpose. You tilt your head to look at him, and see that he’s pressing his hands together and bouncing his knee a little. You never thought that Bucky Barnes, ex-Sergeant of World War II, would confess to you in this way. You pause the mixtape, take your earphones out and sit at the edge of your bed. You try not to smile too much, but now you really can’t help yourself.
You stand up, walk over to him, and tap his head. He flinches a bit but raises his head, and musters up a smile. “Can I get a hug please?” He smiles even more and stands up with you, then wraps his arms tightly around you as you do the same. You have to go on your toes a bit, but it feels so good to hug him that you don’t care. He’s huge, and extremely warm. You press your cheek in his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It’s beating pretty fast, fast enough to match your own.
“Thank you, Bucky,” you say into his chest. “I love it.”
“You’re welcome,” he whispers, reveling in the hug. “I’m glad you like it.”
The both of you are struggling with yourselves, debating whether or not to come out and say damn three words already. You’ve known each other for a while now. You’ve hung out, learned about each other, grew intimately closer… you don’t know what else to do to make the hints ever more obvious. This is the best time, out of all the others, to say it. Your anxiety says no, but your crazy beating heart is screaming “fucking do it”. Sighing, you pull away first, but keep your hands on him. You stare at his chest, and suddenly you feel even more apprehensive about doing this. There’s no other perfect time than now. This is possibly the biggest “fuck it” moment of your life. Better make it worth it.
“Bucky, I–“ you start, ready to give it to him straight. But as you raise your head, you’re caught completely off-guard. He’s staring at you intensely, his eyes boring into yours. You swallow thickly, his expression making you more nervous than you need to be. He sees that he’s made you uncomfortable, so he tries to diffuse the tension by cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb along your skin. Your chest rises and falls in short, deep breaths the longer you stare at him. You’re frozen in place now, questioning if you can bring yourself to do, or say anything.
You can’t gather your thoughts to say anything coherent, so you’re left with your mouth open like a gaping fish. Bucky, on the other hand, takes advantage of that, and smiles at you sweetly.
“I wanted to give you something I know you’d appreciate,” he whispers. He doesn’t want to speak too loudly. Even though it’s just you two in the room, there may be curious ears anywhere. “Picking the songs was the hard part, believe it or not. I wanted to get the words as perfect as I could, and have a clear message. It–“
“I heard your message loud and clear, Bucky,” you interrupt, casting your eyes down at his chest again. “The first few songs I thought it was just dumb luck, but the more I listened to it, the more I understood.” Your heart skips a beat, knowing you’re getting closer and closer to telling him the truth. It’s hot in your chest, and you seem to have lost your train of thought. You don’t know what to say next. You close your eyes, and take a few seconds to brace yourself and look at him again.
“I–“
But he beats you to it. With your face in his hand and the hints all there, he takes his chance. Finally, after waiting for weeks and weeks and thinking about you day and night, finally, he’s making his move.
By kissing you.
Your breath hitches at his sudden action, but almost immediately, you relax into it. You tighten your grip on him, and he pulls you in closer. This is even better than you expected. Despite not being in a relationship with someone for a long time, he kisses you like he’s done it everyday. He was hesitant at first, but he took the chance the moment you looked up at him. After the initial shock he gave himself, he slowly eased into it. You pull away first for some air, letting you and Bucky catch your breath. Your expression is one of surprise, but the corner of your mouth twitches up into a smile. His does as well, and he presses your foreheads together. You bring your hand up and hold onto the back of his neck. You sway slightly back and forth, never letting go of each other.
“I love you.”
All oxygen seems to have left the room when the two of you speak in unison. The small, sudden silence is broken by the swift breath of laughter. And sniffles. Tears flow down your cheeks out of happiness, as does Bucky’s. He hasn’t felt this happy in a very, very long time, and he can’t help but cry about it. After all these years of pain, misery, regret, and self-loathing, he finally has something good in his life again. Something that will keep him going and distract him from all that he’s done.
Bucky wipes your tears away and looks at you with such adoration and compassion that a few more tears slip from your eyes. You hold onto his wrists as he cups both your cheeks and kisses your forehead.
“I love you, _______,” he says again, this time with more confidence. He sounds out of breath again, but he means it all the same.
“I love you too, Bucky,” you say, still in disbelief. You drop your hands to hug him again, and happily breathe him in. He smells like leftover cologne and wine. “Sure took us long enough, huh?”
“Too long,” he agrees, smoothing down your hair. He smiles when he smells the flowery shampoo in your hair. You feel so comfortable in his arms, and he doesn’t want to let you go. But it’s late, and both of you need to get some sleep. This time, he pulls away first, and brushes some hair away from your face before kissing your cheek.
“Goodnight, _______,” he says. He reluctantly lets you go and makes way for the door, but you tug on his hand. He turns back around when you do that.
“Stay,” you insist, softly pulling him back in. He doesn’t answer, but he allows himself to be guided to your bed. You carefully wrap up your mixtape and put it down on the desk before returning to your newfound lover. You smile nervously and scratch the back of your neck. “Is that alright with you?”
Sleeping in the same bed with you would be incredible, but also unpredictable. He doesn’t know if he’d choke you in your sleep or violently kick you out of bed–and not in a funny way. He’s loud when he has nightmares, and he doesn’t want you to be on the receiving end of his anger. But he knows you’re not made of glass. You can very well handle yourself in almost every situation. Besides, you’re insisting. How could he say no?
“Okay,” he says after thinking it over. “Just give me a second.”
He leaves the room to go back to his and change into some appropriate pyjamas. Surely sleeping in just his underwear would be fine, but this is the first time sleeping with you. He doesn’t want to push it. He comes back in a tank top and sweat pants, and sees you’ve already cuddled yourself into bed. You look over your shoulder when you hear the door open, and smile when you see him.
I get to cuddle that? Damn.
You pull the covers back, silently inviting him in. He slides in next to you, and you push yourself against the wall to give him some more room. It’s a kind of tight fit, but it won’t matter when you’re holding onto one another. You throw the blankets over him, and shuffle in closer, tucking your arm around his waist underneath. He wraps his around your back and pulls you in until you’re nose-to-nose with him. You giggle at him and boop your noses together.
“Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, pecking his lips before sliding down to press your face into his chest.
“Goodnight, _______,” he says, settling down himself. He kisses your forehead once more, and lulls himself to sleep by thinking about all of the things that he’s going to experience with you in this new light.
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deadcactuswalking · 5 years ago
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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 22nd December 2019
It’s the special Christmas episode – or at least the climax of many – of REVIEWING THE CHARTS, where we discuss the UK Top 40 every week without fail, with a complete disregard for my deteriorating mental state. Let’s start with the top 10 and finish what is essentially season two of this show.
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Top 10
I’m sure everyone knows the Christmas #1 by now. I’ll talk more about it later, I actually have a lot to say, it’s British YouTuber LadBaby’s “I Love Sausage Rolls”, debuting at #1 much like he did last year. I’ll elaborate in more detail once we reach the new arrivals section.
Steady at the runner-up spot is “Own It” by Stormzy featuring Burna Boy and Ed Sheeran, sadly pipped at the post even with the release of his sophomore album, Heavy is the Head.
At number-three, actually up one space this week, is “Before You Go” by Lewis Capaldi.
It replaces “Don’t Start Now” by Dua Lipa, down one spot to number-four.
We have our first true Christmas song in the top five this year next, as “Last Christmas” by WHAM! is up two spaces to number-five. It isn’t the first time it’s reached the top five, or even its highest placement, but I think they’ll settle for top five this year.
At number-six, we have another debut, the second of three in the top 10, and first of two for Stormzy: “Audacity”, a pre-release single from Heavy is the Head, or “Audacitiy”, as the BBC’s page, in its typical fashion, misspells horribly. It features Headie One, becoming Headie’s highest-peaking song ever, tied with “18HUNNA” featuring Dave, and fifth UK Top 40, as well as second top 10 entry. It’s Stormzy’s 20th UK Top 40 hit and also his ninth entry into the top ten.
At number-seven, we have “ROXANNE” by Arizona Zervas, down two spaces to number-seven.
Also down two spaces, surprisingly, is “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey, despite the release of a new music video. In reality, all of the top 10 has probably gained in performance, and Carey here was a victim of LadBaby and Stormzy.
We have Stormzy’s third and final debut here, “Lessons”, at number-nine, this time solo, which is his 21st UK Top 40 hit and his tenth entry into the top ten.
Finally, at #10, we have a nine-spot crash for “Dance Monkey” by Tones and I, hurt by streaming cuts that dumb UK chart rules implement, but also would have possibly cost LadBaby the Christmas #1, and at least his song is vaguely Christmassy, unlike “Dance Monkey”, which would have otherwise spent a consecutive twelfth week at #1 hadn’t it jumped down to #10.
Climbers
We have one non-Christmas climber this week, and it’s “Falling” by Trevor Daniel up nine spaces to #26.
Fallers
We don’t actually have many of these, either, though, but we do have a handful at the tail-end of the chart: “Heartless” by the Weeknd is definitely in freefall, down 13 spaces to #35, whilst “Don’t Rush” by Young T & Bugsey with Headie One curiously goes down seven spaces to #37 after going up seven spaces last week, “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi crashes down 11 positions to #38, and “Netflix & Chill” by Fredo collapses down 12 spots to #40.
Dropouts & Returning Entries
As always with these Christmas weeks, we have quite a few drop-outs, yet very little returning entries. Streaming cuts have dragged out “Memories” by Maroon 5 out from #10 (Thank God), and brought out two other garbage top 20 hits with it: “South of the Border” by Ed Sheeran featuring Camila Cabello and Cardi B from #13, and “Lose Control” by MEDUZA, Goodboys and Becky Hill from #18. Sadly, a pretty fantastic top 20 hit, Lizzo’s “Good as Hell” featuring Ariana Grande, is out too from #20. Also out from middling positions last week, #37 and #38 respectively, are “Down Like That” by KSI featuring Lil Baby, Rick Ross and S-X, and “Into the Unknown” by Idina Menzel and AURORA, from the Frozen II soundtrack. Oh, yeah, and “Professor X” by Dave is out from #40.
In terms of returning entries, we only have one revolving around pretty depressing circumstances. The early death of 21-year-old emo-rapper Juice WRLD, one that we have seen a lot on this show, has propelled his song “Lucid Dreams” back to #27. For what it’s worth, the song has grown on me a lot since its release, and I’ve said my peace on the matter on Twitter. Rest in peace, Jared Higgins.
There is one returning entry and one drop-out that I’ve missed, but we’ll talk about them later.
IT’S CHIRSTMAS INNIT
First of all, the non-movers, climbers and fallers: If “River” by Ellie Goulding counts, it’s down three spots to #11, but otherwise... “Fairytale of New York” by the Pogues featuring Kirsty MacColl is at #14, “Merry Christmas Everyone” by Shakin’ Stevens is at #16, “Do They Know it’s Christmas?” by Band Aid is up two to #17, “Step into Christmas” by Elton John is up six to #19, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” by Michael Bublé is down one spot to #24, “One More Sleep” by Leona Lewis is up four to #25, “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande is up three to #28, “I Wish it Could be Christmas Everyday” by Wizzard is up five to #29, “Merry Xmas Everybody” by Slade is up five to #31, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Brenda Lee is at #32 and “Underneath the Tree” by Kelly Clarkson is up six to #33.
We have one Christmassy returning entry, and that is the festive albeit creepy “Santa’s Coming for Us” by Sia back at #36. Combined with the Christmassy new arrival and the songs within the top 10, that means we have within 15 to 17 holiday songs on the “Christmas chart” (More on that later). So, basically, we’re 50% Christmas here on the UK Top 40... arguably, disputably, whatever. Here are the Album Bomb(s)?
ALBUM BOMB(S)?: Heavy is the Head by Stormzy and Fine Line by Harry Styles
This is a pretty awkward album bomb as I’ve already covered most things about Stormzy in the Top 10 section and it’s really disputable if Harry Styles had an album bomb but he had one debut and one re-entry as well as a faller, all from the same album, so I’m counting that as an album bomb. Rod Stewart, however, the damned fool, didn’t get an album bomb however he got the Christmas #1 on the albums chart, trumping both UK rapper and songwriter Stormzy at #2, and former One Direction member and current rockstar Harry Styles at #3.
I haven’t heard Heavy is the Head but I’m excited to check it out. I’m weary of its length, but some of the features seem intriguing. Its impact on this chart is weakened by both UK chart rules only allowing for three songs and the fact that, well, it’s Christmas, technically. That would also explain why Harry Styles’ “Lights Up” dropped out from #33 this week, as it was the single that performed the least, whilst “Watermelon Sugar” is back at #18 and “Adore You” has dropped off one spot from its debut, landing at #12 on this chart. Before we even get to exciting new music from Stormzy, let’s cover some weaksauce garbage from Harry Styles.
#39 – “Falling” – Harry Styles
Produced by Kid Harpoon and Tyler Johnson – Peaked at #62 in the US
Aw, do I have to? Well, I’ve already said how much I disliked Styles’ sophomore record and why, back on last episode (And the last paragraph) actually, so I don’t need to bring it up again. “Falling” is Styles’ fifth UK Top 40 hit, and the third best-performing song from the album; three is all allowed from one album on the UK Top 40. Styles had an actual album bomb on the Hot 100, and this one charted decently high there too. Also, fun fact: since Trevor Daniel is still here, this marks the first time in forever that two identically-named songs with entirely different lyrics and content (I.e., aren’t covers) have charted simultaneously. Somehow, and I dread to think, the Trevor Daniel song may be better. The pianos here are reverb-heavy and saturated so much to the point where I geta feeling of drab, moist dread, which is represented in the production overall, especially when Harry Styles belts and his vocals clip pretty heavily in the mix here. The lyrics are specific and do resonate to some extent, especially the self-referential and dare I say meta second verse, and I can’t exactly say Styles’ delivery is unconvincing, despite it reminding me too much of Lewis Capaldi than it probably should – you’re a much better singer than him or this, Harry. If the production wasn’t so shoddy and it wasn’t four plodding minutes, perhaps this gross, distorted excerpt of a power ballad wouldn’t be so excruciating, but alas, here we are. Good effort, I suppose.
#9 – “Lessons” – Stormzy
Produced by Ed Thomas
I have no idea what to expect. It’s the penultimate track on the album and it’s produced by some guy I don’t know. I haven’t been this clueless about a song before hearing it on this show in months, but it’s actually pretty high here because of how it touches upon Stormzy’s personal life, specifically his relationship with television presenter Maya Jama... and I really want to like this. The song is honest and soulful, with Stormzy admitting his faults in the relationship multiple times, and I enjoy the theme of childhood that he toys around with in the verses, but it’s really vague to exactly how he “disrespected” her, and I’m not asking for a vent that details his entire relationship with Jama but it feels somewhat insincere if the closest you get to a specific memory is either having candles lit up, which is overwhelmingly common, and pacing around the kitchen after a fight, “like this s**t is foul”. Some of these rhymes are also pretty painful. Rhyming “Maya” with “Maya”, and then, “fire” with “desire”? Come on, man, you’re better than that, and there is a lack of internal rhymes or even a comprehensive flow to the whole thing. I do like the vintage R&B beat with some very 90s keys sprinkled through the fake finger-snaps, and the blocky percussion is pretty smooth, albeit too stiff to make the chorus work at all, as it’s just really odd, aimless, multi-tracked rambling, with really half-hearted singing vocals from Stormzy. I don’t know, I really want to like this, but the content is overly vague, the production is dull and uninteresting, and the performance is just the same, as he sounds like he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe that’s the point? Probably, but it doesn’t make this song any more endearing. Sorry, I really wanted to like this, so a half-decent single here sounds like the biggest disappointment, but it’s just passable at best, really.
#6 – “Audacity” – Stormzy featuring Headie One
Produced by Fraser T. Smith
This is the banger of the record, with an up-and-coming UK drill rapper, that would burst onto the chart with a wham... whilst also being right next to WHAM!, but that’s a coincidence. T. Smith is on the boards, Stormzy and Headie One are on the mic, and they sound hungry. Any time Stormzy starts off a track with that trailing “It’s like...” ad-lib, I know it’s going to be ferocious, and this is what this track is. Over looming 808 bass and crawling synths, Stormzy is losing his breath, rasping through his bars because of his insistency to do an angered one-take, like a madman, and it sounds angry and really violent. I’m genuinely kind of scared, it kind of works like Bobby Schmurda’s “Hot Boy” because its purpose is to paint such a vivid picture of gang violence that it gives you goosebumps. Stormzy is talking about inexperienced rappers dissing him... and in the first verse, he goes into detail about why he wants to kill this man, in an oddly calm demeanour before he starts losing it once he starts talking about how he’s going to “skeng-fry his dome”, even accepting the gunsmoke (Both literally and figuratively) that this person tries to use to intimidate Stormzy as just weed smoke, which sounds a lot more savage than I made it sound. Headie One is more melodic on this mix of nasty grime synths and UK drill bass beats, but his more casual delivery really makes the pretty funny bars somewhat intoxicating, especially when he says, “Knowledge is power, ask Gandhi”, which is just hilariously nonsensical... but it’s still not great. It runs way too long at four minutes, and feels pretty repetitive and like a drone by the end, especially due to lack of a true climax. Also the beat just fades out and leaves Stormzy’s isolated vocal, which is abruptly cut off by the end too, so that just sounds awkward. I wish I liked this more, but it sounds more like a weak “Wiley Flow” than the anthemic “Vossi Bop” or the pounding “Sounds of the Skeng”. I still like it, though, it’s just a fair bit duller than Stormzy’s usual offerings in this trap banger lane. Speaking of that, I listened to “Big Michael” out of curiosity and that was freaking amazing, so why didn’t that chart instead of these comparatively mediocre offerings?
One week, it’s “Blinded by Your Grace” / Next week, it’s bang you in your face!
NEW ARRIVALS
#34 –“Happy Christmas (War is Over)” – John Legend
I have no production or chart data for this one, because, guess what? It’s another Christmassy cover song released by an aging and increasingly irrelevant pop star exclusively on platforms that provide more sales and hence boost its false chart placement. I’m glad this is only a holiday thing because it’d drive me up the wall if this was done often. Legend released his Christmas album in 2018, called A Legendary Christmas, and it included many covers, including the infamous “woke” “Baby it’s Cold Outside” rendition with Kelly Clarkson on the 2019 deluxe edition. Of course, this song’s not on said deluxe edition for whatever reason... he really couldn’t just cover a nice old Christmas song, he had to do the controversial songs, huh? The whole album is really disposable garbage filled with novelty and commercialised merriment. I used to really like this guy but he is far beyond receiving my best wishes at this point in his career. Uh, the original song is a hot mess as well. Let’s just get to the meat and potatoes, no pun intended.
#1 – “I Love Sausage Rolls” – LadBaby
Produced by LadBaby
No, not DaBaby. LadBaby. Okay, so, first of all, this potentially isn’t the true “Christmas #1”, as after all, this chart was released before Christmas Day and doesn’t count sales that were made on December 25th, although the press seems to have accepted this as the Christmas #1, and have highly publicised it as such, so I’m allowing it, even though I guess you could dispute that. Second of all, LadBaby is a YouTuber who makes comedy videos or vlogs or something? I don’t know, I don’t pay attention. The video for this that they showed on Top of the Pops (Yes, this was aired on Top of the Pops) had his family in, all wearing sausage roll outfits, so maybe he’s a family vlogger? Speaking of those outfits, the same family is featured on the cover, which is a parody of the famous Abbey Road album cover by the Beatles. Not only is that not a Christmas album but it equally doesn’t work because this is a parody of a Joan Jett song, “I Love Rock and Roll”. Finally, LadBaby got to the top before with “We Built This City” in 2018, a parody of the Starship song with the exact same punchline as this one. Bottom line, this is just a novelty song with a dumb punchline and pretty terrible production, because as with all YouTube songs, it sounds cheap and very royalty-free. These guys can’t sing, especially not LadBaby himself, but it really doesn’t matter because we’re not supposed to actually listen to this. We’re supposed to listen once and have a chuckle, and move on, but sadly, this isn’t even funny enough for me to snigger. I’m not a fan, and if Tones and I’s song hadn’t crashed as hard as it did thanks to dumb UK chart rules, LadBaby would be even less liable to stick the landing next year, and I really hope he doesn’t.
Conclusion
On principle, I feel like giving a tied Worst of the Week to John Legend for his annoying exclusivity and really garbage album that “Happy Christmas (War is Over)” is connected to, alongside LadBaby, for hitting the #1 spot with a cheap novelty song in “I Love Sausage Rolls”, which is a joke he’s done before, instead of Stormzy or, you know, an actual Christmas song. In reality, I haven’t heard the John Legend song and I don’t even want to, and the LadBaby song isn’t really worth getting angry about. The Best of the Week is just as hard to pick due to the sheer lack of quality on display here, but I’ll give it to Stormzy and Headie One for “Audacity”, I guess.
I hope you guys enjoyed this second season of REVIEWING THE CHARTS – I know it was a rocky one, but we got there in the end. I can’t really say happy holidays because I’m a day or two late from Christmas but I’ll definitely say thank you for reading this past year. Follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank for more musical ramblings and I’ll see you next week – but that’ll be next season, and possibly next year.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                
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fieldsofplay · 5 years ago
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Top Albums of 2019
Top Albums of 2019.
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25.  William Tyler – Goes West
For those of you reading along, I want to thank you for sticking with this blog for basically an entire decade at this point. Jeez, where does the time* go? To that end, I’m gonna put out a decade list sometime next week, so to keep my sanity somewhat in check, this years tops list is going to be a little more abbreviated than usual. A few less records, a few less words, but still the same self indulgence you’ve come to know and expect.  To that end, William Tyler.  Tied for my favorite cover art with IGOR.  This is beautiful finger-picked cosmic acoustic guitar music with some nice flourishes added by Brad Cook and the usual suspects.  Perfect for fall days.  I accidentally heckled him at a concert about the Andy Griffith show, but I was only trying to say he shouldn’t be ashamed about liking that program.  The shame still haunts me, much like this music. *A fictional social construct
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24.  Floating Points – Crush
Now I’m not going to sit here and pretend to know much about electronic music.  I don’t know the deep history, I don’t know the technical lingo, but like pornography, I know it when I hear it.  Much has been made about the impact opening for the XX and being limited to minimal gear while doing so had on Sam Shephard, and I’ll admit the differences from Elaenia is palpable.  Where that album felt minimal, Crush is maximal, bursting with colors and ideas, not unlike the beautiful painting that adorns its cover.  I never quite knew what the phrase Intelligent Dance Music was supposed to mean, but to me, that’s precisely what this is. You could dance to “LesAlpx” if you wanted, or you could just throw it on headphones and drift away to its unceasing pulse. Find you a man who can do both.
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23.  Nerija – Blume
Let me be the first to tell you that jazz is back! Centering largely in London, there is thrilling music being made by the likes of Sons of Kemet, The Comet is Coming, and this year, by Nerija. Breathing new life into a long moribund form (at least until Kendrick Lamar started featuring jazz musicians on his albums), Blume literally does just that, unfurling jazz from a long dormancy.  While I’m not normally a fan of the guitar in jazz, here it keeps the whole thing moving forward, as the horns swirl around in a supportive role and the percussion cooks.  “Riverfest” is the best exemplar, as the guitar chimes with joy while the cymbal-crashes enliven the vibe.
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22.  Florist – Emily Alone
A tale as old time (song as old as rhyme): member of ambient-electronic band puts out solo acoustic album, about the sadness of moving to LA and finding oneself.  No one is reinventing the wheel here, but I can’t help but feel little touches of Florist’s electronic full-band output in Emily Sprague’s solo record—the way the words repeat, subtly, but building meaning with each little phrasal repetition. Plus, the ocean is a recurring image, and dear lord do I miss the sea. If you want to listen a sad girl sing sad songs accompanied by acoustic guitar, you aren’t going to do better than Emily Alone this year.
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21.  Kevin Morby – Oh My God
Possibly the best Kevin Morby record?  No one else would say that, but I will.  If so, why is it so far down the list? Well, when you consistently put out amazing records year-after-year it becomes difficult for any individual album to make an imprint on the “culture.” I think “Seven Devils” is possibly his finest tune.
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20.  Sacred Paws – Run Around the Sun
My friend David turned me on to this band right before I was about to embark on a road trip up north in the middle of the summer, and let me tell you, that was the perfect time to first experience Run Around the Sun.  Noodly guitars burst out of every seam on this record, as bubblegum lyrics tie the whole shebang together.  If you ever wondered what the Shangri-las would sound like if Johnny Marr played lead guitar, I give you Sacred Paws.
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19.  Jamila Woods – Legacy! Legacy!  
On Legacy! Legacy! Woods takes the R&B of the excellent Heavn and applies a jazzier sheen, to excellent results.  One need look no further than the track titles (“Frida,” “Miles,” “Basquiat,” “Baldwin,” “Sun Ra” etc.) to see that Woods is consciously engaging with the titans of history, and here, while she doesn’t exactly reach the heights of those innovators, she certainly begins to carve out a legacy of her own as one of the best voices in a currently thriving R&B scene.
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18.  Mt. Eerie & Julie Doiron – Lost Wisdom, Pt. 2
On Lost Wisdom, Pt. 2 Phil Elverum (of The Microphones) and Julie Doiron (of Eric’s Trip) recapture the magic they bottled on the first Lost Wisdom back in 2008.  It is hard to imagine sparer music than this, but the duo make so much of a pair of voices and few plucked guitar or banjo lines.  As with all of his music of late (for obvious reasons), loss hangs all over Elverum’s output, but here, the loss is more mood and less of a literal presence (with the exception of the blistering “Widows”).  Few songs I can think of capture a single, specifically odd phenomenon quite like “When I Walk Out of the Museum.”
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17.  DIIV – Deceiver
As capital-G guitar music recedes further into irrelevance, it’s good to still have a band like DIIV kicking around, who make shoegaze like it’s still 1991.  And it’s a good thing they are still making their beautiful walls of feedback, as heroine has repeatedly knocked this band off the rails of what appeared to be a very promising career.  This is ominous, portentous music, that swirls with white noise and black despair.  Shoegaze is premised on making beauty out of the squall of overdriven electric guitars, and DIIV make beauty of the squall of 21st century opiate addiction.
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16.  Earl Sweatshirt – Feet of Clay
Earl continues the excellent experimentation of Some Rap Songs in the (slightly) more structured Feet of Clay.  Whereas Some Rap Songs felt like fragments, the tracks on Feet of Clay (almost) feel like “songs” proper.  Earl continues to quickly sweep the ground out from underneath you, whether it’s in the form of oddly woozy backing tracks that can’t really be called “beats” or the sub 2-minute run times, but he seems to pack slightly more structure into those abbreviated entrants, even if there are a lot less of them than there were on Some Rap Songs.  Right now no one is pushing the boundaries of hip-hop like Earl, and each new release, even if the total run time is under 15 minutes, is a thrilling event.
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15.  Better Oblivion Community Center – S/T
Yes, last year I had Boygenius as my number one record, but if I’m being frank, and I am, this is the better collaborative album put out by Phoebe Bridgers.  At first blush a record between the up-and-coming Bridgers and the largely has-been Conor Oberst seems like a desperate grab at continued relevance by the latter, but having seen them live, I must admit the pairing makes perfect sense.  The energy between the two is infectious, and while they share a common fascination with emo, they really draw the best out of each other.  Bridgers plays the Emmylou Harris role from I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning to perfection, and Oberst plays the Kenny Rodgers in “Islands in the Stream.”  For a period I could not turn on Radio K without hearing a song from this album, which is strange because, as a college radio station, every hour is usually completely different.
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14.  Chromatics – Closer to Grey
In a certain way, Chromatics are victims of their own tendency towards self-mythologizing.  Their last two official albums were absolutely perfect slices of Italo-Disco, equal parts late night ennui and seething dancefloor longing.  There was way more guitar on those albums than most anyone would appreciate on first glance, and yet Ruth Radelet’s smoky vocals were unquestionably the star.  In the interim Johnny Jewel (the mastermind behind the band and basically everything on Italians Do it Better) famously destroyed all the copies of the long teased Dear Tommy after a near death experience, provided essential music to Twin Peaks: The Return (which included multiple Chromatics performances at the dear Road House), and then suddenly dropped Closer to Grey out of the sky, with neither warning nor fanfare.  This record is everything you would want a Chromatics record to be, but perhaps that is part of the reason it didn’t really make a major impression. It felt a little Chromatics-by-the-numbers, right down to the cover of “The Sound of Silence” to open it up.  I absolutely love this album, and if it weren’t for the incredible quality of albums put out this year, it would certainly be a top-10 or top-5 in any other year (hell, in the terrible-for-music 2018 it would have been number one by a mile).  Perhaps the biggest frustration is just how fucking good “Light as a Feather” is.  It hints at a version of Chromatics influenced by Portishead, and now that’s all I want more of.
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13.  Thom Yorke – ANIMA
Doubt it if you will, you sneering youngsters, but Thom Yorke and his more well-known band are currently making some of the best music of their careers.  Just as A Moon Shaped Pool was a much needed return to form after the completely forgettable King of Limbs, with ANIMA Yorke gets back to what made The Eraser so compelling all the way back in 2006.  While a fondness for Aphex Twin is no longer at all exceptional in rock music in 2019, it was in 2006, and with ANIMA, Yorke gets back to the creepy, clicky, paranoid distrust of modern consumer culture that is solidly his wheelhouse.  Bonus points for using Netflix and a pairing with PTA to make America care about a long form music video again in 2019.
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12.  Black Marble – Bigger than Life
I would call black Marble my favorite new band of the year, but the thing is, they aren’t new, just new to me.  Bigger than Life is their third record, and first for Sacred Bones (whose distinctive album art is what first caught my eye).  Because their music is comprised solely of arpeggiated synths, melodic bass, and clinking drum machines, overlaid with melancholicly narrow vocals, it is easy to accuse Black Marble of being a little same-y.  However, if you, like me, worship at the temple of New Order, than this is the band for you.  I have lived with their three extant albums the last couple months (the second, It’s Immaterial, being my favorite), and in reality, this is really the only music I want to listen to.
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11.  Big Thief – U.F.O.F. / Two Hands
If you’re reading this than you likely already know how much I love Big Thief, and you might be a little surprised that one, if not both, of the records they put out this year is not sitting atop this list based on how much I’ve professed my love for this band over the course of 2019.  So here’s the thing, the highs on both of these albums--“U.F.O.F.” “Not”--are better than anything else anyone has done this year, but to my ear both records suffer from a flew blah-ish passages that prevent either album, on its own, from achieving top status.  However, if you borrow a few tracks here (Cattails, Contact) and a few tracks there (Shoulders, Two Hands) and made one album out of the highlights of both sessions, you would unquestionably have the album of the year.  That Big Thief gave us two records brimming with amazing folk rock ideas is a blessing.
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10.  Sharon Van Etten – Remind Me Tomorrow
Hey, do you remember Sharon Van Etten put out an amazing record in 2019? I bet you don’t.  The culture moves so fast these days that albums from January might as well have been released five years ago, and it seems to me like this record slipped off a few peoples’ radars as the year progressed, which is a shame, considering how damn good it is (her best imho).  There are few runs on an album I’ve enjoyed more this year than “Jupiter 4’s” electro-throb into “Seventeen’s” Springsteen chug into “Malibu’s” comedown.  Bonus points for being my dear friend Hadley’s downstairs neighbor for all those years.  Ah Brooklyn, how I miss thee.
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9.  Black Midi – Schlagenheim
Yes, that most reliable of music-critic tropes: the hot young band from London.  Black Midi made waves with a legendary youtube video of their live show, and having seen it in person, let me tell you, even that now infamous video doesn’t do them justice.  Much like its gobldy-gook made up title, Schlagenheim is an amalgamation of strands of music that don’t really fit together but somehow they pull off with aplomb.  At times they play with the hardcore fury of Minor Threat, while at others the proggy interconnectivity of Rush at their most arena-rockish, all with a weird dash of David Byrne wiry energy holding it all together.  If they come to your town, go see them, just don’t stand in the front unless you want to be swept into the maelstrom.
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8.  Helado Negro – This is How You Smile
Did you love Little Joy (the Strokes sideproject) but wish it was occasionally electronic and periodically in Spanish? If so, I give you Helado Negro. This is the prettiest record of the year; it never goes above a certain emotional register / decibel range, but it inhabits the spectrum in which it lives like a ghost in its occasional electronic flourishes.  This is a record for someone with a long drive with something to think about. “Seen my Aura” is simultaneously funky and restrained, acoustic and electronic, and emblematic of the joys of This is How You Smile.
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7.  Sturgill Simpson – Sound & Fury
Each of Sturgill Simpson’s last three records have been fundamentally different from one another, and each has been excellent, which is almost impossible to accomplish.  Metamodern Sounds in Country Music introduced many, like myself, to a new voice in an often overlooked medium, A Sailor’s Guide to Earth dusted off the horns from Elvis’s stax-era and romped around, and now with Sound & Fury Sturgill looks to the outlaw tradition (and ZZ freakin Top) he’s so-often been associated with, but rarely resembled, to crank out an incredible record that is far more “rock” than it is “country.” Throw on a heaping of 80’s-era Springsteen synths and you have the recipe for a record that makes me very, very happy.  The two halves of “Make Art not Friends” have little business coexisting within a single track (the first half sounds like Tangerine Dream, the second half Arcade Fire) and yet it is precisely in this tenuous cohabitation that Sturgill has produced his best record to date.
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6.  Vampire Weekend – Father of the Bride
Vampire Weekend started out their career being accused of stealing from Graceland and ended up becoming Paul Simon.  Funny how that works out sometimes.  Modern Vampires of the City has become, next to Sound of Silver, the definitive record about life in New York during my era (2005-2016).  On the follow up, the band, newly shorn of Rostam Batmanglij (whose solo record is also phenomenal, even though he’s maybe one of the worst performers I’ve ever seen), decamped to California, and Father of the Bride revels in both the California sun and a well earned sense of accomplishment.  “Hold You Now” is my favorite song of the year, it is simply stunning.
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5.  Bill Callahan – Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest
There is a bit of theme developing here at the top of the list: established artists putting out arguably their best work deep into storied careers, and no one on this list is deeper into a more storied oeuvre than Bill Callahan.  Between Smog and under his own name, Callahan has been releasing consistently great albums since 1992, and to me, Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest is his finest work to date.  Having found domestic bliss, so the press materials state, Callahan is content to sit back and let that world-weary baritone spin out all the comforts of a well-worn chair near a fire in a hearth.  This is the type of record that gives you hope that happiness isn’t the exclusive provenance of the young.
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4.  Purple Mountains – Purple Mountains
If I were to really sit and write out all of my thoughts about David Berman this blurb would probably be 10 pages long, at least, so rather than spill a bunch of digital ink lamenting the loss of a true inspiration, I’ll just try and stick to the album itself, which is almost impossible now in the wake of his suicide shortly after its release.  Even on first blush this was a difficult hang, clearly the product of someone who lost their wife to a series of poor decisions / mental difficulties, and who hadn’t come to terms with it.  Understandably so.  Berman remains endlessly quotable, right up to the very end, and “we’re just drinking margaritas at the mall” remains emblematic of his ability to compress the tedium of middle american misery into a single haunting, yet, hilarious, image.  While “Nights that Won’t Happen” lives on as his suicide note directly to the fans (“The dead know what they’re doing when they leave this world behind” ; “all the suffering gets done by the ones we leave behind”), and it is hauntingly beautiful, it still makes me cry every time I hear it. As does most of this record. So the song I’ll carry on with me, and can still actually listen to, is “Snow is Falling in Manhattan.” Just a beautiful song from a beautiful man.  
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3.  Tyler, the Creator – IGOR
I really don’t have the words (well, clearly I have some) to express just how impressed I am by the arc of Tyler’s career.  The one-time shock-rap flash in the critical pan quickly turned into forgettable homophobe who perfectly fit a description of Eminem’s fan base I once heard: kids who call their mom a bitch to their face.  The first startling change came with Flower Boy, which came right on the heels of his step out of the closet.  Flower Boy is a really great record, but it still largely sounded like Tyler, just a more mature version who stopped saying cringe worthy shit.  IGOR is something entirely different.  I honestly don’t even know what to call it. It’s not a rap record, and there are honestly entire tracks on it where I’m not sure what it is he does on them, but my god, this thing is incredible.  It’s basically a Parliament album for the end of the world, and if the earth is going to burn down around us, we might as well dance our way out, which is precisely the party Tyler has orchestrated here.  I cannot wait to see what he does next.
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2.  Angel Olsen – All Mirrors
All Mirrors isn’t just clearly Angel Olsen’s best album by a clear margin, it is the best pop album made by anyone in sometime.  Just like black clothes make anyone a little slimmer, orchestration can make any pop song sound symphonic, but most pop acts don’t have the power of Angel Olson’s voice to match the bombast of the string section and percussion.  It feels like the term Beatlesesque has started to fade from the critical lexicon, but this music is truly akin to the orchestral richness of “I am the Walrus” or “A Day in the Life.”  People celebrate Lana del Ray for her torch songs (and I really liked Norman Fucking Rockwell, even if it didn’t quite make this list in a stacked year) but no one carries a torch like Angel Olsen.  I was initially reticent to catch her live show this tour, it was on a weeknight, it was cold, I had to go downtown, I’d seen her a couple times already, yadda yadda yadda, but I knew deep down I really wanted to see if she could recreate the power of these songs on stage (the inverse of how that equation usually goes).  Reader: she did.
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1.  (Sandy) Alex G – House of Sugar
House of Sugar may not be quite as experimental as IGOR, or as pop-perfect as All Mirrors, but it takes those two impulses and melds them together into what is my favorite album of the year, even if strictly speaking it may not be the “best” as measured against the other entrants in this top 3.  “Hope” was actually a “hit” song on the local college radio station, and understandably so; it sounds like Elliott Smith and tells a comprehensible story about a friend who died from an overdose.  But “Hope” is jut one facet of House of Sugar, which is a veritable hall of musical mirrors.  “Walk Away” is hypnotic in its repetitions, “In My Arms” is a legit straightforward acoustic love song, “Sugar” sounds like The Knife (no joke), “Sugarhouse” could have been on The River, and while I already said “Hold You Now” is my favorite song of the year, “Gretel” has something to say about that.  I saw a show right when this album came out, and as the band left the stage for the final time the soundguy cued up “Gretel” not, I’m guessing, because the band requested it, but because it rules and he just wanted to share it with everyone as they receded into night.
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