#levon

[paingoes]

Rubies

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this is the most living weapon its gotten in a while

(Content: living weapon whumpee, recovery, conditioning, past abuse, guilt, emotional whump, death mention)

Delta rolled over in the bed. He didn’t startle so much when he woke up anymore; the room had become familiar. Even weeks later, he still slept much more there than he ever had on the Thorn. He was still so tired all the time. They’d said it was okay for him to rest. He was grateful for that.

The only issue was how disoriented it made him. He didn’t know what time it was when he awoke, but the sky outside was bright and airy. He slowly rose up, about to brush his hair out of his face when he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. So weird.

He cracked open the bedroom door, doing his best to keep quiet. It was a force of habit. He slipped out into the hallway.

Levon was standing in the kitchen.

Delta dropped as soon as his eyes fell on him. Before Levon could even get a word out, he’d already gotten onto the floor, bowed down about as low as he could get.

He didn’t hear Kitty approach, but she was at his side soon enough, gently urging him off of the ground. He almost fought her. He didn’t want to. He reluctantly stood up, but he could not bring himself to look up. In his periphery, Levon leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

“Good morning, Delta.” He was unperturbed by the display, not upset with him for standing, as deeply wrong as it felt to do it.

It was the first time he’d said his name. Delta paid careful attention to the way he’d handled it. No contempt. No anger. 

Apollo stood back against the stove, staring daggers at Levon. He dropped the expression just as soon as he was caught doing it, but the discontent was still written across his face. A few bags were laid out on the counter.

Kitty’s hand still hung loosely in his own from where she’d picked him up off the ground. He found himself gripping it a little tighter. She bumped into him, nuzzling a bit like she was trying to mark her scent on him. He was already wearing her jacket.

“Thought I’d drop in to see how things are going. I brought you some clothes and some groceries. I’d have stopped by early, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.” 

Something changed in Levon’s voice on those last few syllables. Nobody else would have noticed, but Delta had become adept at measuring people’s emotions. Finding their tipping points. It’d been a matter of survival.

He resisted the urge to drop to the floor again. He wouldn’t beg for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. But he was sorry. He knew what preoccupied meant.

“Things are going fine.” Apollo’s tone didn’t betray any of his enmity. “Maybe you’d like to give him a minute to get his bearings? He just woke up.”

“I’m okay,” Delta said weakly, surprising himself. Surprising them, clearly. 

He clamped his hand over his mouth just as quickly. He hadn’t been given permission to speak, not in front of Levon. He wouldn’t have normally. He didn’t like to object, but he had an override: Levon didn’t need to give him anything.

“It won’t be long.” Levon rested his elbows against the counter. “You’ll have the rest of the day to yourself, I promise. Just a talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Delta confirmed cautiously, since he hadn’t been punished for speaking the first time. 

Kitty leaned closer against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her wink.

~

They went outside. Levon had obviously wanted to talk alone, but was not so audacious as to kick Apollo out of his own house. Delta pulled on a pair of blue and white tennis shoes he’d recovered from the den before stepping out into the morning light. He hadn’t come out to this side of the house yet, certainly hadn’t ventured as far as the dirt road that led up to it. 

Levon’s ship was parked in the yard, nearly the same size as the house. It was a bright, electric purple, reflecting the sunlight out at harsh angles. His leather boots paced unbothered through the grass of the yard, getting dust on their edges as he walked out into the road. Delta followed after him. It was a bit hard to keep pace when Levon was so much taller. Levon slowed down to accommodate the difference.

It was warm out. Delta studied the trees of the forest around him — mostly Arecaceae. They were further South then he’d realized. Bright birds moved upwards in the canopy.

The wildlife was much easier to focus on than the figure beside him. He couldn’t help himself from tensing as Levon spoke.

“How’s your arm?” He cast a glance at the cast. Delta held it up for him, the way he would’ve under examination. If nothing else, Paris had at least made a clean break. It didn’t hurt much anymore. 

“It’s better. Thank you.” Delta blushed for some reason. It was hard to accept concern from Kitty or Apollo. It felt stranger coming from Levon. More taboo. He didn’t know why.

“You cut your hair,” Levon observed.

Delta flinched. 

“They…said I could,” he defended weakly. He shouldn’t have. He should’ve just left it alone, he didn’t know why he had even said anything in the first place. He started to apologize.

“No, it looks nice,” Levon said, “Lot less heavy, I’m sure.”

It was.

~

The road eventually led up to a tributary, which led up to a large lake. It was cooler by the edge of it; the wind carried off of the water.

“I wanted to check in to see if you were adjusting okay. I wanted to make sure that you were ready to come back,” Levon admitted, toeing at a stone with his boot. He cast Delta a sidelong glance. “Are you ready to come back?”

Delta stared at him blankly. Levon nodded; of course he didn’t know. Nobody had bothered to explain it to him. 

He passed him a smooth shaped stone. He didn’t know why. Gesture of moral support? Delta took it anyway.

“There’s going to be a trial. Nothing big. We just need to catch some of the council up to speed on your situation and establish a plan going forward.” He paused.

Delta had returned to staring at the ground. The thumb of his good hand turned anxiously over on the stone; he gave no other indication he was upset. Everything else remained perfectly neutral.

“This is only in the interest of security,” Levon tried to reassure him, “It won’t be punitive — though that may come up in conversation, nobody will go for it. I’d veto it before they could. I gave you my word that you wouldn’t be harmed and I mean that. Still…it may be a difficult experience for you. And your friends are concerned it may be too early.”

~

Delta blinked. They’d said that?

They’d been concerned about him. That strange, dull ache started up in his chest again. They’d defended him.

Not punitive, he’d said. Why not? He’d have deserved it. Amnesty was a promise they had made to him; it was never anything he had asked for. All he had wanted was to get out. Whatever they decided to do with him afterwards was beyond him. He’d have accepted it gladly. It was the least he deserved.

What plan, then?

The answer came to mind nearly before the question did. How best to utilize him. What targets to hit. How he’d need to be disciplined — not punished, disciplined — and how he’d need to be re-trained.

He’d do it. If Levon asked him to, he’d do it.

He thought of Lemuria. He thought, funnily enough, of the seagulls he’d once vaporized midair when they’d been in proximity of the target ship. What had the gull ever done wrong?

“I’ll go, sir,” he said, though he didn’t feel ready. By the end of the month, he’d be closer to it. He didn’t want to delay it. He didn’t want to be difficult.

“We’re still preparing,” Levon nodded, “You should be, too. It’d be nice to have a clearer view of what your desires are for the future. It’d give us something to work around. I don’t know if you’ve given it any thought, but I’d be remiss not to ask.”

A large waterfowl descended from the sky, landing noisily just at the edge of the water. His attention was drawn away for a second. He was still looking at it when he answered.

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.” He found himself gripping the rock tighter.

He could only read the question as a probe, something to get caught on. But he didn’t get the sense of Levon trying to trick him. He couldn’t untangle it.

“Would you want to stay onboard Galatea after all this? Or do you want to be done with it? I can’t make any promises, but we’d take it into consideration during the ruling.”

Oh. Oh.

They don’t need you.

The realization hit with both relief and devastation. The devastation won out. He couldn’t stop himself.

“I can still operate,” he said. He had never once had to fear obsolescence. It was a brand new terror. “I’m not at full capacity anymore, but it’s still viable. If you wanted me to. Sir.”

His hands traced the collar unconsciously. 

Levon had been standing with his hand on his hip, his head cocked to the side in a post that made him look younger than he was. Rebel heartthrob — he’d never forgotten how to act like it. As the offer, his posture dropped, his expression turning much more serious. 

Delta flinched from the way his face fell, the minute shift of his shoulder. But the hit didn’t come, again. 

“Delta,” he spoke calmly, but there was a sternness beneath it, “Do me a favor.”

“Yes, sir.” His fingers twitched. Anything.

“Don’t ever suggest that again.”

He shut down.

They didn’t want it. All his life he’d been indispensable and now they didn’t even want it. In that instant, the thousand discreet instances of indiscriminate killing came secondary to his desire to be needed.

Levon’s expression softened, his lips parting slightly as his eyes searched.

“Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. “To keep being a weapon?”

There was no good answer, no right one. To his horror, he realized his eyes had started watering again. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Oh, oh, no,” Levon’s eyes widened in surprise, all his harshness leaving. “Okay. Easy.”

“Sorry.” He wiped at his eyes frantically. “I didn’t…mean to.”

Fuck.

“You’re alright. So, more time then?” 

He hated to ask for it. He didn’t answer.

“Okay. More time,” Levon confirmed.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

It was his thousandth time hearing that. It never sank in. He’d never be sorry enough.

~

It was a somewhat awkward walk back to the house. Kitty hopped off the porch as they approached, making grabby hands. Delta took the one of them, letting her slide into place beside him. He appreciated the proximity. She glanced at his eyes, still a bit inflamed from crying, and leveraged herself in between him and Levon.

“Whaddya talk about?” she purred.

“The future,” Levon answered.

“Oh no.”

Delta pressed his forehead against her shoulder. He’d just woken up, but he was tired again. It was the kind of exhaustion sleep wouldn’t fix.

“I can extend the grace period if you really need it. Not by much, I’m afraid.” he cast a cautious look at Delta, “But you’d have more time to think it over.”

She moved up onto the porch. Delta hovered between her and the front door, unsure if he was being dismissed. Levon leaned against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, his hand returning to his hip.

“Really?” Her voice was bright, pleasantly surprised. “You’re gonna be able to hold up without me?”

“I know you’re still working,” he leveled. 

She giggled in response, the edge of her tail flicking back and forth, “I thought you needed the help.”

“There is no overstating how much help we need.”

Delta still hovered by the door, overcome with the strangest feeling of loss. He felt like he was witnessing something alien, the way people spoke when they did not have daggers drawn.

Levon pulled off of the lawn. The engine’s cacophony broke up the quiet morning, then was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“It was nice of him to drop off clothes,” Apollo managed, the picture of civility. Delta slid into the chair by the pass-through, leaning his arms against the counter. He flinched as Kitty passed behind him, interpreting any movement he could not see as a threat. She just hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs a little.

“What’d he say to you?” She asked, a bit of the levity gone but none of the gentleness.

Delta bit his nails; it was a worse habit than the hair-twirling, but his hair was too short to do that now. He shrugged.

“…Asked what I wanted to do.”

“Oh,” she paused, “What do you want?”

He shrugged again. It was disrespectful. He should’ve stopped. It was just hard to speak.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” he mumbled. 

Because he hadn’t. He didn’t think it would matter, that anyone would even bother to ask.

He wanted to be useful, if he had to pick one. And he didn’t really want to kill again. Those two seemed at odds with one another. 

~~~

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem

[cptnbeefheart]

[icouldtasteyourhair]

September 2024 is the 65th anniversary of Levon Helm having pizza for the first time.

[myimaginaryradio]

Levon - Elton John

[dailyjustified]

[rastronomicals]

9:04 PM EDT March 22, 2023:

Elton John - "Levon" From the album Greatest Hits 1970 - 2002 (November 11, 2002)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

Originally from Madman Across the Water, released November 5, 1971

[gwrnck]

rhapsodie by @quasimaddi S2

[lil-doodles]

My mind works in mysterious ways. I was listening to Elton John while driving around today and was inspired to draw Levon from the song of the same name. What do we know about Levon from the song that could be used in a drawing? 

1. He wears his war wound like a crown

2. He sells cartoon balloons in town (which is very profitable according to the song)

3. He calls his son Jesus because he likes the name (not helpful except that it helps to picture what he might look like being a guy who calls his son Jesus just because he likes the name)

4. His father's name is Alvin Tostig (again, not particularly helpful except to help picture what a Levon Tostig might look like)

5. He was born on Christmas Day

Add to that the fact that the song is from the 70's. It makes me picture the guy as the kind of men I used to see as a kid.

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial II

hiiii. i have such a headache omg. help meeeee

(Content: living weapon whumpee, past child abuse, conditioning, dehumanization, electrocution, physical abuse, verbal abuse, bruises, broken bones, institutionalized child abuse, institutionalized slavery, (internalized) victim blaming, self hatred, retraumatization, whump aftermath)

He had still felt the chill of the ocean when they had first brought him back to base. They’d had to recast his arm for the final time. They’d spotted the broken ribs that had barely had time to heal, not helped at all with the impact he’d made into the water. The fever dreams crept all around the corners of his eyes. 

After Levon had left, the nurses had made a request of him.

He did not have to stand for it, luckily. He sat up on the bed and let them undo the jacket, folding it back against his waist to reveal his bare torso.

He was so covered in bruises then that it almost looked natural on him.

The marks themselves were not the shape of anything in nature, though. Not unless you counted the handprints. Instead, they showed the imprints of rulers and rings. Whip marks. Chains.

They really tried to be respectful as they aimed the camera at him.

~

Two and a half months later, in the new and sterile room, all the bruises had faded. It was the longest he’d ever gone without them. There was still a tenderness in his ribs, but it felt more like a phantom pain than anything real. The cast had finally come off of his wrist — and he appreciated the new dexterity it afforded him. 

He sat on the white floor and watched Kitty hesitate for a long while with her rook.

He was not allowed outside of his room, but he could have her inside of it. He’d had Apollo there too, but from what he understood, the medic had immediately been thrown back into clinical rotations. Kitty’s role in IT afforded her much more free time. She’d spent most of her absence working too, so there was no real change in their schedule.

She put the rook down indecisively, but seemed to tire of the game. She glanced back at the door, furrowing her eyebrows at the lock placed upon it. She folded her fingers up beneath her chin.

“This whole thing is a waste of time.”

The anger in her voice caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing his hand closer into his lap. 

She looked up in surprise, a bit of guilt seeping into her expression. 

“I’m not mad at you,” she clarified, “You didn’t do anything wrong. That’s the thing. Levon knows you’re innocent. You shouldn’t have to go through all this.”

He didn’t really feel like he had been through anything, but he didn’t argue with her. He processed the words slowly, trying to work around the irritation in them. It still made him antsy.

“Hey,” she spoke gently, trying to draw his attention back, “I’m not mad at you. You’re not in trouble.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “Sorry.”

He moved his bishop to put her in check. She sacrificed the knight in the king’s stead. Before he could capture it, a voice sounded through the buzzer, directly on the other side of the door.

“Maryam Pike. Can I come in?” It crackled through the static.

Kitty gave Delta a concerned look. He blinked, unsure what she was waiting for. 

“Do you want her to? You don’t have to let her into your space,” Kitty said.

He shrugged. She was just doing her job. There was nothing he could really do to avoid questioning, anyway.

Kitty stood up from her spot on the floor, stalking over to the entryway. She opened it up.

“Does it have to be here?” She asked Maryam, “It’s his room.”

The older woman shrugged just the same.

“His choice. I have the office too, if you want to take the hike.” She glanced over Kitty’s shoulder, addressing Delta. “You want to get out for a little bit?”

He did, actually.

~

They were back around the table. Apollo was absent this time, but everyone from the council was still in attendance. Levon leaned against the back wall casually, sorting through the folder he’d been given. His expression was unreadable.

They knew how impossible it was to get Delta to speak in front of people. He had his gaze all the way down even as he sat at the table. It was too difficult to try and have him give testimony. They’d had to resort to other ways.

Maryam slid the cassette player into the center of the table. She looked at Delta, giving him a final chance to amend it. He had nothing to add.

He still cringed to hear his own voice play over the tape.

[

Q: What is your earliest memory?

A: …I was playing with a baby pool, filled up with all these little fish. The staff were asking me if I could move them around, but without using my hands. It took hours, but eventually I could focus enough to push them around just by thinking about it. I made them swim upside down. 

Q: Where did this take place?

A: One of the lower levels of the Institute. It was one of their wet labs.

Q: What were your parents like?

A: I never knew my parents, ma’am.

Q: How did you feel about other children your age?

A: …Indifferent.

Q: What is the primary emotion you associate with your childhood?

A: …I don’t know, ma’am.

Q: What were the rules at the institute you grew up in?

A: No running. No fighting. No talking back. Be respectful when addressing a superior. Wait for explicit permission before using your powers. Take your medicine as prescribed.

Q: When you were a child, did you ever make any attempt to escape or to disobey your handlers?

A: Never to escape. And I never, um. Never intentionally disobeyed. But by accident sometimes, yeah.

Q: By accident? What did you do?

A: …I was getting fussy one day after drills. There are these kind of growing pains you get if you move up a new level — and I was getting them really badly that day, and I guess I was lashing out too much. I wasn’t really listening.

Q: And what happened?

A: Got some warning shocks. When that didn’t work, they. Um. Increased the voltage until I was ready to listen. 

Q: To clarify, are you saying they electrocuted you?

A: Yes, ma’am.

Q: Did this happen with any frequency?

A: Not to me.

Q: Not to you? What does that mean?

A: Not to me, ma’am. It happened to the other students a lot more. I didn’t need as much correction, ma’am.

Q: And you witnessed this “correction” personally?

A: Yes, ma’am.

Q: How frequently did this happen?

A: In the first years, it was multiple times a day. It didn’t happen as often later on. A lot of the problem students had already been eliminated from the program at that point.

Q: I see. And you never once attempted escape?

A: No, ma’am.

Q: Why not?

A: 

Q: What was that?

A: I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

]

The tape clicked off. Delta folded his hands in his lap.

“We also have testimony from other alumni of the Beldam Institute,” Maryam declared, though Delta disagreed. You couldn’t be an alumnus if you didn’t actually graduate. She’d gotten testimony from the drop-outs. It’d been edited into a neat and digestible format, though to him it seemed a bit hokey.

Levon pulled it up onto the projector, his expression still unreadable.

The woman in the video was in her mid-20s, which meant she hadn’t been there from inception, and that she hadn’t stayed long. She said as much in the video. She was a kind of lightworker - lasers, burns, flash bombs. She’d been transferred to the Institute out of foster care.

“-would’ve been unethical to have adults working those hours. 16 hour days — and there were younger kids there than I was, ones that needed like ten hours of sleep, and they never got it. I don’t think I had a single moment of free time while I was there. The amount of-“

“-and of course they hit the kids. Where I went, at every house I’d been to, they hit the kids. That was nothing new to me. But they had the kids hurting each other. And these were untrained psychics who were still learning to use their powers, they didn’t know their own strength. And they were learning to use it on whoever was lower in the hierarchy than they were. Some of them would get messed up bad. One time-“

“-said pack your shit, get out. I didn’t have any more value to them anymore. I had been fucking gifted. And they just burnt me out like I was nothing. Glad they did, though. The only way kids ever left that school was burnt out or in a body bag. I still haven’t-“

There was no footage of the Institute. No cameras had been allowed inside except by licensed professionals. What they did have were the scans of the old photo books. Delta recognized the backgrounds so clearly, even though it’d been years since he had stepped inside. He felt only some dull recognition for the children in the photos — there’d been too many to keep track of. He’d never cared for them much anyway.

He felt the air in the room stiffen as the pictures got progressively gorier. Training accidents. Wrong dosages. The stripes they’d whipped into the backs of the worst kids. He wondered how much of his survival had been pure luck. He hadn’t known just how mismanaged it’d been at the time. Though he did have inklings.

“It’s clear the defendant was raised in an environment in which his every move was controlled under threat of severe physical punishment or death. His surroundings instilled a sense of learned helplessness within him. From an earlier age, he has been made to feel he has no option but to obey. Due to that conditioning, we can reasonably say that any exhibit of his powers has been under duress. It’s absurd that he should be held legally or morally responsible for his actions.” Maryam had a practiced cadence, especially on such short notice. She looked at nobody and nothing in particular when she did it. Levon watched her like a hawk.

She took a deep breath.

“There’s evidence this coercion continued beyond Beldam Institute.”

She switched between files on the computer. A new screen filled the projector.

“Hold,” Levon held a hand up, “Delta, you don’t have to be here for this. You can take recess.”

She couldn’t get him to talk about Paris. It’d been a no-go. His chest tightened up whenever he tried. The questions made him dizzy.

She had other ways, though. She was surprised she’d managed to dig them up. There’d been so few photos or videos of Paris anywhere. By now, the videos of his time on-the-run far outnumbered any from his reign. He couldn’t imagine how much effort it must have taken her to find this one.

He shook his head. He didn’t see any reason to, did not want any reputation for sensitivity. Keyglades didn’t even stand out as one of the bad ones, anyway. 

“I’m okay, sir,” he said softly.

The video began to play.

It had sound.

Paris’s voice cut through the white noise. It was distant, grainy with analog. Still, Delta felt his ears perk up, immediately rapt. Unable to pry his attention away even if he had tried.

He could pick up on the irritation from the first syllable. The tape showed surveillance footage  a hallway within Keyglades’ city hall. It led away from the main conference area and twisted up into the further reaches of the government building. Delta had been pretty sure at the time it was restricted territory, that they shouldn’t have even went that far.

Paris’s speech had risen to the rapid-fire pace it always took when he was pissed. Delta swore he worked himself up just for sport sometimes. Paris didn’t want a solution, he just wanted to be mad. He should’ve known better than to interrupt.

On the tape, Delta’s voice was low enough that the exact words were indistinct. But the sound of the ringed hand coming down hard against his face had been picked up in crisp resolution.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?!”

It had caught him off-guard. It seemed to catch the others in the room off-guard now, some of them visibly flinching at the abruptness. In the tape, he had reeled, though he did not have long to do so. Paris’s hand caught on the loose fabric of his shirt collar and slammed him into the wall. His grip moved upwards, onto his neck. Tight and uncomfortable, but not actually choking. Just meant to hold him there. Make sure he couldn’t avoid it.

“It’s not about the fucking tax, it’s about the principle. That’s all it ever is with these people. Can you stop acting like you know better than me? There’s a reason nobody fucking asks you. Who the fuck even gave you permission to speak?”

Delta frowned, looking down as if he was getting scolded in that same instant. It had the same effect. He tucked his legs further beneath the chair, shielding them. In the tape, Paris pushed him to the floor — not a hard thing to do — and stomped down on his wrist. It was too mild for him to really consider a beating, but some blood had dripped from his mouth while he was on the floor, which is probably why she’d chosen it.

Maryam cleared her throat.

“Would you say there was anything exceptional about this event?” 

It took him too long to realize the question was directed at him. He knew they were all looking at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up from the floor.

“No, ma’am.” His hands balled up in his lap.

“And was this an atypical occurrence?”

“No, ma’am.”

“How often would you say you experienced this level of violence?”

That level, specifically? That much was hard to quantify. It depended on how quickly operations were moving, how much the plan was working, how badly he’d fucked up. He’d like to say he had a good track record when it came to his powers. He aimed to please. The worst of it came when he didn’t. He would have answered monthly if he’d been asked how frequently he was actually beaten. Those were the standout ones, the ones that left him sore for days afterward, the ones he most thought of as deserved. Well, justified. He deserved all of it.

But the tape hadn’t shown a severe beating. That kind of pettiness came much more frequently. Weekly, he guessed. Biweekly if things were going well. The other kind of biweekly if things were going poorly. If he counted the smaller things — the shoving, the hair-pulling, the grabbing — he would have said almost daily. But he didn’t count those.

“Weekly, ma’am.” He didn’t let his uncertainty show in his voice. He couldn’t pose it as a question; it wasn’t something they could answer. Weekly was a good enough approximation.

He saw Kitty’s eyes narrow dangerously. Her claws carved lines into the woods of the chair from gripping it so hard.

“This caused significant injury, as evidenced by the condition he was in when he first came to Galatea.”

The screen clicked abruptly to the photographs the nurse has taken just before she’d cast his arm. There were several of them, taken from different perspectives. The broken angle his wrist was held at. The thick, dark bruise against his ribs where they’d been kicked in. There was a whole litany of other bruises along his arms and neck. Handprints, implements. Nobody could argue they were obtained in combat. None of the photographs showed his face.

It was his first time seeing the full mosaic. He’d avoided the mirror whenever he could while it was happening. He remembered how badly he did not want Simon to see them, to have the proof of his failures be written out so clearly on his body. It felt a million times worse for Levon to see him like that. He wanted to apologize. He’d promise to do better, if he was allowed to. His lip bled from how hard he was biting into it.

The bruises were bad. Each of his separate ideologies burned in his brain, building and fighting each other. He’d failed. He’d earned it. Paris was fucking crazy. He’d never be able to please him. He’d deserved it. He was supposed to be better than this. He deserved worse.

Kitty’s hand brushed against his. He flinched, but forced himself not to withdraw it. Too well trained to pull away. She seemed to pick up on this as she drew her own hand back.

“Where are you?” she whispered. He couldn’t answer.

When he looked up again, Levon was staring straight at him, not at the bruises on the screen. As soon as they made eye contact, Levon looked inconspicuously to his watch.

“Think we’re gonna call it for today,” he announced. 

~

He’d expected to return straight back to his room afterwards, but nobody escorted him. Kitty led him through the airy hallways instead. This section of the building was made mostly of glass and white tile. 

“I swear this is their best kept secret,” she said as she pushed open the outer doors.

They entered into the bio-pond. The algae green ambiance contrasted sharply with the tidiness of Galatea’s interior. Despite her claim, a few other people drifted around the edges, absorbed in their own work. They didn’t pay the pair of them any mind.

It was the first time he had stepped outside all week. The damp air was suddenly much easier for him to breathe. She sat him down by the edge of the pond. A row of turtles sat on a log in the center of the water. The grass was soft, slightly damp. It felt cool against his palms.

Kitty leaned forward over the water, pointing out the fish that lived inside of it. He saw her claws poke out like she wanted to snatch them straight from the water, but she held herself back. 

He didn’t speak. Subconsciously, he tried to shield his arms, covering up the bruises from her sight. Of course, they weren’t there anymore. And when they had been, she’d seen them already. 

He didn’t know how long they stayed there, but he saw the sky slowly fading to purple by the end of it. The mosquitos were starting to bite. 

“Why don’t you hit me?” He’d asked when he finally had to return to his room. She went in with him, just for a little while, until she had to go back to her own. His head had drooped a little when he asked in, in its exhausted state.

“Whyyy would I hit you?” She asked instead, hooking one finger around his. This time, he didn’t flinch, felt no urge to withdraw it.

Because he was difficult, more needy than he’d been in years. Because he was evil, because he deserved it. Because she could. Because everyone else always had.

He shrugged.

“Never,” she promised. She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it gently. 

His chest ached.

~~~

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[archivist-crow]

Elton John - “Levon” (1971)

Fifty-three years ago today, on November 29th, 1971, “Levon,” the first single from Madman Across the Water, the fourth studio album by Elton John, was released. One of the most dramatic songs in John’s oeuvre, “Levon” peaked at No. 24 in the US and No. 6 in Canada. With its religious overtones, sweeping orchestral arrangement, and general musical grandeur, the song is among the most captivating compositions by Taupin and John—made perhaps even more epic by its lyrical vagueness. Incidentally, the track includes the line “When the New York Times said, ‘God was dead, and the war’s begun’”, which is based on an actual NYT piece. In 1966, the paper ran an article about America becoming a more secular culture that carried the title, “Religion; ‘God Is Dead’ Debate Widens”, but it was not front page news. Two years later, the paper did, however, run a front page headline that read, “‘God Is Dead’ Doctrine Losing Ground to ‘Theology of Hope'”.

[cptnbeefheart]

[claireelsewhere]

New MCM

[myimaginaryradio]

Levon - Miles Kennedy - 2018