#no idea what Francesca’s last name is

[xreanimatedcorpse]

My contribution to the Danbert trial without Danbert

[aphroditelovesu]

The Bloody Viscount - II

— summary: You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?

— gender: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, kidnapping, angst, fluffy, dub-con (?), possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!anthony bridgerton x female!reader.

— word count: 1,705.

— tag list: @will-delete-this-later-probably, @cayt0123, @flowercrowns-goodvibes, @czarinera, @remuslupinwifee

— prologue, chapter 1;

Chapter 2

''Viscount Bridgerton was seen dancing with Lady (Y/N) (L/N) at Lady Danbury's ball last night. I have no information on how she had the cunning to attract Lord Bridgerton's attention, yet. He seemed quite enamored with his partner, dare I say. Will we have a Viscountess soon? After all, who better to play the role of viscountess than the diamond of the season?

Chronicles of the Society of Lady Whistledown, April 27, 1813.

''Ah!'' Your mother's scream of happiness was hard to ignore. You were trying to embroider some flowers, but with your mother's constant shouting it was difficult to concentrate.

That's because you were in separate rooms.

''(Y/N)!'' She shouted your name. Sighing, you got up from the couch and placed your unfinished embroidery aside. You smoothed your light blue dress so she wouldn't scold you and went to the dining room.

''Yes, mom?'' You asked as you entered the dining room, where your parents were together. Your father was drinking a cup of tea and your mother had Lady Whistledown's newspaper open.

''Have you read today's Whistledown?''

You shook your head in denial.

''Well then, read it!''

You fight the inner urge to scoff. She always scolded you every time she saw you reading, but you suppressed your words. You sat down on the padded chair and began to read.

What you had read did not please you in the same way it had pleased your mother.

'Isn't this wonderful?'' Your mother looked at your father.

He cleared his throat, ''I suppose.''

She wasn't even listening to his words, ''Our daughter has captivated a viscount! Imagine what this could do for us?'' She rambled.

''Mom...'' You sighed.

''This is perfect! You will be a perfect viscountess.''

You sank into the chair, wanting to hide. She wouldn't listen to you. She never listened. She seemed very happy with the idea of being part of the british aristocracy.

''Lady Whistledown has been writing about you, brother.''

Anthony looked at Benedict who was drinking tea and biscuits. He frowned at him.

''Really?'' Anthony muttered disinterestedly, looking at his gathered family. His mother was sitting on the couch with Hyacinth, Francesca, Gregory and Eloise. Colin and Benedict were beside him.

Damn Whistledown always wrote about him. He just wanted to find out who the damn woman was and choke her.

Until death, preferably.

''Apparently you found your viscountess.'' Benedict teased, sharing a knowing look with Colin.

His mother turned her face towards them the moment the word “Viscountess” left Benedict’s mouth. Anthony mentally cursed him.

Anthony knew who they were talking about and as much as it irritated him, they were telling the truth. He had found his viscountess and was determined to marry her.

Lady (Y/N). She was quite lovely and captivated him in a way no woman ever had. He wanted to make her his wife.

And he would.

''Is it true?'' Colin asked.

Anthony rolled his eyes. Benedict held back a laugh.

''Yes. I'm going to marry Lady (Y/N) (L/N).''

He ignored it when his mother looked at him, curious and shocked. He ignored his brothers' curious looks. All he thought about at that moment was her. Beautiful and wonderful, dressed in white at an altar.

All perfect for him. Perfect for him to ruin.

The park was beautiful and full, as always. Looking around, you saw several debutantes and suitors, with their mothers at their heels. You liked Hyde Park, it was a beautiful and comfortable place.

Well, it tends to be when your mother isn't on your heels.

You loved her. You really loved her. But sometimes you wish you didn't depend on her, that you didn't have to deal with all of this. It's suffocating.

And hearing her talk about the viscount didn't make you excited. And you didn't even like it. He was an attractive man and your dance at Lady Danbury's ball was something special.

You admitted all of this, but...

But you knew how to handle it right. You didn't even know if he was really interested in you. You knew his reputation, how he was a libertine and that didn't make you comfortable at all.

You would like to marry for love, or at least to a gentleman who did not have such a reputation as the viscount possessed. It was unlikely to happen, but you couldn't give up hope.

Sighing, you looked around.

You and your mother were sitting on a picnic blanket spread out on the lush green lawn of Hyde Park. You were sitting between some pillows that had been placed and drinking a glass of lemonade.

Near you were the Featherington's. You waved at Penelope when she looked at you and, seemingly embarrassed, she smiled and waved back.

"So, she said- (Y/N)!" You turned your scared head to your mother, "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

No, you weren't.

"I'm sorry mom."

She rolled her eyes, "As I was saying..." You didn't even bother to listen to her. You looked over at the Featherington's and saw Miss Eloise Bridgerton talking to Penelope.

You didn't pay much attention.

Until you heard that voice. That damn voice that haunted your dreams last night.

"Lady (Y/N) (L/N)."

You stood up quickly, smoothing down your dress. You gave a small curtsy, "Lord Bridgerton."

He looked impeccable as always. You couldn’t help but blush at the intensity of his gaze on you. You felt your body tremble a little when he took your hand and kissed your right hand, gently and kind.

"Lord Bridgerton!" Your mother quickly stood up and greeted him.

"Lady (Y/M) (L/N)." Anthony took your mother's gloved hand and gave it a polite kiss.

"It's a pleasure to see you here."

"My mother insisted that I accompany her." He replied.

"Oh, is Lady Violet here?"

Anthony nodded, "She's right there." He pointed out to his mother that he was talking to Lady Danbury.

"I see." Your mother muttered, looking at the two women vehemently.

"I would like to ask your permission to walk with Lady (Y/N)." You choked on his words.

Your mother's eyes perked up.

"Of course. (Y/N) would love to walk a bit."

You mentally rolled your eyes. But your mother's reprimanding look made you stiff.

Anthony reached his arm out to you and without much of a choice, you hooked his arm with yours.

You tried to ignore the shiver the contact brought you.

With your mother in the behind, you and the viscount began walking through the park in silence at first.

"Does my presence make you uncomfortable?" He asked suddenly.

You shook your head quickly.

"No. It's not that. I just... I get lost in my thoughts sometimes." Your words were not lies.

"Good." That's all he said.

You kept your attention on the flowers and trees in front of you. All very beautiful, well-groomed and full of life.

"It's very beautiful, isn't it?" You murmured to a small bed of roses.

Anthony followed your gaze and nodded.

"Do you like flowers?" You knew it was probably a silly question to ask a man, but you didn't care.

Anything was better than the silence that had become uncomfortable.

"I have nothing against them." You laughed a little. He smiled and continued, "But I think hyacinths are beautiful."

"They are."

Anthony let go of your hand and went to a white rose bush, he picked up the flower and removed its thorns. You looked at him confused, until he handed you the rose.

You felt your heart speed up at such a gesture. It was the first time you received flowers from someone and you never realized how much you wanted flowers until you received them.

"T-Thank you, Lord Bridgerton."

"Lady (Y/N)." He took on a serious tone and you were alarmed, "You can call me Anthony."

"That wouldn't be appropriate..."

When he approached you and touched your free hand, your breathing became heavy. This was wrong. You shouldn't be this close.

"I think I've made my intentions pretty clear." He whispered, looking straight into your eyes. "I believe I've made it clear that I want to court you."

You couldn't respond.

"I want you to call me Anthony..." He murmured, his breath very close to your face, "Because I want to become your husband."

You weren’t sure if you could breathe.

''I...'' You swallowed, pulling away a little.

Anthony frowned but didn't protest.

You coughed and squeezed the rose a little tighter.

"I think we need to go back."

He watched you like a predator watched its prey. He remained silent for a few minutes before nodding.

"Of course. It's getting late." He offered you his arm and you took it.

The walk back to where your mothers were was silent and under the watchful eyes of other people.

You just wanted to lie down and not have to deal with the interrogation your mother would do later.

Anthony couldn't sleep.

He tried and tried. He changed position several times, but sleep never came.

His mind was stuck on you.

How he had touched you. Even though it wasn't a direct touch, due to the glove you were wearing, he still thought.

He thought about what it would be like to slip on that glove and feel your skin against his.

Anthony tried to fight the feelings, the desires that were growing but he couldn't. All he found himself thinking about was kissing you, tasting your skin and touching you in places you had never been touched.

So pure. So inocent. So virginal.

His. His perfect diamond.

It was these thoughts that brought him to climax in the silent and lonely night in his room.

He caressed himself thinking about what you would look like under those dresses, the expressions you would make when he was inside you. How you would moan his name when you reached your own climax.

It was these thoughts, these mental images that caused him to moan your name like a prayer as he released himself into his hand, making it dirty.

Anthony closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

He needed to marry you soon.

— lady l: What did you think of the chapter? I hope you liked it, I'm sorry for the delay and any errors there were! Feel free to give me your feeback. Drink water and I love you you all! ❤️

[sea-owl]

I have an idea. I'm borrowing ideas from these posts started by @thekatebridgerton from here and here

It was the Bridgertons favorite part of the year. As the eight royal siblings of Hell and the hosts to the deadly sins, it was their duty to meet with their counter parts once a year for about a week, maybe two if things are slow, to make sure the balance between Heaven and Hell remained. The work itself they couldn't care less about; their coworkers however held all the appeal for them.

How they love riling the heavenly virtues up. Now if only they could get their names.

"The meeting started five minutes ago," Diligence reminded the Hell Royalty as they all sat down. Her dark eyes looked ready to twitch. Patience and Kindness each gave her a gentle squeeze on the arm.

"There's nothing wrong with being fashionably late," Anthony, the sin of Vanity said as he sat across from Diligence.

He eyed Diligence's slightly unkempt appearance, probably rushed here from another project of her's. "You could think about doing the same. I don't mind giving you time to freshen up-"

"We have work to do," Diligence cut him off.

Benedict, the sin of Sloth, slumped down into his seat. Kindness pushed a cup of coffee towards him. He moaned into the drink. "Kindness you're too good to me. Keep treating me like this and I just might have your children."

"Sloth that's impossible," Kindness reminded him.

Colin, the sin of Wrath, grinned as he sat across from Patience. That grin quickly fell into a pout when she continued to work on whatever was on that boring piece of paper.

Colin reached for the paper. Patience moved it out of the way. Colin reached for it again, and again Patience moved it. The game continued until Patience finished writing whatever sentence she was working on and looked up at Colin. "Yes Wrath?"

Colin grabbed her dominate hand, Patience moved the pen to the other hand and began writing with that one.

Daphne, the sin of Greed, wrote out her wants for the upcoming year. Fast and efficient, it will give her more time with her virtue anyway which is what she really wants. She hands the plan over to Humility to look over.

"A little too much Greed," Humility said. "Remember as the elders said we have to strike a balance. How about I take some of these instead?"

Daphne pouted. "I rather have them and you."

Eloise, the sin of Pride, sat across from Temperance. She doesn't understand why she has to be here. Her plan worked wonderful last year.

Temperance pulled out some notes on last year's plan. "Perhaps we can make some of these changes, hold back a little this year. Pride was a little high last year among the humans."

Eloise's jaw dropped.

Francesca, the sin of Lust, smiled at Chasity, leaning in closer. "Hello Chasity."

"Lust," Chasity greeted politely. His eyes never straying from her own. "Are you ready to get to work?"

Francesca sighed. She'll get him to look lower one day.

Gregory the sin of Envy stared longingly at the biscuit Chairity had in her hands. It was his favorite one too!

Chairity didn't even look up when she split the biscuit in half and gave one half to Envy.

"Chairity marry me!"

"No Envy," Chairity replied.

Hyacinth the sin of Gluttony, looked over Modesty's clothes. No, they won't do. Her virtue wore too little gold and needs richer colors, they would have to fix that. "Hey Modesty, how about-"

"Gluttony I am happy with my clothing," Modesty said. He almost smiled.

Hyacinth huffed. One day she's getting him out of that clothing.

The first day of the meeting went on, and when it was time to leave the Bridgertons opened their mouths only to have eight rays of holy light cover them.

"No true names," all the virtues said.

[mlmarint]

hello to the bridgerton fandom: here is my thoughts about what happened.

first, i am a bridgerton fan since 2015/16 when i read the books, i was active on facebook and twitter about it back then, so i am not even a little surprised how much hate we saw in the last hours.

i remember VERY clearly how much racism there was involving casting people of color back when the cast was announced. i stopped being active on the fandom, i left the facebook groups, i stopped following pages, all because i hated seeing so much hate and racism. i remember how much hate regé had to endure “because simon wasn’t black”. honestly, i remember being confused about how they would handle casting poc in a history drama like bridgerton, but i LOVED the ideia of embracing history inaccuracy like they did it with the tv show. we need more of that on media.

but back on regeé, he had to suffer with “not looking like simon” and then being absurdly sexualized int he show. AND before anyone says “oh it’s an explicit show everyone was sexualized”:

1 - rewatch simon’s scene and compare them with others characters

2 - read the comments and the way people (specifically white woman) said about him

3 - also, read an article about the sexualization of the black body by white people

so, no i don’t believe that regé left the show because “he wanted to try other things”. this fandom it’s so so disgusting and has been for a long time.

when i met john, i saw a lot of people saying he was ugly. he’s a handsome man.

people loved the idea of lesbian!eloise, but it had to be with a white woman. the moment michaela appeared on the scene most of you didn’t hate her because she wasn’t michael, most of you hated because she was a BLACK WOMAN and that made frannie bisexual. probably if michaela was white the amount of hate would be less then we have right now.

listen, i am a fan of the book and frannie’s it’s one of my favorites loosing only for eloise’s and daphne’s. i was SAD that i wouldn’t had michael on the screen, but i also like the idea of michaela. i know sometimes they have to change things on adaptations, and when they change it to people of color or make someone queer?? i love it even more. “oh but don’t change a character for it, create another one, i want this one”. he have millions of straight histories out there, let’s tell queer stories in shows with audiences like bridgerton. let’s make a history drama not be about two queer people that suffered and died without being able to show their love. let’s make this because it’s necessary and beautiful.

and its okay to be sad about “losing” michael, but ask yourself: why am i truly sad about it? at what point this sadness it’s becoming hate?

now, about the fact that “this changes frannie storie and i don’t like it”. it only changes a little bit and honestly they have a possibility of changing for even better.

i personally didn’t like francesca’s reaction when she met michaela. one very important thing about her history and biggest one it’s that she wasn’t attracted or in love with michael when she was with john, she learned it was okay to want and love michael after johns death and THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL. i really hope they don’t go towards a infidelity plot (cheating it’s not just kissing or sex, it can be a lot of things) john was her first love, she loved two people, but she loved and was happy with john. now, if that was just a bi panic moment? don’t care about this, fine, it’s okay and understandable. i just don’t want her having sex dreams about michaela while with john. please don’t do this.

that being said.

the whole “infertility plot” can be EVEN more powerful on her season. why? she would loose john’s baby. she wants to be a mother. if she stays with michaela? she won’t have a baby. later she can realize that she can adopt and there’s more than one way of being a mother, but that would be something to work towards it. she would have to abandon her dream (again, later realize she can still have it) in name of being in love and happy again. THAT IS SO POWERFUL.

the queen probably will give some permission to michaela be the earl, michaela could fight for the titles go to woman’s too. again, it’s not a historical accurate show.

in queen charlotte’s story the society had to deal with poc be included in society, in frannie story they’d have to heal with queer people be included on it.

frannie story can be so more powerful and beautiful and important.

yes bridgerton it’s a not perfect show, it’s not a 100% good adaptation, but it can be a powerful show. having poc and queer representation on it would be so more important than having your little story book become real on tv.

i don’t think that they’ll change eloise’s story specifically because we already met her *male* love interest, maybe she can have a fling with a woman next season, but honestly she needs to grow up before her season.

i don’t honestly know about benedict’s season. i don’t think they’ll genderbent sophie, but if they did it i would like it too. i honestly think they only made him bisexual (and frannie too) because they saw it the fans liked the idea.

BUT i think they can change hyacinth’s and gregory’s histories too. AND i would love to see it two. imagine hyacinth doing crime with a woman, IMAGINE gregory STEALING the GROOM from the altar (said groom having to be force to marry a woman despite being gay). i would love to see it.

honestly, i stoped hoping for book accuracy since anthony’s season and as much i didnt love it at the beginning, i learned to love it with time as a different and separate thing from the books.

you can be sad. just don’t spread hate. don’t be a racist. don’t be biphobic and/or queerphobic.

it’s so beautiful to have something like this happening in pride month don’t ruin another thing.

and if you want to “stop the show, it’s ruined for me” go ahead and do it. honestly? it won’t change a thing, people will still watch and it will still happen. queer people will continue to fight and love, and queer histories will continue to be told.

[thesparkling-diamond27]

The Second Bridgerton And I: Part 6

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Y/n Clearwater is named the “Sparkling Diamond” by Queen Charlotte herself, but she doesn’t know what to do with all this attention. Of course she has her family, but sometimes that doesn’t seem enough. But what happens when she encounters a specific Bridgerton, which changes the course of her season.

Author’s Note: I am so sorry for not posting sooner. I have been a lot more busy with work, but I am on vacation for a week, so I have more time to write :).

Author’s Note: This chapter includes scenes from season 3 episode 3 of Bridgerton. Down below is the link to the part 5 and part 7. I hope you enjoy!

My family and I have decided to stay a little later for evening tea. I was currently sitting at the small table in the drawing room, playing a card game with Gregory, Hyacinth, and Alex. It was a pretty intense game, but I was good at this game, so I had a feeling I might have a victory.

“It is your turn Gregory!” Hyacinth said.

“I know I am overviewing my choices.”

“Well you are taking forever. Right Y/n?”

I was surprised she addressed me so bluntly.

“He is taking a while, but that is good. That means he is paying attention to the game.” I replied.

“Ahh! I’m bored. I am going to see what Colin is doing.”

Hyacinth placed her card hand on the table and walked over to the couches where Colin was sitting with Noah and Benedict.

“I am leaving too.”

Gregory copied Hyacinth’s actions and went over to Colin as well.

“I am afraid I have to leave you too dear sister. Have fun!”

“What?! Rude!”

Alex ignored my protest, ruffled my hair and decided to join the group as well. The cards were scattered all over the table, so I decided to help the maid out by cleaning up this mess. I slipped the last few cards into the box, closed the lid and looked around the room.

The room was filled with laughter and chatter and it was nice to be in such an eccentric atmosphere. My family does this, but my family is not as big as the Bridgerton family. I wonder what it was like with Anthony and Kathani. Probably even more lively.

“Do you like what you see?”

I turned to see Benedict standing beside me.

“I do. My family does things like this, but it is not as lively as it is now. I believe it is due to us being outnumbered by your family.”

“It is quite nice. Maybe you and your family can come over for dinner more often.”

“I would love to.”

Benedict walked a literal closer and spoke in a lower tone.

“Leave the room in a few moments to go to the chamber pot and meet me in the hallway.”

He walked out of the drawing room and left me with my thoughts. I wonder what he wanted to talk about. I decided to gravitate to my mama, Violet and Adeline until it is time to meet with Benedict. I waited a while and asked Violet where the chamber pot was.

“To the left and down the hall dearest. Do you need a maid to guide you?” Violet said.

“That won’t be necessary thank you.”

Violet gave me a comforting smile and I began my way towards Benedict. I turned left just like Violet said and I noticed Benedict waiting for me. Benedict grabbed my hand and started guiding me down the hall.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“To show you my paintings.”

We entered a room that was two doors down from the drawing room and I could still hear Francesca playing.

“Are you sure this is safe. I do not like the idea of someone possibly walking in here and seeing us alone together.” I said.

“I am sure. No one comes in here except for me.”

“Are you sure.”

“Yes I promise you.”

We both stared into each others eyes for a moment. Then he stuck out his hand and I placed my hand into his. He walked over to the double doors that were to the left of the room and we both stepped in.

“This room is my art studio.”

I entered and took in the scenery. The floor had patches of beige cloth in case paint dropped to the floor. There were two easels placed opposite from one another where blank canvases sat on top. Next to one of the canvases was a small table with a wooden palette on top. The palette was washed clean, but there was still traces of paint still left after being previously used multiple times. But what amazed me the most was at the back of the room.

There were many canvases leaning against the wall, and as I got closer I realized that they were all finished artworks completed by Benedict. I found myself walking towards the wall to get a closer look at them. There was a wide arrange of different paintings such as still life, abstract, landscapes and even a couple of portraits in a bunch of different sizes. They were all truly magnificent and I could not believe how talented Benedict was.

“Benedict…These paintings are amazing.”

“No you don’t have to say that.”

“But I do. They are incredible truly.”

“I do try my best. Thank you for the compliment.”

“You deserve it.”

Benedict lightly chuckled and started searching through the canvases. After a little digging he pulled a decent sized canvas from the pile and he presented it to me.

The painting in front of me was beautiful. It was magical and whimsical and everything in between. My finger traced the trail of the rainbow of colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, pink, white. And even more colors due to the mixture of paints.

I couldn’t tell what it was, but that was the beauty of it. There wasn’t anything specific in the painting, so the person looking at it can interpret it in their own way.

“This was the painting I was mentioning earlier.” Benedict said, “The one that I was reminded of when we were gazing at the sunset.”

I continued to stare at the painting.

“I have no words. I love it!”

“Do you want it?”

I looked up at Benedict.

“Really?! You will let me have it?”

“Yeah sure. I don’t have any certain attachment towards it and you seem to enjoy the story behind it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh when he said that. It would be nice to have a good laugh and think about Benedict whenever I looked at it in my room. Not to mention that the painting was beautiful.

“Thank you. I shall cherish it.” I said while hugging the painting close to my chest.

“I am glad.”

“We should head back now. I am supposed to be at the chamber pot remember.” I said with a teasing smile.

“You are right.”

Then his face expression changed like a light bulb lit inside his head.

“I have something for you. Stay here before I forget.”

He then ran out of the room before I could protest. I grabbed one of the blank canvases from the easel and replaced it with the painting that Benedict gifted to me. The painting was where it should be. Placed for everyone who walks in to see.

Benedict came back into the room panting and out of breath. It looked like he ran a marathon.

“Give me a second to catch my breath.” he said.

“You did not have to run. You could have taken your time.” I scolded.

“I know, but I don’t want your family to become suspicious of where you are. Anyway, here I picked these books out for you from Thomas’s book store.”

He held out a stack of three books. I took the books from him and looked at him confused.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to buy me these books.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” He motioned towards the books in my hands, “Read the titles.”

I looked away from Benedict and began to read the titles that he wanted me to read.

“Daisy Miller by Henry James, Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury, White Oleander by Jane Finch…I’m confused.”

“It’s a bouquet of flowers from me to you. I know they are not really a bouquet of flowers, but I know you enjoy reading and the titles of the books are flowers. You mentioned how you would like to receive flowers one day, so I thought this was a unique way to give you “flowers”.”

He made quotation marks with his hands as he said the word flowers.

When Benedict and I talked yesterday, after Lord Debling saved me from the balloon, I mentioned how I wanted to receive flowers one day. I only said that because earlier I mentioned how you can tell spring is here due to the flowers blooming.

I did not expect him to go out of his way to give me “flowers”. He definitely did not have to do this for me and I appreciated that he decided to. I also received these books on such short notice. Our conversation was yesterday and I am receiving these in the evening the next day. He must have visited Thomas’s shop earlier today.

The flowers weren’t the only things that were blooming. I felt my heart beat faster by the second, while I thought about the gesture that Benedict had done.

I placed the books on the nearby table and walked to Benedict to wrap him in a hug. He immediately brought his arms around me in response.

“Thank you.” I mumbled in his chest.

“You’re welcome.”

I pulled away and looked into his eyes and I became mesmerized one again. Benedict stared back and it was as if time had stopped. Usually around men I am extremely cautious, but when I stared into those crystal blue eyes I did not feel nervous. It was so easy with Benedict and when I am with him I don’t hold back.

I slowly inched closer as he did the same and Benedict’s hand reached to cradle the side of my face sending shock waves throughout me. How a single touch can have such an effect on me baffled me, but that did not concern me in this moment. He used his hand to guide my face to place my lips onto his.

I have read a lot of romance novels and I have always enjoyed reading about the love interest’s first kiss with one another. The anticipation and buildup leading to the actual kiss and then the feelings being felt after was always something beautiful to me. But reading a bunch of romance novels never prepared me for the real thing.

The kiss was slow and gentle, rather than rough, but I could still feel his passion and devotion as we continued. His other hand found its way to the small of my back and Benedict gently pulled me closer to him, if that was even possible. His touch was soft like I was made of glass and if he pulled me too hard I would shatter into a million pieces. As if he did not want to let me go and he was afraid I would disappear . I am glad he is taking this slow because I want to embrace and enjoy the moment while it lasts. If this lasts. Wait what are we doing?

Suddenly I was taken out of the strange haze I was in and pulled away from the kiss. Our foreheads met at the middle and I felt his breath blow upon the skin of my face. I slowly stepped away from Benedict and took a few steps back.

What just happened? Oh I know exactly what happened. Benedict and I kissed!How? Why? I was so confused and a million thoughts were rushing into my head all at once. We kissed, so what does this mean for us? Are we still friends or something more? Benedict broke the silence.

“Y/n?”

“We should…uh……probably return to the drawing room.” I said

I looked at his facial expression and it was hard to tell, but he almost looked hurt.

“Benedict…”

I waited for him to speak.

“Like you said earlier. You are supposed to be at the chamber pot.” His tone made me frown. It didn’t have the same joking quality that he had earlier.

I continued to stare at him and his expression turned cold and stand offish and I wanted to ask what had changed, but I knew there was nothing I could right now , even though I very much wanted to do so.

“Right….Yes of course.” I said.

I went to retrieve my books and painting and then Benedict and I exited his art studio. The air was awkward and I did not like it. I hope our friendship did not falter because we kissed each other.

—————————

Tonight was Lord Avcott’s ball and Adeline, mama and I were currently in the carriage on our way to the event. Father, Noah, and Alexander were in the carriage behind us.

I looked outside the carriage window and looked at the shops that we were passing. Even though I couldn’t see them, I could feel the eyes of my mama and sister on me. I have been quiet since dinner with the Bridgertons yesterday and my family knew something was wrong. My brothers already tried to get me to talk this afternoon, but I didn’t have the energy.

I was feeling a lot of emotions all at once and this carriage ride allowed me to collect my thoughts.

1. The conversation I had with the Queen

At the balloon event two days ago, when my family and I greeted the Queen, Queen Charlotte mentioned how she suggested Maxwell to my parents. I thought the Tewkesberry family were old friends of the family, but that seemed to be a lie. My mama wanted to talk to me after the Queen spoke her words and this afternoon like my brothers, but I never gave her any chances. I was angry that my parents made a choice for me. They did say that I didn’t have to marry Maxwell, but it is implied when your parents introduce you to another young man that you should marry them.

2. Penelope said she had a secret to share with me.

I know Pen has no intention to hurt me, but the fact that she is keeping a secret from me worries me. I thought we didn’t keep information from each other. I hope whatever she has to tell me isn’t anything terrible.

3. What happened with Benedict yesterday.

I have not spoken with or seen Benedict after we kissed and I am nervous to see him tonight. He didn’t seem pleased after we kissed and it hurt my feelings. Is he that repulsed by me? Did he react that way because he only sees me as a friend and will never see me as a lady? I hope what happened between us doesn’t change anything, because even though it looks like we won’t be anything more, even though I would like to be, I still want him to be my friend. As I thought of this I knew that my mama wanted to say something to me and she did.

“Dearest are you sure you are alright? The offer to stay at home still stands. David can drive you back home after he drops us off.”

When mama offered for me to stay home earlier today I almost considered it. I didn’t feel like facing Benedict again and it would be nice to ride with my favorite foot man David. It had been awhile, since we had a decent conversation.

Then after careful consideration I realized that I shouldn’t have Benedict dictate my choices. It is my choice to decide where I want to go to spend my days and nights. But I also haven’t seen Penelope in some time, and after reviewing both points, I decided it was best to go to the ball.

“I am alright mama. Thank you for asking though.” I responded.

I tried to give the best smile I could muster, but I knew the look that my mom was giving me: I am letting you off the hook for now.

“How are you and Lord Harvey sister?” I asked to try and change the topic.

“Lovely! He hinted at a proposal, so I can expect one very soon.”

“Oh that is great news Dara!” My mama said, “Soon we can start planning!”

My mama and Adeline excitedly began to talk about wedding preparations which I thought was absurd because Adeline isn’t even engaged yet. But it was nice to be off the spotlight for the time being and all this wedding talk made me think about Maxwell.

I received one letter each day, for the past couple of days, from him. He is currently in Paris dealing with a family estate with his father. He mentioned how he visited several pastry shops and he thought of me every time. He even purposefully purchased raspberry macarons because he wanted to be closer to me. The thought that he thought of me brought a smile to my face, but it simultaneously made me feel guilty.

Here was this kind and faithful young man, who had been thinking about me by sending me letters and buying things that reminds him of me, and I went and kissed one of my friends behind his back. What a girl I am. I hope Maxwell doesn’t notice a shift in my demeanor when he returns.

—————————

Penelope

I stood on the dance floor as I fiddled with my empty dance card. People were continuing to file in, so people were still mingling with one another as we waited for the first dance to commence.

I looked around the room at all of the couples when my eyes landed on the back of a particular person I hoped to see tonight. I began to walk towards him when I noticed Cressida, across the dance floor, looking at him as well in the corner of my eye. We made brief contact before we both realized we were after the same person: Lord Debling.

Cressida began walking towards Lord Debling and I began to pick up my pace. I had to get to Lord Debling before Cressida does is all I could think about as I walked past the crowds of people. I took a quick glance upon her and noticed that we were neck and neck. I could get there first if I scurried over towards him. I was about to reach Lord Debling when Cressida took several quick long strides and got to him first. It’s situations like these where I hated my height disadvantage.

“Lord Debling.” Cressida said.

I awkwardly turned around, so Lord Debling wouldn’t know that I was nearby. My plan completely backfired I thought. I wanted to set things straight with Lord Debling tonight. Our conversation at the balloon event was a disaster and I wanted to clarify and fix things. If only Cressida haven’t reached the table first!

The first dance was about to begin and couples began to join one another, so I stepped out of the way. I was going to wander around to see what more Lord Avcott had to offer for tonight when I noticed Y/n being a part of one of the couples about to dance.

————————

I was sipping lemonade by the refreshments table when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Lord Findlay and he brought a smile to my face. We haven’t seen each other since he showed up at my house to call upon me. It was nice to see a friend again.

“Lord Findlay how wonderful to see you.”

“We’ve been over this Y/n! You can call me by my first name Micheal.”

I do recall him mentioning calling him by his first name.

“Very well Micheal.” I said with a smile.

“Lovely. It has been some time since we spoke with one another. I was wondering if we can catch up.”

“I would very much like that.”

“May I have your dance card?”

He motioned to the dance card tied around my wrist and I slid it off for him to sign. As he signed my dance card he said,

“I’ll see you for the first dance of tonight Y/n.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

He retuned my dance card and walked away to converse with others in attendance.

“Oh my dear Y/n.” I turned around to see Violet and Francesca in front of me and smiled.

“Hello Lady Bridgerton. Francesca.”

“Y/n dear we have been over this. Call me Violet.”

It seemed like everyone was telling me to call them by their first name these days.

“Alright Violet.”

“Where is your mother Y/n?”

“With my father and brothers near the dessert table.”

“And your sister?”

“With Lord Harvey.”

“Ah. Well Francesca is off to go talk with some suitors. Hopefully she can ignite a spark with one of them.”

I turned to Francesca. She looked hopeful and it didn’t look false. Maybe she took my advice from dinner yesterday and was also trying to please her mother in her own way, by introducing herself to suitors who she connected with.

“I hope to talk with you later tonight Y/n once I am finished.”

“I would love to.”

We both smiled at each other.

“We will see you later Y/n.” Violet said.

I could tell Violet wanted to begin introducing Francesca to some suitors, so I nodded in response and was once again brought into solitude.

The decorations were quite nice for tonight’s ball and I found myself eyeing the appetizing dessert table. The Orchestra that Lord Avcott hired was exquisite as well and I found myself tapping my fingers, against my lemonade glass to the beat.

As I my eyes trailed upon the decorations on the railing of the staircase, I made eye contact with Benedict. I sent a small smile up at him, and he just stared back. I tried to study his face to see what he could possibly be thinking, but I saw nothing. It was as if he put up a wall and I somehow felt like the wall was specifically for me.

I wanted to walk to him, but before I could he went into a nearby hallway and disappeared. It seemed like my worst fear had come true. Benedict doesn’t want to see me. But why? What did I do wrong? All we did was kiss.

“I believe it is time for our dance Y/n.”

I looked up and saw Micheal with his hand extended ready to approach the dance floor. I turned and looked back up to where Benedict once once. Even though the space was empty it was as if he was still there staring down at me. My heart wanted to run away from Micheal, run up the stairs and approach Benedict to find out what was wrong.

But my mind knew that I could not do that so, I took Micheal’s hand and followed him as he took us to our place to begin. The violin began the first few notes of the piece and we started to go through the motions of the dance steps. Even though we were dancing, my mind was on something else, and Micheal seemed to notice.

“Something seems to be troubling you Y/n. You can tell me, but it is alright if you wish not to.”

We reached the part in the choreography where we had to separate. I turned to look at the empty space and it was once again filled with Benedict, but he walking down the stairs with a woman I did not recognize. The only piece of information that I knew about her was that she was a widow.

Eventually I reconnected with Micheal and responded to what he had said earlier.

“I am having some trouble with….with a friend of mine.”

“I hope the friend is not me.” He joked.

“Oh no! Definitely not!…It’s my friend Benedict Bridgerton.”

“Benedict Bridgerton?” His eyebrows raised in surprise, “I did not realize you two were friends.”

“It has been a recent friendship this season. He saved me at Lady Danbury’s ball from Nigel Berbrooke and we have been friends ever since. We recently got into an argument and never had a chance to resolve our issues.”

I did not mention that we kissed because if I did my reputation would be compromised. I know Micheal would never share such information, but you never know who can he listening nearby and I didn’t want Micheal’s perception of me to change. Also if Micheal found out we kissed, than Benedict and I would have to get married and although it’s sad to admit, I don’t think Benedict would want that. As long as people don’t find out.

“Well I am sure you and Mr. Bridgerton will work this little tiff out.”

“I hope you are right.”

“I’m always right.” He joked.

I let out a few laughs. His mission to make me laugh was accomplished. We continued our dance with ease and when we finished I slightly curtsied as he bowed.

“It was a pleasure dancing with you Micheal.”

“The pleasure is mine. Excuse me I see some friends that I would like to speak to.”

“Go ahead.”

Micheal gave me a smile before walking over to his so called friends. As I walked off the dance floor a couple of suitors approached me to dance. I politely declined after mentioning that I had a few dances reserved with some other suitors, which was a lie, but I wanted to search for my family or Penelope and I did not want any distractions.

I returned to the lemonade table and noticed Penelope talking with Lord Debling and things seemed to be going well between them. At some point Penelope looked at me, smiled and motioned towards the corner of the room and I knew what she was trying to say: Wait for her over there until she finishes with Lord Debling.

—————————

Penelope

As Y/n was dancing on the dance floor, I noticed Lord Debling alone and I knew this was my chance to speak with him.

I quickly avoided the dancing couples in order to reach Lord Debling before someone like Cressida can swoop in.

“Lord Debling.”

“Miss Featherington. Any more encounters with wayward balloons?”

He seemed to be joking, so this might be a good sign.

“Not at present.” I responded.

“If you’ll excuse me, I am fetching Miss Cowper a lemonade.”

I stopped him from going to Cressida.

“Lord Debling. I am afraid I have not been honest with you.”

“Pardon me?”

“About…grass. I do not love it.I— I do not hate it, but I much prefer being indoors.”

“I see.”

“The person I was two days ago…I was pretending to be someone I am not. And I do not wish to do that anymore. The person that I am, I’m someone who enjoys society and gossip, even if I do occasionally hide at a soirée. I am someone who enjoys a good book more than exploring the natural world, someone…who does enjoy watching birds, but specifically from the windowsill, I’m someone who is over explaining themselves at the moment.”

I waited for him to respond. I hope what I said was the right thing to say. He did say that my frankness was immensely refreshing at Lord Tremble’s estate. I hope he still found my frankness refreshing today.

“How many yous are there exactly? And where do you hide them all?” He asked.

I inwardly sighed with relief.

“It does not bother you that I do not wish to spend my time exploring the wilds of nature?” I asked.

“Heavens no. If I only ever talked about nature, my dinner party invitations would cease altogether. I do not wish to court someone exactly like myself. I want to be with someone who knows who they are and embraces their own peculiarity, as I do. As I believe you do as well.”

I smiled at Lord Debling and he returned the favor. He placed one of the glasses that was in his hands in front of me, which was originally for Cressida, and I took it with silent triumph. We both simultaneously sipped our lemonade.

It felt good to be honest. This whole time I was trying to impress Lord Debling and I became someone I was not. Being myself was easier and Lord Debling seemed to like that version of me the best.

It made me want to be more honest with more people and one person who came into mind was Y/n. I turned from Lord Debling and back to the dance floor to where Y/n was. She looked happy as she danced with Lord Findlay and it made me want to make her happy. I knew that I had to be honest with her.

I didn’t tell Eloise my secret and look how that turned out. If I want to keep her as a friend I cannot keep secrets. It might mean that I will loose her forever, but at least I will be honest in the process.

————————

I made my way to the area that Penelope gestured with her head, and it looked “secret” and discreet. A perfect area to talk without being interrupted. As I sat by a nearby bench, my eyes drifted to the couples who were currently dancing. I scanned through the couples and was shocked to see Benedict dancing with the lady I saw with him earlier.

He looked happy with her and he had a smile on his face as he looked down on her. Seeing him like that broke my heart and my original mindset to try to mend things started to crumble. Here I was being upset about the way things were between us when he couldn’t care less and was with someone else.

“Hi Y/nn.”

I looked up and saw that Penelope had sat down next to me. She must have finished her conversation with Lord Debling. She looked at where my eyes were before and looked back at me concerned.

“Y/n are you alright?”

I gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded.

“Are you sure? Is it Benedict?”

I looked at her and realized that I couldn’t lie to her.

“No I am not alright.” I said with a sigh, “But I do not wish to talk about it right now because it is inappropriate for this type of setting.”

Penelope looked at me curiously, but decided not to pry, which I was grateful for. Then Penelope broke the silence.

“Remember when I told you that I had to tell you something?” She asked.

I nodded in response.

“Well I’ve decided to tell you now.”

Before I could say anything, Penelope grabbed my hand and led me out of the ballroom. I was confused with where she was taking me, but I didn’t complain.

We made it outside where fire pits were placed to keep warm if you wished to be outside. Penelope passed several people and the fountain before we arrived at a completely deserted area.

“Why must you tell me here?” I asked.

“Because I can’t let what I’m about to tell you be heard from other people.”

I was intrigued before, but now I am even more intrigued. What is so important that she can’t risk it getting out to someone else. The only thing I could think of is….Wait. Did she do what I did with Benedict with Colin again? And maybe something more?

“Pen….Did you and Colin…”

“What oh my goodness no! It is nothing of that sort. We did nothing more besides that one kiss.”

Relief traveled my body. I thought Penelope and Colin had relations and I got frightened for a moment. Many young girls throughout the ton do not know what intercourse is, but I do. My mama wanted to make sure that my sister and I didn’t get pregnant accidentally, so she told us about it about two years ago.

Around the same time Penelope found out about Marina Thompson’s condition, and she wondered how that came to be, so I told Penelope about it (which is how Penelope knows about intercourse, well most of it because I didn’t tell her everything).

“So if the secret wasn’t that then what is it?” I asked.

I looked at Penelope and noticed that she was playing with her fingers. She was really nervous. I grabbed her shaking hands and led her to a nearby bench, so she could be more comfortable.

“You can take your time Pen, or you don’t have to even tell me, since you are so worked up about—“

“No I want to tell you. When I was talking to Lord Debling earlier, I told him that I have not been honest with him and that I was pretending to be someone that I am not. And I do not wish to do that anymore. And after our conversation I realized that that applies to you as well. You deserve to know who I am.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

“No I don’t expect you to, but you will once I tell you…it’s just that last time someone found out about this, they didn’t look at me the same way and we are no longer friends.”

I thought about who that could possibly be.

“Are you talking about Eloise?” I asked.

She nodded her head and I grabbed her hand once again.

“Whatever you tell me won’t change how I perceive you. You will always be my friend Pen. Never forget that.”

Penelope smiled with appreciation.

“Thank you Y/nn. That means a lot.”

Penelope took her hand away, straightened her hair and smoothed out her gown.

“I…I…”

I encouraged her to continue.

“I am Lady Whistledown.”

[lazyworksinprogress]

a very long post about hozier - unreal earth

Index:

Lyrical allusions

Visual imagery

Reading list

Interviews

Reviews

Lyrical allusions

The lyrics on Unreal Unearth are informed by texts such as Irish writer Flann O’Brien’s philosophical 1967 novel, The Third Policeman, Dante's Inferno, and Jonathon Swift.

De Selby (Part 1)

At last, when all of the world is asleep You take in the blackness of air The likes of a darkness so deep That God at the start couldn’t bear

"Human existence being an hallucination containing in itself the secondary hallucinations of day and night (the latter an insanitary condition of the atmosphere due to accretions of black air) it ill becomes any man of sense to be concerned at the illusory approach of the supreme hallucination known as death." The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche Trína chéile; le chéile Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Claochlaithe is claochlú an ealaín Is ealaín dubh í Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche Trína chéilе; le chéile Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Claochlaithe is claochlú an еalaín Is ealaín dubh í

Although your bright and light […] You arrived to me like nightfall, you come like nightfall You and I sort of mixed together You and I metamorphosized So that same idea of you can’t see where one begins and where one ends that, that is some kind of metamorphosis of some kind

“a body with another body inside it in turn, thousands of such bodies within each other like the skins of an onion, receding to some unimaginable ultimum”

De Selby (Part 2)

What you're given, what you live in Darlin', it finds a way to live in you

"The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who are nearly half people and half bicycles"

First Time

Remember once I told you about How before I heard it from your mouth My name would always hit my ears as such an awful sound

First Time refers to Beatrice Smiles: Canto XXXI - Dante's meeting with Beatrice after being left by Virgil, where she rebukes him for his sins. Dante does not remember his name but recognises Beatrice. He was dunked into the River of Forgetting by Matelda

“Respond, you of poor memory, confess. _Lethe awaits. Your thoughts are undeterred.”

These days I think I owe my life To flowers that were left here by my mother Ain't that like them, giftin' life to you again

Francesca

In Dante's Inferno, the character of Beatrice embodies love inspired by God - she is a religious object that should inspire faith, devotion, and salvation. By contrast, the character of Francesca da Rimini is encountered in the Terrace of Lust. She was a medieval noblewoman who was killed by her husband, Giovanni Malatesta upon discovering an affair between her and Paolo Malatesta (his brother). She represents love that leads one's soul to destruction.

I would not change it each time Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I I would not change it each time

"Love led us to one death, conjointly felled. __For him who slew us, Cäina waits below."

I Carrion (Icarian)

One deep breath out from the sky I've reached a rarer height now that I can confirm All our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

This song has a connection with Inferno 17. Phaeton, Icarus, Daedalus and Arachne: are symbolic of Ulysses, the embodiment of transgression in Dante’s personal mythography. Icarus is a figure of fear for because he was equipped by his father to alter the boundaries of man's physical nature. It is the sin of pride that leads one to folly.

Eat Your Young

“Eat Your Young”, a contemporary riff on the Irish writer Jonathan Swift’s 1729 satirical essay “A Modest Proposal” that suggests Irish people eat their children to alleviate their hunger and poverty.

Come and get some Skinnin' the children for a war drum Puttin' food on the table sellin' bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

The first verse also contains allusions to Canto 6 of Inferno - this level is related to "gluttony" but it's used by Dante to discuss the political landscape and moral failures of the City of Florence. Gluttony, in this case, is defined as excessive desire for dominion and power. So Hozier comments on inequality and poverty with a distinctly political air.

Damage Gets Done

Here Hozier refers to Canto 7 of Inferno and the concept of misura - a lack of moderation or self-control

And darlin', I haven't felt it since then I don't know how the feelin' ended But I know being reckless and young Is not how the damage gets done

In this Canto, Dante is discussing wealth management - hoarding and wasteful spending. While avarice is a traditionally Christian sin, Dante inserts the sin of prodigality by himself. This tells us that Dante's moral standard is not essentially Christian. Hozier also plays with the intentions of the texts he refers to and inserts his own takes on philosophy and biography. Very Dantean, if you ask me.

Who We Are

I think this is a narrative shift similar to Canto 8-9 where the fallibility of Virgil is explored and the tension between faith and fear.

You only feel it when it's lost Gettin' through still has a cost Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love Falling from you drop by drop What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

Son of Nyx

All Things End

The mystery at the heart of Inferno 10, the mystery that generates its enormous poetic power, is the connection of love to sin.

All Things End is superficially about the end of a relationship but it's also about heresy. The specific heresy in the canto is Epicureanism: materialism that suggests the soul dies with the body. It is a denial of the idea of an immortal soul and a "wilful separation of the soul from God". The Epicureans in Canto 10 are represented as eternally trapped in the temporary and ephemeral materialistic reality of the present. They are denied what is eternal and transcendent (ie divine)

And all things end All that we intend is scrawled in sand And slips right through our hands And just knowing That everything will end Should not change our plans When wе begin again

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuarithe)

‘Uiscefhuarithe’, as described by Hozier, is an irish word for ‘something that has been made cold by water’.

Butchered Tongue

The Genius annotation gives a lot of detail here: In “Butchered Tongue”, Hozier tackles the 7th Circle of Hell Canto XII to XVII, known as the ‘Circle of Violence or Hell of the Violent and Bestial’ which is one of the lower circles of Hell and is divided into three distinct rings, each punishing different types of violence. The track focuses mainly on the first ring called the ‘Outer Ring’ where those who commit violence against others and their property are punished by being submerged in a river of boiling blood called the Phlegethôn, and centaurs patrol the area, shooting arrows at those who emerge from the blood.

The song has a number of allusions to the horrors of colonial violence.

Anything But

I think this song refers to Canto 26 which establishes the critical metaphor that equates desire with flying. Here Dante encounters Ulysses - the embodiment of the epic wandering hero.

"But here one must fly, I mean with the swift wings and the pinions of great desire."

Canto 26 is critical of imperial ambitions and expansionism as Dante casts the city of Florence as a giant bird of prey whose wings beat over land and sea. This is thought as representing a specter of tyranny.

Dante presents Ulysses as the ultimate flawed hero that embodies the expression of desire as flight. Hozier expresses his desire for flight and wandering in Anything But.

I wanna be the shadow when my bright future's behind me I wanna be the last thing anybody ever sees I hear he touches your hand, and then you fly away together If I had his job, you would live forever

Abstract (Psychopomp)

Here Hozier references a childhood trauma of witnessing an animal being hit by a car and Canto 28. It's somewhat alike to the canto in a metatextual sense because it presents a gruesome picture. In Inferno 28 souls are mutilated by devils. The language is pretty clinical and graphic, like the song.

"Who, even with untrammeled words and many attempts at telling, ever could recount in full the blood and wounds that I now saw?."

The poor thing in the road, its eye still glistening The cold wet of your nose, the earth from a distance

Unknown / Nth

This one has a lot of references that have been discussed by Hozier for its allusions to the ninth circle of Hell and Cantos 34. The ninth circle is sometimes referred to as treachery but the sin is fraud.

betrayal is fraud committed against those who trust us

Hozier said he conceived of Satan/the Devil as the first prisoner of hell. I've got to link the Digital Dante article about this Canto because it's very relevant:

You know the distance never made a difference to me I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen And all that we believe So I thought you were like an angel to me

First Light

One bright morning changes all things Soft and easy as your breathing, you wake Your eyes open at first a thousand miles away But turning shoot a silver bullet point-blank range And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in Could this be how every day begins?

"Whichever day it was, it was a gentle day – mild, magical and innocent with great sailings of white cloud serene and impregnable in the high sky, moving along like kingly swans on quiet water. The sun was in the neighbourhood also, distributing his enchantment unobtrusively, colouring the sides of things that were unalive and livening the hearts of living things" - The Third Policeman

Visual imagery

"Down into the earth where dead men go I would go soon and maybe come out of it again in some healthy way, free and innocent of all human perplexity." - The Third Policeman

"Not everyone know how I killed old Phillip Mathers, smashing his jaw in with my spade." - The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

“If a man stands before a mirror and sees in it his reflection, what he sees is not a true reproduction of himself but a picture of himself when he was a younger man”

Reading list

“Eat Your Young”, a contemporary riff on the Irish writer Jonathan Swift’s 1729 essay “A Modest Proposal”

The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien: an expert investigation

Bestselling author Michael Foley celebrates a comic, Kafkaesque masterpiece and explores what makes it great. But why was it cannibalised

The Irish Times

The Icarian Community Nauvoo | Paul M. Angle

Re-admitted to France, Cabet made plans to move his ideal so­ciety from the printed page to reality. In December 1847, he an­nounced that Ic

fee.org|Paul M. Angle

An overview of the 1798 Irish rebellion

Interviews

“We betray ourselves in the act of opening up to somebody and believing so much,” Hozier says, passing a hand across his face. He looks weary, all of a sudden, voice cracking a little. “Our eyes betray us, our hearts betray us, our minds betray us. And that’s the ‘Nth’ reference: we open ourselves up to something, only to betray ourselves…”

Hell, at Least According to Hozier, Never Sounded Sweeter

On the eve of his return to the spotlight, the Irish crooner mulls over Ovid, 'Inferno,' and his status as the internet’s forest king.

Vanity Fair|Condé Nast

Hozier: ‘I think everyone goes through their version of hell’

The Irish artist is releasing his long-awaited third record ‘Unreal Unearth’, which was inspired by Dante’s Inferno. He speaks to Roisin O’C

The Independent

“There’s a subtle element and I wanted to be light and playful with it. The album can be taken as a collection of songs, but also as a little bit of a journey. It starts with a descent and I’ve arranged the songs according to their themes into nine circles, just playfully reflecting Dante’s nine circles and then an ascent at the end”

the album reflects upon two of the nine circles of hell: gluttony and heresy.

“There’s some moments that are a bit more old school and stuff that’s Nineties grunge sounding too. For other moments we were leaning into playing with a lot of synthesisers. But we’ve arranged the album into circles and the EP just represents two of those – those soul moments within it.” - Rolling Stone Interview

Divine Comedy explainers

Dante's 9 Circles of Hell: A Guide to the Structure of 'Inferno'

Here's a structural overview for the nine circles of hell in Book 1 (Inferno) of Dante Alighier's Divine Comedy.

ThoughtCo

Full Glossary for The Divine Comedy: Inferno

Absalom Bible. David's favorite son; killed after rebelling against his father: 2 Samuel 18.Acheron the River of Sorrow.Achilles Greek Mytho

cliffsnotes.com

Dante Alighieri: Mythology in the Divine Comedy

Mythology in the Divine Comedy  Throughout Dante’s work “The Divine Comedy”, the author uses Greek and Roman mythology to elevate and to pro

ITAL3550SLU - Medieval & Renaissance Italian Literature

Reviews

Hozier - 'Unreal Unearth' review: Epic, expansive and ethereal

On his third album, the Irish sing-songwriter utilizes simplicity and space while venturing into new sonic territory — Read the NME review

NME|Aliya Chaudhry

Hozier: Unreal Unearth album review — solitude, spirituality and a touch of Dante | Financial Times

The singer’s roar is as impressive as ever but he also deploys other vocal styles to fine effect in his third album

ft.com

On Unreal Unearth, Hozier Makes His Boldest Work Yet

On Unreal Unearth, Hozier works through biblical source material and Dante's Inferno to make sense of isolation and human sorrow.

Paste Magazine

Hozier – ‘Unreal Unearth’ album review: A beautiful, angst-filled journey through the nine circles of hell

'Unreal Unearth' dives into the concept of Dante's Inferno.

Far Out Magazine

Unreal Unearth review | Hozier merges pop with profound prose

From the haunting echoes of Irish folklore to the pulsating beats of indie pop, this is Hozier at his artistic peak. Read our Unreal Unearth

whynow

Album: Hozier - Unreal, Unearth

Only a few artists can be said to have exploded on to the scene like Hozier. The solo, Irish musician – full name Andrew John Hozier-Byrne –

theartsdesk.com

[pablitogavii]

Hii, could you maybe write a sub gavi smut like he‘s all whiney while edging him and he‘s begging you to let him cum, but you don’t give in so easy

Swap Roles

"Seriously? She literally licked your face!" you were angry about the incident that happened at the bar Pablo went with his teammates one night after a win where a fangirl asked for a picture but started licking his face in the middle of it.

"Amor, tranquí. It's not a big deal. I didn't expect her to do that but it was funny afterwards nothing else.." Pablo said nonchalantly while eating some cereal the next morning.

"Funny? Right! So if I go lick some guy at the bar that would be funny??" you say with your hands on your hips and he had a nerve to smirk taking his last bite before walking up to you cockily.

"Amor, if you want to lick something..I might be able to help with that" he teased but you were in no mood for this still quite pissed off that he wasn't taking this seriously.

"Fuck you Gavira!" you only used his last name when he seriously fucked up but he was still messing around winking at you and acting like this was all one big joke.

"I'm a little tired now..but I could never say 'no' to you nena" he was about to pull you closer but you stomped your feet as you walked away into your shared bedroom and slammed the door behind you.

You made plans with Francesca and Aurora to go out tonight and swap roles a little to teach Gavi a lesson. You would never of course do anything close to cheating on him (you loved him so much) but you wanted to make him feel worried so he sees it's not a joke.

You finished getting ready around ten getting out of the bedroom to look for your heels when Pablo caught the sight of you in a black mini dress pausing his game immediately.

"Amor, are you going somewhere?" he asks while furrowing his eyebrows considering that you spend a whole day not talking to him inside the bedroom.

"I'm going out with friends tonight" you said coldly while he jumped off the bed to walk up to you and observe your quite mouth watering little outfit.

"You look beautiful, nena" he says and you mentally cursed him for being so adorable making it impossible to be angry with him but you remained cool.

"Thank you. I won't be back until late so don't wait for me" you add sparking his curiosity a little and that certainly the plan knowing that although eh was playing it cool in front of you, his possessive nature was driving him crazy right now.

"What do you say when some hijo de puta tries to touch what's mine?Hm?" Pablo asked with a smirk and unlike all other times, tonight you were not going to give him the satisfaction..after all you were still mad at him!

"I'm running late, Pablo. I really have to go now!" you grab your bag and quickly peck his lips without answering leaving the apartment before he could protest.

Pablo was agonizing over where you were all night, unable to focus on his game any longer calling Pedri to talk it through.

"You told her tranquí and offered sex as an apology? Ai Pablito! " Pedri was explaining to Gavi why you were mad like a teacher explaining math to toddlers.

"But you were there and it was really nothing Pepi, like I don't care about some random girl when I have the best girl waiting for me at home" Pablo said and Pedri reminded him that's all he was supposed to say to you instead.

"Mierda! What now? I can't sleep knowing she is out there alone... I have to go!" he hung up before Pedri told him that was probably a bad idea but decided to let him do what he wanted knowing how stubborn his best friend can get at times.

"Pablo is asking where I am. Should I answer?" you ask looking at Aurora who was mad at his younger brother for the way he acted as much as you but reminding you how much Pablo worries underneath all that cockiness.

She was right. He was probably worried sick since I never go anywhere without telling him in case of an emergency. It was our way of caring for one another. You shared your location with him.

Pablo entered the club looking quite disheveled not really changing form his sweatpants and an old Barça t-shirt from earlier. His heart clenched and his fists tightened when he finally spotted you sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand talking to some guy who was desperately trying to make you laugh.

"We're leaving!" Pablo appeared and you were quite shocked almost chocking on your drink.

"Pablo Gavi. I'm a big Barça fan." the guy said reaching his hand out and you wished he knew how wrong that was in that moment.

"Yeah and that's why you are flirting with my girl, right! " Pablo turned towards the man and you saw that if you didn't stop this it would escalate quick.

"Amor!" you used the nickname in hopes of calming him down and thankfully it worked as he turned right back towards you still clenching his jaw in anger while you held his flexed bicep. God! He was so hot when he was angry!

"We're going home.." he repeated calmly this time although you knew he was quite pissed off which part of you wanted all along.

You sensed that if you refused his anger will definitely cause a problem neither of you needed right now. After all, your angry bird wasn't known for managing his impulses well.

"Alright, bye Ethan" you said getting up and taking Pablo's hand as he purposefully snaked his arms around your waist so that his hand lingered on your ass for the him to see. If you didn't know he was angry, you would have smirked at his little action.

"Bye Y/N. Nice to meet you!" Ethan said as you were walking towards the exit door.

The car ride was dead silent as Pablo was gripping his steering wheel (let's pretend our baby can drive hehe) and you remembered that you didn't tell Francesca and Aurora you left.

"I should probably tell Fran and Rory that I left.." you said out loud and Pablo turned to look at you for a quick second before looking back at the road.

"You were there with my sister and Pedri's girlfriend?" he asked mentally cursing Pedri for not telling him that while feeling relief that you didn't go there to meet with that skinny douchebag.

"Of course I was! What did you think?" you said happy that he was at least talking so that you don't have to endure an uncomfortable silence.

"So how did you meet Ethan then?" Pablo asked bitterly and you rolled your eyes knowing that this was a perfect chance to turn the tables on him.

"Amor, tranquí. It's not a big deal. I didn't expect to meet him, he just sat next to me at the bar." you said while looking at your phone trying your best to act disinterested same way he did this morning.

"And then offered to buy you a drink right?" Pablo said through gritted teeth and you just shrugged seeing the same frustration you had this morning radiating off him.

"Mhm.." was all you said and Pablo was starting to loose his cool as you finally arrived to your shared apartment. You went straight into the bedroom taking off your heels and looking for you pajamas in the closet.

When you changed, you saw Pablo pacing inside you shared bedroom clearly still very much pissed off.

"Amor, tranquí" you used the same phrase again and that tipped him off.

"Stop saying that! How would you feel if I..." but he couldn't finish that sentence since you interrupted getting angry yourself.

"Had your face licked by some random bar girl? And then tell me that it was funny!?" you reminded him and he just stared quietly with his face getting red as you got really close to him.

"I didn't let him buy me a drink...I just wanted you to see how it feels when the roles are swapped…not funny right?” you say and his eyes widen as relief made him calm once more.

"I'm sorry.." Pablo said with pouting face and you smiled moving closer and hugging him before kissing his neck playfully making him relax under your touch while snaking his arms protectively around your waist trying to take off your pajamas but you stop him.

"Not so fast...I'm still really mad at you" you smirk pushing him on the bed before getting on top of him and he smirks letting you do what you please.

It was a rare occurrence that you were the one in control because Pablo is very dominant in bed but it pleased you that he was letting you do as you wished tonight.

You took off his shirt quickly before kissing down his chest to his infamous v-line starting to tease him through his sweatpants still not letting him take them off.

"Amor..stop teasing me!" he said but you just smirk reminding him that he needs to make up for being wrong so he just groans letting you proceed with your ministrations.

You finally took off his sweatpants and boxers touching the prominent vein on his cock while licking your lips looking up at his hungry eyes.

"I just wonder how badly she wished to lick your cock instead of your face..." you say with a smirk stopping your movements and he looks down at you in complete shock.

"W..what?" he whimpered a little his cock already leaking precum begging to be sucked.

"That bitch from the bar...how badly she wanted to get her tongue on your cock..but this is only mine!" you say finally licking his shaft from base all the way to the top making him throw his head back in pleasure.

"Fuck! Yes it is princesa!" Pablo said through shaky voice enjoying you actions.

You kept pulling away when he wanted to go deeper massaging his balls in agonizing circles knowing that always drives him mad.

"F..fuck..l..let me cum" Pablo groaned as you started to suck him off making him grab your hair in a ponytail and guide you where he wanted. You hollowed your cheeks and the moment you felt him twitching in your mouth you pulled away whipping your lips and smirking at his defeated expression.

"You've been bad.." Pablo's dominant voice was back and you smiled as he immediately flipped you over and teared off your pajamas in one swift motion..you knew denying him orgasm would awaken the angry beast you craved so bad.

He entered you in one swift motion starting to roughly pound making you scream his name on top of your lungs scratching his back and chasing your own orgasm.

"I don't give a shit about any other girl! No other girl would ever drive me crazy like you do princesa! I love you! F..fuck..I feel you..cum with me!" he said and you both reached your highs laying down next to each other sweaty and completely out of breath.

"I think it's clear that we are perfect for each other princesa.." Pablo said through a smile turning to the side to look at your sweaty face before pulling you closer and capturing your lips into a passionate kiss.

"From now on, I'm the only one allowed to lick you!" you said after the kiss and you both chuckled cuddling closer to one another before falling asleep in each other's arms.

[hella1975]

HELLA HOW DID YOU LIKE UNREAL UNEARTH?? FAVORITES??

finally finally FINALLY listening to this album im literally sat here laptop open finger on the play button genius page up ready to just spew out any thought i have in real time. let's go!

de selby pt1 - i forgot how much i fucking love hozier's lyricism. he just gets it. he's a master at his craft it's truly an honour to exist in the same time as him. this song is so calm but in a haunting way, like the stillness of fog on a lake in the morning. your reflection cant offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself. okay!!! OMG THE IRISH!! absolutely adore how vocal hozier is about his culture and even just how much his accent comes through on this album compared to earlier tracks. also love how the intensity builds in this part of the song this whole thing is stunning

de selby pt2 - THE WAY IT SLIDES RIGHT INTO PART 2! LOVE LOVE LOVE! very different vibe but it works. i love how there's always so many layers to hozier songs. like de selby alone has the actual song meaning AND the references to the third policeman AND its relevance to the circles of hell that we keep throughout the album. as far as media consumption goes hozier has never once failed to deliver an entire banquet. also love the whole 'becoming each other' of it all with de selby. ouroboros love. hannah have u seen this

first time - this feels like he's singing in a pub somewhere u love to see it. the liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same! unearth without a name! some part of me must have died the first time you called me baby! this is v classic hozier imo just the most gorgeous love song u ever heard. also i love the themes of light/dark he's weaving into all these songs. girls when there are themes and symbolism <333

francesca - YEAHHHHHH i could talk about this song for HOURS there's so much going on it is so far my fave of the album ID TELL THEM PUT ME BACK IN IT! insanity. if a man sang about me this way id throw up blood

i, carrion (icarian) - insane song name. hello. what the fuck. is this about icarus. did hozier himself actually write a song about icarus. one sec. OH MY GOD HE DID WHAT THE FUCKKKK. "this song has tried to imagine that he was so enamored and so breathless and so ecstatic in the moment that he felt the air rushing by him, that he never knew he died" THEY HIT THE FUCKING PENTAGON. beautiful gorgeous im inconsolable cheers for that

eat your young - LETS GOOOOOO. cuntism off the charts. i listen to this at least once a day

damage gets done - circle of greed time! 'we had nowhere to go and every desire for going there' 'being blamed for a world we had no power in' god :')) the HARMONIES!!!! this is exactlyyy what being young is like good and bad. this is such a car song

who we are - I JUST HELD IT TIGHT SO SOMEONE WITH YOUR EYES MIGHT COME IN TIME TO HOLD ME LIKE WATER OR CHRIST HOLD ME LIKE A KNIFE WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK NO ONE FUCKING TALK TO ME. the uncertainty of growing up that he tackles in this, finding purpose, grappling with the fact there isn't always one. the last verse going soft and gentle. what was the NEED for this

son of nyx - another mythology reference! im crawling up the wall. ohhh it's instrumental! just looked at the meaning behind this and wow. this is beautiful

all things end - ADORE this song and the message of it. literally if there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact they didn't do it right!!!!!! and all things end!! and we begin again!!!! i just know zukka nation is going to go crazy with the parenthesis titles after this one

to someone from a warm climate - this is such a cool idea for a love song. like being from somewhere cold so you know how to stay warm, and saying to someone from a warm climate that it's okay if they don't know those things because you'll do it for them. the domestic, casual affection of that. it's not a bold declaration it's just confirmation that i'll keep the bed warm for you. that's all there is. that's all there needs to be

butchered tongue - ive already read some stuff about this one and ive been really itching to listen to it. the way he alternates between singing about the violence of the english against the irish (particularly the wexford rebellion) and the loss of culture there to how it relates to violence and loss of culture experienced by natives of countries on the complete other side of the world, how he's able to identify with that while still acknowledging that his language at least has a written history that can be recovered, while many native cultures dont even have that. there's no translator left to sound a butchered tongue still singing here above the ground. this whole thing is just. haunting and the fact such a big singer like hozier is taking so much time and care to talk about and spread awareness about ireland is very very cool to see

anything but - VIBE CHANGE! THIS MAKES ME WANT TO DANCE OMG! more water themes too omg i love this 'if i had his job you'd live forever' DAMN 😭 me personally i wouldnt have that. also the repetition of all the things he wants to be sooo true that's the human condition baby!

abstract (psychopomp) - ive been thinking about making a post for TIME about like. the desensitisation to death that you get from growing up in a rural area so listening to this is sooooo. like yeah. you remember the first animal you saw die don't you. you know the smell. the look in its eyes. see how it shines. see how it shines. this is an insane thing to write a song about. and to tie it to love? humanity? and the ongoing undercurrent of the circles of hell? CRAZYYYYY. this song is religious. to me. it's also very coldplay sounding actually? which is only ever a good thing

unknown/nth - HELLOOOOOO YOU KNOW THE DISTANCE NEVER MADE A DIFFERENCE TO ME!!!!!!! DO YOU KNOW I COULD BREAK BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF THE GOODNESS LOVE I STILL CARRY FOR YOU???? THAT ID WALK SO FAR JUST TO TAKE THE INJURY OF FINALLY KNOWING YOU?????? lyrics of all time. caving my own skull. top 3 songs on the album

first light - light themes again!!! dante surfacing from hell!!! the end of a journey quite literally!!! he can't keep getting away with this!! i love how... heavy? this gets in places. like it's got all the instruments and backing vocals all going at once with his voice overarching everything it's amazing. this is a perfect end song <3

[girllookingoutwindow]

Do you guys think the Bridgerton women would have kept their last names after marrying?

Back then, it wasn't legalized or common for women to keep their maiden name after marrying, but what if in the Bridgerton universe that women were allowed to?

Eloise would definitely keep her maiden name. That I know for a fact. Kate would have probably decided to hyphenate. She'd either be Kate Sharma-Bridgerton or Kate Bridgerton-Sharma. Daphne wouldn't have kept her maiden name. Violet wouldn't have either. Lady Danbury would have definitely kept her maiden name. Penelope wouldn't have kept her maiden name for obvious reasons. Edwina would have changed her name to Bridgerton as soon as she was married. Francesca wouldn't have kept her maiden name. I am not entirely sure about Hyacinth, but I would like to believe she would have either hyphenated or just took her husband's name.

Hi, that it's a very interesting question. Maybe the people in the fandom who knows more about history accuracy can help about this topic. But I agree. I love the idea of having both names for the majority of them. I agree that Penelope would choose to change it, but not because she doesn't love her family. Just because she wanted to be a Bridgerton for always. She loves what the name represents: love.

so, I think it would depend of how they feel about it and what they want for their life's. Ia agree with your choices. I don't know abou Lady Danbury, I think she associates the name with power. But I'm not sure.

[busyheaded]

we still have time [3/?]

summary: John dies on a quiet Tuesday, unmarried and childless. Michaela can't fathom allowing everything she knows and loves to pass to a distant heir, so in one last effort to keep hold of her life, as well as the estate, Michaela decides to take a detour through John's wardrobe before heading into Mayfair as the Earl himself, hoping that one eligible, but not so marriage-minded lady takes an interest in her unusual offer.

or, Francesca falls in love with Michaela, she just doesn't realize it yet.

excerpt:

It is then that Francesca takes a real look at John. In the daylight, uninhibited, with no need to hide her intentions. He sets his features into an easy smile, and allows her to do so. 

He has a soft sort of face, she thinks. Softer than any of the men she has seen her mother pushing her towards. He must shave relentlessly because there isn’t even a hint of stubble on his jaw. His mouth looks sweeter than she knew a man’s could be, and his eyes carry a fondness so deep it makes her nervous. But as she studies him again, it strikes her that he is really quite handsome.

Of course, she knew he was handsome the moment she met him. But it clicks inside her now that he is handsome. The difference is that the former is simply an objective idea, and the latter is Francesca’s personal opinion. 

She knows now, for sure, that she has never in her life personally considered a man to be handsome before. Before, during one of those nights in which Daphne told her all the things their mother would be absolutely scandalized to know about, Francesca wondered if maybe she just didn’t understand the name of the feeling Daphne was describing. Perhaps she did feel it, she just didn’t realize it. 

Or so she thought. Or so she tried to make herself believe. But she knows that that cannot be true because what she is feeling now is something beyond words. She is equal parts surprised as well as relieved that it is even possible for her. And with a respectable man like an Earl, no less. But something still feels… different?

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[happy-beeeps]

Right Where You Left Me

WC: 5.5k

Pairing: Echo x f!reader

Summary: After Echo was presumed dead, you started a new life on Tatooine, but what happens when he comes back?

A/N: This is a two-fer! @starboytech and I did the roll for clone that @ghostofskywalker created a while back, and I was able to combine it with a prompt for @clonexreaderbingo! My roll for clone prompts included Echo, exes, fluff, and a playlist! So enjoy this fic that got away from me, I will be writing another part or so, and enjoy the playlist below! Also this playlist is for like this fic vibes and I prommy its fluffy but the general synopsis is slightly angst so sorry for all the sad songs!!!!!

You Missed My Heart- Phoebe Bridgers

Cornelia Street- Taylor Swift

Come Back, Be Here-Taylor Swift

Chicago-Louis Tomlinson

Right Where You Left Me-Taylor Swift

Fine Line-Harry Styles

Francesca-Hozier

The Night We Met-Lord Huron

You really had no idea what brought you to this godforsaken dust pile. Well, technically it was a collective bantha shitload of grief and a well placed advertisement promising a new life and a new career. What the advertisement promised was the aforementioned new life and career, somewhere exotic where no one knew your name. What the advertisement didn’t disclose until you were on the landing platform of the Mos Eisley spaceport with your bags in hand was what an absolute wasteland Tatooine really was. In reality, you could’ve coughed up the cash and went home to Coruscant, or even to your birth system, but what was there to go back to? Echo, your love and light and bright spot in every way, was gone, he’d been gone since the Citadel and there was no chance he was coming back. You couldn’t keep dragging his brothers down when they came to visit you, or moping around your friends’ wine nights. Besides, your credits went far here and you were out of the way enough to escape the general turmoil of the war–and the foundation of the Empire.

The work came easy, and you settled into a stable routine. The cantina paid fine, and you were able to afford a small house in one of the lesser crime ridden areas of the town. Serving drinks was simple and mind numbing, and you found it easy to bat your eyelashes and flirt your way into extra tips. Every so often a rogue bounty hunter or homesteader tried to take you out, and once or twice you even obliged. The last man you agreed to go out with, a quiet moisture farmer named Timo, became one of your closest friends on the system when you explained you just didn’t have it in you. You hated pulling the “dead boyfriend” card, you had built your character here on being strong and dependable, so just settled with calling him your ex. And so he remained your ex Echo, allowing you only the quiet moments of the night to truly mourn him.

What you hadn’t counted on, exactly, was how hard it was to stay dead.

*

Timo was hunched over the bar, sipping some new ale your boss had smuggled in recently when his eyes pointed over to the group of men sitting down nearby. “New bounty hunters?”

You eyed them suspiciously, four men, two with their backs to you. Of the two who faced you, one had the familiar face and stature of a clone trooper, altered only by his shaggy hair and face tattoo, and the other appeared to be his brother, though you hadn’t recalled ever seeing a clone of that size and stature before. You’d seen a trooper or two around here before, but seeing a full squad was surprising. The other two men appeared buried in their work, and your heart ached at the sight of cybernetics on one of the men’s bodies. You looked a little further and your mouth dropped open, eyes shooting back to Timo. “Did they bring a fucking child in here?”

Timo looked over before bringing a hand up to his mouth, stifling a laugh. “I mean, when in Mos Eisley I guess?”

You made to move over there, you rarely got involved in customer’s business, frankly you were convinced that's how you’d survived this long, but a child in the bar was evidently your line. You leaned closer to yell at them when an all too familiar voice broke through the air.

“Right, ‘cuz Cyd’s never given us a reason to distrust her before.”

You knew it was crazy, he was dead and there were quite literally a million other people with that voice, but it was so him. His cadence, his tone, it was all so surreal it had you dropping the glass you were carrying onto the floor, and you dropped to follow it before the troopers turned to look at you. Timo glanced down worriedly at you, and you looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open. A memory, one forced down in a feat fueled by both pain and survival, fizzled into your brain.

You were both tangled in your bed, your hands dancing around the tufts of black curls you had your fingers threaded through as Echo murmured sweet nothings into your neck.

“Why do you have to leave, why can’t we just run away to Scarif or something?” you murmured, bringing a hand down to cradle his cheek. He leaned to press his lips against your palm.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know, I’d never really ask you to. You know I’m always here waiting for you.”

He’d smirked, pushing himself off of your chest and placing both strong arms on either side of your head. “You’ve never given me a reason to distrust you before.”

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been down there, or how frozen you must’ve been, because Timo was suddenly disappearing from behind the counter and approaching the troopers. You heard his voice murmur something, and more voices responded, before he dashed back to where you crouched behind the bar. “I got help, these two guys are soldiers or something, they said they can check if you’re hurt-”

“Timo…” you groaned, but your voice was pulled back out of your throat when you looked up into Echo’s wide eyes, filled with a heartbreaking combination of fear, shock, and complete adoration.

“Echo?” you asked, voice barely traveling past a whisper, and his eyes widened again in realization that it really was you. Your name came across his lips so soft it was like a prayer, and his arm reached down over the bar to help you up. You grabbed his hand, still not sure if he was even real, how this was even happening. You glanced at your friend who was staring between the two of you with a concerned curiosity, and to the other goggles wearing trooper who seemed to be making the same expression. “Timo, this is Echo.”

“Ahh, the ex. Nice to meet ya’!” Timo extended his hand to Echo and he shot a look at you.

“The ex?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair and shooting a glare at Echo, “I hardly think that is our biggest issue right now.”

“No, it certainly is not,” goggles trooper stated, looking at the datapad in his hands, “it appears Echo is on the brink of a heart attack.”

“Great, that makes two of us.”

*

It was a short and relatively silent walk to your apartment. Timo had told your manager you had fainted and, given your spotless record, he agreed to give you the rest of the day off. Echo and his squad, and their child soldier, followed you to your house, where you promised they’d be safe and he promised he would talk. It was hard not to stare at him as you walked side by side. He was your Echo, but so much had changed. He was pale and still slightly gaunt, as if the mental scars would never feel. His legs looked to be cybernetic below the mid thigh, and one arm had been replaced by more circuitry and ended in a heavy looking scomp link, not to mention the ports and wiring that wrapped around his head. Above all, he just looked sad. You unconsciously ran a hand through your hair. You didn’t feel much different. 

The walk ended shortly and you approached the house. Echo turned to face his brothers when you started unlocking the door. “Guys, it’s fine we can trust her, she’s my ex.” He had huffed as the group of you walked inside. 

“Well technically I’m your widow but that seems to be a little redundant now doesn’t it?” You nearly chucked your keys onto the small table near the door, and the child soldier, whose name you learned was Omega, burst in infront of them.

“Look at this place! It’s like a real home!” She yelped, and your heart softened at the way he smiled down at her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Maybe this was why Echo hadn’t called, hadn’t reached for you. He had a family now, and it was becoming strikingly clear that it did not include you. You let them all filter into your home, and pointed out the features around you. It wasn’t huge by any means, but it was a good enough space. You had a small living space with a few sofas and chairs you had collected from neighbors and a well-to-do art dealer you’d met at the bar. There was a kitchenette attached, and you had two bedrooms, though one was doing little else other than collect space. You weren’t entirely sure why you had elected to pick the home with two bedrooms, some gnawing hope in your gut that maybe one day you really would have a family. 

“You all can stay as long as you want. I’ve got a spare bedroom, and there’s space to sleep here,” you gestured to the couches around you, “how long will you be on system?”

Echo chimed in, “Three rotations, but we can stay on the ship, really it’s not an issue-”

“Come on Echo, don't be such a downer!” Wrecker is the first to respond, quickly sprawling out on, and dwarfing, the couch closest to the door. “This is the softest couch I’ve ever felt.” His words are enough to spur the interest of Omega and Tech, who both settled on the couch opposite Wrecker. Hunter stayed standing, shooting an apologetic look to his brother. “If it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Not at all, I’d appreciate the company.” You hustle over to the kitchen, pulling out various takeout containers and inspecting each one, placing them on the small counter. “There’s a bunch of leftovers here, don’t know what you’re hungry for but help yourself.” You grab a bottle of wine and a small food container and move closer to Echo, voice dropping to a murmur. “I think you and I ought to have a moment alone.”

He follows you immediately, without even throwing a glance over his shoulder.

The thing you loved about this house was the outdoor space. It wasn’t exactly orthodox, but if you crawled through the window you were able to sit out on the small ledge that gave your back entryway some shadow. It was small and private, due to the small courtyard your house backed up against, and you often left a small candle and a blanket out there to rest after a long day. Now it provided the perfect backdrop to sit with Echo, the chatter inside the house fading to a mumble as you both settled. He was so radiant, even now, eyes looking up at the crimson colored sky. It took everything in you not to reach for his hand right then and there, even though you desperately wanted to. The quiet is deafening, Echo will hardly look at you, and your body is screaming for him, to touch him and make sure he’s still real. This doesn’t feel real, the whole experience. You both quietly sip from your glasses, until one glass turns to two.

It was you who broke the silence first.

"I mourned you, you know." You say, biting with more venom than you intended.

"I'm sorry I hurt you-"

"I was stuck there, stuck in the spot you left me. I couldn't study, couldn't eat. Echo, I missed you."

He has nothing he can say, and you see your words hit their mark. He's hurt you, and he knows it. You sit in the silence for a beat longer and continue.

“I know why you didn’t call me.”

“So you understand?”

“She’s a remarkable little girl, Echo. I don’t know how she came to you, but, I understand. You’ve got a family now.”

“What? Cyare, no-”

“No, I don’t want you to apologize.” You did betray yourself then, placing a hand atop his, “I just want you to know that she seems like she’s worth it.”

“I didn’t call you because you deserve something better.” His voice comes out fast, bitter. He pulls his hand back so fast you gasp at the lack of warmth, even though you haven’t been cold in what feels like millenia since you got to Tatooine. “The day that Rex came to you, I should’ve died. I, I think it would’ve been better.”

Your heart nearly shatters at the admission, and you move closer to him. He doesn’t resist when you put a hand on his cheek, your breath shaking. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“I’m a mess mesh’la. I’m not even whole, I couldn’t see you, couldn’t face you. And my brothers,” his head dips towards the house, “They get me, you know? And we’ve been on the run, honestly, I just figured you’d have found someone else by now.”

You shake your head fast, your tears finally slipping as you watch something, hope perhaps, slip back into Echo’s eyes at your admission. “There’s never been anyone else, there can’t ever be.” You bring your forehead to his, and he closes the gap to press his against yours. “You’re always you, Echo.” You pull backwards, resting on your folded legs. “You’ve got a hand to hold, a face to kiss, your heart to love,” you put a hand on his chest at the admission, and you don’t miss his eyes going glassy, the way he gnaws on his lower lip. “Did you think I wouldn’t love you anymore? That I’m that superficial?”

“It’s not that, you need someone better, someone who can make you happy. What about that guy at the bar, Timmy, Tibo…”

“I don’t want Timo,” you don’t care how pouty you sound now, your face scrunching up, “I want you.”

“You shouldn’t.” It’s an admission that betrays his heart, and his voice cracks as he says it. All you can do is stand and reach for him. He accepts your hand in silence as you hoist him up, long having forgotten about the wine, as you lead him back into your room.

“Sit.” You push his shoulders so he’s seated on your bed, and you walk out of the room. The suns have dipped below the horizon during your conversation, and you want to make sure everyone is settled for the night. Wrecker is fast asleep on the couch, mouth open as he snores with Omega curled into his side. Tech and Hunter are hunched over your kitchen table, though Hunter stands quickly before you get in the room. “I’m locking up for the night, you’re all ok to rest.” You turn to walk away before a voice cuts you off.

“He talked about you. A lot.”

You whip your head around to face Hunter, who is slowly trying to scoop a sleeping Omega into his arms and carry her to the small spare bedroom. He and Tech will figure out who gets the floor or the spare couch. The unspoken implication does not miss you. 

“He used to say he had this girl on Coruscant, that she was so smart but so crazy. That you and his brother would steal drinks from Cody’s boys on nights out.”

You laugh at the memory as the two of you walk down the short hall, but there’s a pang of finality in your gut. Echo would never have left Fives alone.

“He said you were a student,”

“Was.” You smile, and unlock the spare door as Hunter sets Omega down. “Hard to grieve and focus, you know?”

He gives you a knowing smile and a grateful pat on the shoulder before turning back towards the living room, leaving you to go into your bedroom alone.

Echo is sitting on your bed where you’ve left him, but there’s a few things moved from where you’ve left them. An old necklace he got for you on a mission has been pulled from your jewelry box, the perfume you used to wear is on your nightstand. He’s currently pouring over your datapad, and when you sit next to him you see he’s looking at the photogallery.

“Do you remember this?” You ask, pointing to the one he’s currently looking at. You’re both clearly drunk and walking around one of the fairs Coruscant would host in the square. Echo has one arm wrapped in your hair and another dropping low down the skirt of your dress, and you’re both beaming like lovesick children.

“I think about it nearly every day.” He swipes to the next one, he’s at a gala for your university, his ARC trooper armor looking freshly scrubbed while you accept an award. The next, you’re both laying in civvies, watching a flick on the holonet together.

“I am not going to beg for a spot in your life. You have to know you deserve me.” You move the datapad off of his lap and stand up, wedging your body between his knees. “But I am yours, body and soul. I’ve lost you once, but I can’t do it again.” You press a kiss to his forehead, thumbs sweetly caressing the side of his face before you turn to the small chest of drawers in your room. You rifle through them quickly before finding your prize, and hand him the bundles of fabric.

“Are these my blacks?”

“Now they’re my pajamas,” you smile, pulling your dress off over your head and pretending to ignore the way his eyes rake over your body before pulling on a thin shirt, “figured I could share. Let’s go to bed.”

*

You wake up to the movement in your bed when Echo rises, and you let yourself bask in the bliss of the reality you’ve created. Watching through curtained lashes, you watch as he stretches his arms up high overhead, muscles straining taught against his back. You want to reach out and pull him back to bed, want to press yourself against his body, but you don’t. He moves quietly as he clicks his armor together, a task you used to do easily and with the training of a well practiced soldier. You slept together last night, but you didn’t sleep together. You still aren’t sure where you stand, and your chrono is ticking internally. He’s only here for two more days.

“Good morning,” he murmurs when he catches you starring, and you smile back at him, a real and raw one.

“Mornin’” sleep is still dripping from your voice while you stand and make your way to the kitchen as Echo follows. The rest of the squad is idling in the kitchen, having figured out your caf pot. You offer them a small wave and don’t miss the way Tech’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead at the two of you.

“We’ve got a busy day today, Cid has evidently presented us with a number of small jobs here and in Mos Espa. I’ve charted a day that puts us at the most efficient, while also avoiding the most direct sunlight.”

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter claps his brother on the shoulder before moving over to you. “Do you think you could keep an eye on Omega? I hate to bring her on missions if I don’t have to.”

The pit in your stomach grows, “Is it dangerous?”

“Nah,” it’s Echo’s turn now, and you notice the smile at your worry. “Hunter’s right though, just better to be safe than sorry.”

You shrug, “sure! Just got some errands to run. I’ll let her sleep in as much as I can.”

Hunter gives you a grateful shoulder squeeze and you send the squad your wishes. You reach for Echo’s hand as your fingers dance around one another. “Come back please.”

“Of course.” 

Omega doesn’t rise for a while, which gives you time to warm up some bread and jams and run to the market near your house for a jug of blue milk. You suspect the girl hasn’t had a real home cooked meal in her life, and you’re eager to provide the experience for her. Something pulls hard in your gut, the domesticity of the actions, caring for this little girl and waking up with Echo, that makes you want to cry. This is, essentially, everything you’ve dreamt of for so long, but maker at what cost. You know Echo is hurting, it’s written clear across his face whenever he looks at you, and you can’t imagine the extent of what he’s suffered. You want this, you want him and you want this little life, but the cost it required makes you feel sick.

Omega wakes up not long after breakfast is done, and she rubs her eyes as she walks into the kitchen. “Where is everyone?”

“They left for the mission, but you’re in very good hands, I promise.” You smile, leading her to the table. She beams up at you and at the food you settle onto her plate. “Have you ever had these before?”

“No, Kaminoan food is kinda weird, and we normally just eat snacks and ration bars on the ship.” She cuts into the bread cautiously, and takes her first bite. The grin that overtakes her face is contagious, and she whips her head to you. “This is amazing!”

You come up and ruffle her hair, “I’ll make it for you whenever you like.”

“Thank you.” Her words are so kind, so genuine, that it sends a pang to your chest.

“How long have you been with the batch?”

“I dunno, it’s hard to say. I don’t like counting, I feel like it’ll jinx it.” She shrugs, “but definitely a while. They rescued me. We’re a family now.”

“You certainly are.”

She continues to pick at the food while you go into your quarters to get ready, pulling on clothes and tying your hair back. Mos Eisley isn’t exactly the ideal place for children, but you suspect she’s seen worse. Besides, you’ve got credits burning a hole in your pocket and an insatiable desire to mother this child. You come back out to her cleaning her dish and smile, “How do you feel about a day on the town?”

“Really! We don’t have to just stay here?”

“Something tells me you can handle yourself.”

She beams at being recognized, “You bet! Let me get my bow.”

The market is full of life as usual, and Omega is happily bouncing between stalls, picking up anything and everything that isn’t nailed down. You’re happy to oblige her, and you've got a bag full of dolls, snacks, a shawl, and some drawing supplies. She’s walking a few paces ahead of you, blonde hair bobbing in the sun, and she frequently turns around to make sure you’re close by. It’s rather endearing.

“You know, I used to know another blonde Kaminoan.”

“Is it Captain Rex?” 

You’re surprised she knows the name, and you blink a few times. “Have you met him?”

“Yeah, he came by the cantina on Ord Mantell,” she slows her pace to walk next to you, “he’s old.”

“Yeah he is,” you laugh, thinking fondly of the captain who looked out for you. “He’s an old friend too.”

“Did you know him on Coruscant?”

“I did. He was Echo’s captain in his old squad.”

“Oh yeah, I think he mentioned that. Did you meet him when you and Echo got in love?”

There’s a scuff as you stumble over your feet and you look down at her. “What do you mean by that?”

She shrugs, “I thought you guys were in love. At least, that’s what Echo says. You’re the girl from Coruscant, I saw the holopicture of you two in the hallway.”

Shoot. “I mean, we definitely were-”

“Because I heard Echo tell Hunter he loved you back on the ship not that long ago. They thought I was sleeping, but I wasn’t, and I heard him say he felt sad ‘cause he still loved you. At least, I think it was you. He said she was a student at a fancy school, and she was so smart, so it seems like you. Which is good because now we’re all together again, so Echo won’t be sad, because you love him too, and you’re together!”

“Omega…”

“Besides, I like you, and Echo is nice and gives really good hugs. And I think you’d be perfect together.”

“I wish it was that simple kid,” you lean down to ruffle her hair. “Let’s pick out something good for dinner.”

*

Cooking with Omega is fun, there’s something precious in the way she washes the leafy greens and vegetables while you chop beside her. The holo is on in the background, creating a warm hum of noise that keeps you both company. She’s chatty, eager to tell you about their adventures. You’re pleased to hear that Rex is alive and well, and that they’ve been helping rescue other clones. She talks about their ship, her room they’ve made for her. It’s so endearing, the way she talks about her family. You feel so drawn to it, to her. You want so badly to share in this with Echo. To have him here by your side. There’s a sigh that escapes your chest, of both relief and pain, and for the first since you’ve gotten him back you let yourself completely melt into the ache in your heart of missing him, of having him back. You don’t notice you’re crying until Omega comes up to your side.

“You must’ve really missed him.”

“Yeah Meg, I really did.”

“What was he like when you first met him?”

“He was so confident, but so strict with the rules.”

She scoffs endearingly, “Don’t worry, he’s still like that.”

“He was so clean cut, but so handsome. Always so worried, wanted to be so polite,” you lean down to whisper to her, “One time, when he first started staying at my apartment-”

“At least give me a chance to defend myself, come on!” Echo shouts as he enters the apartment, the rest of the batch in tow. He removes his helmet and he’s smiling, the lasting effects of a blush on his cheeks. The rest of the men follow noisly in, and are quick to remove boots and blasters at the door and start bustling around the kitchen to help finish dinner. You sidle up next to Echo as he finishes putting the meat in the small leafy cups, and the tips of your fingers ghost around his waist for just a moment. He freezes, then melts into your touch almost immediately, letting your hands hang around his midriff.

“Hi,” he murmurs, low enough that even Hunter doesn’t hear, filling Omega in on their mission.

“Was worried about you, Tatooine’s no good.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing to you.”

You look up at him with a smirk and remove your hands as you help him distribute plates to the batch. “You got any better suggestions?”

It’s so quiet you nearly miss it, and you suppose he had hoped you would, but still, it carries over to where you stand near Wrecker. “I have a few suggestions.”

It’s not until later that night that you get Echo alone again, when you slip out of the fresher and notice him perched up on your bed in his blacks. He stiffens when you enter the room, conveniently dressed in nothing more than his blacks tops, hanging loosely off your body.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want me back in here.”

You shake your head and slip into bed beside him. “You assumed correctly.”

He grins at you before setting your datapad now. You’re still so attuned to him, you notice the rigid movements in his hips and torso as he twists to set it down, and your hands are on him almost instinctively. 

“Where does it hurt?”

“It’s nothing, just chronic stuff, nothing you need to worry about.”

“Even though you tried to fire me,” you murmur as you coax him to his back and encourage him to flip on his stomach, “I’d argue it is my job to worry about.” You pull yourself up and straddle his back, perching yourself right above his hips. Your hands are quickly underneath his shirt, rubbing soothing circles along his back and shoulders, wrapping down his biceps. You pause for a moment at the spot where the prosthesis begins, and he offers a muffled sound of encouragement when you begin to rub small, gentle circles along the meeting point. Cautiously, you work your hand further south, and the sound of bliss that leaves his mouth when you find the spot where flesh meets metal in the middle of his thighs is all the encouragement you need to keep going.

“You know, the heat here helps the pain.” He tosses over his shoulder, turning his head and propping himself up on his arms to look at you. 

“Maybe you should just stay then, you know. For health reasons.”

“Oh? Would you like that?”

You say nothing, but you can see him pick up the smile, the twinkle in your eye. Instead you roll off of his back and lay down beside him, turning your head to face him. “Omega told me something funny today.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t even imagine.”

“She told me you’ve been telling stories about a girl you left on Coruscant.”

“Really? Didn’t know she’s been hearing all that. What else did she say about this girl?” Even in the low light of your darkened room you can see him starting to blush. 

“She said she was a student at a fancy school, and that you thought she was smarter than you.”

“I remember saying so smart, but, sure, she’s smarter than me.” His fingertips float along your thigh, up your body. He’s so cautious, but getting bolder by the second.

“She told me you still loved her.”

His hand freezes at its spot on your waist, moving from a light touch to a grip, as if he’s afraid this is it. This is the moment you’re gone forever.

“I think she was probably hurt at first, because she missed you and she mourned you. But she could never stay mad at you. She thinks your family is cute.” Your hand comes up to rest on his cheek, pulling him in close to you. “I think she still loves you too.”

There’s a beat where you hear him exhale, it’s shaky and soft, and his words flow quickly afterwards. “Mesh’la, I thought of you everyday. I couldn’t face you, not after what I’d been turned into, after I let you down.”

“Don’t.” Your forehead is against his now, breathing him in close, “Don’t start with that.”

And then you kiss him and it feels like coming home. Like a warm glass of bantha milk and a cookie set aside just for you, or a warm towel after a cold shower. It feels like being wrapped in a blanket of adoration, like this is all you’re meant to be doing forever. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could actually die here as his tongue grazes your bottom lip, and you absolutely blossom into the touch. You feel like the lovesick first year you were when you met Echo in the first place, when the only thing that mattered was passing exams and spending all of Echo’s shore leave tangled in your sheets. 

He pulls back too soon for your liking, though you know in reality you’ve been wrapped up in each other for maker knows how long. There’s a pitiful little whimper that breaks past your lips when he does, and it makes you blush.

“Don’t disappear like that again.” You whisper, and he pulls you into this chest and presses a long kiss to your hairline.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

*

The next morning is, of course, full of goodbyes, and the walk to their docking bay has you fighting tears. You and Echo stayed up all night wrapped up in one another, whispering confessions and plans for the future like you were both nothing more than two lovesick shinies again. You had both decided that you would stay on Tatooine, stay in your life. In turn, the batch planned on paying off their debt to Cid and set up base on Tatooine. Tech had agreed that, logistically, Tatooine made the most sense for those evading the empire, and Wrecker was happy to have the option of sleeping in an actual home. You had given Omega and the batch rations and well wishes, and you stood outside the ramp of the Marauder, hands clasped behind your back as you looked up at Echo.

“Come back soon?”

He moved to catch your lips in a kiss, and you reveled in the slight taste of caf on his mouth from the morning, “Wouldn’t dream of staying away.” He broke away a moment later and moved to stand on the ramp. You waved goodbye as it began to life and he grinned. “And stop calling me your ex!”

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Partially coloured sketch of part of an old building, with an old wooden door and low wall showing, and some red flowers on the left side of the image. The low wall has a crudely drawn block image of a wolf with a bushy tail and fangs and breathing fire. End ID]

-

Day 19: Taken for granted

The Leverage crew take for granted the story of someone who flees into the brewpub for protection, and suffer the consequences.

Ficlet below the cut, which hopefully explains the obscure art.

-

It had been a mistake, a stupid failure in their personal security, and one that Hardison would never forgive himself for if they failed to get Eliot back.

Checking out the clients, verifying their stories and their backgrounds, that was his job. He was the only one with the skills to do it.

And he did. He usually always did.

But this time, he had not.

At least not until it was too late.

He took for granted that the terrified woman who had fled into the brewpub to hide from her two pursuers was legit. Hell, there had been two suits - former marines according to some distinctive feature Eliot picked out - lurking outside the building waiting for her.

Eliot had dealt with the muscle without the least difficulty, and then they had all listened to her story.

She told the leverage crew that she had been on her way to meet with her lawyer, who was helping her take down her former boss for money laundering, when she found the two men to be following her.

She gave them a background on her boss, how she found out about the criminal activity, and how since then she had been fired, harassed and had her car broken into.

So they took her on as a client, and Eliot drove her to a safehouse while Parker and Hardison got started on the case.

They had only just finished and wrapped up their last one, they were all on the tired side, but they could hardly do nothing when this woman needed help.

Except she didn’t.

The boss existed but she had never worked for him. He ran the company she claimed to have been employed by, but neither the financial situation of the company nor the boss was good enough to imply any sort of money laundering activity. What’s more, there was no digital trail to suggest any payments from that boss or anyone or anything linked to him to imply that he had hired professional muscle.

It wasn’t definitive, but something didn’t feel right, so then, and only then, Hardison got around to looking into their client.

Her background looked believable on the surface but one layer down it fell apart.

Profiles on social media built within the last month and backdated to make them seem older, no digital trail for her existence. No bank accounts, no SSN, no credit history.

And then facial recognition said her name was not Lucy, but Mary. And Sophia. And Clarissa, Diana, Francesca…

“She’s a grifter?!” Parker looked up at the screens where Hardison had the salient information projected, “Why? What does she want?”

“Maybe she heard of us and is auditioning?” Hardison suggested, not believing that idea for a second, “Eliot, you catch that?”

Silence over the comms.

Hardison pulled up their comm feeds. Working fine, Eliot’s was still on, sending system updates and pings.

“Eliot?” Parker asked, her comm showing the sound waves.

Eliot’s remained nothing more than base level of noise.

“Where is he?”

Hardison accessed the gps, “Safe house.”

Parker frowned, “Eliot! You copy us?”

“Maybe he and Lucy or whatever her name is are…”

“No,” Parker glared at the fake IDs on the screen, “Eliot wouldn’t do that. He still gets angry with himself for taking his comms out once before.”

More than once, to Hardison’s count, but it was true, not since the incident with the music producer and Nate having no backup.

She gave those IDs one more, lingering glare, and straightened, “I’ll drive.”

For once Hardison didn’t object. If something was wrong, even just potentially wrong, they needed to get to that safehouse and to Eliot as fast as they could, which meant Parker driving Lucille..

Hardison kept his laptop open in the passenger seat, checking the gps signal and keeping up attempts to reach Eliot by phone or comms. He and laptop only slammed into the window about four or five times in fifteen minute drive, which was pretty good he thought.

Not that there was time to feel proud.

Eliot’s Challenger was in the drive out front, parked normally. Nothing odd or hurried or wrong there.

Inside the house itself things were similarly apparently fine.

Alarms correctly disabled, mechanical locks unbroken, no sign of a struggle. In fact nothing out of place other than the two cups of coffee unfinished on the kitchen counter, and beside one of them Eliot’s phone and earbud, both in tact and still switched on. Alongside them lay the necklace Eliot almost never removed.

Hardison slipped that into his pocket and picked up the phone.

“I’m gonna search the house.”

Hardison turned quickly from the counter to Parker, putting the phone back down and immediately abandoning his plans to check through it, “Not alone you’re not.”

Whoever got the jump on Eliot - something nearly impossible on its own - could still be there, not expecting them to realise the grift so quickly, or maybe waiting for them in a trap that this could very easily be.

The house was empty and undisturbed. No trap but also no Eliot.

-

Traffic cams. Find the cars that could have left that area in the window between them arriving and their last contact with Eliot. Trace each identified car through the network of cameras, run each plate, look for something that seemed to be a lead.

Parker was still driving Lucille as Hardison initiated this search.

On top of Eliot going missing, someone luring him from the brewpub meant it was burned.  Someone who had bad intentions for at least one of them now knew their base of operations.  Before they could do anything further, they needed to head back and get everything essential or sensitive and get it into Lucille.  They’d have to go on the road for a while, move to one of the safe houses, and operate from there until they had a handle on this fresh disaster.

They could do that while Hardison’s codes ran, scouring traffic cams and DVLA databases and cross-referencing with everyone - all the aliases of those people - who had ever or might ever have a grudge against Leverage.

Luckily, they did have a clear protocol for moments like this, and they had a specific plan for the brewpub, which served as a place of employment for a few dozen people as well as their base.

They dealt with the Leverage part of things - data, files, emergency funds, possessions of personal value - then told the employees to take two weeks paid leave starting when the last customers there already had gone.  After two weeks, they would evaluate the safety of keeping the pub open, or even of returning to Portland, but whatever they did, the staff would not be collateral damage.

By the time the two of them had finished these tasks and returned to Lucille, Parker starting back out in the direction of the safe house where Eliot had been lost, Hardison’s codes had produced some usable data, and even more usable intelligence.

The data, lists of car registrations and their owners, was essentially useless, until cross-referenced against aliases they knew, which picked out one belonging to their recent grifter.  Tracking that car through the cameras led to either an airfield or an industrial complex.

Hardison immediately started looking into who owned or rented property at the industrial site, and what flights had left the airfield within the window of Eliot’s disappearance.

There was a Dean Chesney who rented a warehouse in the industrial area, but obviously not the same Dean Chesney they had wrangled with since that guy had been dead some years now.  There was a supervisor elsewhere in the district whose surname was Doyle, who couldn’t be utterly discounted as a relative of the Doyle who they had conned, but even if it was the same person, luring and kidnapping the hitter was not his style.

The airfield showed one flight landing, two leaving, in the time window they had approximated.  The departures were, respectively, to Malta and Cyprus.

Hardison’s hope dwindled as he looked at the names of the people who owned the planes and their known associates, not a single one coming up as any likely enemy of them or of Eliot specifically.

But then he looked at the photo IDs.

And, now it all made horrifying, sickening sense.

“Damien Moreau?!” Parker was pacing back and forth in front of the comparatively small screen in their safehouse, “He escaped San Lorenzo and we didn’t know about it?!”

Hardison shook his head, looking from her back to his screen, “I’m contacting Eliot’s friend there now.  If he knew, he would have told Eliot.”

“And Eliot would have told us,” Parker paused for a moment, pursing her lips, then resumed the pacing, “We need to warn Nate and Sophie.  If Moreau wants revenge…”

“I’ll send an encrypted message, tell they to lay low, be cautious, but,” he looked back up, “If I tell them it’s Moreau and he’s taken Eliot…”

“They’ll want to get involved.”

They lapsed into silence, Hardison working on both the lines of contact, Parker pacing in her anxiety and frustration.

Moreau had to want revenge.  It made sense.  They had ruined him, got him locked up in some hole of a prison, and put him on the most-wanted list for some of the most powerful governments.

So, at least he probably wasn’t going to just kill Eliot…they had time to rescue him…

“What do we know about this alias?” Parker asked, appearing over his shoulder just as the messages both disappeared to their destined inboxes.

Hardison pulled up the information he had obtained but thus far only glanced briefly at, “Not much.  The digital trail only goes back about a year, but it starts, pretty much, with one very big payment into a bank based in Bermuda from a…”

He dug a bit deeper into the source of the money, a company that didn’t really exist in any proper sense, set up just to make that payment, and set up by one of the very powerful billionaires who Moreau had once worked with.

Maybe he blackmailed his way out and back into a fortune.

“Looks like from someone he used to do business with,” Hardison shrugged, “He also paid a large part of it straight back out to a law firm, with another two payments over the following year.”

“So he got himself a lawyer?” Parker frowned, “A lawyer good enough to get him released from San Lorenzo under a new name and with a lovely big cheque waiting for him on the other side?”

“Maybe,” Hardison carried on searching, an activity fairly routine for him by now, “We gotta figure out where he took Eliot.”

“And how to get Eliot back.  Moreau’s security is going to be tight, even if he’s lost most of his money and influence…the flight went to Cyprus, right?”

“Yeah,” Hardison was about to continue his answer when he saw an email from General Flores, which he quickly read before related to Parker, “Flores knew nothing about Moreau’s release.  None of the government did…it was done on the whisper.  And I mean, the serious whisper…someone with a lot of money or power had to have orchestrated it…”

“And we can dig into that later,” Parker said firmly, “First we have to get Eliot back.”

Hardison couldn’t agree more, “Two tickets to Cyprus, coming right up.”

-

Cyprus.  Over twenty hours total of travelling, only about five of which allowed any sort of digital investigation into where Moreau was, what his security was like, and who had managed to get him released without anyone knowing.  They had enough information for Parker to be rotating possible plans in her mind during the flight, much of which was spent looking absently out the window at the wing of the plane, and during which neither of them slept at all.

It was impossible not to think about what Moreau would do to Eliot, and the myriad dark thoughts that crossed Hardison’s mind made him really wished he had watched fewer horror films.

The guy had earned his reputation among the criminal community.  He was ruthless and people did not cross him.  Until Leverage had, and now they were paying for it.

By the time they reached Cyprus, they had three likely locations where Eliot would have been taken, approximate security profiles for two of them, and maybe half a formed Plan A for getting their hitter back.

This had become three complete security profiles and a hierarchy of probabilities for the locations, as well as vague Plans A-S (skipping M), by the time they reached the town in Pafos where Moreau had at least one property.

It was early morning when they reached the town, the old streets nearly devoid of human life, making the slow approach towards Moreau’s property feel almost dreamlike as the small rental car moved through the pale, thin light.  They expected to see some sort of security outside the building, but as they approached closer on foot, they saw nothing.  Some lights on inside, but no people or movement other than the gentle rustling of the oleander plants scattered around the exterior.

It was quiet, peaceful, calm.

Hardison jumped, almost screamed, at the suddenly hard nudge Parker gave him.  But he managed to keep quiet, and turned, seeing where she was pointing.

On a low wall at the far side of the building from them, in thick, black paint, there was a sort of stick-figure wolf with a bushy tail and that seemed to be breathing fire. The paint had dripped in places, and in others, over the pale bricks, it seemed to have either faded or deeper into the porous rock. Not enough to obscure the image, however.

“Eliot signal?” Parker mouthed, hope blossoming in her eyes.

Hardison swallowed.

Maybe.

Moreau wouldn’t know anything about that, and it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

“Stay here,” Parker whispered into his ear, and began to make her way towards the signal, but Hardison quickly caught her arm and pointed to a camera camouflaged with the building's wall.

"Can you disable them?"

"I'm working on it..." he carried out the same procedure he had thousands of times before, assessing the cameras, working out if and how to get into them - loop the feed. Just needed to record a few seconds. Enough for Parker to get past unseen. There were five exterior cameras...except they were all showing static on his phone screen, already disabled. The same for the interior cameras.

"Someone beat us to it," Hardison looked back at Parker nervously. It had to have been Eliot, and that was a good thing, but then why did he feel so uneasy.

"I'm going," she whispered, "Stay here."

Cameras were out, but there might still be patrols, people inside, even though it was still very early and hopefully they were asleep.

Hardison watched Parker until she disappeared around the corner of the building, and he was left alone to wait in that eerily peaceful silence. He kept his phone out, watching the camera feeds and looking into what he could access of other systems inside.

The feeds never deviated from the static, and there didn't seem to be anything else with an operating system inside to attack, other than a few smartphones. But Moreau hadn't exactly been a high-tech bad guy. More of an old-school, send goons in the night to assassinate his enemies bad guy.

Hardison grimaced at that thought.

Eliot had once been one of those goons.

“Hardison!”

The hissed name over comms nearly made him jump, breaking his train of thought.

“I’ve found Eliot,” Parker whispered, “He’s unconscious and he's not waking up. His leg's shot and his feet are all messed up, and he…he looks really bad...should I taser him?”

"What?!"

"To wake him up!"

"No, Parker. Don't taser him," Hardison replied very extra care to be very clear, then added, “You see any guards anywhere?”

“No. You're clear. It's totally quiet. Just stay low and avoid the windows."

Hardison took a deep breath and followed Parker’s path along the side of the building, round the corner, and into a yard that overlooked the ocean.

The two were a lot closer than Hardison expected, in a small half-covered alcove at the back of the yard.

Eliot was sitting up, leaning back against the stone wall with Parker beside him. His left leg was bloody, a tourniquet tied not far above his knee, and the soles of his bare feet were, as Parker had said, pretty messed up. Bloody and red and bruised. His right hand, unmoving on his lap, was obviously broken, and two bands of deep bruising crossed his exposed torso, stark against his too pale skin.

Matching bruises over his arms and wrists suggested some sort of restraint strong enough to have bruised the skin. Maybe fractured the bone beneath. Maybe internal injuries…

Hardison swallowed back his nausea, burying the worst case scenarios running through his brain.

Eliot had escaped far enough to get here and to leave them a signal, so he had to be okay-ish. Nothing acutely urgent...maybe it was blood loss or dehydration or hypothermia...he did look very pale and his lips maybe a touch blue. Moreau probably hadn't been exactly generous with food or drink, so it might be something as simple as that.

“Okay,” Hardison took a slow, steadying breath as he felt Eliot's thready pulse, “Parker, go ahead and let me know if anyone’s in the windows. I’ll carry him. We get him to the car, get some supplies, and get outta here.”

She nodded and hopped to her feet, running ahead. Hardison carefully slipped his arms under Eliot and stood, gritting his teeth as his legs and back protested him standing with the added weight.

The first few metres were fine, but with all the stopping and starting while Parker checked the way was clear, Hardison’s legs and arms were burning by the time he reached the car. He didn’t have time to deal with it though. They needed to get the hell out of here.

With minimal discussion, they arranged themselves so Parker drove and Hardison sat up across the back seats, Eliot propped up against him, hopefully absorbing some of his body heat. As much as Parker driving was not the best thing for someone with severe injuries, this was the way it had to be for when they stopped at a pharmacy.

It was still too early for anything to be open, so Hardison disabled the alarm and camera remotely, while Parker broke into the first pharmacy they found with no one nearby.

“Grab sterile gauze, bandages, disinfectant, painkillers…electrolyte replenishing stuff…if they’ve got one an emergency blanket.”

“The shiny one?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

A few minutes later she reappeared, a lollipop in her mouth, and shoved the supplies into the car, ripping open the blanket and tossing it at Hardison while he rearmed the alarm and cameras to hide the break in as much as possible.

They really needed to not leave any sort of trail behind them.

While Parker kept driving, heading towards the next district, Hardison wrapped the blanket over Eliot. He should try to make him drink something, but doing that while he was unconscious would probably just make him choke.

Just as Hardison was mentally running through all the first aid Eliot had taught them, he felt the man in his arms shift slightly.

Then he fell motionless again.

Hardison squeezed him very lightly, "El? Eliot?"

Eliot moved again, making a soft, almost pained, sound.

"Parker! Parker, pull over."

She did with a little more abruptness than Hardison had hoped for, but then he had sounded pretty urgent. Urgent enough that she looked outright terrified when she opened the door to the back seats.

But then she broke into a smile.

"Eliot!"

"Hey," he rasped, voice heavy and rough.

Parker hopped into the back with them as Eliot tried to sit up, helping him to shift to rest against the back of a seat rather than Hardison. Able to see him better now, Eliot looked just as awful as back at Moreau's place. Maybe a bit more colour to his cheeks, but that was it.

"You okay, man?"

Eliot glared tiredly. He never liked that question.

"You were very unconscious."

"Drugged," he replied, and now his groggy state made more sense, "Moreau was gettin' ready to transport me somewhere else. Got out before it took effect."

Got out, but not fully away.

He must have had just enough time to escape before whatever sedative or paralytic or cocktail it was got to him. Enough time to escape and leave a signal for them to find.

"Here," Hardison twisted the top off a bottle of isotonic flavoured water from the pharmacy and passed it over, "You got it?"

This last as Eliot's hand shook when he took the bottle. But the hitter just nodded tiredly and drank steadily. Three long gulps, and he passed it back.

"Thanks."

"We liked the Eliot signal," Parker smiled up from her new position sitting comfortably in the footwell where no adult human should be able to sit comfortably.

"How'd you know we'd be there?" Hardison asked, "I mean, what if someone else found your graffiti or it washed away?"

"Moreau was keepin' tabs on you. Heard 'im say somethin' 'bout a plane arrivin' from Oregon. Figured you'd find the place soon enough."

"Speaking of, we should probably get going before Moreau comes after us..."

"Moreau ain't gonna be a problem anymore."

They both looked sharply at him. And then looked away, Hardison first, then Parker, realising the blunder in their evident alarm.

Eliot hadn't missed their reactions, but he spoke on as if he had been entirely unaware, "Should call cops an' get 'em to that place.”

“Do you think his men will try to follow us?” Parker asked.

Eliot began to reply, but he broke off. He shut his eyes, jaw clenching, and took an unsteady breath. Whatever Moreau had drugged him with was strong.

“Don’ know. Maybe. They might try to score an easy bounty or somethin’,” he paused again, and Hardison could see him shaking slightly under the blanket, “With cops on ‘em they’ll hafta lay low. Less likely to chase us.”

Hardison nodded, watching as Eliot continued to struggle against some pain or exhaustion or whatever it was, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll get on that now. Cops to Moreau's place...but we should get going. Stop at a hotel...you look pretty bad, El."

Eliot half-glared, half-frowned, caught between confusion and irritation, like he was attempting his usual grumpy but the lingering effects of the drug were getting in the way.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Eliot did, really, look damn awful, it would have been adorable. Hardison almost smiled as he turned his focus to his phone to make the call.

As Parker drove, Hardison kept a close eye on Eliot, who slowly drank his way through the electrolyte drink. More than twice, he seemed to almost slip back into unconsciousness or sleep, but he was obviously trying to fight it.

Hardison had got pretty good at knowing when Eliot wanted to talk, when he wanted just to listen, and when he wanted only silence. Now he wanted silence, and Hardison and Parker gave it to him.

Twenty minute to drive to the nearest fancy hotel, where Parker helped Eliot sneak in while Hardison checked him and Parker in under their aliases.

Then over an hour while Eliot cleaned and patched up his injuries, Parker and Hardison helping where he couldn’t manage with his left hand alone or when his strength started to slip.

They had to help with the extraction of a bullet from his shin, which was particularly gory and made Hardison very glad of Parker’s dexterity and not being bothered by blood, with getting some splinters of wood out of the cuts on his feet. Cleaned up, those didn’t look as bad as before. There were numerous narrow gashes and a lot of bruising, but nothing was too deep. It still looked horrible and was probably really painful. But it wasn’t damage to the extent Hardison had feared.

But by the end of their makeshift medical activities, and after a bath during which Eliot submitted to allowing them both to help, their hitter looked more like himself again. Worn out and subdued in the way he usually was after especially rough fights or bad injuries, but no worse than they had seen him before.

And he was behaving more like himself too, with the effects of the drug wearing off. It did away with the unease that Eliot's remark about Moreau had set upon them. Even after all this time, Hardison could never fully reconcile the Eliot he knew with the Eliot who killed people, and that moment had been the closest the two had ever come to meeting.

But now, their Eliot sat on the plush couch of their hotel suite, bandaged feet resting on a cushion on the coffee table, with Parker pressed close on one side, munching on a sweet pastry she had stolen from the hotel restaurant. Hardison was a little way off, making use of the small desk to work on bolstering their cover.

He had just posted a couple of photos to the social media of his alias to help their covers.

“Parker and I are here on holiday," he said, finishing a Tweet and looking up, "Eliot I’ve got you an alias set up for when we head back. How long do you need before you fly?”

“Couple of days.”

“We should stay at least a week to keep our covers good,” Parker pointed out, “A few days vacation is gonna look odd.”

“Two weeks?” Hardison suggested, “That’ll give me time to start sorting out a new base.”

Eliot frowned, “New base?”

“Portland’s blown. Moreau knew where to find us. No way to tell who else might know.”

The hitter looked away, letting out a frustrated breath.

“What we gonna do with the brewpub?”

“I’ll sell it. Make sure the employees are kept on or get compensation…we still need to move some things, clear out, but…”

“Can we set up our new base in Pennsylvania?” Parker interrupted excitedly.

Hardison frowned, and Eliot supplied the answer, “It’s the state that produces the most chocolate.”

“I was thinking Florida.”

Parker pouted, “Doesn’t Florida pollen make you cry?”

“Yeah man,” Eliot smiled teasingly, reassuringly like himself, “Can’t have you cryin’ your way through our jobs.”

Hardison rolled his eyes and moved over to join them, bringing his laptop and prepared to launch into the inevitably long debate over where they should move next. They had two weeks here, so they had time to discuss it in depth. Maybe enough time to go see some sights, do some touristy things, or just binge watch some classic TV and movies in the hotel.

-

[peachsayshi]

thank you for tagging me, babee! @sleepygetou 🧡💋💋

Alias/Name : Peach 🍑

Birthday : don't feel comfortable sharing the exact date but my zodiac gives you a ballpark idea~

Zodiac : scorpio

Height : 5'3

Hobbies : writing is my main hobby ^.^ I do have some others - I love reading mangas/manhwas, I enjoy spending time outdoors, and recently started getting into making my own coffee/tea drinks at home as well as cooking more for myself

Favourite Colour : green; purple

Favourite Book : song of achilles - madeline miller

Last Song : francesca - hozier

Last Movie/Show : castlevania: nocturne

Recent Read : started reading this manhwa called superstitious nine but I don't know how I feel about it

Inspiration : manga, art, words, pretty aesthetics

Story behind URL : I was eating peaches when I made this blog, and decided to just coin it as my alias!

Fun Fact : I usually get asked how I manage to pump out so many stories, and honestly it's because I'm a pretty fast typer hehe but another fun fact is that Im pretty flexible too!

also adding this one because it's fun: what’s the colour palette of your name?

took sae's idea and put my name as 'peach' and my real name! the colors actually match me really well hehe

tagging: @suget @kentoangel @nanamikentoseyebags @suguwu @honeylavendr @gojoest @strawberrystepmom @massivementalitynut @solomons-poison @nagumoan & whoever else would like to do this! x

[writinglittlebeasts]

nine people tag

tagged by @rickie-the-storyteller

RULEZ: Answer these questions and then tag 9 people to play too!

i will tag (gently; that's a lot of people): @unhingednovelist @rmgrey-author @tabswrites @karolinarodrigueswrites @void-botanist @outpost51 @camillenrose @moonluringfrost @at-thezenith

and i am. Rambling. in this tag game, so i'm gonna throw it under a cut lol

Three Ships

see, when i'm not thinking about these things they fall right out the back of my skull, so i have nooooo idea. ... and you know what that means !!! 🤪🤪🤪

quentin + eliot from the magicians! they are my everything; they invented love and when i think about them i want to scream and cry and throw up. don't have any other details, if you know you know if you don't get well soon

julia and kady and penny from the magicians! the arrangement doesn't matter! i also have a fun au where both pennys are alive at once and in the same polycule, and initially it's super weird but they get over it. julia and kady have everything, they were forced together but stayed together on purpose, their history is so tumultuous but they care so much about each-other. kady and penny's romance feels rushed but when they decided they were doing it they were great and i was totally on board (+ rewatches have made a lot of the rushed-ness make sense in character

fen and margo from......... the magicians! this show was sooo committed to making fen an accessory character to margeliot (i refer to margo and eliot together this way because it feels wrong to separate them) that they crushed her character into a little box and still, Somehow, she and margo have like Allll of the chemistry, it's ridiculous. i think about the scene where margo tells fen that if eliot dies she'll take care of her every day. i languish under the knowledge that fen's destiny being textually intertwined with margo's was never romantic to the writers the way it was romantic to me. the king's wife and the queen who also happens to be the king's best friend slash qp??? it's sooooooo good.

Currently Listening

in the interest of naming a song instead of just saying i've got reads with rachel running in the background, lp's lost on you but specifically this version is one of my most listened tracks this year i think. it's like, right underneath francesca, it's so good

Last Movie

i watched nimona a couple of days ago and puss in boots: the last wish this morning <3 i read nimona aaaaaages ago (ought to read it again) and i was so excited for the movie. i'm still thinking about it. nimona my friend nimona. puss in boots was fucking gorgeous, also, it was So pretty

Currently Reading

i FINALLY finished paris daillencourt (my beloathed) so i guess i'm back to reading ninth house and house of leaves alternately. though i might bounce around a little and read whitesmile instead because baccano! is one of my favorite series and it's just been sitting on my shelf, driving me nuts because i didn't want to add another book to my, like, (at the time) 3 current reads

Currently Watching

i'd say the rain but i really don't like it so it doesn't count lol . i've been catching episodes of sailor moon while my roommate has been watching them, though, and i've been enjoying that!

Currently Consuming

basically just arizona green tea. it never stops (the arizona green tea)

Currently Craving

absolutely nothing lmao . inspiration for original stories.

[blueberrywhale123]

Can you say what do you think the characters did after the graduation?

I’d love to!

Just a warning that some of it might not be super well thought out. As a kid I didn’t give it much thought, I just knew they would do music and assumed it was preforming. Now that I’m thinking of it as an adult, I’m thinking of more nuanced ideas.

so here we go!

Broduey - Dancer/Choreographer/Dance Instructor. This was the easiest for me to decide on. Broduey doesn’t have that many defining traits sadly but one thing that is consistent is his passion for dancing. I think he’d make quite the career out of being a dancer and choreographer for big time names, someone really sought after. And I think later on once his professional career winds down, he’d open up a dance studio where he can teach.

Maxi - Music Producer. This one was super easy too because he does this so much during the show and it is what he’s most passionate about and gets the most enjoyment and fulfillment from. I went back and forth with him about dancing because he’s so good but I eventually settled on music producer because, of the two, it seemed the most important to him.

Naty - Songwriter. Hands down, this girl goes on to write some marvelous songs and has a brilliant career. I also think it’s be cool if she wrote a few plays because her actress apparently did so too. She writes with León, Violetta, Ludmila, and all of them because I refuse for them to loose touch.

León - Solo career singer. As much as the band was a big part of his story in Season 3, I’ve already sent them on different directions. León gets to be a solo artist and he just rocks it because have you seen Jorge in the tours??? He’s so entertaining it’s not even funny.

Federico - Solo career singer. And a successful one at that, especially in Italy. He’s just too charming and talented to not get signed again by another label. It’d be cute if he did concerts with Fran while they were both in Italy.

Francesca - Solo career singer. There is no doubt that once she wasn’t tied to the studio, Francesca had numerous labels clamoring for her to sign with them. She had what, three offers in the last two seasons? She is probably Italy’s darling; a big deal in Europe. People all over have at least heard of her.

Diego - Songwriter and guitarist. This one was hard. I always saw him as a performer but season 3 made me unsure. I knew he liked being on stage still but he just didn’t strike me as the kind to continue in that vein of the music industry anymore. Then I heard someone say he could be a songwriter and all the sudden it clicked. So I think he’d be a songwriter because he definitely seems more comfortable in that area. He’d collab with Naty a lot and if Diego and Fran stay together (🤞) he’d come with her on tours and play in her band.

Violetta - Solo career singer and songwriter. So this one I went back and forth on. Then I decided on both because why not? I think she’d have a very successful career as solo artist in Latin America on the larger scale or just Argentina on a smaller scale, not out there beyond her continent. I think that eventually though, she’d slow her career down and do songwriting more (plus she writes some spectacular songs so she could totally do it). This could probably be because she and León start a family and she doesn’t want to spend as much time on tour.

Camila - singer, songwriter, actress. So this was tough until I decided to give her them all. I agonized until I realized that Cami would probably just do all three. I can just see Cami on something like Broadway(ha!) doing acting and singing but also having a career as a songwriter. And if anyone would try to make it all work, Camila Torres would.

Andres - studio musician. Andres was hard because he doesn’t get a lot of focus when it comes to his music from what I remember (I’m still rewatching s1 after years). But he is consistently on the drums or some form of instrument when preforming instead of out there dancing. So I feel like if he did take a musical career, he’d be a studio musician, where they play for the songs of artists that aren’t a band. I have this headcanon that he is a beast on the drums.

Ludmila - Solo career singer. So this one was my hardest. And even now I’m not too sold on it. I think Ludmila finds great comfort in music but I also think that she was pushed a lot by her mother into the career she wanted her to have instead of allowing her to discover what she wanted herself. So if Ludmila does end up as a singer, I think it’d be a small one. Actually, this is kinda weird but maybe she’d become a writer??? Idk that just popped up out of nowhere.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Growing old together

Last day of the month, and also my most sentimental work of it. As I wrote this, I got emotional, started thinking about life and death and everything in between... and I at the same time got inspired to write future works.

Read on ao3 or under the cut.

Violetta and Francesca sat by the patio, looking at the sunshine together. They waited for some friends to come over.

The first were Ludmila and Naty. They couldn’t believe they had known them for over 70 years now. The second ones were two ladies named Jim and Yam, who Violetta and Francesca had gotten to know thanks to their oldest daughter marrying their oldest daughter. Yes, this meant that some of their grandchildren only had a bunch of abuelas.

So did all of Ludmila and Naty’s grandchildren. They only had one daughter, Stella, and to almost no one’s surprise she ended up marrying Camila’s kid, Kim. They ended up having four children together. Ludmila still did not know how to handle the fact that she and Camila were family by marriage now, even if it had been 20 years since Stella and Kim tied the knot. 

Violetta and Francesca had three kids together - Elina, Carolina and Oliver. Elina was their oldest, who married Jim and Yam’s daughter Lola. The two girls had two kids of their own, and only women for parents and grandparents. Carolina only had one kid with her husband, and Oliver, while married, never had any children with his wife. Ludmila used to tease Violetta and Francesca about how, despite them having more children, they got less grandchildren. 

Jim and Yam had a second daughter named Charlie, who had a child with one man, and then she had two others with another man that she still to this day was married to. So, they had 5 grandkids in total, which was the most out of all of them. 

Ludmila and Naty arrived first. They went out to greet them. 

“Hello! You look great!” Naty said, hugging Violetta.

“I just turned 87, I get more beautiful each year!” Violetta joked. 

“Come inside, I made some cookies!” Francesca said.

“My doctor said I shouldn’t eat that much sugar…” Ludmila said. Then she laughed. “But I don’t really listen to my doctor anyway! Give me the cookies!”

“They don’t have any sugar in them,” Francesca said. “Cause I also have a doctor wanting me to cut down on it. But I promise, they’re still delicious!” “I should know, I stole some,” Violetta said, causing her wife to pretend to dramatically gasp.

They sat down in the living room. Right then, the doorbell rang. Violetta went to open it.

“Hello!” Jim and Yam said in unison.

“Ooh, is this a lesbian gathering or what’s up?” Ludmila joked.

“Lesbian and bisexual,” Francesca corrected her. “Or, why not just a sapphic gathering?”

“Gathering for sapphic grandmas!” Yam exclaimed as she entered the living room. She and Jim hugged and cheek kissed everyone. “Ladies! Do you know who me and Jim met on the way here?”

“Yes, it’s actually amazing!” Jim said.

Everyone sat down, eager to hear the story.

“So… Do you remember when we told you about our friend Nina, who had a boyfriend named Eric?”

“The boy who sang Mi corazon hace wow wow?” Francesca asked. “I always hated that song, I don’t know how he managed to release it.”

“He asked our friends who were in a band to help him,” Jim sighed. “His only hit.”

“We liked it back then!” Yam admitted. “And we thought he and Nina were cute together! But we also had no idea how male-female romantic relationships worked, so we weren’t the best ones to judge.”

“That is so relatable,” Ludmila admitted, and everyone snickered.

“Yes, they broke up obviously, and in retrospect we noticed so many red flags with him,” Jim said. “We have not really thought about him for decades now.”

“Until now!” Yam exclaimed. “We were visiting our friend Ramiro, who has ended up in a nursing home now after he seriously injured himself trying to roller skate at this age. Well, one of the nurses there looked very similar to Eric.”

“Yes, this was like a younger version of him.”

“So we just had to ask… hey, did your father sing Mi corazon hace wow wow?”

“Do you know what he replied?!”

“Tell us!” Violetta sat at the edge of her seat.

Jim took a deep breath. “He said… ‘Oh, I’m so impressed you remember that old song! Yes, that is my father!’” 

“HE REPRODUCED?!” Ludmila asked, shocked.

“HE REPRODUCED!” Yam yelled.

Francesca leaned backwards on the couch. “Vilu… do you realize this means there’s a possibility someone we know also has done that?”

“Oh no…” Violetta said.

“Who?” Naty asked.

“Tomas,” Vilu and Fran said together.

“Not Tomas!” Jim exclaimed. “Wait. Who’s Tomas?”

“They told us about this in 2070, Jim,” Yam explained, as she remembered every gossip ever. “Tomas was that guy that both Violetta and Francesca were in love with, and then they ditched him for each other.”

“Well, we realized our friendship was more important than him, but we didn’t ditch him for each other exactly,” Violetta corrected her. 

“Still!”

“This is a genuine fear I’ve had all my life,” Ludmila said. “Every time me and Naty go to Spain, I’m so afraid I’ll bump into him there.”

“Luckily we haven’t heard from him since he moved back there in 2012,” Naty said.

“He told me I’d be the first to know if he ever got famous…” Violetta said, looking up at the ceiling. Everyone started laughing.

“This might be dark,” Yam said, “But maybe he’s dead. I mean… we’re at that age now where people start dying of… natural causes…”

The room grew slightly silent, but everyone nodded in agreement. 

“To think, 100 years ago, it was the 80s…” Francesca said. “The 1980s. And now it’s the 80s again.”

“I don’t think 2082 feels like a real year,” Ludmila admitted. “But 1982? It definitely felt like a real year.”

“To think, my aunt was alive then…” Violetta said. “She wasn’t old then, but she… she lived.”

Angie had passed away only some weeks before her 100th birthday. The loss had been bigger for Violetta than it had for any of her parents. Her mom died when Violetta was so young, and her dad… well, as sad as she was, she felt oddly relieved that he had passed, too. 

“Do you speak to Paula anymore?” Naty asked. Paula was Angie’s daughter.

“Yes,” Violetta said. “We speak often, and even more after Angie passed. It’s so weird, in my head she’s always a little girl, but she’s gotten grandkids of her own by this point!”

“We’re so old…” Francesca said. “Our own grandchildren are probably gonna have children soon…”

“I have a question,” Ludmila said, “Who in our friend groups do you think will be the first one to die?”

“Ludmila, that’s such a horrible question!” Naty exclaimed. “I don’t wanna think about that!”

“Diego,” Violetta and Francesca said in the most monotone voices imaginable.

Ludmila’s eyes widened. “No! No, not him! I don’t… I won’t allow it!”

“Calm down,” Francesca said, gesturing with her hands for Ludmila to calm down. “My initial answer would be Gery, but we were never really friends with her. She just keeps being in our lives despite us never making any effort to want her to. But she’s definitely gonna go first.”

Ludmila nodded. “Ok, yeah, you’re right…”

“In our friend group, if Ramiro continues like he does…” Jim said, not really daring to finish that sentence.

“I also feel like he’s immortal?” Yam said and chuckled unsurely. “Seriously, he has injured himself so many times, but he keeps coming back. My guess would be Matteo. Ugh, it still feels so horrible to guess when people are gonna die!”

“See it as when we guessed who would have kids first back in the days,” Ludmila said.

“We both were least likely,” Yam laughed, “Because I guess people assumed being a lesbian means you don’t want kids, or something.”

“I’m glad society has been better on that front nowadays,” Violetta said. “I mean, look at us! All women, married to other women, with kids! And even grandkids!”

After some while of chatting, Jim suddenly spotted some large sketchbooks. “What’s that?”

“Oh, our memoirs,” Francesca said. “We both write ones, one each.”

“Like moominpappa?”

“Like moominpappa, yes.”

“I do not get these references,” Ludmila admitted.

“We’ve referenced them so much through the years,” Naty said, “And we read the books to Stella when she was little! Come on, Ludmi! Are you turning senile?”

“Never!”

“Anyway, we know we are famous and stuff,” Violetta said, “But it would still be fun to write down some things about our lives.”

“Didn’t you have a diary from your teens?” Ludmila asked.

“Yes, and that one I still have lying around. My grandkids have all gotten to read it, and they think my teenage years sounded insane! But, they also told me they very much wanted to keep it for the future. I wasn’t sure why at first, because some things are just junk, and not so interesting.”

“But that’s the thing!” Francesca chimed in, “When we look at history, the most interesting things are just the random things people did! That’s why we love diaries, they tell the real stories of people.”

”Yes, and these memoirs are also a perfect way to write about those stories.”

”You write all about your careers and life as celebs?” Ludmila asked. 

”Not at all!” Francesca said. ”If people wanna know about our careers, they can read our Wikipedia articles. These memoirs bring up some fun stories we have about our friends, some family stories we want to keep alive… sometimes we just write about life right now. How it is to be a senior in today’s world.”

”We also have promised to not read each other’s memoirs,” Violetta said. ”We give two different perspectives from the same household, how it’s like in our relationship, how we experienced raising our kids together, we bring out both the good and bad memories in there.”

”Yes, because we don’t just wanna share happy things. Sometimes you need to be real.” 

”Sometimes we also just write about our days. It can be days where nothing happened, but we feel like there’s something to write down. Sometimes we have guests over and write about that. We’ll definitely sit down and write about our gathering today.”

Yam looked like she got blessed. ”I feel so inspired right now to do the same.”

”Me too,” Naty said.

”I also want to write some honest opinions about everyone I know that they can read when I pass,” Ludmila said, causing everyone to chuckle. 

”Me too, but I am also afraid I’m gonna come off too harsh,” Yam admitted. ”I’ve been told I am brutally honest.”

”But people who know you know that you also are so full of love!” Jim said, hugging her.

“Since we share grandchildren, wouldn't it be super fun if all four wrote our perception of them?” Francesca asked. “And then they’ll get to read four separate perspectives of them.”

“Oh, I’d just gush about how adorable they are, though!” Violetta said.

“I’m not gonna say who, but I witnessed one of them steal my coca cola once,” Jim said. “They think I didn’t know, but I’m gonna write it down, and as I pass they will know… I knew it all along.”

Everyone laughed.

“I’m gonna write down some information about Spanish culture, too!” Naty said. “We’ve lived in Argentina for so long I’m afraid it’s gonna become lost.”

“Yes!” Jim exclaimed.

“That reminds me, I need to write some more things about Italy and Italian culture,” Francesca said. “I need to pass down recipes that my mom taught me. And some Italian phrases that I think could be useful!”

“Don't your kids know Italian?” Yam asked.

“I mean, they do… but I speak more Spanish than Italian with them, and my grandkids certainly don’t know anything.”

“Let’s hope they read it and not just gloss over it,” Ludmila said. “I know I glossed over some things my grandparents wrote down.”

“Then maybe our great-grandchildren will want to learn!” Violetta said.

“Am I the only one freaking out that there will one day be no one on this earth that remembers us?” Naty asked. “There will be a time when we’ll be forgotten.”

“We won’t be,” Violetta said. “We write our memoirs to keep memories alive.”

“You know what I would want to write in my memoir?” Yam asked. “Movies and shows I liked. I wanna tell them all about the kids shows we grew up with, and why we loved them at the time.”

“The kids of the future need to know about Phineas and Ferb!” Jim exclaimed dramatically.

“And Winx Club!” Francesca added.

“And those kids shows that were kind of obscure, but we can pretend that they were mainstream just to mess with future generations!” Naty chimed in. “Like Las tres mellizas, that cartoon about the triplets who got sent into fairytales by a witch!”

“See, and that can age pretty well, because fairytales are timeless!” Violetta said.

“Oh, and I need to encourage the kids of the future to read Isadora Starfighter,” Ludmila said. “Do you think my fanfictions I wrote as a teen still are up on the internet?”

“Your fanfiction you posted yesterday is still up, so why wouldn’t what you wrote 70 years ago be?” Naty asked. 

“You still write fanfiction?” Yam asked.

“Yep. Still about the same franchise. I was afraid I’d stop doing it, but I’ve been writing back and forth all my life.”

“I have been wanting to write again, but now we’re getting so old that I’m afraid I’d… pass away before finishing it,” Yam admitted, looking down on the floor. “Yeah, this is why I write the full fic before publishing nowadays,” Ludmila explained. “This way, if it happens, someone else can post the rest. And if it’s unfinished, then it’s just gonna sit on the document, and then maybe a kind and brave soul can finish it for me and then publish.”

“Now I wanna write fanfiction again…” Francesca said. “I mean, I never was big on them, but a lot of my friends did at the time and I wanted to try it, and it was fun. I’d just write about things that were relevant in the 2020s as latest if I posted one now, but still.”

“That can be fun!” Yam said, “I remember I was into stuff that came out way before I was born, and the fandoms were mostly dead. But I always appreciated it when someone kept it alive by writing fanfiction!”

“I never published any fanfiction,” Naty said. “I wrote one a long time ago that never saw the light of day…”

“Post it before you die!” Ludmila exclaimed.

“Noo, it’s probably bad…”

“Honey, I think the youth of today will probably be really intrigued to know just how similar, but also different people wrote in the 2010s.”

“Should we also write down old fanfiction recommendations?” Yam asked. “If we even remember them.”

“Of course!” Ludmila said.

“You know, even if it’s great writing everything down by hand,” Violetta said, “I appreciate the internet keeps everything forever… even when you have to dig to find it.”

“Definitely!” Jim agreed. “There are videos of us from 2016 that will stay there forever.”

“And we’re famous musicians,” Ludmila noted, “So we’re gonna be famous for that. Our songs will never die.”

“But people won’t know us, and that’s why memoirs are great!” Violetta said.

“Look!” Francesca said, pointing at the window. “The sun is about to set.”

The six elderly women went out on the patio, where Francesca and Violetta had watched the sun earlier that day. 

“You know…” Francesca said, “I’ve lived such a good life. To think how much I’ve got to do.”

“The way I’ve grown,” Violetta said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve learned so much about myself, and the world.”

“I’m not sure what the world will do without me!” Ludmila admitted. “How can the world live without Ludmila Vidal?” 

“Do you think we’ll get reborn?” Naty asked. “Or maybe… watch over everyone from the afterlife?”

“I wanna believe there’s something after this life,” Jim said. “And we’re just waiting for something grander to happen.”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after we die,” Yam admitted. “But I know one thing… I don’t fear death.”

The end of the month… this has been so much fun. Originally I wanted to skip 100 years into the future to have all of these descendants find their old memoirs, and it would turn out that all of the dcla characters have intertwined in some way and suddenly we have a descendant of Violetta who has Perida as a last name, or a descendant of Yam who has Torres as a last name, etc. But I feel like that wacky story would need to be told another day. Hope you've enjoyed this pride month prompt event! What has been your favorite day/prompt? Do leave a comment! :)