#song referenced is your body my temple by will wood!!!!

[crazylittlejester]

sneaks in here to yap about will wood

did you know hes been in bands before will wood and the tapeworms? he was in a verbal equinox, then he formed the stereosexuals with jonation maisto (whose helped with some of his newer music!) theres also two more in there, jamface and strange thick but i dont know too much about either other than will wood was in them.

a lot of will woods songs are also connected from what ive listened to

in skeleton appreciation day, will wood sings "a selfish book is always open" then his next album is named "self-ish"

in your body my temple, will wood sings "when the waters run red" which could be a reference to the lyric "the drunk-tanks blood red" in the song 6up 5oh Copout

in falling up, will wood sings "i grew up in suburbia" and then of course, theres suburbia overtune

in the first step, will wood sings "i dont want to be an organ donor" which could be hin referencing the stereosexuals song 1fish2fish

thats about all the things ive seen that are connected, but some of his lyrics could also be references to his older songs in the stereosexuals, as theres only been 3 publicly released. will has said the other 12 were lost on an old hard drive, but for all we know he could be lying. the stereosexuals used to be on spotify, but arent anymore for some reason, so you can really only listen to it youtube sadly.

will wood has 3 songs related to rats in "in case i make it," which are tomcat disposables, euthansia, and willard!

then in his live album "in case i die" he has two songs that weren't released, which were "and if i did, you deserved it" and "misanthropologist"

he also has a podcast named "life in the world to come" which he does with his friend chris dunne, which is about well, life in the world to come. people send questions in and the two answer them, but like most of the time most of it is them yapping, but im not complaining.

:3 (also, explain the plot of the four swords manga??? you need to go to a LIBRARY!!)

oh wow i knew like none of this

i mean i knew he had a lot of repeating themes/lyrics but not the other stuff

thanks for sharing dude 🫶

(ALSO IVE CHECKED they dont HAVE IT at the library. but someone sent me the link so no worries)

[cloudysarts]

my superstitions, your visage, my visions,

furthering the fever of your fervor, for believing, i will. 

[doomedandstoned]

10,000 Years Take Us Into The "Gargantuan Forest"

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Album Art by Francesco Bauso

Leaving the world For salvation yonder Quest for eternity To suns beyond

Gazing upon our past Out into forever To a future obscured What glory awaits?

To begin another week of awesome original content at Doomed & Stoned, we're getting you better acquainted with the Swedish juggernaut 10,000 YEARS.

Last summer, the band dropped their eponymous debut to welcome ears and in just a few short weeks 10,000 Years come roaring back with a follow-up. Y'all know I'm a sucker for a good concept album. The eight-track full-length record 'II' (2021) picks up the trail of the Albatross research vessel, which has been galavanting 'cross the nether reaches of the galaxy on a potent rocket fuel made of sludgy stoner rock and doom metal.

If that sounds epic, wait'll you get a load of what's next for our interstellar crew. It helps if you picture the following text as a Star Wars-style screen crawl, slowly working its way up the page against the backdrop of a starry night.

After narrowly escaping the confines of the strange planet and its surrounding dimension, the Albatross and its crew finally return home to Earth. The re-entry is rough and the ship crashlands in a forest. The earth that greets them is vastly different from the one that they left.

When the ship travelled back to earth through the wormhole, it created a rift in the space-time continuum which propelled them far into the future, as well as allowing the Green King and other ancient gods from the other dimension to cross over to our dimension. They have since taken control of not only the earth, but the entire solar system.

After various harrowing experiences and encounters, the truth finally dawns on the surviving members of the crew. They are indeed back on earth, but ten thousand years in the future from when they started their journey. And to make matters worse, they find evidence that the Green King has been known and worshipped by secret cults and societies on earth for millenia, since before humankind even existed.

The surviving members of the crew come to the conclusion that the only way to set things right again is to repair the Albatross and take it back through the rift again in order to close it.

Now that's a saga I'm ready to get invested in. George Lucas, eat your heart out!

The record revs to a start with "Descent," a track that can best be described as terrific panic. It had me thinking of KOOK's "Escape Velocity" from their recent second album, though that's an eight-and-a-half minute slow burn and this is a quick twenty-six second fall from the sky. I wish this little notion had a chance to develop into something longer, but regardless what a thrilling way to open an album!

With rapt attention, I'm waiting to hear what comes next. The ship seems to have crash landed deep inside a "Gargantuan Forest." As an aside, it would be a blast to smoke a bowl o' something (anything, really) with Erik Palm (guitar), Alex Risberg (bass, vox), and Espen Karlsen (drums) just to gab it up a bit about sci-fi lit and horror flicks. I mean, check out the trove of B-movie greats referenced in their preface to the new single (which Doomed & Stoned is debuting today):

In this ABSURD (1981) video, 10,000 Years enter a FOREST OF FEAR (1980) as they access THE BEYOND (1981) and enter a BLOODBATH (1971) with THE BOOGEY MAN (1980), otherwise known as the Espbeast. The Espbeast stalks and haunts the bodies and minds of the characters in this C-grade homage to the horror movies of yesteryear.

The characters FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE (1976) through insane NIGHTMARES IN A DAMAGED BRAIN (1981). If they survive the AXE (1974) they may still end up in an INFERNO (1980) and risk being EATEN ALIVE (1976). All the same risks face the viewer, so don’t watch with the lights out, don’t watch by yourself and DON’T GO IN THE WOODS ALONE (1981). Because after all, isn’t there an Espbeast in all of us?

10,000 Years have picked the ideal setting for the music video. The forests of Sweden stand tall and dark, the ground packed with snow. Screw you, Blair Witch Project -- this is where I want the next found footage flick filmed!

The song opens with a mysterious theme on solitary electric strings, surrounded by hazy reverberation. Drums and bass accent the motif as it's repeated several times over. Dazed by their graceless fall to earth, the crew wander about, checking one another for injuries, seeing if the faithful Albatross has even hope of another journey. As the shock begins to wear off, their hopeless plight reveals itself.

Screaming from the sky Blasting through the atmosphere

Come to rest On the forest floor Still alive What fresh new hell is this?

Surrounded by swamps A strange bleeding from the earth

Giant trees A dense horror taking root Same old sun Unfamiliar rays shine down

Is there something lurking about in the Gargantuan Forest? I'm sure no one wants to wait until nightfall to find out! The so-called "Espbeast" (which the band may actually have been first to name) is more than likely some strange amalgamation of guitar and creature, ripping through foes like a berserker of sound with scraps of High on Fire's "10,000 Years" echoing perversely through the treetops as it stalks and ultimately slays you. Nobody wants to be around when the Espbeast is on the prowl.

Now see, I'm letting my imagination get carried away! Then again, maybe that's what the band had planned all along -- for listeners to join in the fantastic adventures of these cosmonauts, to see through their eyes and feel through their body as they touch foot to strange soil. What will our adventurers find next?

The answer comes all too soon: "Spinosaurus!" This gruff beast charges angrily through the woods knocking things about, displacing rocks, snapping branches, royally pissed and ready to make somebody pay for the noise that snatched him away from a damned good nap. The repeated note riff, with its odd strumming pattern, does a nifty job of representing the crude movements of the Spinosaurus as it lumbers about the forest. Eric is a virtuosic mess of frantic tremeloes and wiry noodling against Espen's stampeding drums, as Alex narrates the scene with a terrifying shout:

Is this our earth? No time to dwell Dorsal sail cutting air Cretaceous ghost made flesh

Staring into Dead end eyes No place to hide Theropodic annihilation

Teeth into flesh!

What the crew is experiencing on their homeworld thus far seems foreign, almost ancient. Through some curse of Einstenian logic have we zipped through a wormhole only to return to the distant past? "The Mooseriders" are about to challenge our assumptions about what's possible on this Rock.

Thundering hooves crack the sky Dark robed wizards appear in the light Travellers in ether descending Protectors of the realm

These are the oath-bound eternals -- interdimensional templars, if you will -- who have arrived at this precise moment in time to take on the Green King. Complex rhythmic drumming with precisely stricken odd beats, is accompanied by a hyperactive bass and progressive metal riffmaking. Together, the band conjures the trot and hustle of the approaching entourage. A wilding guitar heralds a message from the great protectors:

The hour draws near The endgame is nigh Divine prophecy Even death may die

The mood now turns stately. A brave theme is introduced and developed with dashing prowess. This track would fit perfectly into a playlist with Mastodon, Ape Cave, and Zirakzigil. I found Alex's vocal approach especially appropriate for the frantic depiction of "antlers clashing with steel" in this battle to the finish. "Even death...may...DIE!"

"Angel Eyes" greet us on the B-side, and it's not a cover of the Jerry Cantrell song (though that would have been unexpectedly awesome). No, the hard-charging mood and raspy vocals are pointing to something far more apocalyptic.

Hooves of burning coal Let loose upon the world

Return of the warlord Eternal fire scorches the earth

Heavenly gaze Order through chaos

At times Alex seems exasperated, practically out of breath, as he gives these dire words his all. It's a style the 10,000 Years frontman owns as well as his counterpart, Simon Ohlsson of Vokonis, who has a comparable vocal attack. A bass-fortified guitar establishes a second theme that adds a Wagnarian touch of high drama, and this ushers in the song's curtain fall.

If 10,000 Years is to be compared with High On Fire at all, the rumbling riffstorm "March Of The Ancient Queen" surely merits it (to say nothing of their mutual love of alternative histories).

Her royal blood Once ruled these lands Generations Buried by time Dynasty of dust Rise from the sands Rise from the dead The Green King's servant

March!

March Of The Ancient Queen - Single by 10,000 Years

That last lyric is uttered with the most blood-curdling all-caps conviction that I was immediately drawn into its sentiment, miming "Maaaaarrrrrch!" with my ugliest war face on every time it came up in the song. The NWOBHM-style finish is so deftly executed that it comes across as orchestral. 10,000 Years paint with big, bold strokes here.

"Prehuman Walls" is a welcome shift down, with its chugging "Bury Me In Smoke" tempo. You sludge fiends will find moments of Zen here, with riffs that bend and twist and saw 'neath the summer sun. The crew have chanced upon a temple of sorts, though not one made with human hands. Nothing seems to make sense here at all. It's like Area X from the film Annihilation (2017), where everything is a contortion of reality. Then the "truth settles in." This alien monstrosity, we find, bears the mark of the sinister Green King. We thought we'd escaped him, only to find that he both followed us and was here millenia before.

Unholy worship Feed the Green King Eyes pried open Sanity stripped away

At last, we reach the final track in our journey: "Dark Side Of The Earth". So many revelations have been made in this second chapter, so many loose ends that need to be tied off. Naturally, a third chapter must be written. "We must go back, set it right," deliberates an exasperated Albatross crew. "We must go back, whence we came."

Dimension walls broken down The fabric ripped and torn apart Thread the needle once again A journey of ten thousand years

We must go back, set it right We must go back, through the tears

Insanity the only way The dark side of the earth

Following these words, the song develops instrumentally and the mood gets quite emotional. I found myself drawing parallels between this "bastard version of earth" and our own, wondering if we ever can go back and make it right. For us, perhaps it should be about moving forward, for there is no golden age or better time to which we can return. We make this world a heaven or hell tomorrow by the choices made today.

The album was recorded by Tomas Skogsberg at Studio Sunlight. Totally diggin the awesomely swamp landscape that Francesco Bauso of Negative Crypt Artwork created. It reminds the five-year old me of Luke's sopping wet landing on Dagobah, though guitarist Alex Risberg says the band's more inspired by Planet of the Apes than by Star Wars.

The album will be released on June 25th as a special vinyl "Green King Edition" by Interstellar Smoke Records pre-order here), a cassette tape "Forest Edition" from Ogo Rekords (pre-order here) and "Swamp Edition" from Olde Magick Records pre-order here), with the digital and compact disc formats handled by Death Valley Records (pre-order here).

10,0000 Years have in II their most accomplished album to date, with powerful moments that will stay with you long after the record's stopped spinning. Fans of High On Fire, Black Tusk, and The Sword listen up! You might just discover your next favorite band.

Give ear...

10,000 Years - Gargantuan Forest (Music Video)

Some Buzz

Having previously played together in the original lineup of Swedish underground heavyweights Pike, Erik Palm (Guitars) and Alex Risberg (Bass/vocals) found their way back to each other, musically, in early 2020. The creative fire reignited and stoked to a burning inferno and through a mutual love of heavy riffs and thundering stoner rock, doom, and sludge metal, 10,000 Years was born. Finding a drummer would prove to be an easy task and with Espen Karlsen the final piece lay firmly in place. The groove they fell into during the first rehearsal hasn’t stopped rumbling since.

After spending the first-half of 2020 writing and rehearsing, 10,000 Years recorded their self-titled debut EP during one weekend in June in the legendary Studio Sunlight with equally legendary producer Tomas Skogsberg. The self-titled EP was released on July 10th and immediately struck a chord with the heavy underground worldwide, and 10,000 Years garnered rave reviews and accolades.

10,000 Years by 10,000 Years

10,000 Years' musical and lyrical world revolves around the tale of the terran class III exploration vessel Albatross and its mission to explore the Milky Way and nearby galaxies in search for a possible new home for humanity. The EP tells the tale of its first foray into space and what happens when the crew accidentally travel through a wormhole and end up in an adjacent dimension populated by ancient gods and giant beings, ruled by the Green King. The EP ends with “From Suns Beyond,” where the crew make it off from the strange planet, back out into space in search of a way back home. The new album picks up the story as the Albatross blasts through the atmosphere of a seemingly unknown planet and crashlands headfirst into strange new adventures.

II by 10,000 Years

Now, less than a year after their first release, 10,000 Years are back with their first full-length effort, aptly titled 'II' (2021). Picking up right where the EP left off, II continues the story of the ill-fated Albatross mission and its exploration of time and space through a skull-crushing mixture of stoner rock, doom, and sludge metal. The album will no doubt continue to build on 10,000 Years' already golden reputation and prove to be an even bigger hit with the heavy masses.

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[certifiedskywalker]

Pestering - John Deacon

You’re ecstatic when Freddie enlists your help for organizing the Queen wardrobe. Working alongside your best friend seems like fun, especially when said best friend is in a band. Let alone in band with three other talented artists. One of which has stolen your heart.

Or the one where the whole of the band Queen gives their input, in one way or another, about the tension between you and John Deacon. 

“What do you think of this?” Freddie extends his arms out, showing off the flowing blouse he was referencing. You reached out, rubbing the soft, silky material between your fingers and hummed.

“It’s thin, so the heat of stage lights wouldn’t be too much of an issue,” you wondered aloud. “Would any of the other boys wear it besides you though?”

Freddie trilled, letting out a sing-song laugh before carefully folding the shirt. His tanned hands smoothed the fabric before setting aside on a nearby table. The top of said table was already littered with a menagerie of rainbow toned jumpsuits, shirts, and velvet pants that would soon be paraded about on stage by the similarly eclectic band you worked for. Freddie took in the sight of the haul you had helped amass, grinning wickedly at the thought of wearing what you had chosen.

“Darling, I know we talk about allowances and budgets, but I say leave the math to Deacy! We are to put on a show, so we need costumes!” You couldn’t help but smile at your friend’s enthusiasm. Freddie was made for the life Queen had opened him up to; the music, the fans, the clothes and all of the accompanying glamour.

“Yes, you’re right,” you sigh, “but it is important to take utility into account, Freddie.” You quirked an almost motherly brow at the dark haired man whose mouth puckers in thought. His eyes are still glued to the clothes laid out on the table top and you know there is no changing his mind. After giving in, you and Freddie are lugging all sorts of clothes out to Brian’s van in cloth bags. Freddie jokes about how, with the growing wardrobe in the back of the vehicle, Roger won’t be able to seek any girls in for a quickie. You scowl at the thought.

“Oh like you haven’t thought about shagging in the back of a van,” Freddie chastises and you blush a posy pink. Noticing your bashful expression, your friend lets out what you could only call a cackle. “You have! My girl, I am proud. Who’s the lucky fantasy man?”

“None of your business,” you say curtly as you hop in the passenger side of the car. Freddie clambers in the driver's seat and fusses with the height of it. Once he’s settled, he turns to you and you dare to meet his curious brown eyes. You stare each other, waiting for the other break. A sense of panic floods your body when Freddie smirks devilishly.

“It’s John isn’t it?” Your jaw falls open and Freddie laughs knowingly. “Oh don’t be surprised darling,” he starts the car and the engine roars to life. The radio starts gently as Freddie begins to back out of the lot.“I see the way you look at the boy. Be careful though, he’s fragile.”

“There’s nothing I have to be careful about,” you huff, slouching in your seat as Freddie drives. “He’s too caught up in the band and he’s too young.” Freddie scoffs at your excuses as he turns down the street.

“Five years isn’t too young,” he purrs, “in fact young blood could be just what you need.” You lean over and slap his shoulder. “No distractions darling, I’m driving.”

“You’re a right tease,” you grumble as your avert your eyes to get lost in the rushing buildings outside the window. “John isn’t interested in me.”

Instead a biting back with some gossip or jab, Freddie only thrummed along to the light music on the radio. His strange silence alarmed you more than anything he could say, but you savored the quiet. Soon your ears would be assaulted by band practice and filled with the yelling complaints of Roger when Brian plays too slow. Brian always did and Roger hated it with a passion, claimed that the guitarist was ‘doing it on purpose now’. It was John that would sit beside you, add joking commentary that never failed to make you laugh. Even thinking about him, you smiled as you gazed out of the car window. Freddie spared a glance at you out of the corner of his eye and smiled too.

He continued to smile all the way to the flat Roger and Brian shared. When he pulled up, Freddie eagerly leaps from the van and unloaded all of the clothes. He picked out his favorite pieces from the back and left you to carry the rest. You sighed as you grabbed the rest of the bags and, struggling, followed Freddie inside.

Using your hip, you attempted to push open the door to the flat. You were only met with a thump of your body hitting wood. You groaned and was about to drop the bags on the floor when the door swung open. Mouth open and fuming, you were ready to berate Freddie for taking off without helping you. Only, when you looked up, your words got caught in your throat.

“Oh, here, love. Lemme help with this,” John greeted, reaching to take some of the bags from your hands. You nodded a small thanks and followed the bassist inside, unable to meet his eyes. “I see that Freddie did his best to ignore the budget,” he quipped and you smiled guiltily.

“Yeah, sorry, John. You know how hard it can be to rein him in when he has his mind set on something.” You turn your head to where Freddie is showing off the new outfits to Roger and sigh. “Or somethings, in this case.”

“It’s alright,” John murmurs and you finally met his greyish eyes. He is smiling at you kindly, crinkles by his eyes making his older in contrast to his long auburn hair. “The album is doing well so we can afford this.”

You set the bags you had been holding on the couch and John follows suit. Roger’s attention is immediately on the new arrivals and he starts to rummage through them like a child on Christmas morning. You giggle at the sight of him and John shakes his head. Hearing your laughter, Roger lifts his head to glare at you.

“What? I want to get the best ones before Brian comes in and-”

“Before I what?” The guitarist interrupts, entering the room the moment Roger speaks up. The drummer sends a pointed glance in Brian’s direction before digging back into the bag.

“Like the children,” Freddie chides, “the lot of you.” You hear John chuckle at your side and you grin at him.

“You don’t want to dive in there?” You ask teasingly and John shakes his head. “You might wish too, before Roger hogs it all.”

“I know you better than that,” John whispers, leaning a little closer to you. You feel heat rising to your cheeks when you lift your gaze to his. He is smiling at you sweetly, as if you held the keys to a castle full of treasure.

“You do,” you agree, before turning to show him the bag of clothes you had picked out with John in mind. Before he even sorts through the items, John presses his lips to your temple. The soft kiss sends a shock through your body that you try to your hardest to mask.

“Thank you, love,” he says softly.

“It’s my job,” you reply, in the hopes to downplay the effect John’s appreciation had on you. It turns out to be a hefty task.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go without a few ‘thank yous’ now and again,” John squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “You’re good at what you do, Y/N. We are grateful. Even if they’re too busy to say it.” He gestures to Roger, Brian, and Freddie; the latter of the trio is watching the two of you with a pleased visage.

You smile up at John who, despite being five years younger than you and Freddie, is much taller than yourself. He is beaming, his hands pulling a few pieces of clothing from the bag. He is quickly enamored with a silky, black shirt that was dotted with white stars. Soon he finds the matching pair of pants and clucks his tongue.

“You don’t like it?” You press, leaning over John’s shoulder to look at the outfit from the angle he was looking from. John shifts and your lips accidentally brush against his shoulder. The touch is full and you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his tight shirt. John turns his head, his nose nearly knocking against your own when he meets your eyes.

“I love it,” he murmurs, his eyes darting to your lips to your eyes in the manner of a few seconds. The look doesn’t go unnoticed and you feel your skin heat up.

“Good,” you exhale, taking a step back, “good.” Before John could speak out or, as you wished he would, pull you close to him, you were striding over to the rest of the boys. Roger was lamenting about the lack of ‘rock’n roll’ pieces while Freddie pretended to listen. Brian was still filtering through the clothes. His brows screwed together in slight confusion as he studies the white-silk blouse that Freddie had picked out.

“What exactly is this?” Brian questions, pulling at the stray flaps of fabric hanging off of the shirt. You smiled and shook your head.

“A shirt, silly,” you hum, “a styled shirt.” You took the item of clothing from the guitarist and held it against his slim chest. He looked down to take in the sight with an almost scientific sense of intrigue.

“I quite like it, I believe,” Brian mused.

“Believe? Brian, you will look ethereal on stage in this. You must wear it.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Freddie pipes up. Brian quickly takes the shirt from you and holds it close to his chest defensively. You bite back a snicker but a sound still reaches your ears. A small huff from behind you prompts you to crane you head to the side and sneak a look at John. The younger man was standing against the counter top, arms crossed against his red shirt clad chest as he watched you and the band.

Unable to pinpoint what had caused the frown on John’s lips, you offered him a half-smile. He shifted against the counter and returned the expression wordlessly. You could read each other silently, like books, in a way that the other boys could not seem to crack. Not even Freddie. The singer always had a soft-spot for the bassist, ever since John joined Queen. Freddie was happy to see that his two friends got along so well, overjoyed when he felt they got along too well. His brown eyes took in the pining pair and sighed.

“John,” he shouted, pulling the bassist’s attention away from you. “Why don’t you try that outfit on? If you don’t wholly claim it, Roger might just steal it.”

“Like you wouldn’t,” the drummer fires back, but the words are lost on Freddie.

“Um, alright then,” John agrees. He picks up the clothes and heads off the washroom to change. You watched him go before waltzing over to the other bags and picking through their contents. The soft murmurs of Brian chatting with Roger about analogous and primary color combinations filled your ears to the point where you didn’t hear Freddie come up behind you.

“He was jealous, you know,” Freddie mumbles, making you jump in shock.

“Je-What? Freddie, really?” You busy yourself with sorting the remaining clothes.

“Really, Y/N. It’s pathetic. The two of you are like baby dogs waddling about and following each other around.”

“More like baby ducks then. It’s rather adorable.” You send Brian a silencing glare. Roger laughs at your expression before stealing a pair of butterfly-patterned pants away from the guitarist.

“Really though, Y/N, you need ta do somethin’ about it,” Roger adds. 

“I didn’t ask for your advice or your...” you gesture to Brian, “weird animal comparisons. Just look through the clothes!” The two of them shrug as Freddie laughs.

“Darling, he likes you, it’s obvious.”

“It’s not like that,” you grumble, “John’s jus’ nice to everyone.” Freddie rolls his eyes but gasps when he sees a white satin, button up vest.

“Isn’t this part of John’s new little number?” You looked over and nod.

“I’ll give it to him,” you say, taking it from Freddie and walking towards the washroom. You hear Roger say something along the lines of ‘yeah you will’ and Freddie’s laughter as you leave the room. Maybe it was due to the other’s words and reactions, but your heart was pounding at the thought of seeing John. If he had been jealous, why didn’t he tell you so? 

As soon as the question funneled into your brain you scolded yourself. You could ask yourself the same thing. You had been jealous of the girls ogling him after shows, screaming his name until he looked in their general direction; but then he would look at you and the anger would dissipate. It was like it had never really been there at all.

Rather than entertain ‘what ifs’ and ‘could have beens’, you walked up to the washroom door. You took a breath to calm yourself before knocking on the door. Nervously, you curl your bottom lip between your teeth. You only breathe a sigh of relief when the door opens. Once again you find yourself at a lost for words and John Deacon standing in a door way.

“How does it look?” He sounds timid, eyes downcast and taking in how the pants look around his skinny legs. You are too, and in love what you saw. The clothes clung to his lithe figure perfectly and it sent your heart into a frenzy. Swallowing hard you lift your gaze and smile.

“Fantastic,” John meets your eyes gratefully, “but it’s missing one thing.” You hold out the small white vest and, excited, John takes it from you. Carefully, with the grace of a ballet dancer, John shrugs the vest over his shoulders. He extends his arms and shows off the ensemble. It’s then he takes note of your slight frown.

“What is it?”

“Let me try this,” you whisper, stepping towards him. Your hands find the ends of the vest, pulling it tighter around his slim frame to button it closed. Quickly, you reach the last button and take a step back. “I like it buttoned better.”

“Do you?” John asks, but his voice isn’t light like before. You lift your eyes to his face and find him already staring at you. The question almost sounds like a challenge.  Nodding, you step forwards again, smoothing the vest material against John’s chest.

“Yeah, it shows you off, how handsome you are.” The words fall from your lips innocently, naturally, but not like a mistake. You mean what you say and John knows it. His arms fall to his sides except when one of his hands grabs your wrist. The touch is tender, just as you would have expected from him.

“I, Y/N...” he whispers, looking up from your hand to your eyes.  You study his features like art, waiting for him to find the right words.

“Yes?” you breath in question and John’s cheeks turn a tad red.

“I was hoping that you-”

“Y/N! You forgot shoes!” Roger screeches, the conversation about John’s feelings for you seemingly completely, forgotten to him. You let out a groan that makes John chuckle. The sound instantly diffuses the tension mounting between your bodies. 

“You better get back out there,” John mumbles.

“Do I have to? I’ve been to four different stores and it’s only eleven in the morning.” John sighs and drops your wrist. You miss his touch the second it leaves you. Freddie was right; you were pathetic.

“Well it depends,” John starts with a smile, “do you want to hear him complain in the store or when he’s drumming with bare feet.” You scrunch your face in mock thought and John chuckles again. 

“I mean, Freddie performs without shoes sometimes....”

“You’re not wrong, love,” John murmurs, meeting your eyes. His pupils expand when you hold his gaze, but you must have imagined it because John tears his eyes away. You watch as he walks down the hall before falling in behind him. 

“You look dashing, Deacy,” Freddie muses, taking in the new attire. 

“Ya know what would pull it all together?” Roger asks, blue eyes glued on you when you enter the room. You shoot daggers at the drummer and he answers his own question. “Shoes! Shoes would do it!”

Freddie snickers while Brian shakes his head at the blond man. “Take it easy, Rog. Y/N went shopping with Freddie remember? You know how he can be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Freddie fires back. You spare a fearful glance at John who is already shift under the rising pressure. Brian’s hazel eyes widen and before he can formulate an explanation, you step in.

“Then why don’t you and Roger come with me this time. Freddie can sort the clothes here and you two can pick out shoes.” Roger beams at the idea, that or the humorous conflict he found all too funny. Brian agrees quickly, already darting off to find his coat. 

“Fine, alright,” Freddie concedes, “but you better control them. I don’t what us to look like fools on stage.” Roger snorts at this, earning him a slap on the shoulder from Freddie. While the two of them bicker, you turn your attention to John. His expression is slightly blank, but you pick up notes of annoyance in the way his jaw is set. You step towards him and rub his shoulder softly.

“Jealous you don’t get to go shopping with me?” You tease and John only gives you a saddened look that takes you aback. “Are you?”

“If I was, would it matter?” John asks, but no malice lingers in his tone. Only wonderment and thought. You nod in response before any words get out.

“Of course, you’ll always matter to me,” you say quickly. For the first time in your life you’re overjoyed that when Roger has a habit of talking, complaining, loudly. 

“Then, when you come back, we go out ourselves.” The suggestion makes your mouth go dry and John seems to notice. A somewhat smug grin pulls at the corner of his lips as his confidence grows in your reactions. You meet his gaze and only see affection in his eyes.

“We wouldn’t have to shop, would we?” John grins fully then.

“No, love. Unless you wanted to.” You huff at his joking but smile nonetheless. He never failed to make your smile. Reaching up, you brush a long strand of his hair out of his face. 

“Good,” you murmur, “because I won’t after dealing with them.” You crook your head to the side, gesturing towards Roger and Brian, who had finally made a reappearance. 

“Late lunch then?” John asks, hooded eyes holding your gaze. You nod, leaning in to peck his cheek lightly. 

“Sounds like a date,” you whisper, silently thanking your blooming courage. You knew part of it was Freddie’s doing, as he had planted the original seed of hope. You pull back and an expression you had never seen John wear before is written across his face. It was love, but you didn’t know that.

But, Freddie looked over at the two of you, he knew. The singer had seen John stare at you before with that very look. The slightly parted lips, half-closed eyes as if he were dreaming that you actually existed. And to think all it took was a little pestering to get you to see just how much John Deacon cared for you.

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal (part 32)

Author’s note: Hey guys! This is only two hours late, so I’m calling it a win. Also, from now on--if you want to be added or removed from the tag list, please send an ask! I was looking back at older chapters, and apparently there were a few people who asked in a comment that I missed. I’d like to avoid that in the future! 

Enjoy the update. :)

Warnings: nightmare, injuries, death mention, fear, arguing, mentions of kidnapping and being trapped, illness mention, referenced past abuse

Word count: 3691

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Patton blinked awake slowly. His vision faded into focus, and he was startled to see thick, black metal bars criss-crossing about a foot above him.

No… it couldn’t be. How was Patton back in a cage? Hadn’t he gotten away? Fear started to twist in his chest as he frantically tried to figure out how he had gotten here.

“Well aren’t you being a lazy-bones, dolly?” a high-pitched, grating voice suddenly sing-songed. It felt like it came from everywhere at once, making even his bones vibrate. Patton’s blood ran cold.

No…. No, no, no, no! Patton sat up fast, almost like he’d been shocked, snapping his head towards the source of the voice. Pale blue, visibly annoyed eyes larger than his entire head met his.

“Marissa,” he whispered, the word as frail as a dead leaf trembling on its branch, about to be blown away in the wind. His eyes were wide with shock as they took in the huge child’s pudgy, pink face. His fingers began to go numb with panic, his legs trembling.

“I want to play,” Marissa announced, spitting slightly on the ‘p’. Her hand shot towards the cage door, the movement almost too fast to see. She grinned, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Patton jumped up  while she was busy unlocking the door and tried to run, to hide, but there was nothing in the cage but himself, and his feet seemed to slide backwards on the slick plastic floor, making his attempts to run slower than a crawl. The door fell open with a clang; and Marissa’s hand snatched him up easily, lifting him off his feet. Patton’s arms were pinned to his sides, his legs hanging uselessly. The grip around him tightened, pushing the air from his lungs and leaving him breathless.

Marissa pulled him out of the cage and dropped him unceremoniously on the table it sat on. Patton staggered to his feet and attempted to run again, slipping on the fabric scraps strewn about on the wood. Marissa casually flicked his back, sending him crashing to the unforgiving tabletop with a small cry. A sharp pain throbbed in his back, and tears pricked in Patton’s eyes. He had only just begun pushing himself back up on shaky arms when Marissa abruptly grabbed at him again, pinching his right arm between her fingertips, the pressure strongest just above his elbow. She slowly lifted up his struggling form, and Patton’s arm quickly began to go numb as he couldn’t help but whine in discomfort. His legs kicked at the air, and Marissa shook him harshly. It was a miracle that his shoulder didn’t dislocate.

“Stop it!” she snapped at him. “I’m playing!”

Patton went limp immediately, hanging awkwardly as dead weight from the one arm Marissa had pinched in her grasp. His heart was pounding, but he knew from experience that if he kept struggling, he could get seriously hurt.

Marissa giggled, apparently pleased by his compliance. She took a step back from the table, then lifted Patton up high, oh, so high, impossibly far from the floor below. He stared down at Marissa’s face with frightened eyes. She grinned, her teeth somehow even sharper than before, like the shark teeth he had seen once in a book.

“W-wait, p-ple-ase,” he gasped desperately, realizing what was about to happen. “Don’t!”

She let go anyway.

…

Patton awoke for real with a jolt and a startled, quickly stifled cry. Disoriented by the dream that still felt so incredibly real, his eyes darted around, desperately trying to figure out where he was. It was a stark contrast to what he had just experienced: It was dark; the cage and Marissa were both gone; and most notably, he was no longer plummeting to his certain death. He  found that he was lying in a nest of blankets and other soft materials, a warmth at his side.

Patton knew then where he was: He was in Virgil’s and Emile’s home, curled up alongside them. He wasn’t with Marissa. He wasn’t with any human at all. He was free. He was safe.

I’m safe, Patton repeated to himself. I’m safe.

As the all-consuming terror of his dream faded, Patton slowly felt himself return to his body. One of the blankets had gotten wrapped around him at some point, nearly pinning his left arm to his side. He had also rolled onto his other arm, which had now gone numb beneath him from the elbow down.

Patton forced his left arm free of the blanket, then rolled over onto his back and tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible. Pins and needles pricked through his numb right arm, the feeling gradually returning to it as his heart rate just barely began to slow to its normal pace. It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare that bad. He didn’t think he had had one so vivid and terrifying since before Virgil had rescued him.

The brother lying closer to him was stirring, probably roused due to Patton’s movement and any noise he hadn’t quite managed to silence. Patton had gone to bed first of the three that night, and it was rather dark in the room, so he wasn’t sure which brother it was. He hoped that he hadn’t woken either of them. Virgil had told him that he could always wake him up if this happened, but… Patton just felt so guilty doing that. Virgil and Emile had already done so much for him.

The person lying beside him relaxed again after a moment, his breathing evening out; and Patton released his breath in a quiet, relieved sigh. He stared up into the darkness, his heart still pounding, and hoped that he would eventually fall back asleep.

…

“Hey… did I elbow someone last night?”

“What?” Virgil asked, glancing over at Emile from where he’d been sitting, in the middle of sewing up a hole in his jacket. Patton, who had been sitting nearby untangling a wad of string, stilled. He thought of the part of his dream when Marissa had flicked him. The spot on his back was still a little sore despite the injury having happened in a dream.

“I thought, maybe… I don’t know,” Emile was saying, trailing off uncertainly. He shrugged, glancing between his brother and Patton. “Sorry.”

“I mean, you do it often enough that I wouldn’t be surprised,” Virgil admitted jokingly. “But it wasn’t me.” He glanced towards Patton questioningly.

“Oh—um, maybe,” Patton admitted. “My back, I think? It wasn’t too hard. I barely even woke up. I never would have known if you hadn’t said anything.” He took a long sip of his water, glancing away.

“Oh,” Emile said, sounding relieved. “Okay. Sorry about that, anyway. It was an accident.”

Patton shook his head, setting down his cup and looking up at Emile with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo; you were asleep. It’s not your fault. I’m fine, promise.”

Virgil glanced between the two of them, then returned to his sewing. One of the lights flickered overhead just as Virgil went to do a stitch, and he pricked his finger with the needle. Virgil sighed, sitting back. “So, are we doing anything today besides mending clothes?” he asked, sticking the tip of his sore finger in his mouth.

“I was actually meaning to talk to you two about that,” Emile said. “I need to go out and get some things.”  He rolled his shoulders and stretched. “It might take a couple days, though .”

“A couple of days?” Virgil echoed. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get some stuff on the upper floors. For repairs and such. We’re running low.”

Virgil removed the finger from his mouth. “Okay. Let me come.”

Emile sighed. “No.”

Patton shifted uncomfortably. The light flickered again.

“Why not?” Virgil said, sounding annoyed now.

“I’m—I’m gonna take a walk,” Patton announced. Virgil and Emile didn’t fight very often; but things were still  kind of tense between them; and it made Patton rather nervous to see, even though he knew by now that they were not going to change their minds about letting him stay.

“Wait, Pat, you don’t have to go,” Virgil said, the annoyance immediately gone from his voice.

“I won’t go far,” Patton promised, already getting to his feet.

Virgil sighed, rubbed his temple, then nodded. “…Okay. Don’t be gone too long, though, yeah?”

Patton made an affirmative noise, grabbed a water pouch from near the door, and left the room as he fastened it around his waist.

…

“Why can’t I go with you?” Virgil asked once Patton was gone, turning back to Emile. “Do you really still think I can’t do it?”

“Virgil, I can’t—”

“You can,” Virgil interrupted. “I can do it. You know it. I know it. I’ve left the walls before, so many times! Haven’t I proven myself capable? I know you’re still mad that I lied to you, but I can do it! I saved Patton from humans. I can steal a few crumbs without being caught. Why do you still treat me like a helpless child?”

“It’s not that I think you can’t do it,” Emile said as calmly as possible.

“Then what is it? Are you still mad about me saving Patton?”

“I’m not mad that you saved Patton, of course not! I’m mad because—I’m mad that you didn’t tell me about him sooner!”

Virgil paused, confused. He hadn’t told Emile about going to see Patton in the time between finding and rescuing him, that was true, but why was this somehow worse than all the other times he had left the walls without Emile’s permission?

“Look, I get that it wasn’t safe—.”

“It’s not that,” Emile snapped. “It’s not just that. It’s…. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t want to help him? Why didn’t you trust me? Did you really think that I would ever leave someone stuck in a cage, that I would be that selfish?”

“…No,” Virgil said quietly, realization dawning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, but found that he had apparently forgotten how to speak.

“I just… I need some time to think. Okay?”

After a long pause, Virgil all but whispered, “You’ve had two months to think.”

“Have I?” Emile asked. “We’ve been busy trying to get Patton back on his feet—he was so sick when you brought him here, Virge; you know that. And besides that, I’ve had to be collecting supplies for three people now—and don’t you dare use that against me,” he interrupted himself, before Virgil had the chance to say that that was all the more reason for him to go with. Which may or may not have been exactly what he was about to do.

Instead, Virgil sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Patton wouldn’t want to be left alone, anyway, would he?” he reasoned more gently.

Virgil thought for a moment. “I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly. He knew that Patton couldn’t do a trip like that yet, certainly not easily, and it wasn’t fair to ask him to attempt to travel that far. Emile had a point. They couldn’t leave Patton alone here for two days. Not with the nightmares he got when alone. He looked away, then got to his feet, grabbing the crutches that had been laying at his side. “I’m going to go find Patton,” he announced, already on his way out the door.

“Do you want me to wait until you get back before I leave?” Emile called after him. “I have everything mostly ready, but I can wait.”

“No, why bother?” Virgil said, his back to his brother. “Don’t let me interrupt your thinking time.” He did pause in the doorway, though, and look back at Emile. “I am sorry,” he said, his tone softer and gentler than before. “I wasn’t thinking about—When I didn’t tell you about Patton, it wasn’t because I actually thought you’d leave him. I know you would have helped him escape, too. I was just… just scared, I guess. I didn’t realize that it would seem like I thought you’d do that to him. So… I’m sorry for that. Really.”

Emile nodded, not meeting his eyes; and Virgil left the house.

…

Virgil had a pretty good idea of where he could probably find Patton. He knew that his friend wouldn’t have left the floor, which narrowed things down quite a bit. There was a spot that the two of them had visited frequently since Patton had first arrived, as the two of them went on regular walks together, trying to get Patton’s strength up.

The walks were working pretty well, and they could go a lot further now before Patton needed a rest than they had been able to at the beginning, meaning that they usually no longer needed to use this place for a rest. Patton had come a long way. Even so, they often visited there, whether Patton actually needed a break or not.

There was a spot where a hole was cut into an air vent on this floor, both to allow access to the vent and to let more of the heat it carried to reach the littles’ house in the colder months. There was a vent cover near the entrance that had a view down into the apartment below, which had a large aquarium almost perfectly placed in the center of the view the vent provided. It was a nice place to spend some time, honestly, just watching the fish swim about. Virgil went there; and sure enough, Patton was sitting in front of the vent cover, hugging his knees and looking through the slats at the fish tank below.

“Hey,” Virgil said softly, nearing.

Patton looked up. “Oh, hi, kiddo!” he greeted. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came to find you.” He sat down at Patton’s side. “How are the fish?”

“Sasha and Sweetpea keep chasing each other,” Patton answered. He had insisted on naming all ten of the fish in the tank during their past visits. “Maybe they’re playing tag.”

Virgil nodded seriously, looking down at the fish, two of which, sure enough, were chasing each other around the tank. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I hope we didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Patton mumbled, looking back to the fish.

“It’s okay if it’s not okay,” Virgil said.

Patton shifted, adjusting how his arms rested around his knees. “Really, Virgil—I know that you and Emile are going to fight sometimes. And I know you’re not going to kick me out. It just… makes me nervous, sometimes, that tone of voice.” He looked away with a feeble shrug. “

Virgil looked down at the floor of the vent ruminatively. After a moment, he put a reassuring arm around Patton’s shoulders. “I’ll try to not do that anymore,” he said. “And I’ll talk to Emile. We can try to have more… discussions, before things get heated.”

“It’s not even really just fighting, though,” Patton admitted softly. “It’s just…”—he smudged at his eye with his sleeve—”when she used to get annoyed, it wasn’t… It wasn’t good.” He kept staring determinedly down at the fish. “I know you’re not—you’re not even….” (Human, Virgil thought, silently finishing the sentence.) Patton swallowed. “But it still makes me nervous, for some reason. It’s not fair to ask you guys to never be annoyed with each other, or realistic. I know that.”

Virgil bit his lip, his heart sinking at the thought of having scared Patton. “How about we promise to leave the room if that happens?” he offered. “You shouldn’t have to be the one who has to leave.”

Patton seemed about to refuse, but Virgil squeezed his shoulder, and he reluctantly nodded. “If… if Emile’s okay with it,” he whispered.

“He will be, I know it. Besides,” Virgil said. “Emile and I were talking, and… we should hopefully not be fighting as much anymore. I realized I’ve been kind of a jerk to him.”

“You’re not a jerk,” Patton mumbled.

“Thanks. But… I did act like a jerk, kind of, to him. He was upset that I didn’t tell him about you before I brought you home. I guess he thought that I thought he wouldn’t want to help you. Which… I honestly hadn’t even considered.”

Patton glanced over, but he didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, I think it’s going to be better now,” Virgil said. “He’s probably out on that supply run already, though, so it’s just going to be the two of us for the next couple of days.”

…

Several minutes passed in silence, the two friends watching the aquarium below. After a while, Patton released his knees and sat back, uncurling a bit from his formerly hunched position.

“Do you think Roman and Logan are okay?” Patton asked softly. The question probably seemed out of nowhere, especially given their previous conversation topic; but Patton still thought about the humans quite a lot.

“Does it matter?” Virgil frowned, glancing at him. “They’re humans.”

“Yeah, but…” Patton bit his lip. “I’d just like to know.”

“Why?” The question seemed genuine.

“I don’t… I don’t know. They were pretty nice to me, weren’t they, even though they’re humans? I don’t really—I don’t know why they let me go, or why… anything they did. But they were nice to me. Without them, I could’ve….” Patton trailed off, uncomfortable and uncertain. “I don’t know.” The humans had saved him, really. Patton was pretty sure. He knew that he had been in bad shape when the found him—even if they had basically kidnapped him, Patton thought that their intentions were good. They had fixed up his hands, given him food and water and a place to recover from his ordeal; although, they hadn’t exactly gone about it the way that Patton would have preferred. Even after they had stopped trapping him in the cage, they left him on top of a table that he was too ill to climb down alone. There were also the multiple times they had scared him, whether it was intentional or not. Plus, while he didn’t remember much about when the humans had found him at the beach, he was pretty sure that he had not exactly been captured willingly. Still, the bad things that the humans had done didn’t negate the ways that they had attempted to help him. Even the outfit whose sleeve Patton was worrying between his fingers attested to that. The fact remained that, had Roman and Logan not found him, the chances were not insignificant that someone else would have instead. And even if that hadn’t been her… Patton would prefer not to think about it. He knew that he had gotten lucky.

If he hadn’t been caught by Logan and Roman, after all, he would never have met Virgil and Emile, would he?

Virgil brought Patton out of his thoughts when he sighed, looking up towards the ceiling. He had made it clear that he still thought that the humans had been trying to trick Patton into becoming a pet, or an experiment, or something of the sort through some kind of mind game; but he had also all but admitted that they had seemed to genuinely want to help Patton. Now, he looked conflicted.

As Patton watched, Virgil screwed his eyes shut, as if already suspecting that he was going to regret what he was about to say. “Well…” he began reluctantly, “I guess… we have some free time while Emile’s out on his supply run. If—if it’ll make you happy, we can go down to the second floor. Just for a bit, to look in on them.”

Patton sat up straighter and turned to his friend, surprised. “But… I thought you closed off all the doors?” He had been working on that for a while, starting a couple of weeks after he’d rescued Patton. Once he’d been settled in, Virgil had started leaving about one day per week to work on closing off the doors. Emile had reluctantly allowed it since it didn’t require leaving the walls, and Virgil surely wasn’t going to disobey in this case. Virgil had finished the job some time ago.

Virgil shifted at his side. “I left one,” he admitted quietly. “For emergencies.”

Patton felt a flutter of excitement. “You’re sure about this?” he checked.

…

Virgil knew he shouldn’t have made the offer.

The humans that Patton had been trapped with were just that: humans. Practically synonymous with the word “danger”. But as Virgil watched his friend’s eyes light up, he felt a bit better about his decision. What he was offering really didn’t invite a lot of danger: they were not going to let the humans see them, and they were not going to get close enough to get caught even if that did somehow happen. They were certainly not going to talk to the humans. Virgil was only offering a look at them, to show his friend that they were okay. Something he would definitely not be offering had the humans shown any sign of seriously looking for Patton. Either they had given up quickly, or they were almost hilariously incompetent at searching for him. Good news for the littles either way.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Virgil assured, getting to his feet. “Consider it an apology for upsetting you.” He adjusted his crutches and put out a hand to help Patton up. His friend took it with a small smile; and Virgil pulled him to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that he could still feel the thick, slightly raised line of the scar across his friend’s palm. “Let me be clear, though—we’re not talking to them, or letting them see us. Just looking in on them. I left a doorway in the living room, where we can see them and stay hidden.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Patton said.

“I know. But if it’ll make you feel better, and we don’t take any risks… why not?”

[purediscordhell]

Seven Seconds

Summary: Remy gets his first Charge as a Guardian Angel. But the truth is, keeping a Charge safe is harder than he expects it to be.

Pairing: N/A

Words: 2,153

Warnings: Character death, implied/referenced suicide, suicide, stalking, implied stalking, implied/referenced abuse, emotional/psychological abuse, abuse, non-graphic violence, light blood mention, blood. These are very light, but still taken as a precaution.

A/N: Hello guys. This story is extremely different than the two previous ones I wrote. This deals with a much heavier set of events than my crack fics, as seen by the tags. 

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15698289 

Work Text:          

Seven seconds. Seven seconds are all it takes. Whether someone falls in love. Falls out of love. Gets their hearts broken, or gets their heart mended. Or something much worse. Whether someone lives or dies.

Remy didn’t like the idea of seven seconds. To him, seven seconds was way too fast. A lot could happen in seven seconds, a lot of good.... or a lot of bad. Remy had the unfortunate luck of having something bad happen.

He supposed it was a punishment. After all, he seems to fail at everything he does, anyway. At least, that’s what his superior, Lenny, said. The bulky, balding African American glowered at him every time the younger Guardian Angel passed by.

He was really excited about getting his first Charge. The rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins when he got called into his Role. The look of disapproval on Lenny’s face as he got ready for the Ceremony. Remy ignored the look on the Superior’s face. He wasn’t concerned about it. He’d trained hard since day one.

His charge was a little girl named Claire. She had light blond hair and the most beautiful green eyes. Favorite color: yellow. Favorite flower: dandelion. At six years old, she had that genuine curiosity that made others mad. Always asking questions.

The first time Claire got hurt on Remy’s watch, she was seven and a half, and one of her friends pushed her off the slide. He wasn’t paying attention, too busy drinking coffee to realize what happened. She got two scrapes and a bruise on her kneecaps. She cried for three days afterward.

Even though it was a mildly dumb thing, Remy got chewed out. Lenny insisted that Remy be taken off of Guard duty immediately, but one of the senior members argued against it. They said that he’d done good over the year and a half. Lenny consented, but he warned the young angel to be careful next time; or he would pull him off.

Remy vowed to never let Claire be hurt again. He loved Starbucks, but he loved his job more. He spent the next six weeks paying special attention to how Claire interacted with her parents and how to mend bruises. He got better, now that he was paying more attention.

Remy remembers this first time with tears running from his dark blue eyes, much like the waterfalls connected to the ocean. He’d been a Guardian for ten years. Over those ten years, he’d learned a lot from his superiors and from Claire and her family.

Claire loved to sing. She joined choir as soon as she possibly could. She soloed in two songs in second grade. She made three friends, all of which would go on to support her everywhere. Claire was a people person, the one who would light up the room just by walking in with a smile.

Sixteen was a trying time. It was the middle of the teenage years, where boys were introduced into the mix. She was just sixteen, and putting herself out there already.

She was introduced to a boy by the name of Andrew. He was a gangly boy, with the messiest black hair one could imagine. Remy kept his black hair slightly messy, but in a cool and collected manner. Andrew had the coldest blue eyes Remy has ever seen.

He immediately disliked the boy. He got a bad vibe as soon as Andrew sauntered into the room. Remy found it was his mission to get Andrew and her to break up. They were only dating for two weeks, it’s shouldn’t be too difficult.

Remy shuddered, feeling cold in the crisp weather of Autumn. His leather jacket that he loved so much did nothing to warm him. Sure, he didn’t really need to feel human things, but he would For today. It was the least he could do.

Claire introduced Andrew to her parents about a month into their relationship. Her parents loved him, of course they would. Her friends were iffy about him. Her three childhood friends, Christopher, Bethany, and Lindsay, could care less about him, in fact. Lindsay expressed her distaste in Claire’s boyfriend almost as soon as Remy had.

He wished he had done something sooner. As a Guardian Angel, you couldn’t interfere very often. No, mostly you just sat back and watched. You watched... as your world crumbled around you and fell. Crashing down to the earth, to shatter into dust.

Six months into the relationship, Andrew changed from sweet to demanding. He would text her at least thirty times a day, demanding to know where she was at all times.

Remy shuddered, not wanting to think about him. About the way that he started making sure that she was supervised all the time. That she was only going where she was ‘supposed to be going.’

That sounded stupid to him. ‘Supposed to be going?’ What the hell, Andrew? Are you that sad of a human being that you can’t trust your girlfriend of six months, who loves you very much, to do anything?

Claire was a very sweet girl. She always made time for everyone, no matter what the request. For example, her friend Christopher took their little clique to his church when they hit eighth grade. Her family wasn’t big on religion, so naturally they didn’t go to church or participate in anything. She ended up getting all of her close friends and family baptized within two years, including herself. Claire participated the most and fundraisers organized by the church. The church was called ‘Fellowship of the Temple.’ Remy found it very cliché at the time.

Remy dried his tears. He knew he messed up again. He knew it was soon as she was carted into the hospital on April 9, 2021 at 9:30 in the evening. Claire was hanging out with Andrew, and things were going well. Remy still had suspicions, but he hadn’t done anything too terrible, yet.

He made the mistake of getting distracted. By what, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the fact that he was drinking from his Starbucks cup. Or maybe the TV was on, or his back was turned. Maybe it was all three; it didn’t matter now. All that matters is that he wasn’t paying attention like he was supposed to be.

They were arguing. Of course they were arguing. It’s been getting more frequent lately. Andrew tried to argue at least three times within the last week. It usually went with him asking if she was talking to any guys. She would say, apart from you and Chris, no.

Remy guessed that this day, Andrew had had enough. He ordered Claire to stop talking to any and all boys other than him. This included Christopher, the friend she’s had since second grade. Claire had refused, getting fairly upset at Andrew saying this. And Remy had agreed. It wasn’t Andrew’s place to say this sort of thing.

Andrew just kept getting madder. But he usually did, maybe screaming for a few minutes until either calming down or getting his way. Remy, while not having heard this exact conversation before, had heard an argument kinda like this one they were having now. So he ignored it, getting distracted. Big mistake.

The sharp thwack followed by a heavy thud made Remy freeze. He whirled around- since when was he facing the opposite direction?- and his eyes widened in the horror. Andrew held something in his hand- a bat. That said bat was leaning up against the couch they were sitting on earlier. Remy dashed forward, all concern on Claire.

She was sprawled across the wood floor, unconscious. She was bleeding on the side of her head, caused by the bat. Why was there even a bat in the house? Did he go out and buy one? Did Andrew have this planned from the beginning to knock her out?

No, of course not, Remy was being ridiculous. Andrew was on the baseball team. That’s why he had the bat. Be logical, Remy.

The screech he made was unholy. Nobody could hear him, but he still did it. He was suddenly thrown back to when Claire was seven and a half. Oh, how Remy wished it was only for something stupid like her falling off of a slide. A simple push. Nothing as severe and tragic as this.

He watched as Andrew looked down at her unmoving body, laying on the floor like a ragdoll. The anger bubbled up inside him exponentially, suddenly bursting forth in an angry sea of red. He roared in anger, sadness, and grief, mixed with a bit of fear, too. How many times would he fail as her Guardian Angel?

His wails of agony shattered the glass in the front window. The boy flinched, and he turned around. Andrew’s eyes widened when he saw the window. Remy ignored him, crouching down beside Claire and shushing her softly, even though she couldn’t hear him. A knock on the door sounded pretty soon after- maybe it was soon?- and Andrew was lead out in handcuffs.

She was rushed to the hospital by a neighbor and another police officer. Remy didn’t leave her side the whole time. Helen and Robert Callihan were called, her parents. They were crying, angry and broken. He hovered next to her shoulder, trying to send positive waves of energy through the air, knowing it wouldn’t be received.

Two days later, she woke up. Remy was exhausted. He was fighting tooth and limb for her, just as she was, for her to stay alive.

Her three friends were there, as well as her parents, when she woke up. They all cried and laughed, saying that a Guardian Angel was watching out for her.

Remy felt shame burn in his gut. He’d never actually been a hands-on Guardian. Maybe if he was, this wouldn’t have happened. If he’d just intervened more.

Two weeks later, Claire was out of the hospital. She looked dead tired. Andrew had threatened her with death if she told her parents what had happened, which made Remy seethe. He didn’t spend too long in jail, which just made matters worse. But he couldn’t do anything to harm her anymore. She was safe.

She wanted some alone time away from her parents and her friends: Lindsay, Christopher, and Bethany. She told everyone goodbye, that she loved them. He grew uneasy while he watched her hug her parents goodbye. She then got into her car, drove to the bridge, and got out. Remy followed her, curious and unsure where she was going.

She sat down on the edge of the bridge, sighing. She looked up into the evening sky, watching the sun’s beams reflect over the water. There was a content look on her face, one that she hadn’t had for a while. Her face would always crease with agitation around Andrew, but now she was wrinkle-free.

Rather than watch the waves, Remy watched Claire. Her light blonde hair flowed ever-so-perfectly in the breeze, and her green eyes that Remy loved to see so much glittered with a deep-set happiness. Then she opened her mouth.

She asked about Guardian Angels. If she had one or not, and why did it seem like he didn’t care for her?

Remy’s heart ached. Of course he cared for her. He cared for her a lot more than he ever thought possible. He’d grown attached to his Charge. When that happened, he didn’t know.

Claire had smiled, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. She said that she didn’t hold it against him, that he was surely busy with other people and other things. Remy felt his heart start to shatter just a little bit more. He had failed her, and she knew it, too.

She thanked him then, startling him. She thanked him for keeping her safe for the majority of her life, and for fighting for her in the hospital room.

Remy thanked her for fighting to stay alive as well, heart now heavy. He knew what was coming. Claire stood up on the edge of the bridge. She stood there for a few minutes, as if waiting for something.

In those few precious moments before the world ended, before his world ended, Remy thanked her. He thanked her for opening his eyes to a whole new world. He thanked her for all the laughs, the tears, the songs. He wished her luck on her new adventure.

Claire fell, as beautifully as she did in her normal life. The wind whipped her hair, framing the look of utter peace on her face as she hit the calm waves down below. A splash, followed by silence a few minutes later.

Remy leaned against the back of the bridge, looking out over the waves. Claire would be safe now. Safe from Andrew. Safe from Remy.

He couldn’t fail her anymore.

@melancholykazoo @why-things-go-boom @depressivedegenerate @patton-croc-agenda @keithstopno @the-closet-1