#the circle of truth: solo advanced

[myloveforhergoeson]

A Pop Tiger exclusive - The first look inside Roxanne Somerset's highly anticipated first solo album brand new eyes:

Pop Tiger's finest sat down with the singer-songwriter on the eve of her album release to chat all things music and get the ultimate track-by-track breakdown from the rocker herself.

Written by: Beatriz Fuentes // June 10th, 2010

(covers highly inspired by @partiallypearl <3)

Seventeen-year-old Roxanne Somerset, daughter of two-time Grammy Award winner and frontman of Dec and the Desires, Declan Somerset, anxiously paces around the top floor of Rocque Records in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket, taps at the screen to check the time, and lets out a sigh uncharacteristic of those about to reach their first major career milestone.

Q: Expecting a message from someone?

A: *Dry laughter* Not really... More like wishful thinking. But, you've got my full attention - I promise.

Roxanne, or Roxy as she prefers to be called, slips her phone back into her pocket and sits at the end of the long white couch in the lounge area she brought me to, smiling.

Q: Would you mind sharing some of what's going through your head right now? Not many of us can imagine how it feels to release such a personal project to the world.

A: It's honestly hard to describe. Most of it is settling right in the middle of my chest, like butterflies. I'm excited for sure, but I'm definitely going to have to stay offline for a little while until all the hype dies down. Some parts get a little bit messy and the thought of backlash is worrying, but I know my truth. Love or hate the album, I don't need to know how anyone else feels about it. What's most important is the story I want to tell; That's all I'm looking to achieve with my music.

Q: Messy?

A: I've got songs about four separate guys on this one... So, yeah. Messy. But the good kind of messy! The kind that makes these songs so fun to perform with thousands of people screaming the words back to me.

Q: Your first world tour starts in just a few days, are you all packed and ready to go?

A: For the most part! I'm certainly rehearsed out and getting the music, stage, and production equipment in order was enough to make me consider staying home altogether. But, I've lived out of a suitcase practically my entire life until I relocated to L.A. last year. I've just got to remember what that was like and get my wardrobe in order...

Roxy looks down to the floor, threading her fingers together.

A: And, of course, I've got to say goodbye to my friends for a bit. That's going to be the hardest part, I think. My tour ends here in town though, so I'll be able to see them again in a few months. They've all gotten an advance copy of the album, so they better know all the f-ing words.

Q: Circling back to the album, our Pop Tiger readers are eager to hear about it directly from the source. We were hoping to get a track-by-track breakdown; The good, the bad, and the...

Glancing up, the bright lights make her green eyes shine.

A: The messy? I can give you messy. If we want to start with the first song, 'Are You Impressed?' I'm not ashamed to say that one is about my father. It's no secret that Declan is a talented musician - I've learned so much from him, and his connections to the music industry helped me reach where I am today. That being said, the role music plays in his life has greatly affected our interactions over the years.

Admittedly, Roxy's answer shocked me. Not many songwriters are so open about who their songs are about, especially when, like she mentioned earlier, there was potential for backlash.

A: After being in the industry for so long, his taste as evolved to an incredibly high standard. One that *air quotes* 'amateur' writers often never achieve - his words, not mine - so the lyrics reflect that. He's made it clear that the pop-rock songs I write don't do it for him, and for a while, that really killed me, as a musician and as a daughter. It was only until recently I realized I needed to stop chasing his approval and this song became the end result. I found myself trying to impress him with my songs when he wouldn't bat an eye in my direction, so the title reflects the question I kept asking when I was first starting out. Now, it's just a reminder that the only person I need to impress is myself. I'm not interested in following his lead.

The look on my face must have given away my emotions, and the singer-songwriter let out a small chuckle.

A: Don't worry, he won't f-ing read this. I can say whatever I want about him and he'd never, ever know.

Q: Do most of the other songs on the album reflect these feelings?

A: Nah. Just that first one is about Declan - the rest are about other people in my life who have shaped me into the person I am today. For instance, 'we don't talk about it' is a song I wrote after the whole thing I had with Mag McAllister of Brand New Day. Ugh... The media had a field day with that one.

For the beginning of her musical career, Roxy had been in a band of her own design called Brand New Day, founded in 2007. The "thing" she's referring to with lead singer and guitarist, Mag McAllister, went down in February of 2009.

A: Growing up in the shadow of a spotlight was one thing, I didn't really mind the constant cameras while I traveled around the world with my dad because they were usually focused on him. But, fast forward to the beginning of my teen years, I started a band just like he did, and suddenly they're all pointed at me and my friends. As a result, some embarrassing songs I wrote at fourteen got caught on tape and well... Avid tabloid readers know the rest of that story. That d-bag took one look at the most personal song I'd ever written and laughed right in my face about it. Like, who does that? *Laughter*

Q: And that was the catalyst for your solo career, correct?

A: Yup! I already had one man in my life treating me like an afterthought, so I wasn't interested in going through all that again. Kissed Mag's a- goodbye, moved out to Los Angeles permanently, and began to settle into the life I wanted to live. 'we don't talk about it' reflects my feelings about the situation as they were happening in the moment, when I looked into my future and wondered what the band dynamic would look like after that. I was so tired of thinking 'what if things were different?' without realizing I was the one who needed to initiate that change, so, I left Brand New Day. Little did I know that would lead to Mag digging his own f-ing grave.

Q: I assume you're referring to the theft scandal and plagiarism lawsuit you brought against him in March?

Before I even finished my question, Roxy cracked a smile, covering her mouth with her hands as she began to giggle so hard she doubled over. She could barely get out the answer to my question.

A: That stupid f-ing idiot...! The cameras caught it all...! Him taking my journal, recording my songs...! And trying to pass them off as his own...! God, I know boys are dumb but he's got to be the dumbest of all. My favorite part was how he constantly contradicted himself during the hearings; Nothing he said ended up making a lick of sense, and I got to watch as his career went down in flames. The next song 'fire' is all about that. Certainly one of the best times I'd had in the recording booth. The lyrics to that one just poured out of me... I think it only took 15 minutes to have the shell of the song done before I went in for the guitar.

Our other friend Dani Huron left the BND after that- they're doing their own solo work now, too, if anyone was wondering, and it's going to be exceptional when it comes out at the end of this year - as they'd had no idea Mag was lying to them about where all the songs from BND's sophomore album came from, leaving Mag running back home with his tail between his legs.

Dani Huron, the drummer of Roxy's former band Brand New Day, has been teasing their own solo work over the last few weeks. Roxy's given us a clue as to when Pop Tiger readers should be on the look out for their album!

Q: A few of your ScuttButts from this time had gone mega-viral... A personal favorite of mine being 'mag makes me realize that i could and should be hating harder.' At first glance, this attitude doesn't really match the softer image of this album cover. What was the inspiration behind the design?

A: Well, I was practically born in the middle of a punk concert mosh pit thanks to my dad. I bark and I bite, but that doesn't mean I can't be vulnerable and share feelings besides those of anger and defiance. It's my own special version of non-conformity; Releasing an album with the sounds of punk and rock with lyrics more tied to traditional pop. The image of me on the cover was taken by my good friend, Logan Mitchell, during one of my first weeks in L.A. *Pointing down the hall* Right there!

Where Roxy is pointing, from the highest point of the Rocque Records skyscraper, the rest of Los Angeles looks so small.

Logan Mitchell is one of four members of the boy band Big Time Rush. We at Pop Tiger are some of their biggest fans! As we all know, Roxy is, too.

A: I honestly just thought it looked cool, mostly, but the photo was also taken the day I met the person the next few songs are about when the boys and I were just d-ing around with the camera. They were having a Pop Tiger photoshoot, actually, if my memory serves me right. And that day, and the few months after that, I learned I really know how to pick guys...

He - I won't say his name, but it rhymes with Zac Efron - and I ended up meeting by chance that day when we double-booked Studio B to do some recording. Apparently, I really love dudes who want nothing to do with me, because I found out a few months into our relationship he'd been seeing someone else behind my back the whole time. Both 'don't forget' and 'distracted' traversed into my feelings about that... mostly because I did feel like he'd completely forgotten we were together and he was too busy with himself to even think about me. That should have been the first sign I suppose, and the second should have been when he stood me up at one of BTR's parties, but what can I say? I suppose I was a glutton for punishment. *Laughter*

Q: You were?

The singer nodded, confirming her answer.

A: Well, we've only talked about the first half of the album... Chock full of songs about my issues with others... But the back half? That's mostly full of love songs... Perfectly spliced in between with a rock anthem 'riot' I wrote and recorded with my best friend Lucy Stone. If you guys haven't checked her first album out yet, God, you're missing out. She's one talented chick.

Though Pop Tiger has been reaching out to Lucy Stone for an interview, the punk rocker has denied every single invitation. She seems to be at the top of Roxy's recommendation list!

A: I don't think I can sing her praises enough if I'm being honest. To say that I'm lucky to have found her in this town of a few million people is an understatement. She helped me find my voice again after the BND break up; I'd been writing primarily pop songs - which I love just as dearly - but when she came to me one day proposing we write something together this punk song practically poured out of me. It was nice to return to my roots after being away for a while and ended up inspiring the sound of a few of the other songs on here. Just like the song says, she and I love to riot! I don't think I've ever seen anyone go harder on stage than she does, she's like a whirlwind of art, destruction, and chaos up there. I think I've performed more surgeries on her guitars than a doctor does on their patients...

Q: Should we be on the look out for more collaborations between the two of you in the future?

A: Oh, absolutely. Lucy's an absolute dream to work with. Now that we're going to have our riot grrl song out in the world, I've gotta see if I can coax a love song out of her on her next album...

It was hard to miss the way Roxy's eyes widened as her sentence trailed off.

A: N-not because she's seeing anyone, right now, just because - That's what I've primarily been writing these days. Um...

Her cheeks flushed.

A: [If you're reading this magazine] You already know. He and I made the front cover like three times over the seven months we've been together. I had to send my darling, Camille Roberts, an apology for the last cover apperance. It was like prom all over again... *Mumbling* F- this is so embarrassing. He's much better at talking about it.

In October of last year, Pop Tiger had the privilege of breaking the news that Roxy Somerset and rising pop star James Diamond of Big Time Rush were officially a couple after months of unconfirmed rumors. They were featured as our cover story in November 2009, February 2010 for the Valentine's Day edition, and again, last month, May 2010 when they were crowned 'Cutest Couple' by our readers!

A: Anyway, hi, babe, if you're reading this. Sorry about 'that's what you get.' *Laughing*

Q: An apology for a love song?

A: It wasn't one when I first wrote it, if I'm being honest. It came from another place of hurt because I thought I'd been dumb enough to let another guy play me... Turns out I held some of the blame for the situational misunderstanding too. But now, to me, the lyrics that had been penned in a sort of sarcastic 'that's what you get...' tone have taken on a new meaning. As in, that is what I get because it led to something I want. I'd do it again and again too, if I had to do it over, because I know what the outcome ended up being. So... While the lyrics may not sound very lovey, the message you get from reading between the lines makes it lovey to me. The rest of them are pretty self-explanatory though! 'hot' because duh... and 'where the lines overlap' talks about our joint rising fame and how lucky we are to have found each other.

At this point, Roxy was covering her face with her hands, her voice slightly muffled, making it difficult to decipher what she was saying as she shook her head. From my recording of the interview, I believe it was, "He said that one's his favorite. "

Q: From the recording [Gustavo Rocque] sent to Pop Tiger, it sounded like the penultimate song 'bright' was quite the departure from your usual style. Was there anything in particular that led to adding an acoustic song to your pop-rock album?

A: Ooh, you did your research. That's such a good question.

I feel like, anyone who really knows me and my musical style and preference can guess pretty quickly that I don't traditionally f- with slow, acoustic songs. However, the place that inspired me to write this cosmic-themed, raw, emotional song - Griffith Observatory - would only let me write in the facility if I used my acoustic guitar, not my electric. Which is all well and good, writing on the acoustic is no big deal, and I usually hit the studio right when I'm done with my lyrics and melodies to translate it into electric if needed. When I tried that for 'bright' the rock version didn't capture the same innocence and vulnerability the original had been forged over. So, I had to set aside my slow song grudge for this one... And everyone gets to see a new musical side of me!

Q: It's certainly a welcome new side, but the final song brings us right back to traditional Roxanne! How did 'she's so gone' end up taking the final slot?

A: Because we needed a d- break from all these boys...! It is my first album after all. *Laughter* There should probably be a song about me on there. This was another one that came easy to me and, shockingly enough, was the last song I wrote for the album. Originally, it ended with 'bright' but 'she's so gone' just came to me one afternoon while I was taking in the idea of an album of my own design being shared with the world. It's kind of like a promise to myself, in a strange way. I don't want to go back to being the person I was a few years ago, letting myself get walked over, avoiding conflict for the sake of others, not being my authentic self. This is my life and I'm going to live it on my terms!

Roxanne Somerset's debut album brand new eyes is available now!

[hypergamiss]

I live in a very redneck, conservative state where a lot of the women are traditional (lower middle class) housewives or have regular low skill jobs (think retail). I'm college educated, well off financially, and like to travel internationally. I just had to cut the last of my female friends off because they were always broke and could never take time off work from their multiple low wage jobs, to hang out with me. For example, I planned a trip weeks in advance and the girl overspent on groceries the day before the trip and bailed on me because she was broke. Am I an asshole for only wanting to associate with women who have money? Right now I'm solo, but it's hard to find single women who can afford to do the things I enjoy, where I live. The women who are on my level, are usually married with kids and also don't have time to have fun. I get a lot of "damn, girl. you do well for yourself" because most girls my age (<25) are barely making it on their own. I get told that I'm being elitist and judgmental, when I don't want to befriend certain girls. But it's just because I know certain types of girls are going to annoy me.

I don’t think you are unreasonable for wanting to elevate your circle. The truth is that not everyone evolves. It seems like you have a constant hunger for growth and doing better for yourself. Instead of wishing that we should change the people around us, it’s important to accept that 99% of society is actually fine with living a mediocre life. They just want to get a stable job, collect a check, and go out on the weekends. The few that risk time or money to get further in life are often outsiders and live a lonelier life because the average person simply doesn’t relate to them. And when you try to have conversations with them on topics that involve any type of growth, they get uncomfortable and think that you materialistic, money hungry, and superficial. I would suggest moving into a new environment. When I am in a major city it’s relatively easy to find friends that don’t get married or have children until they are in their 30’s and have time for themselves. I definitely don’t expect to find women like this in a conservative state like Montana (for example). It can be difficult to move away and be on your own but life changing at the same time. Do your research and take a few vacations to places that peak your interest. If you want to stay where you are, you just have to accept that there are far less women who have taken the direction in life that you have. You also have the option of making long distance friends and catching up now and then

[askbensolo]

Chapter 15: Ben Solo Earns His "Nerra" Card

Hi, I’m Ben, Nice to Meet You Masterlist

Dudes love setting things on fire.

It’s a primal, manly urge. One that transcends planets, cultures, and species.

And it was exactly how the Pentarra boys and I decided to spend our afternoon.

We had taken the blurrgs out to a flat area, a long distance west of Pentarra’s property. As we rode, the rocky outcroppings became smaller and smaller, and sparser and sparser—until we were out in the middle of a desert clearing that featured dry brush and some cactuses, but not much else. If you faced west, you could see the unobstructed horizon: a long, flat line that stretched out forever.

We made a big heap of brush, added some wood we’d brought, and put rocks all around as a barrier. Then we lit the brush and fanned the flames till our bonfire came to life, and then we cheered and chased each other in circles and generally behaved like idiots.

It felt so freaking good. Only a week ago I’d been holed up in my cubicle writing article after soulless article, and now I was running around with a bunch of fellas screaming half-naked in the sun.

It was November, then, so it wasn’t the best season for me to go shirtless. I looked kind of white and pasty. The Pentarra boys with their deep-hued skin all teased me and gave me flak for it—all except for Mikal, that is. But I took it good-naturedly, and laughed about it, too.

When we got tired of running around, we unrolled some blankets and lay down around the fire and looked at the sky. There wasn’t a single cloud, so when you looked up, all you could see was a huge expanse of blue that almost made you dizzy. It would have been a great setup for stargazing, had it not been the middle of the afternoon.

Despite it being the middle of the afternoon, one of the guys had brought a couple of jugs of whiskey, which he produced amidst a great deal of cheers. They passed the jugs around, and drank straight out of the bottles—and even though most of them were teenagers, they sure could put away a lot.

It made me feel weird. Part of me felt like I was supposed to be setting an example for them, or something—not taking peer pressure from guys who were two-thirds my age.

Still, I ignored their goading, and took only what I approximated to be a normal-sized shot.

“I’m not in college anymore,” I said, as my excuse. (As if I had even been a heavy drinker in college to begin with.)

“College?” asked Vataash. “You went to university?”

Multiple guys looked at me with curiosity, and I looked back at them. Apparently my having been to college was something odd to them.

“...Yeah,” I said. “Is that…weird?”

“We’ve never been to school at all,” Mikal said.

“Oh,” I said. “Do you guys…know how to do math? And write? And stuff?”

“Enough,” said Mikal. And everyone laughed.

“Is college like in the holofilms?” asked Nabohri (who, after last night’s events, seemed quieter than usual—but certainly not by much).

“Well…I guess it depends if you want it to be,” I said with a shrug.

My own college experience had been pretty tame. I’d gone to a few parties with Treeso, but mostly only to be his chaperone, his wingman, or his ride home. I had spent most of my time in college either studying or putting off studying…but that wasn’t gonna win me any points with the boys.

“Did you meet a lot of women?” Vataash asked me, and I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Oh, yeah—lots of ‘em,” I said.

I was telling the truth. UNaboo has a pretty equal gender enrollment ratio. I’d met a lot of girls at school.

I had also done everything in my power to fend them off. In fact, I had often invented fake girlfriends when I was at parties with Treeso…not because I was ashamed of being single, but because I wanted to stay that way. Pretending I had a girlfriend was a quick and easy way to shut down most romantic advances.

“How many women have you slept with?” asked another of the boys—a short guy with green-brown skin, who’d obviously had enough to drink. Even so, I found myself shocked by the audacity of the question.

“Well—how many have you?” I retorted, because I didn’t know what else to say.

“Ten,” he boasted.

Ten! Bro looked ten. Ten years old, I mean.

I figured he was at least fourteen or fifteen. But he had a noticeable baby face…which was maybe why he felt the need to project so much machismo.

“He lies,” said another guy. “He has not slept with anyone!”

“Ten,” the kid said again.

“Well—I’ve slept with five times as many women as you have, then,” I said to him.

And once again, I was telling the truth. Because I was pretty confident that this kid’s brothers were also telling the truth—and as you know, five times zero is zero.

I don’t think everyone would have known that, though.

“What is five times ten?” someone asked, revealing the consequences of never having gone to school.

“Five hundred,” I said with a straight face, to see if I could get away with it—and much to my surprise, I could. The group of guys all gasped and cheered and got worked up—either everyone was that dumb, that drunk, or both. Only Mikal raised a brow.

“Five hundred!” Nabohri crowed. “Then tell us, Ben Solo: who was the best of these five hundred?”

I laughed, embarrassed. Like I said, I’d made up dozens of fake girlfriends before. But I had never tried to fabricate a sexual encounter—and I knew better than to try now, when I had so little research to go off of.

“Come now,” I said, trying to play off my unease as modesty, “surely you don’t expect me to remember all their names!”

This response was witty enough to make everyone laugh—and luckily, fail to notice what I thought was a pretty obvious evasion.

“Fair enough,” chuckled Vataash, his chin in his hand. “Then at least tell us, Solo: where does Fa’nakhra rank in your many experiences?”

I stared at him for a moment to see if this was a joke. Fannie was his sister, after all. Was he actually expecting a response?

I looked around at all the guys. They all seemed exceedingly interested.

“...Why is this something you’d want to know?” I asked warily, the whiskey suddenly not sitting well. “She’s…y’know…your sister.”

“Our half-sister,” someone corrected.

“Why wouldn’t we want to know?” asked Nabohri loudly. “We will certainly never find out otherwise.”

“...What do you mean?” I asked, eyeing him cautiously. “You don’t see your sisters that way…do you?”

“Relax, Solo—we are not interested in our sisters,” someone else called out, which made me feel better—but only for about the span of a second. “But even if we were…we’d certainly choose one of the prettier ones.”

A shudder ran through me as everyone laughed. This was all very messed up.

“Hey, hey!” Vataash chastised, and I turned to look at him. “Don’t speak ill of Fa’nakhra. That is Ben Solo’s woman you’re talking about.”

“Well, he can have her,” said the other guy, and everyone laughed.

And I began to think something that, perhaps, I should have been thinking a long time ago:

…That I probably shouldn’t be hanging out with these guys.

I looked around at all of them, the throng of drunken teenagers and young twenty-somethings. And then I looked at my hands, and my body, and saw myself with them, and saw myself as one of them…and began to perceive the first signs of a panic attack. My fingertips started to tingle, and everything sounded like it was underwater. The scents of smoke and alcohol slowly began to choke me, and a scream simmered in my stomach. I began to feel sick inside.

…I decided that I wasn’t drunk enough. So I grabbed the whiskey jug as it was being passed, and set out to remedy the problem.

“Stop stalling and answer the question, Ben Solo!” Vataash called to me as I took a swig. “How does Fa’nakhra compare to your other mates?”

I thought for a second as I passed off the jug again—and then I knew how to respond.

I stood to my feet, and watched everyone snap to attention.

“With your forgiveness, good sirs, I decline to answer,” I said loudly, mimicking the way men speak on Ryloth: with one’s voice deep in the chest, and each word separated out from its neighbors. “I find this question incredibly disrespectful to Fa’nakhra. She is very important to me. I love her—really, I do. I don’t wish to humiliate her.”

I paused, scanning my audience, who looked disappointed.

…And then I allowed myself a slight smirk.

“Because, if I were to tell the truth, it would humiliate her,” I finished, and sat back down again—and everyone burst into raucous laughter.

Okay. Now I was drunk enough.

And I knew I shouldn’t have said that—but I was sleep-deprived and dehydrated and intoxicated with Rylothian whiskey and male approval. My critical thinking skills were quickly slipping away.

Boy, did it feel good to be funny! Everyone was laughing and laughing and laughing.

…Everyone, that is, but my little buddy Mr. Ten Girls.

“I think he is lying,” the boy said with measured suspicion. “I doubt he has been with any women at all.”

“Oh, you’re more than welcome to believe me a liar,” I retorted brazenly. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and I was losing the ability to judge how loud my voice was. “I won’t argue my five hundred, the way you feel the need to argue your ten. See—Ben Solo has no need to argue. Because Ben Solo does not lie.”

This, of course, was another funny thing for me to say.

But I was the only one who knew why.

Mr. Ten turned red in the face, and let himself fade into the background.

“Oh, pay Hakiiro no mind, Ben Solo—he is only jealous of you,” said Vataash, waving his flask. He had filled it from the last remaining whiskey jug, which was now being passed around on the other side of the bonfire. “Were you in a, what is it called—a fraternity?”

I wasn’t in a fraternity, but…that didn’t mean I had to say I wasn’t.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” I said, really getting into it now. “In fact, I was the sole human in a Gungan fraternity. Non-Gungans are not usually accepted, but they asked me to join—”

I paused, trying to make it sound like I was pausing for dramatic effect…but really, it was because I had no idea what I was about to say next.

“—because I am the only human ever to eat five Nabooian slug-beetles in the span of a minute,” I finished, pushing pride into my voice.

The actual event I was referencing was certainly less than my moment of triumph…but they didn’t need to know that.

“Gungans?” asked Vataash. “Are they not the clumsy, ugly ones, with the hideous snouts and stupid manner of speaking?”

I bristled at first. I didn’t like him talking about my friend’s species like that. For a second, I was about to climb onto a soapbox.

But: then I thought of something really funny to say instead.

“No, no,” I corrected loudly. “You are thinking of Nabohri.” I gestured to Nabohri, who was nursing the empty whiskey jug, sticking his tongue into the neck and trying to lick off whatever was left. The timing literally couldn’t have been any better.

Everyone roared with laughter (even Nabohri, who seemed to enjoy the attention), and I sat back, satisfied. Another zinger from Ben Solo—this one was my best yet, and it took almost three minutes for all the guys to calm down.

“No—Gungans are mighty warriors!” I exclaimed, once the hubbub had settled down. “Haven’t you heard of the Battle of Naboo?”

They hadn’t.

“Have you heard of the Clone Wars?”

They had kind of heard of the Clone Wars.

I frowned.

“...Have you heard of the Galactic Civil War?”

“That…is just another name for the Clone Wars, no?” asked Mikal.

I blinked. Mikal seemed like the smartest one out of all of them, and yet even he didn’t seem to have a basic knowledge of history.

True, none of them had been alive during the Galactic Civil War. But if none of them were even aware that it had happened…

“...Have you heard of the Death Star?” I asked, looking around at them. “It was kind of a big deal. It was a military space station with the ability to destroy entire planets.”

“Was?” Vataash cut in, rising to his feet. “Pentarra said that the star-killer had not been built yet. How do you know about it?”

I stared at him, not sure what to make of this bizarre outburst.

“...What does Pentarra have to do with the Death Star?” I asked.

Vataash began to look odd.

“...Nothing,” he said shiftily, sinking back down into place. “Forget I spoke.”

I scrutinized him. Had Pentarra…helped to finance the Death Star, or something?

“Ben Solo!” someone else called, drawing my attention away from Vataash. “Please! If we wanted to learn history, we would have gone to school ourselves. Tell us of the slug-beetles!”

Well, I’m never one to turn down a storytelling opportunity. So…I told them.

Perhaps you’ve heard my slug-beetle story: the time I ate five blue slug-beetles in my junior year of college, in the hopes of impressing the other guests at my first-ever house party. But I guarantee that you have never heard this version. Because in this version, slug-beetles were toxic to humans (they’re not), I was frantically rushed to the medcenter (I wasn’t), and I nearly died before getting my stomach pumped (this did happen to me once, but on a much different occasion).

Everyone was thoroughly amazed.

Everyone except Mr. Ten Girls, that is.

“He’s a liar,” said Mr. Ten (whose real name, apparently, was Hakiiro). “I watched Ben Solo eat at dinner last night. He made a face at his snorlii, and did not eat. How then could he have eaten five beetles, if he could barely stomach one snorlii?”

Wow. I really didn’t like this kid.

Everyone turned to me to see how I’d respond, like children watching an after-school fight.

Okay, first of all—I had eaten the snorlii. I hadn’t liked it, but I’d eaten it. I hadn’t finished it, but I’d eaten it.

But an argument on that point, I knew, was not the best I had in my arsenal.

“Well—you, buddy, are not a liar,” I returned, rising to my feet and swaggering over to him. Now that we were face-to-face, I could see he was a full head shorter than me. “Because although you claim to lie with women—I am pretty sure you’ve never lain with any at all.”

A chorus of ohhhhhhhh! rose up from the boys. If you have ever spent any extended time around young men, you know exactly what that sounds like.

“Oh, you got him, nerra!” cried Nabohri (who didn’t seem to remember that I’d “gotten” him, too, only half an hour earlier).

…Wait.

Nerra?

“Nerra?” I echoed, looking at Nabohri. “Me? I’m—nerra?”

“Oh, you are one-hundred-percent nerra—my nerra,” answered Nabohri, laughing. And even though I knew ol’ Nabohri couldn’t do math, I figured that one-hundred-percent had to be pretty good.

I grinned.

And I thought about what Pennie had said the night before…that when no one cares about you, the next best thing is to be craved.

…Well.

When you know no one would like you for who you really are, the next best thing is to be liked for who they’d want you to be.

Once it was getting close to dinnertime (and once we had run out of alcohol), we doused the fire and started packing up so we could head back home. Hakiiro got ill from drinking too much, so Mikal volunteered to stay behind with him for a few minutes. I got to ride my own blurrg this time, so I raced Vataash and Nabohri back to the grounds.

Vataash won—but I did manage to beat Nabohri, who cursed me with a laugh and a twinkle in his eye.

When we returned, Pennie was waiting for me at the gates with a sour look on her face.

“What’s up, Pen?” I asked, dismounting my blurrg while the other guys rode past us and toward the stables. “You look…worse than normal.”

“Pentarra requests your presence at his table,” she said rigidly.

I stared at her, my blood running cold.

“Pennie,” I said. “You promised you weren’t gonna get me killed.”

“If only he did wish to kill you,” Pennie sniffed. “No. He wants to dine with you, Ben Solo. When I told him that I find you interesting, he only laughed and told me that he finds you interesting, too. He sent me to inform you that you are to be his guest tonight at supper.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised.

I hadn’t thought I would meet Ruut Pentarra on this trip. In fact, I hadn’t been sure he even knew I existed. He was my girlfriend’s father…but it wasn’t like he was her dad. (Actually, I suspected that Pentarra’s lack of parental interaction with his children was why Pennie was so willing to have a romantic relationship with him.)

“‘Oh?’ Is that all you have to say?” Pennie snapped. “Pentarra does not often invite people to his table, Ben Solo. It is a great honor.”

“So…I’m gonna sit up there with you?”

“Not with me,” Pennie said, her voice clipped. “In my place.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “Why wouldn’t he want you there?”

“I don’t know,” Pennie huffed. “He did not tell me.”

“Well…okay,” I said.

Pennie waved her hand in front of her nose, and made a face. “You should wash,” she scoffed. “You reek of smoke and liquor.”

“What?” I teased, leaning in so she could smell me better. “You don’t think it’s sexy?”

Pennie bristled—which was exactly the reaction I’d hoped to get out of her.

“Not on you,” she spat.

I laughed, and pulled myself back up onto my blurrg so I could ride it back to the stables.

[biggielixx]

Thought I would share this its AI GENERATED talking about Paul and John after the Beatles

Timeline of John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s Post-Beatles Relationship (1970–1980)

1970 – The Breakup and Immediate Fallout

• March 31, 1970: Paul McCartney receives a letter from John Lennon and George Harrison (delivered by Ringo Starr) requesting he delay his solo album. This was to avoid clashing with The Beatles’ Let It Be release. The message – signed “Love, John & George” – asked Paul to push McCartney from April to June  . Having already felt marginalized, Paul erupted in anger. He “gave [Ringo] a bit of verbal”, yelling “You guys are just messing me around” and even ordered Ringo out of his house  . This confrontation marked a low point in their relations and set the stage for McCartney’s exit from the band.

• April 10, 1970: McCartney’s press release effectively announces The Beatles’ breakup. In a Q&A circulated with advance copies of McCartney, Paul stated he had no future plans with The Beatles, which the media took as the official split. Headlines around the world read that The Beatles “had finally split up” . John, who had privately left months earlier, felt blindsided – he later accused Paul of turning his departure “into a public ‘event’” to boost his solo debut . (John had agreed to keep his own September 1969 exit quiet for business reasons.) Paul maintained it wasn’t a publicity stunt, saying the press “misunderstood” his intention . Nonetheless, the breakup became public, and tensions were high.

• December 1970: John Lennon gives a candid interview (“Lennon Remembers”) trashing McCartney and the Beatles’ legacy. In New York, John and Yoko sat with Rolling Stone’s Jann Wenner for an explosive tell-all (published January 1971)  . Feeling hurt and “embittered,” Lennon fired shots at Paul’s role in the band and his recent music  . He portrayed McCartney as bossy and unadventurous, calling Paul’s McCartney album “rubbish”  compared to George’s work, and claimed Paul had led the band “in circles” after manager Brian Epstein died . He also railed that Paul treated him and George as sidemen and belittled how the others handled Yoko  . The interview cemented the public image of a bitter rift – John cast himself as the “truth-teller” artist and Paul the conventional “Engelbert Humperdinck”-like pop figure . It was a very negative portrayal, showing how raw John’s feelings were so soon after the split.

1971 – Musical Attacks and Angry Exchanges

• May 1971: McCartney’s album Ram contains veiled jabs that Lennon perceives as attacks. Though Paul later downplayed it, he admitted one line — “Too many people preaching practices” — was a “little dig at John and Yoko.”  Lennon certainly heard it that way: he believed several Ram songs (like “Too Many People” and “Dear Boy”) were loaded with messages for him  . Even the cover art (a photo of two beetles on a fork) seemed to John like an insult . Feeling provoked, Lennon prepared a musical rebuttal.

• September 9, 1971: Lennon releases the Imagine album, featuring “How Do You Sleep?” – a scathing attack on Paul. In this brutally direct song, John unleashed years of resentment. He mocked McCartney’s recent music as insignificant, singing “The only thing you done was ‘Yesterday’” and “since you’ve gone you’re just ‘Another Day’.” He even taunted the crazy “Paul is dead” rumor by sneering “those freaks was right when they said you was dead.” The track’s lyrics accused Paul of being surrounded by sycophantic “straights” and making “muzak” . Paul was hurt and responded in the press. “So what if I live with straights?… He says the only thing I did was ‘Yesterday’. He knows that’s wrong… it’s not true,” McCartney retorted to Melody Maker later that year . Both men had now taken very public shots at each other through their music, alarming fans who hated seeing the ex-partners so at odds.

• November 1971: After months of sniping, Lennon writes a fiery open letter to McCartney in Melody Maker. Tensions peaked when Paul gave an interview (also in Melody Maker) suggesting The Beatles reunite to settle their finances – but insisting “no one’s wife” be present  . John was incensed, especially at the implied slight toward Yoko. In response, he penned a lengthy letter “to Paul, Linda, et al. the wee McCartneys,” which the magazine published on November 24, 1971. In it, Lennon scolded Paul for his portrayal of events and what John saw as hypocrisy. He reminded Paul that “you know damn well we can’t just sign a bit of paper” to sever ties due to ongoing legal issues , and accused him of acting sanctimonious in public (“playing ‘simple honest ole Paul’”) . John defended “Imagine” (which Paul had criticized) as “Working Class Hero with sugar on it for conservatives like yourself!” and chided Paul for taking “How Do You Sleep?” so literally . Notably, Lennon closed by softening his tone: “No hard feelings to you either. I know basically we want the same”, adding that he was open to meeting “whenever you want” . But he also rebuked Paul’s demand to exclude their spouses: “The bit that really puzzled us was asking to meet WITHOUT LINDA AND YOKO. I’m JOHNANDYOKO.”  . The letter was equal parts venomous and conciliatory. It aired their dirty laundry openly, but by ending with “love and peace” slogans, John signaled he hoped to bury the hatchet. This exchange effectively ended their public war of words – both realized continuing such bitter public feuding was doing neither of them any good.

1972–1973 – Cooling Down and Separate Paths

• 1972: After the heated exchanges of 1971, John and Paul dialed back the public insults. Lennon, now living in New York, focused on political activism and his own music, while McCartney toured with his new band Wings. In interviews, John avoided attacking Paul further – he had vented enough. (When asked about “How Do You Sleep?” later, John said, “I wasn’t really feeling that vicious… I was using my resentment to create a song… It was just a mood”, and acknowledged people hounded Paul about it .) During this period they had little direct contact. Importantly, both men started to miss their old friendship beneath the acrimony.

• 1973: Although John and Paul did not meet in person this year, there were subtle signs of reconciliation. Notably, they each contributed to Ringo Starr’s 1973 Ringo album (John wrote one track, Paul and Linda wrote another) – a rare instance of all four ex-Beatles appearing (albeit separately) on the same project. The atmosphere between Lennon and McCartney had calmed; no new barbs were thrown. John’s marriage was faltering (he and Yoko separated mid-1973), and Paul was finding great success with Wings. By year’s end, the stage was set for the two to reconnect; the lingering bitterness from the breakup was gradually fading into the background.

1974 – First Post-breakup Reunion and Reconciliation Efforts

• March 28, 1974: Lennon and McCartney reunite for a casual jam session in Los Angeles. In a surprise, Paul (newly granted a U.S. visa) dropped in on John at Burbank Studios, where John was producing music during his “Lost Weekend” separation from Yoko. It was the first time they had seen one another in person in nearly 3 years. The two old friends, along with others like Stevie Wonder and Harry Nilsson, had an impromptu late-night jam (later bootlegged as “A Toot and a Snore in ’74”) . The session itself was loose and drug-fueled – not exactly a polished reunion – but the significance was huge: John and Paul were hanging out amicably “after several years amid bitter fallings-out which have now faded.”  The next morning, a photo captured them smiling together at Lennon’s rented beach house. Those around them noted the ice had been broken. That same week, Lennon publicly praised Paul’s recent work – calling Band on the Run “great Paul music,” and even comparing the concept of Wings to his own Plastic Ono Band . It was a remarkable thaw: after years of sniping, John and Paul were friendly and musically bonding again, if only for a night.

• Late 1974: Paul plays peacemaker for John and Yoko, aiding their reunion. During this period, Paul and Linda socialized with John regularly. In one instance, they visited Yoko Ono in New York. Sensing John missed Yoko, Paul asked Yoko if she still loved John – she said yes – and Paul relayed this “step by step” plan to John on how he might win her back  . According to accounts by close friend Elliot Mintz and later confirmed by Yoko, McCartney sat down with John and “laid out, step by step, what he would need to do to win Yoko back.”  Lennon followed through: he courted Yoko again, and by early 1975 the two reconciled. Yoko was “bowled over by this gesture by Paul”, especially since Paul was at a career peak then . This behind-the-scenes act showed the depth of Paul’s lingering care for John. It directly contributed to John and Yoko’s reunion, marking Paul as a true friend when John needed one. In December 1974, all four ex-Beatles finally signed legal papers dissolving their partnership, formally ending the Beatles – an event John delayed but ultimately agreed to. With business disputes largely resolved and personal fences mending, John and Paul were effectively at peace with each other by the end of 1974.

1975–1976 – Friendly Encounters and the Last Time Together

• January 1975: Lennon briefly considers songwriting with McCartney again. Buoyed by their renewed friendship, John toyed with the idea of a creative reunion. As John and May Pang lived in New York, Paul and Linda would drop by frequently  . One morning, out of the blue, John asked May, “What would you think if I write with Paul again?”  He even suggested flying down to New Orleans, where Paul was recording Venus and Mars, to jam with him . May Pang was astonished (and encouraging – “I think it’s a great idea”, she told John) . John was genuinely “itching” for that collaboration and said “Let’s go down to New Orleans… I’ve never been, and I’d like to go.”  For a moment, it seemed possible the Lennon-McCartney team might work together once more. However, this plan was cut short in February 1975 when John reconciled with Yoko Ono (who was pregnant with their son). John chose to stay in New York with Yoko rather than travel, and he soon stepped back from the music scene to focus on family. May Pang later revealed that had John gone to New Orleans, “it might well have turned into a Beatles session… it was that close.”  Still, the fact that John contemplated writing with Paul again – something unimaginable a few years prior – showed how much their relationship had healed.

• April 24, 1976: John and Paul spend an evening together in New York – their final in-person meeting. On this night, Lorne Michaels famously offered the Beatles $3,000 to reunite on Saturday Night Live. By pure coincidence, John and Paul were hanging out at Lennon’s apartment in the Dakota, watching the live broadcast on TV. They were amused by Michaels’ cheeky invite and even toyed with the idea of spontaneously heading down to the SNL studio just a few miles away  . “We actually considered it,” Lennon said, and Paul later recalled, “It would have been work, and we were having a night off, so we elected not to go. It was a nice idea. We nearly did it.”  In the end they stayed home, figuring it was too late to pull off. The two spent the night relaxing together instead – a rare, pressure-free hangout just like old times. Notably, this turned out to be the last time John and Paul saw each other face to face. “April 24, 1976, became the last time that John Lennon and Paul McCartney would be in each other’s company,” as one account noted . Despite no public reunion on SNL, that quiet evening of friendship was itself a kind of reunion. They parted on good terms, with plans to meet again, unaware it would be their final meeting.

1977–1979 – Separate Lives but Mutual Respect

• Late 1970s: In the years that followed, John and Paul kept in touch sporadically but largely lived separate lives. John embraced domestic life in New York – he stopped recording after 1975 to raise his son Sean, becoming a self-described “househusband.” Paul, meanwhile, continued to tour and release hits with Wings. They no longer traded barbs in the press; the media narrative of a Lennon-McCartney feud had faded. On occasion, they’d send messages through friends or congratulate each other’s successes. For example, when Paul’s disco-tinged single “Coming Up” was released in 1980, John took notice. After years away from music, Lennon was struck by the catchy track coming over the radio and enthusiastically exclaimed, “F** a pig! It’s Paul!”* upon first hearing it . He praised “Coming Up” as “a good piece of work”, preferring Paul’s experimental solo-recorded version over the live version that became a chart-topping hit . In fact, John later admitted that song “shocked [him] out of inertia,” inspiring him to start making music again after a five-year hiatus . This was a telling moment – Lennon was openly crediting McCartney’s work for motivating him, a far cry from the negativity of 1970. Although they hadn’t seen each other since 1976, by 1979–80 John and Paul had rebuilt a mutual respect. Friends reported that Lennon spoke positively about Paul and even mused about potentially writing with him in the future. The two were no longer estranged; they were friendly from afar, each rooting for the other’s happiness.

1980 – Last Communications and Lennon’s Tragic Death

• Fall 1980: In interviews just weeks before his death, John reflects warmly on his relationship with Paul. With a new album (Double Fantasy) out, Lennon gave lengthy interviews in which he discussed his Beatles past with more maturity. He talked about the “family” bond between him, Paul, George, and Ringo. John acknowledged that, like any family, they had fights but deep down shared love and respect  . He complimented McCartney’s songwriting, recognizing Paul’s talent and even defending some of Paul’s Beatles songs that critics had panned. Lennon had recently enjoyed Paul’s “Coming Up” and noted he preferred the “freaky” McCartney II studio version, saying “if I’d been with him I’d have said ‘that’s the one’” to release . He also remarked that he and Paul remained close despite everything – describing their relationship as akin to brothers who had been through so much together. There were rumors that John and Paul had a phone conversation in these final months (possibly about visiting soon or about their families), though details are scarce. What’s clear is that by late 1980, Lennon harbored no bitterness toward McCartney. He seemed optimistic about their friendship, telling one interviewer that any past grudges were “forgiven, if not forgotten.” Both men were looking forward, not back.

• December 8, 1980: John Lennon is murdered in New York City, ending any chance of a full reunion. The world was shocked by John’s sudden death at age 40. Paul learned the news the next morning (December 9) after a recording session. When a reporter asked how he felt, a stunned McCartney responded, “It’s a drag, isn’t it?” . That seemingly flippant remark caused a media furor, as it appeared dismissive. In reality, Paul was in deep shock and later explained he simply couldn’t articulate his grief in that moment. “I had just finished a whole day in shock and I said, ‘It’s a drag.’ I meant ‘drag’ in the heaviest sense of the word… But when you see it in print it looked matter-of-fact,” McCartney clarified . In truth, Paul was devastated. He went home and, by his own account, “sat with the kids, just crying all evening” . George Harrison and Ringo Starr also reeled from the loss – George immediately issued a statement of love and respect for John, and Ringo flew to Yoko’s side – but Paul, always more private with his emotions, initially retreated inwards. In the days after, McCartney remembered his fallen friend in a quieter way. He later said, “It was just too deep. I couldn’t put it into words… I can’t be one of those people on TV saying what John meant to me.”   The tragedy, however, affirmed something crucial: John and Paul had made peace before the end. “After all we went through, I had and still have great love and respect for him,” McCartney would say of Lennon . Their last decade of letters, calls, and occasional visits ensured that when John passed, he and Paul were friends again.

1981–1982 – Aftermath and Paul’s Tribute

• 1981: McCartney grapples with Lennon’s loss and speaks publicly with love. In the year following the murder, Paul slowly opened up about John. Once the immediate shock subsided, Paul expressed how much John meant to him. “I’m just glad I got to know him – really know him – and to make up with him before the end,” he told one interviewer. He often likened John to a brother: sometimes infuriating, but irreplaceable. In April 1981, the three surviving Beatles came together (albeit via overdubs) on George’s tribute song “All Those Years Ago,” which referenced John’s spirit. And when John’s 40th birthday passed that October, Paul privately toasted his friend’s memory. The public finally saw McCartney’s true feelings during an November 1981 TV interview where a visibly emotional Paul said that “the world lost a great man… I lost a great friend.” He also addressed the much-criticized “drag” comment, reiterating that he was at a loss for words that day. It became clear that, beneath his British reserve, Paul was grieving deeply and cherishing the Lennon-McCartney bond more than ever.

• April 26, 1982: Paul releases “Here Today,” a heartfelt musical tribute to John. Featured on his Tug of War album, “Here Today” was written as an imaginary conversation with Lennon . In the song, Paul addresses things left unsaid, singing “If you were here today… what about the time we cried?” – reflecting on an emotional night he and John once shared in their youth. McCartney later said he composed it after “the emotions had sort of settled a little bit”, envisioning “a dialogue between me and John”  . Producer George Martin helped Paul record it simply, with a string arrangement, to let the sincerity shine. “I was kind of crying when I wrote it,” Paul admitted . The song served as Paul’s public farewell to his dear friend. Although not released as a single, “Here Today” touched fans with its honesty and reached #46 on the Billboard Mainstream Rock chart . In the lyrics, Paul fondly recalls telling John “I love you” during a long-ago heart-to-heart, and acknowledges that even if John “would laugh and say we were worlds apart,” they shared an unbreakable bond. This tribute, coming less than two years after Lennon’s death, was Paul’s way of healing. He ensured that the world knew how much he valued John’s friendship despite their ups and downs. In the decades since, McCartney has performed “Here Today” live as a moving homage, often introducing it by saying, “If you’ve got something you want to say to someone, don’t wait – you never know what can happen.”

• Post-1982 (Reflections): In the years that followed, Paul frequently reflected on John and their relationship in interviews, books, and media. He contributed loving memories to the Beatles’ Anthology project in the 1990s, recalling how their last conversations were warm and joke-filled. “Luckily for me, the last phone call I had with John was great – we were just laughing and talking about ordinary stuff,” Paul said, emphasizing that there was no lingering acrimony. In his 2021 book The Lyrics, McCartney wrote that after the breakup “John turned nasty…Maybe because we grew up in Liverpool, where you get in the first punch,” but stressed that by 1980 they had reconciled  . “Thankfully, I was able to make peace with John before he died,” Paul noted  . He has repeatedly described Lennon as “my friend and collaborator” and a guiding inspiration. On what would have been John’s 80th birthday, Paul tweeted, “I love you man.” Their partnership, complicated as it was, remains at the core of both men’s legacies. In the end, the Lennon-McCartney friendship came full circle – from teenage pals to estranged superstars and back to dear friends. By the time John left this world, all the negativity had been washed away by time and forgiveness, leaving only the positive essence of a remarkable brotherhood that gave us some of the greatest music of all time.

Sources:

• Beatles Bible – Paul McCartney reacts angrily to a letter from John Lennon and George Harrison, delivered by Ringo Starr (31 March 1970)  

• Beatles Bible – Press release for McCartney album / Beatles split  

• Lennon Remembers (Rolling Stone interview, 1970) via Wikipedia    

• Ram and Imagine feud details – Beatles Bible  

• John Lennon Melody Maker letter (Nov 1971)  

• Elliot Mintz memoir excerpt / Telegraph (Oct 2024) on Paul guiding John in 1974  

• Beatles Bible / eyewitness accounts of March 1974 jam and aftermath  

• May Pang interview (2008) on Lennon’s 1975 plan to write with Paul  

• Best Classic Bands – Lennon & McCartney almost on SNL (1976)  

• Wikipedia – “Coming Up” song background 

• Gold Radio UK – How The Beatles reacted to John Lennon’s murder (Paul’s “drag” quote explanation, 1980) 

• Wikipedia – “Here Today” by Paul McCartney 

• Gold Radio UK – Paul on writing “Here Today” 

• People Magazine – Paul McCartney on reconnecting with John Lennon (2021)  

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] Vincent and the Givnology Charmony Division team have combined over half a century of expert experience in performing, composing, arranging and teaching. From this comes practical tips and techniques for a diverse array of musical and cultural uses. World Music Class is a very extensive all-in-one primer, history, reference and songbook for a wide variety of music.Includes:Resolmilafatimila (Form Figure No. 1), Pattern, Chords & Analysis, 3 staves. World Music Mastery, Patterns for playing with anyone, Piano, Chords, Guitar Fret-boards & Analysis, 1 page.Latin Piano (Montuno) 101, C I-IV-V-IV major & minor (with I-ii-V-ii variation), 2 staves.Montuno Circles Makes Blues Scale, Piano, Chords & Analysis, 2 staves.Yorùbá Diasporas, Flowery Salsa & Rumba Parts, Piano, Chords & Afro-Caribbean Rumba Percussion Rhythmic Diagram, 5 pages. Calypso Study in Soca (Soul-Calypso), Piano, Soloist, Chords, Guitar Fret-boards & Calypso Rhythmic Diagram, 1 page.Yemaya Orisha Ocean Goddess, Sacred Song Piano Solo, 3 pages.Montuno Etude #1, Piano Solo, 1 page.Swing Montuno, Advanced Stylistic Fusion, Piano, Chords & Bembe Percussion Roles Rhythmic Diagram, 2 pages.Montuno Etude #2, C Major I-VI-ii-V, Piano Solo, 1 page. Calypso Circles (Guitar Chucks), Piano and Chords, 1 page. Soca Clav (Soul-Calypso Keyboard Chuck), Keyboard, 3 staves. Super Clavinet Technique, Keyboard, Chords and Guitar Fret-boards, 1 page. Affirmatinas: Everything's Going Perfectly Now & Ever More, Piano, Vocal, Guitar Chord Fret-board, 1 stave.Having What I'm Wanting, Wanting What I'm Having, Piano, Vocal, Chords & Guitar Fret-boards, 3 staves.Bossanova Study/Etude: Lost In Love, Piano, Vocals, Chords. 2 pages. Affirmatina Song "My Successes Are Here," Piano, Lyrics and Chords, 2 pages. Classical Derivative Affirmatina #1, "I Manifest My Destiny," Piano and Vocals, 1 page. #2, "Chopin Made A Way," Piano and Vocals, 1 page. #3, "Let It Be's" (Liebestraum), Piano and Vocals, 2 staves. Chamber Concertoo in D Major, RV 93, Antonio Vivaldi, Piano, Chords and Guitar Fret-boards, 2 pages. Che Farò Senza Euridice?, Christoph Willibald Gluck, theme reduction to Piano Solo, 1 page.L'Inferno (Winter) from The 4 Seasons, Antonio Vivaldi, Piano, Chords and Guitar Fret-boards, 1 page.Il Trionfo del Tempo e del Disanganno (The Triumph of Truth & Time) "Lascia la spina..", George Frederic Handel, Piano, Vocals, Chords & Cello, 2 pages. Les Baricades Misterieuses, by Francois Couperin, Piano Solo, 2 pages. Gelido in Ogni Vena, from Farnace by Antonio Vivaldi, Piano, Chords & Vocals, 3 pages. Song To The Moon, from Rusalka, by Antonin Dvorak, Piano and Chords, 1 page. Clarinet Concerto in A Major, the Adagio, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Solo, 2 pages. Laudate Dominum, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano, Latin Lyrics and Chords, 3 pages. The Magic Flute, The Priest's Aria, Piano, Lyrics and Chords, 1 page.Ave Maria (Ellens Gesang for Sir Walter Scott poems), Franz Schubert, Piano, Latin Vocals and Chords, 2 pages. Casta Diva from Norma, by Vincenzo Bellini, Piano, Vocals and Chords, 2 pages. Andante Moderato from Symphony #9, by Ludwig Van Beethoven, Piano Solo, 1 page. Adagio from Symphony #1, by Georges Bizet, Piano Solo, 1 page. Romeo and Juliet Overture, Pyotr Tchaikovsky, Piano Solo, 1 page.Andalucia, by Ernesto Lecuona, Piano and Chords, 1 page. Carmen's Habanera by Bizet (Adapted to teach percussion), Vocals, Chords, Guitar Fret-boards, Claves and Percussion, 2 pages.Yemaya & Santa Lucia by Capua (Adapted to teach percussion), Yórùbá, Italian and English Vocals, Chords, Guitar Fret-boards, Agogo and Percussion, 2 pages.Fun and enlightening stories and backgrounds are included to keep the reader inspired and appreciating what the master have left for us. Information about world music cultures leaves us more aware of the environments and beliefs that the music arises from. Publisher

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[spiritualsoul1969]

The Power of Satsang (Company of the Holy)

Sant Paltu, in his timeless wisdom, emphasized the power of Satsang—the company of spiritually inclined individuals—as an essential force in one's spiritual journey. This sacred association, rooted in the energy of collective devotion, allows the seeker to rise above individual limitations and access a higher plane of consciousness. More than just a gathering, Satsang is the foundation upon which spiritual growth is accelerated, offering a space for the soul to flourish in the light of divine wisdom.

We often hear that "we become the company we keep." This universal truth takes on profound significance in the context of spirituality. Sant Paltu understood that the path to enlightenment can be filled with distractions, doubts, and challenges. The soul, by nature, craves union with the Divine, but worldly distractions keep it bound in a cycle of material attachment. In this tumultuous journey, the company of holy individuals acts like a compass, redirecting us back to our spiritual centre.

Satsang not only provides knowledge and guidance, but it also ignites the flame of devotion within us. There is something deeply transformative about being in the presence of those who have dedicated their lives to spiritual growth. Their energy, wisdom, and love act as a mirror, reflecting our own potential and inspiring us to walk the spiritual path with more conviction. Sant Paltu believed that even the most challenging inner battles become lighter when shared in the company of saints, sages, or spiritual seekers. In such company, the heavy burdens of doubt, ignorance, and confusion are dissolved.

The idea of Satsang is far from being about idle discussions or theoretical debates. It is a space where spiritual truths are not only spoken but also felt. Sant Paltu’s teachings remind us that the vibrations of such holy gatherings elevate our consciousness, enabling us to perceive the Divine more clearly. Even those who feel distant from spiritual practice can find themselves profoundly moved and awakened through Satsang. When people come together with a shared intent to seek truth, the collective energy magnifies and transforms everyone involved.

What sets Satsang apart from other social interactions is the absence of ego. The gathering is focused solely on uplifting the soul and aligning with divine truth. Unlike worldly associations, which often foster desires, competition, or attachment, Satsang leads the individual toward renunciation of the ego and the experience of divine love. Sant Paltu’s vision of Satsang was not merely to inform the intellect but to touch the heart, leading to an inner transformation that words alone cannot achieve.

In today's fast-paced, hyperconnected world, it’s easy to fall into the illusion that spiritual growth is a solo journey. We may think that reading books, attending workshops, or practicing meditation alone is enough. But Sant Paltu's teachings call us to recognize the power of collective spiritual energy. No matter how advanced or new you are on the spiritual path, the presence of others on the same journey accelerates growth. In Satsang, doubts can be dissolved, inspiration is renewed, and one's faith is strengthened simply by witnessing others’ devotion and progress.

Practical Toolkit for Incorporating Satsang into Daily Life

Seek out local spiritual groups: If possible, find local communities or spiritual groups where you can regularly attend Satsang sessions. Being in the physical presence of others creates a stronger connection with the collective energy.

Virtual Satsang: If physical gatherings are not feasible, consider joining online Satsang sessions. Many spiritual organizations host regular online meetups, allowing you to stay connected with a global spiritual community.

Regular spiritual discussions with friends: Create a small circle of spiritually inclined friends who meet regularly, either in person or virtually, to discuss teachings, meditate together, or share experiences. This regular interaction helps keep the flame of devotion burning strong.

Spend time with spiritual texts: If direct Satsang is not always possible, devote time to reading or listening to the teachings of spiritual masters. By absorbing their words, you invite their presence into your life and can recreate the atmosphere of Satsang.

Participate in service (Seva): Engage in selfless service to uplift others. Doing Seva with a group connects you to the spirit of Satsang, as it involves collective service in alignment with spiritual principles.

Practice mindfulness in daily conversations: Not all social interactions will be explicitly spiritual, but you can practice mindful listening and share insights from your spiritual journey when appropriate. This simple act can transform everyday conversations into mini Satsang moments.

Daily meditation practice with others: Meditation is often a solitary act, but consider organizing group meditations in your community or even over video calls. The combined focus of several individuals meditating together strengthens the spiritual energy.

Focus on non-judgmental presence: In all interactions, strive to cultivate a non-judgmental, compassionate presence. The essence of Satsang is to be in the company of holiness, and by embodying loving-kindness, you contribute to that energy in your daily encounters.

Create a sacred space for spiritual gatherings: If you regularly host Satsang or spiritual discussions, create a dedicated space in your home for these gatherings. Fill the space with items that inspire devotion—candles, scriptures, or images of spiritual teachers.

Attend retreats or spiritual workshops: If possible, participate in spiritual retreats or workshops where extended Satsang is a central focus. These immersive experiences can provide powerful insights and lasting connections with others on the same path.

Through these practices, we can embed the energy of Satsang into our daily lives, ensuring that we are always in the company of spiritual truths and seekers, no matter where we are. As Sant Paltu taught, the company we keep shapes our destiny—choose the company of the holy, and the Divine will become an ever-present reality in your life.

[lolita-lollipop]

I LOVE YOUR WORK SO FREAKING MUCH AHHHHHHHHHHH

Ummm could I request a fic with yandere dads Erasermic who are demons or something? Like Reader is trying to make a deal with them to save their parent's life and Erasermic just want to adopt her and cuddle her all the time, so they make the deal but manipulate it so Reader has to agree to be their daughter from now on. Hope that made sense? Thank you!

YANDERE DEMON ERASERMIC X READER

You dragged the symbol into the ships muddy floor, the below levels were so dark that you could barely see what you were doing, all you had was hope that you were performing the ritual right. One might ask what a young girl might be doing attempting a demon summoning, in the prisoners ward of a ship.that’s a long story, with too many cruel instances to count…

Long story short your parents were traitors to the king, and so they were being shipped off to some old farm where they would work their lives out of them, and guess who has to come with them? You. The king stated you wouldn’t be working, instead were going to be adopted by the owners, and have to watch your true parents work as slaves to you.

You weren’t having this, all they did was trade a few illegal items. Photos of the kings daughter, well as a baby, she went missing long long ago, a very sad story that the king forbade anyone in the kingdom from talking about, just your luck your parents needed money, and fast.you weren’t getting sent off to some old couple who would treat you like nothing more than a baby, you knew how adoptions went, no one wanted the old ones, so they just pretended they were young. You’d participated in… more than a few of these rituals that you would care to admit, but you’d never lead one, especially not solo, and they’d never worked. But nows as good a time as ever.

You sparked the two stones together, trying your best to avoid looking at the corpses chained up on the wall, This is how they treated you when you’re a traitor. You lit the small pieces of fabric around the satan circle, and finally sat down directly outside of the borderline. Muttering the few chants you’d been taught over the years of secret witching, you closed your eyes and hoped, and chanted and chanted and chanted. Into your throat as dry and your arms hurt from holding up the firey cloth.

Then, your chanting stopped, not on purpose, it was almost as if something had silenced your voice. You peeled your eyes open, only to cover them again at the sheer brightness of the circle. It glowed for a few moments, and then a void opened up in the center, and out crawled out, what looked to be two normal men, actsually quite handsome, tall, but you knew not to fall for these trucks, that’s pretty much all you knew. Before you could do anything, the room became hot, and not just warm, but fiery.

“Why have you summoned us?” The inhuman thing roughly spoke, eyeing your small figure, you didn’t even look a thousandth of his age, yet you were able to perform such an advanced Titus”, summoning a greater demon was not an easy task. He was not in his true form, as that usually scares all mortals away before they get the chance to barter with them.

You reminded him- you reminded them of her. Their sweet little angel, literally, when their lives were nothing but perfection. Their daughter from before they were damned, the same eyes, the same figure, the same hair. There perfect little baby. Who was stolen away when they were deemed unworthy of the heavens. Maybe you were reborn after termination.

“I-I need you to save my parents, I’ll give you anything- please they’ll take me too-“ you begged, getting on your knees and clutching your wrists together to show that you were truthful. The blonde one smirked, and crouched down near where you were, except he was still in the circle, he couldn’t leave unless you gave him permission. It was slightly suprising, to hear that a human was not acting selfishly, of all times either of them have been summoned, all any human has asked for was power, money, fame, immortality, it just shows how stupidly selfish humans are.

You were different though, all the ones before you had lies, stolen, and cheated their way into finding them, but you, oh you, spent your last moments you had with your parents fighting for them. They could smell your purity from a mile away, it smelled like a child, surprisingly enough, demons are very protective over their offspring, and their mates. You smelled… good, almost familiar, it reminds them of the times when they weren’t completely damned, maybe there’s a reason they were summoned here, maybe it was fate

Maybe it was the gods trying to give them a chance to redeem themselves from their sins,a chance to show that they are caring, and loving, to the deserving of course. They won’t let this chance go to waste, even if the probability is slim, they aren’t gonna complain either way, even if they are in hell, they’ll have you.

“What exactly are you willing to give up, it’s rather foolish to say “anything” my dear. Your life? Your innocence? Your soul? Your freedom?” He waved his hands about, watching your face turn into shock, at the fact that you were actually talking to a demon, not just pretending to host a session, they actually were bargains with you. What are you supposed to tell them, you would do anything. Well maybe not a few things that we won’t specify, but you’re willing to die for them.

“I uh- i would give my life for theirs. I just want them to be safe” you spoke, still on your knees and in the begging stance. They knew what they wanted, and they knew you would give it, clearly you cared about these parents of yours, yet they were missing, and somehow letting you talk to demons in the prisoners deck for a ship. That’s not very good parenting, they can, and will, do much much better, you wouldn’t ever have to worry about you, or them if they were your parents. They looked down in disgust, not at you, but at your living quarters, what god awful thing would put such a pure little being in a prison?

“You’ve barely lived, while their lives combined is almost four times yours, that is not an adequate price. I have a proposal. It is your choice to accept” the yellow haired one nodded his head, it was almost like he wasn’t able to talk here. Your eyes flicked between the two in clear confusion, before you just nodded your head, not knowing exactly what to say or how to say it. These two seemed menacing, and not in the natural demon kinda way that you would expect, they were looking at you funny, like you were something special, it was off putting.

“You give us the lifetime we find an adequate substitute for your parents, you will have to stay with us for this time.” The black haired one spoke, his eyes glowing a deep red, he awaited your answer, watched you contemplate for a moment, even though you both knew it wasn’t even a heat ion. That’s far better than what you were expecting, you thought they were gonna say something like “endless torture” or something like that.

“It’s a deal, just, please. You have to get them off this ship, out of this country, somewhere safe” you stood up, now realizing that your just made a deal with the devil. You were gonna have to live with him, wait. He lives- in hell, holy shit you were gonna have to be in some demon circle all the time. You could feel their eyes boring into you, they had an ulterior motive, of course they did they’re demons. But thsi felt different, it wasn’t disgust or hatred or sadistic pleasure as you would suspect, this was how you wished your parents would look at you. It was almost longing, almost loving.

“We will stay true to our word” the man- or demon spoke, snapping his fingers twice and nodding his head to the other. Immediately you heard chains drop, when you glanced to the side at your parents (much smaller, much more disgusting) cell, they were gone, comeoldtely out of sight, all that’s as left was those rusted chains they’d tugged on for hours. Their gaze was held tightly against you as they watched you cry, you knew that was the lag time you would ever see them. You were clearly young, and you were about to become an immortal, in that term you were barely even a toddler at most, no wonder you didn’t understand these emotions. You were nothing but a baby, their baby, their little angel.

“It is done, now it is your part of the bargain, all I need you to do is come here, and hold my hand. Then we can take you home” he continued, you didn’t actually have to hold his hand, he just wanted to feel your human-ness. It was very intriguing to see a human look so soft- cute . You stared at the line suspiciously, that was the one thing you were positive about the ritual , you never cross the barrier, that’s the only thing protecting you. You never step even an inch over, you just don’t, it’s how it’s done.

“I- are you sure it’s safe for me? I’m not supposed to cross the- “ you stammered, watching the line pulse red as you came closer.

“Well we could always just bring your parents back here, cuff them back up to the wall in those chains over there. If not, take your time sweetheart- we aren’t going anywhere” the mention of your parents getting reclaimed to the wall clearly scared you, and you spent no time hopping over the edge, little did you know, you’d done exactly what they wanted you to. T”Now there was no backing out, there wasn’t any turn around or tap out, you were theirs, all theirs. The gods gift wouldn’t disappoint them, They wouldn’t disappoint the gods

You were there to be taken care of by them

You looped your fingers round the monsters calluse Shane, he made sure to point his sharp nails away from you, they were sharp enough to slaughter villages, so it’s best you didn’t accidentally Knick yourself on one. The blonde one clutched at your arm while the other just firmly held your hand.

“Now that you’re ours, you should know our title. I’m the greater demon Aizawa, you will be calling me by a different name, this is the reaper hizashi.” Aizawa introduced, before you could say anything, thick streams of black flew form the floor below, and wrapped itself around your ankles and legs, dragging you down into the he cave of pitch black. You helped and clutched closer, cute. Aizawa ended up telling you to shut your eyes, so you did, and against your better instinct, held tight to him. It was a suprise that they were bing so… nice, you were sure they’d killed many before, so why would they be pleasant towards you.

“I-I’m y/n”

Your name itself was cute, truly adorable. When the pitch black cleared, you were met with a sulrisngly bright landscape, a house in the center view of it, sorrounded by patches of thick red grass. Maybe the color scheme of this place was just off. You looked up at them for approval to go forward, knowing how cruel demons could be, you assumed they would beat you half to death for one wrong move.

“You mustn’t let go of us while outside, you aren’t safe here, everyone in this plan of existence smells your sweet scent by now, just wait til we’re inside” these words did nothing but make you fearful of this lace, uoj don’t smell that good, right? Hizashi looked down upon you, admiring your hair, your eyes, your cute little hands. It was all so perfect, liek an angel sent just for them. And you were theirs, they told you what to do, they have the upper hand, and to think it was all over some silly parents of yours.

As the world around fazed into your vision, you saw the two change, they grew taller, and now you understood why they calle should a child, they were almost the feet, covered in scale like bumps with purply-peach skin. Black replaced the whites in their eyes, the pupils were instead colored a bright red, on both. It wasn’t what anyone would think a demon truly looked like, they almost looked… soft

Aizawas hand circled around your waist, and forced you up into his grip, you could do nothing but stare at the ground as he crunched by, fearing the drop if you struggled. Your eyes met hizashi, the demon behind uou, and he smiled a toothy, almost sweet, smile. After he stared into your eyes, examining them, it was shocking how close they were to her. Because… because you were her, you were their baby. No denying it now

They found their daughter, their girl, and you had no idea. Of course they can find a loophole in the system to keep you with them, they get to choose your scentence, they get to choose how long you stay with them, and you’re in hell, of course you won’t age, you’ll stay their pretty little baby. For as long as they choose, maybe it’ll be a year, or ten, or twenty, or a hundred, Maybe a thousand,Maybe a million

Or maybe

You’ll just stay with them

Forever

———————————————————————————————————

Thank you all for being so incredibly patient with me! I haven’t update since a bit- that’s my fault.

This was so fun to write because I could literally just relax and write out a story

(This doesn’t really fit the story, but happy holidays everyone!)

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

[spectrumed]

10. contact

The key to success is networking. Oh, God, how am I ever going to succeed? Networking? Talking to other people? Making friends? That’s not me, that’s not me at all. I don’t want to make superficial connections with other people just so that I can one day use my connections to get ahead in life. I don’t want to force myself on others, trying to convince them that I am some decent guy that’s totally worth getting to know and be friends with. I don’t know if you’re going to like me or not. I imagine some people would like to be my friend, and I imagine some people would hate to be my friend. I’d rather just forget about the latter group, and not torture myself trying to make friends with people who are fundamentally at odds who I am as a person. I’d rather have a small circle of close friends than a thousand acquaintances. But the key to success is networking.

I’ll never be an insider. This is not me just doubting myself, not some decision to undermine myself. I know that making statements about things that are impossible for you to achieve comes across as very self-defeating, but I know that I will never be an insider. I will never fit into a social clique. I am not going to be part of the boys’ club, yucking it up with my mates. I’m not going to be in any gangs, no bands, most certainly no crews. I am a solo-player. I prefer to work on my own. All my life, I’ve kept to myself, one way or another. I don’t ask for help. Growing up, my sister used to get a lot of help from my mother with school assignments, because she wanted it and she asked for it. My sister and my mother would spend a lot of time together making sure that my sister’s schoolwork turned out well. Looking over spelling, fixing grammatical errors, making sure that the text was easy to read and had a flow to it. Normal parental stuff, really. Kids are supposed to get help from their parents, it’s part of the learning process, no-one gets by all on their own. Well, except for me. I never asked for help.

I actually found it really unbearable to have my mother look over my schoolwork to see if I made any errors. Not because I am such a horrid narcissist that I refuse to admit that there were any errors, but rather because… well, it felt invasive. Like as if you spot someone spying on you through your window. It made me feel very self-conscious, in a way that I realise now is similar to how I feel when I make eye contact. Yes, I am bad at making eye contact, especially when I am speaking at the same time. I don’t mind making eye contact when you are speaking, but I don’t want to make eye contact with you when I am speaking. Is that funny? Is that odd? Well, the way I feel about it is that eye contact is intimate, it’s almost like touching. It’s mental touching. If you share eye contact with somebody you are sharing a connection. You are mind-touching each other. Oh, well… I guess that maybe it’s not quite like that, but I still don’t find it easy.

At times, I find much of the discussions about neurodiversity online somewhat off-putting. Especially when it comes to those people who are really keen on being all out positive, all the time. Those people who see any shade of negativity as outright hazardous. Don’t bring up the fact that being neurodivergent can be difficult, don’t mention the difficulties that come with being on the autism spectrum. Engage with self-empowerment! Celebrate what makes you different! Go out there and be proud of yourself, be happy about your autism, it is cool to be autistic! And, sure, I understand the importance of injecting optimism into the neurodivergent community. We need optimism, we need to profess our desire to be happy, to show the world that you don’t need to be neurotypical to be content with your life. No-one wants to be around a sourpuss just wallowing in their discontentment. But, sometimes things just suck, okay? Having a positive attitude may project confidence, may make others think you’ve got it together, but be wary when that positive attitude just becomes a mask you hide behind.

Look, we live in a society. Whether you like it or not, you live in a society. We need to rage against this society, because this society is no good. Things may look good to some people, but those people are wrong, and I am right. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! Let’s have ourselves a little revolution and see if we can piece a new society together, one that doesn’t commit to the same mistakes as the last one. Oh, wait, how do we do that? And how do we make sure that we win the revolution, we could easily lose, and that might actually just make things worse for us. What if this society we live in got even worse? Yikes, that’s a thought too scary to even really consider. Can things get worse? I don’t want things to get worse. Maybe I just shouldn’t rock the boat. Let’s calm down, and let’s not make any rash decisions here. We can overthrow society at some other point. For now, let’s just have some tea.

Yes, society stinks, but what can you do about it? It is absolutely the case that neurotypical people have it easier navigating modern society than neurodivergent people. Others expect you to function just like they function. If you wish to fit in, you are required to act more neurotypical. People expect that from you. Learn to adapt, to hide amongst them. Trick them. Make them think you are one of them. Be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. They’ll never know the truth of who you are. An outsider that managed to get on the inside. You stand by the watercooler, and by gosh, you make yourself laugh at their jokes even though you’d rather not be there at all. You partake in the small talk, talking about the weather, feigning interest in the footballs, and pretending to be an all-around wholesome compatriot. You’re not at all secretly some kind of anti-social misfit, who’d rather stay at home sitting behind a monitor and playing strategy games on your own. Do you want to come and join your workmates for a drink or two later? Oh, yes, of course you’d like that, but you might need to limit your alcohol intake so that you don’t get too drunk and begin to let the mask slip. It’s too easy getting into hyper-specific rants about obscure topics no normal person would care about when you’re inebriated, so let’s not risk that.

“Be yourself.” Pfth, bah, humbug. Neurotypicals love to state empty platitudes. You don’t want me to be myself. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to be myself. Call me a cynic all you want, but you can’t get nowhere in life simply by being yourself. For better or worse, authenticity is nowhere near as desired as some people make it out to be. Name a single really successful person who is truly themselves. Fake-authenticity does better than the real deal. True sincerity, of the kind that’s naked, shameless, ugly, and challenging, it is difficult to love. And that’s not all bad, it’s just a fact of life. We all need to cover some things about ourselves up, and need to keep some secrets, because that is what is expected from us. Just as we wear clothes to cover up our naked bodies. No shame on the nudists, they’re free to embrace whatever alternative lifestyle they want, but I don’t want to see your naked body. Don’t get nude in front of me. I already struggle with eye contact, I sure wouldn’t struggle less if you stood in front of me nude as well.

Actually, to a certain extent, these social rules we all conform to can actually be quite appreciated by those of us who are on the spectrum. It is easier to know what you must do in a formal social situation than in a casual social situation. Casual people, they’re just so… unpredictable. Sticking their casual bits everywhere, acting like guests at your house who don’t seem to understand that your home is not their home. Even as a kid I hated having friends of mine over at my place. They’d play with my toys, place my toys where they don’t belong, or even worse, they may break some of my toys. Don’t touch that, it’s mine. Don’t put your icky hands on my bed, I sleep there. Don’t rip pages out of that book, it’s my favourite book. Don’t breathe in my room, I breathe in my room. I just can’t handle you coming here and disturbing the peace. I had it all ordered, I knew where everything was, and I liked it. Now you brought with you the forces of chaos, and dealing with that is just now what I had in mind for today.

I could never be a freemason. Sure, I have some good ideas for how to secretly rule the world, but if you’re a freemason, you’re expected to be part of the team. There’s no “I” in freemasonry. The secret cabal that controls all of the world’s governments, they don’t want independent folks like me to show up thinking that I can do my work assignments on my own. The Illuminati is run by a committee. You don’t get far in that world by being some freewheeling bohemian incapable of getting along with others. You don’t establish a New World Order by promoting self-reliance. Institutions are great for those who like to get chummy with their pals, the gregarious sorts who know exactly who to talk to in order to advance in the ranks. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Favours for favours. One of the reasons why I inherently distrust many institutions is because they are rife with nepotism. You know that whoever gets to sit on the high council of the Illuminati didn’t get there via competency alone. No, they knew a guy, who was cousins with this other guy, who used to work for this guy, and y’know, you pull one string and suddenly there you are on top of the social hierarchy. Most often people get promoted, not because they do good work, but because they happen to know the right people. But again, maybe I’m just being cynical.

I’ve had a recurring fantasy, in the past, of being a lighthouse keeper. Living out somewhere all on my own, not having to deal with any human relationships. Maybe I could befriend a seagull, but even that seems a little too much. Seagulls can be very needy. No, I’d just get on with whatever I’d most like to be doing, writing or making art, just enjoying my solitude. I imagine that the toughest thing about being a lighthouse keeper is the loneliness, but the loneliness is only a plus for me. I’ve long ago decided to like being lonely. I don’t want to face the fact that I too yearn for company, I like to pretend as if I am fine with being alone. So the fantasy of being a lighthouse keeper is perfect for me, I could get far away from society and I could earn a living not having to give a fuck about what others think about me. I could allow myself to get as weird as I would want to get, not having to wash my image, acting like I’m all rational and well-adjusted. It would just be me and my seagull. How simple life would be. Too bad I think most lighthouses are automated, these days.

Maybe being the perpetual malcontent cynic incapable of fitting with mainstream society isn’t all so bad. In some regards, I have made that my brand. Generally, I like to think that I don’t take myself too seriously, but like a lot of people, I’ve turned those edgier parts of my personality into armour that I wear to protect myself from the scorn of others. You can’t accuse me of being a miserable piece of shit when I’ve decided to make being a miserable piece of shit my thing. It’s what I am, and I am not going to change. I’m not really all that mean, or nasty. I am fairly cynical, but I don’t act like some asshole. I don’t think anyone is upset with me for how I act. I’ve only occasionally gotten told off for being too gloomy. But the problem here does not lie with how I end up treating others, but rather how I end up treating myself. I don’t want to make cynicism part of my sense of self. I don’t want to be this person, this misanthrope who only sees problems, and never celebrates the good things in life. I should engage with self-empowerment. I should be happy.

It’s okay being neurodivergent! Sure, you may find other people strange or foreign, with their yapping mouths and their over-eager desire to look you directly in the eyes, but just ignore them! Neurotypicals are just so last century, the future is all neurodivergent! You’re on the right side of history, bud! You’re cool, and radical, and you’re absolutely a sexy little cupcake. You either learn to love yourself, or you lose yourself. Make funny memes, find some online community to be a part of. You can absolutely be a freemason if you want to be a freemason. Don’t let your diagnosis get in your way, so long as you’ve got that inner fire driving you, you can be anything you want to be. Go ahead and rule the world, babe. Remember, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, and right now, it’s good vibes only.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 80

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Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 80: Epilogue

You woke up alone, one of your least favorite things to do, right up there with presenting at public executions and planetary political banquets. You got up and headed to your dressing room, where you were attended by your two ladies-in-waiting. One heavily pregnant with her second child, and the other coming gracefully out of middle age. These were the two women who prepared you for war every single day, the ones who put you back together when you needed it. Today war would end, at least temporarily.

They dressed you and prepared you for the day. You took your breakfast peacefully out on the balcony like you did every morning. The planet had changed; it was no longer the dark dreary thing that you first saw, now it was thriving with life. A beautiful utopia, all built to please you as Empress and as a capital to build your Empire. It was now a planet that could see its sun, you watched as ships buzzed around in the atmosphere, your people were alive and thriving.

But you watched as one particular ship landed down beneath the palace, one that always caught your attention. A unique TIE Silencer. You were off to the palace entrance, servants and officers dodging out of your way as you stormed to the platform. You were lowered down to the surface of the planet, guarded by your trusty captain in silver armor, and her golden comrade. Both very used to keeping up with your quick paces and split-second decisions. You exited the palace with them at your heels; they knew your destination and were unconcerned about your immediate safety as a result.

You rushed to the ship, its pilot not yet departing it. You waited as patiently as you could as you watched the pilot disembark from the intimidating craft. His black uniform blending in with the ship itself. Both of which were now out of place in your bright planet. But you felt every molecule in you rejoice as your eyes made contact with the chrome encompassed visor. The pilot offered you their hand which you took, happily, the soft leather warm against your bare palm. You lead the pilot silently into the palace, your gilded guards leaving you. You waited patiently for the platform to lower you down into the big chamber. Guiding the pilot passed the large statues, and passed the throne and side chamber, into the little piece of hidden paradise within the palace.

Servants and staff dissipated when you entered, leaving you alone as you brought the pilot to the fountain in the middle, where you both sat down along the fountain’s edge. You leaned in and kissed the mouthpiece of his helmet before ordering it off. You were met with the beautiful eyes of your husband. You leaned in for another kiss, this time he held you against him. After a few moments of sweet bliss, and the only sounds to be heard were running water and of the birds in the garden, you spoke up.

“How was your mission?” You pushed back a lock of hair from his face. He looked as if he hasn’t aged a day since you first met him.

He gave you a peck on the lips before responding, “Good, the revolution of Jakku has been squashed. The leader executed, and all seems to be right in the galaxy once more.” He held you in his arms like a damsel in distress, like he was your personal savior, which wasn’t far off from the truth.

You smiled up at him. “And your home just in time for our anniversary tomorrow.” One of your hands braced itself against his broad chest, feeling the ribbing of his armor underneath it. A familiar texture that your body deemed as safe.

He kissed your forehead as you leaned against his chest, “Five years of marriage.” His hand rubbing circles into your back.

You made a small noise of contentment, “Five years of forever.” You could feel his Force energy surrounding you with a happy feeling, one that you now recognized as his version of love. Your husband was a complicated man, one you were the only person to understand, your match.

He chuckled at you scooting to get closer to him; he picked you up and placed you in his lap, his chin resting on the top of your head, just avoiding your Empress Crown. “Do you have anything special planned for us,” he asked. He knew you did, but he asked anyway.

You gently removed your head from out from under his, avoiding him being hit with the points of the crown. You looked up at him, with a face, “Of course I do, but do you have anything planned mister?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

He leaned in real close to your ear, “Of course I do, it is my number one priority, as guard dog to the Empress, to keep her happy.” His lips then caressed your cheek as they made their way to yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing the kiss to deepen. It has been days since you last saw him, and you were worried about the small revolution taking too long and that he would miss your anniversary. You could stand strong without him, but everything was much easier when he was by your side. When the kiss broke, Kylo was the first to speak.

He teased, “So are we going to have a proper reunion, or are you going to make me wait until tomorrow?” His hands trailing down your sides before coming to rest and squeezing your ass.

After all these years your body still responded to his advancements with blush and squeals. Essentially a hormonal inexperienced teenager, but you two had been used to each other so much that it wasn’t the case. You could feel the heat growing between your legs.

You buried your face into his neck trying to hide your already evident blush, “A proper reunion.”

And that’s all he needed to carry you off out of the garden, down the hall, up a flight of stairs, down another hall, before dumping you onto your large bed. Causing a squeak from you before he climbed up over top of you. A proper reunion indeed.

You were two halves of the same soul, combined, mended together to become one. You saved him and he saved you, together you held the galaxy in your hands. Together all the stars were yours to have, all the stars in the galaxy were yours to share together. Both of your dreams came true, but together they were one dream, one soul, one eternity.

A/N: Thank you all for joining me on this journey, but the time is here my friends, the story must end. I want to thank every single one of you for leaving kind comments, likes and reblogs. It really does mean a lot to me that so many people like my story. I am glad to have shared a part of myself with you all. I hope you are well and happy my friends.

[ariastormauthor]

So-called “Traditional” Publishing

So, I have queried literally multiple hundreds of times. I published a series four years ago that people swore wouldn’t sell. I made more off it than most authors ever see in an advance from their publishing house deals. 

You might wonder why I am so poor and struggling if I have managed this minor level of success. The truth is, I have been paying for the entire spectrum of the publishing process solo for half a decade or more now. 

Now I have a new series I wanted to publish traditionally. I even had a publisher interested. They told me it would take them a year to even begin working with me. And I wasn’t promised anything in return. I have this amazing high-minded series I cannot afford to produce, but I need to publish it this year. 

My books barely keep me going, and I need something to change. I don’t see how it’s possible to have as much talent as I do, and be so utterly alienated. I am reclusive, and I am autistic. I don’t connect with people, except through my writing. This is a silver bullet to the heart for me, with the traditional publishers. 

One again, I have been circling the drain, wondering if I will end my life. This endless waltz of rejection and alienation are driving me to the brink. People are quick to lash me to the bone for every perceived mistake in my work. They never fully appreciate how much I write every year. That in 13 months, I produced 12 full novels under Aria Storm. 

IN another life, I would have been a bestselling author for all the talent and hard work I have in my craft. In this life, I am relegated to chump change and constantly in dire straits. Now I am left to wonder how many more books I will be able to self-publish before I finally lose all hope in life. I want to keep writing, but more of me wants to be dead every day. 

[thorne93]

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 29)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count: 4361

Warnings: Language, flashbacks to NY, angst, fear,evasive memory search,mutation take over, fighting,unconscious shannon(OFC)

Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, and you were back at the mansion, with most of the X-Men still in the training room. This time, they didn’t separate you and Shannon. Instead, they thought perhaps the powers might affect each other, they also thought if Shannon were nearby you wouldn’t feel as much like a lab rat or science experiment.

Steve and Logan stood on security detail, monitoring your every move. Jean and Charles were studying you. Remy and Scott stood on morale detail, trying to keep your spirits raised if you got discouraged, and to make you feel more comfortable since they were your good friends as well.

“Alright, Jean, whenever you’re ready to start I’ll go,” Shannon said waiting to see how they would approach both yours and her powers today.

Both Gambit and Scott had gotten closer to both of you and had begun taunting you two to see who would burst first.

“Shannon, how does it feel knowing your best friend can never walk in broad daylight again?” Scott had said to her, causing you to get upset that they would start like that. He had done some research on the attack and found a few videos of you attacking her, and who they believed was Loki being taken somewhere.

“Really, Scott? That's how you're gonna start things?” she asked, sounding a little disappointed and hurt. “She’s my best friend and knowing that she can’t go out with me for simple things hurts. It hurts more knowing…” she stopped herself, looking over at you and her heart broke a bit having to remember the events of that day.

For a moment they noticed that she went into a trance. Worried a bit, Scott got closer to see what was going on. Jean was curious as well and had begun walking towards her too, only to be blown back by a strong energy mixed with wind. Jean noticed that Shannon’s eyes had turned milky white and had hints of purple swirls in them. Scott jumped back when he saw her flinch in her trance and red beams came out of her eyes identical to his.

“Hmm, it seems as if she is in her memories are frozen in the time of the attack,” Jean said while dusting off her skirt. “Scott, try to get her to talk about what she’s seeing,” she instructed while looking at her.

“I’ll try my best but it’ll be hard trying to get close and not know how her mutation will react.” He cautiously inched closer.

Meanwhile right nearby, Gambit was trying to get some sort of reaction out of you. “So this Loki fellow, he all that? He really what they say he is?”

Your eyes flashed to his. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what ‘they’ say he is,” you informed.

“Some poor bastard who couldn’t keep his temper in check and only wanted to wreak havoc.” He smirked seeing that he’d started to get some sort of reaction out of you. “Sounds to me like a whiny brat looking for daddy’s attention.” He laughed at his own comment.

“Remy, don’t,” you warned, purple energy sparking on your finger tips. “He isn’t like that. He… he couldn’t help what happened to him.” You gritted your teeth. “It wasn’t like that!” you retorted, your voice raising.

Just then it seemed like Shannon had latched onto your emotion and had begun mixing with her own. The same purple energy that sparked from your fingers had begun to appear around her. She was no longer in a trance but her eyes had yet to change back into her normally dark brown hue. She began advancing towards Scott.

“Jean, I’m not liking any of this… Should I really be getting this close to her?” Scott asked, his voice wavering, and started moving away from her.

”Why are you running, Scott? Scared I’ll hurt you?” Shannon smirked as she kept getting closer. “You’re the first person to realize how much of a threat I could be.” She laughed.

“Shannon, relax, don’t do anything you’ll regret. You know this isn’t how I feel.... We’re good friends…  Remember that,” he had stuttered out.

“Oh, Scott but we are good friends, at least I’d like to believe we are…” She stopped talking. It looked like she was thinking of something. Jean seeing this was going nowhere looked inside her head to see what kept stopping her.

Over where you and Gambit were, you had been circling each other, he kept egging you on and he seemed to find it entertaining to mess with you. “All talk and no play huh, Y/N/N?” He had started charging som cards behind his back. “Is he like that too? Bet he gets annoying being locked up together, you two fight about him not completing his mission?” He asked you a million questions each one getting worse than the last.

“Not another word about him, Remy,” you cautioned through clenched teeth, your fists balling up. The purple energy charged all the way up to your shoulders.

“Alright, that’s quite enough, Gambit,” Charles suddenly interjected from his wheelchair.

Logan stepped up from behind Remy and gently pulled him back, not trusting you or your anger. He saw something in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

Charles peered at you, and he could tell you weren’t registering anything around you now.  This put him on edge, so he jumped straight into your mind, trying to figure out just exactly what was triggering you, causing the problematic surge.

Was it watching Shannon be mocked or put in distress? Was it feeling trapped due to the amount of people in the room? Was it making you remember the traumatic events of New York? Was it pressing your buttons about being imprisoned? Or was it about the famed man who was your fellow inmate?

Jean had been in Shannon’s mind for a while but had found what had happened in New York. She saw how much pain she had gone through seeing what you had done to her when you kidnapped her and then the fight over a man she barely knew. Jean could see how much the events had affected her and figured it had something to do with this so called Loki… She’d have to speak to Charles about this for the next time you two came in.

—————-----

It was the next morning that Tony and Shannon were in the middle of their morning routine that Tony asked her, “Have you been by to see Professor X, yet?”

Tony was in the bedroom getting dressed when he asked, but Shannon stood in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. A feeling of guilt and dread clenched inside her stomach. Had he found out about breaking you out?

“Uh, yeah,” she answered a little hesitantly.

In a second, Tony was in the bathroom, about to slap on some cologne. “Babe, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“We’ve both been so busy…” she said, averting some of the truth.

“But you’re getting help. That’s amazing. Has he said anything? Have they found out the issue?”

“They’re getting closer,” she informed before swiping on some quick, light makeup for the day.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek from behind. “That’s so good to hear, dear. I’ve got a board meeting today, and I’m going to introduce that new prototype, so I might be late for dinner.”

“That’s fine,” she assured. “I’ll be busy with work and errands. I’m going to see Charles again today, probably.”

“Sounds good. See you tonight?” he asked, walking backwards and pointing at her.

“Absolutely,” she responded with a grin. She hated lying to him, it nearly made her physically sick, but when it came to this… she knew Tony’s emotions would blind him and he wouldn’t see it the way she did. He would’ve have allowed you to leave, and get the help you needed.

Meanwhile, you were downstairs with Loki, trying to move past the argument you two had.

“Leaving again, are we?” he asked coolly.

You sighed, not looking up at him from where you made yourself a cup of coffee. “Yes, I am… to get help… you know, for the powers that were pushed into me against my will…”

Loki peered over at you, assessing you. By now, he knew you pretty well. The two of you had lived together for nearly two years, if you counted the imprisonment here and on Sanctuary. And he could tell that for once, it was his own insecurities getting in the way. He was concocting all of these terrible ideas and outcomes for you two. He worried you would sell him out. He worried you would strike a deal and never come back to that cell again. He worried that you only stayed close to him on Sanctuary because you were friends before lovers. He worried that now, now that you had a chance to get away, get far away from him -- you might.

But no… Something in the way that you still took care of him, still looked after him, still smiled when seeing him walk in a room let him know that just this once, he was being foolish and talking himself into lies he knew were not true.

“You think it’s really helping?” he asked genuinely.

You heard the change in his voice so you stopped putting sugar in your coffee to give him your full attention. “Yes… I do. As soon as we find out what’s wrong with this dark energy, maybe they can get it out of me, and I’ll be back home to you.”

Loki scoffed lightly. “You can’t really call this a home, can you?”

The tiniest of smiles touched the corner of your lips before you brought one hand up to touch his cheek.

“Home is wherever you are.”

-----------------------------------------------

Shannon had finally finished the gift she had for the two down below. It had taken a while but with the help of all the photos and videos that you had sent of Asgard, she was able to recreate a holographic version of what you two called home and inserted everything from all over the world so you could see wherever you pleased, hoping to make the room a lot less bleak and much more pleasant for both of you.

She made her way to the elevator with everything and the boots to one of Tony’s suits in hopes of getting it installed all on her own. Getting out of the elevator with the equipment, she could hear talking and hoped that they weren’t fighting.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything but I have a surprise for you two and hope that this will bring some sort of change,” she said to them looking hopeful as she hustled into the room outside of their cell.

Begrudgingly, you pulled away from Loki and cleared your throat. “Not at all, Shannon,“ you assured. “What's up?”

“I’ve finally finished what I had created for you two, that little gift I had been telling you about?” she asked, trying to get you to remember. “Well here it is. It might not look like much right now but once I install it, I bet you’re going to love it!” She pointed to the things on the trolley.

You lightly laughed. “Okay.” Shannon was… whimsical as always. That little gleam of mischief in her eye. Why were you drawn to people that were coy?

“All I need to do is get up to the top of this cell and connect a few wires to the main server and set up these sensors,” she explained as she put on the boots from one of the Iron Man suits, flying onto the top of the cell you ran to see where exactly she would land.

“How exactly will we be able to use this gift of yours?” you asked, wanting to know more about what she was doing.

“Once everything is installed and connected to the server it will work with just a few simple voice commands. I’ll show you when I’m done here.” She quickly got the sensors installed in all four corners of the room a well as one at the very top of the room. “Alright now if you two could please come to the living room, and close your eyes and tell me where exactly you wish you could see?” she asked you two.

You followed her orders, taking Loki’s hand and leading him to the stark white living room with black leather furniture. “I don’t know… Darling, what would you like to see?” you asked, peering up at him.

“I’m not sure… Anything is better than this cell,” he commented.

“Asgard?” you tried, speaking to both him and Shannon.

“If that’s what you both wish to see... Then if you could please close your eyes?” she asked, figuring that’s what you two would choose.

She entered the apartment and headed to the office to turn on the holograms. “Show me Asgard,” was all she said and behind closed eyelids you saw a flash. “You can open your eyes now.”

As soon as your eyes opened, you gasped -- a happy, shocked, thrilled gasp. On the walls that typically only showed gray concrete were splashes golds, greens, and vibrant blues, pinks, and purples. It was the foliage that was surrounding the waterfall you had gone to. It was the first place Loki had let you take his picture. Water fell from the magnificent cliff, making rainbows along the mist of the pond down below. Everywhere you turned it was an oasis.

But not an oasis that you made up or that Shannon pulled from the internet. These were real pictures of Asgard, stitched together. It brought a tear to your eye.

“This is incredible,” Loki commented.

“It truly is. Thank you, Shannon. This is amazing. This is the best gift,” you noted.

“The best gift would’ve been freedom,” Loki mumbled before you elbowed him in the ribs.

--------------------------

Today, the gang was the same. The same X-men, with Steve in there as protection, ready to take you down if need be. They had you and Shannon face each other. They had an inkling of what triggered both of your powers, and they were about to test it.

Charles got inside your mind, while Jean nestled inside Shannon’s, ready to monitor the thought processes as the team tested the triggers out. Before the women had arrived, Charles had given instructions to the X-Men to try and taunt you with New York, failings, and Loki.

“Hey, Y/N/N, good to see you again,” Remy said as he circled you, that charming smirk on his face. “Of course, if you didn’t fail in takin’ over the planet, we could be talkin’ like normal now. Instead of all this cloak and dagger business.”

The first cut was made, reminding you of your failings.

“Who says I failed?” you challenged. “Maybe I wanted to lose,” you retorted.

“Right,” he laughed. “Because sittin’ in a cell with a momma’s boy is so excitin’.”

“The way I hear it, he was given the best weapon in the galaxy, and still couldn’t wield it,” Scott added. “That’s just sad. Wouldn’t you say so, Logan?” he asked, intentionally being a prick, turning to Wolverine with his arms crossed.

“I’d say that’s pretty pathetic,” Logan agreed, a cocky expression painting his face.

Before you knew what was happening, you spun, your energy building up in your hands. The dark purple power was just about to shoot out of your hands but Scott shot you back with his the energy from his eyes, knocking you backwards. As soon as you were standing, Steve and Logan grabbed your arms to keep you from propelling your power towards anyone.

“Stop, please,” Shannon begged, her eyes becoming milky red, purple swirling inside them. Outside, thunder could be heard on what was a clear, bright day only moments before.

“Oh, come on, Shan,” Scott said. “We’re only messing with her. It’s not like she’s in jail for life for it… Oh… Wait…”

“Knock it off, Scott,” Shannon warned again.

“Why? Can’t take the fact that Y/N/N over here nearly killed you for a piece of ass she barely knew?”

With that, lightening began hitting the bunker, making everyone’s eyes look up to inspect the sound.

An almost animalistic sound came from you as they taunted you and her. The mocking of Loki and your relationship was not being tolerated well by you. Not to mention how they were bothering Shannon.

In an instant, the energy that was tingling up your arms nearly tripled, blowing the two men off of you. As soon as you were away from them, you started to go towards Shannon, the action making Steve worry -- but then you stood in front of her, almost as if to protect her. Just as you turned to fight off Scott though, the field between you two became stormy.

A dark cloud of purple energy ignited between you, making you two peer at each other in confusion.

“Just as we had suspected. The thing that triggers both of your powers happens to be whenever something negative is mentioned about the one person you care about,” Jean said pointing towards both women and their current state of emotion. “For you, Y/N, it’s when Loki’s spoken badly about. And for you, Shannon, it’s Y/N. She’s the main cause for the energy to manifest,” she explained and pointed at both of you. “But yours is worn out with increased highs or lows in emotional situations.”

It took you both a moment to realize that the conclusion they had made was true. You being talked to in any negative way caused the energy to spike and make Shannon weaker in strength. You tried not to believe that your dark energy would always be triggered whenever Loki was badmouthed to you.

While both of you were lost in thought, Logan and Steve took the opportunity to separate you so that Shannon couldn't feed off your anger and make her own worse.

“Logan! Let me go, put me down,” Shannon yelled making the room shake and caused the light to flicker a moment.

“Not until you’re far enough away from Y/N that you won’t have your powers go nuts,” he grunted as she made him struggle to move her away. “You know it's for your own damn good,” he sounded resolute having gotten her all the way to the other side of the room.

“I said, Let. Me. Go!” She was getting angrier by the second and her eyes went from a milky red to a bright purple with spots of red. The sky was completely blacked out and the only light was from the lights in the room.  Without realizing it, Shannon had lifted up one of the sharpest objects and had it facing Logan.

He stopped moving but wouldn’t let her go. “Now listen, kid, the only way you’ll get that thing to even touch me is if it goes through you too,” he said with a bit of confidence. Which only seemed to boost her anger even more. She had the object come flying at an incredible speed and she felt his breath hitch.

“You’re so wrong on that one, Logan…” She laughed, the object going through her as if she weren’t there and it stuck out the back of of Logan. “I can make it only hit you, my dear friend.” She smirked as she felt him loosen his grip. She slammed her head into his nose and got out of his grip.

“Shannon, stop this at once!” Charles warned her but she was being controlled by the dark energy inside her.

Steve did the same with you, pulling you as far away from his friend as he could. Not wanting to have you cause anymore trouble for Shannon.

“Steve, please let me go. You know I would never do anything to harm Shannon…” you pleaded feeling useless knowing you were at your weakest point. “I just want to get this dark energy out of me, you have to believe me.” You turned to look at him hoping he could see the sincerity in your eyes.

“I’m sorry but I can’t risk you hurting her again like the last time, and I know you want to get rid of it but it won't be enough until it's gone,” came from him, his voice full of sadness and pity. His response left you feeling defeated.

Hearing Charles warn Shannon, you and Steve look over just as she had walked away from Logan and watched him fall to his knees. Steve acted quickly by running towards her only to get pushed back by a strong wind and have objects pin his feet where he stood.

“Shannon, this isn’t you. Don't let those powers do something you’ll never be able to forgive yourself for,” Steve said, trying to get through to her but nothing seemed to be working.

They could all see that it was taking a toll on her as she began to look pale and although the energy was still strong, there were moments it would flicker. She began losing her balance and the room had begun to tip for her. Not wanting to cause her more damage you had a pillow positioned right where her head fell as she hit the ground. The purple haze had begun to fade but still surrounded her as if to keep her protected.

“I believe it’s time we take her to her old room to let her recover and run some tests on her while doing so,” Charles said, wanting to make sure that she was okay and there was no internal damage. He would also slip into her subconscious to figure out more. “Jean, if you and Scott could take Logan to the infirmary get him checked out?”

“Yes, Professor Xavier,” they both said in unison.

“I’ll need you, Y/N, to head to her old room and prepare the bed for her,” Charles said to you wanting you to do something to help.

“Right away, Charles…” You looked over to Remy. “Wanna walk me to her room?” you asked not feeling safe to walk the halls alone.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” was all he said.

“I’ll pick her up and take her there if you’d like?” Steve offered. “I’d like to stay by her side to make sure she’s okay.” He walked over to Shannon lifting her with ease.

----------------------------

“JARVIS, where is Shannon?” Tony asked when he wrapped up his meeting.

“I believe she has left to go to the Xavier mansion, sir, with Captain Rogers,” he responded.

“Ah, that’s a shame. I was going to go tell the prisoners down below some good news. Thought she might want to be with me, but I guess I can tell her later.”

With that, he quickly left his conference room and stepped into an elevator, descending down, deep down into the basement.

“JARVIS, remind me to tell Shannon the news that Fury has chosen to give them a chance,” he said as he was nearing the floor.

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark, anything else?” the Al asked.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything else,” he told the Al.

“Hello there you two, how’s the view in here?” Tony joked as he walked into the room but stopped short when he looked to see the once gray concrete walls covered with the view of Paris.

“Hello, Stark. Always lovely to see your face.” Loki smirked seeing the look of confusion on his face. “What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Loki laughed at Tony walk around the room looking at the four walls.

“How in God’s name did this get here?!” Tony looked livid not knowing how to react. Why had this been done? How had he not been informed? “How is it possible that you’re looking at the view of Arc de Triomphe?” he asked, wanting to get to the bottom of this.

“Illusion?” Loki stated, his arms behind his back, a cunning grin cutting across is striking face.

“No, uh-uh. Thor told me what you can do. You can’t project images, not like this,” he said, pointing to his side. “There’s no way you’d know what this place is,” he added.

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” Loki said innocently. If Stark didn’t know about it, then clearly Shannon did not fill him in on her generosity. Loki felt it wasn’t his place to expose her.

“JARVIS! Bring me footage of when these images were installed in this room,” he yelled a bit trying to figure out what's going on or how the hell any of these things in the cell came about. Jarvis sent the footage to Tony’s phone. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. But if I find out you’ve escaped or tampered with this cell in any way I’ll --” He stopped, looking at the footage and seeing Shannon come in what looks like two days ago with a bunch of things. His blood boiled seeing her enter the cell and talk to you like it was nothing.

“You’ll what?” Loki mocked. “Keep me down here forever?”

Tony thought for a moment. Cells didn’t bother Loki, and he knew that he was a prisoner for life… He needed to leverage something that would truly hurt him.

“I’ll make it so you never see Y/N again. Separate cells, separate nations. So you better think of a real good alibi.”

As he turned, Loki’s face actually showed shock and worry.

“Did you come down here for something?” Loki asked, the anger and annoyance in his voice not wavering, despite the fear that was now nestled in his chest.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony called over his shoulder.

Tony told his AI to get one of his faster cars ready for him. To blow off steam, he thought he would help support Shannon while she got these tests and trials ran on her. He quickly jumped into his car, and sped off for upstate New York.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @essie1876​ @magpiegirl80​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @iamwarrenspeace​ @marvel-imagines-yes-please​ @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification​ @thejemersoninferno​ @rda1989​ @munlis​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @bubblyanarocks3​​ @igiveupicantthinkofausername​​ @kaliforniacoastalteens​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @kaelingoat​ @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​ @damalseer​​ @heyitscam99​​ @yknott81​​ @sorryimacrapwriter​​ @glitterquadricorn​​ @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm​​ @alyssaj23​​ @sea040561​​ @princess76179​​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ @sarahp879​​ @malfoysqueen14​​ @ellallheart​​ @breezy1415​​ @marvelmayo​​ @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton

@paintballkid711​

Loki: @lostinspace33​​ @ultrarebelheart​​ @lenawiinchester​​ @esoltis280​​ @tngrayson​​ @wangdeasang​​ @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice​​

UC:

@lokis-high-priestess​

[cruelzy]

I’m actually nervous about sending in a request cause I love your writing so much and honestly don’t feel worthy to make a request of you. However, I would like to request a Legolas Drabble/fic/whatever you call it based on the prompt that’s like “five times he almost kissed her and the one time he did” I really love your writing and I wasn’t aware requests were open until just now.

notes: i did three and one love cuz ain’t no one got time for that

i. 

Legolas hesitantly concludes that his best decisions are made without much thought.

Not to say he is rash. On the contrary—though his every inhale could do with less contemplation beforehand—he considers himself rather circumspect. (As modestly as one could ever self evaluate anyway.) 

There tends to, nevertheless, be a lack of time to muse in the thick of battle. He can count on one hand any gargantuan choices he’d had to make outside of a particularly tense situation. 

Point: world changing verdicts were normally decided on direct instinct, rather than any gradual, logical philosophy. 

Reality: he has had all the time in Middle Earth and more to think about why he should not be with you.

Cannot, he corrects himself. Nay should not. Cannot. 

Greed. Coil. Collapse.

Will not.

Your own indecision is louder in the silence. 

It’s never truly silent for him, not really, but onset of moonless night has coaxed the land into a reluctant still. His awareness fractures, branches out among the slow shifting plains beneath his feet to the anxious fidget of your dry fingers, the deep seated craving of the forest, the heat of the sleeping company bolstering against his back, bare and familiar and grounding. He keeps watch, the storm in his ears approaching steadfast in the east—torrents to be upon them by noon the latest of morrow, so he plans; he listens to the far flung sea, ever present in her rhythmic whispers, he tracks the mechanical open shut of your mouth in hushed breath as you slowly but surely build your confidence—"Legolas?“

Thunder unfolds itself from the sky. 

Your head snaps to the heavens. Blinking against the night, clumsy in that distinct way of man in dark, “you had something you wished to tell me?”

“No.” Legolas says. “Nothing.”

ii. 

Time marches on.

They rise. They move. They fight. They sleep. They rise. 

The good and the bad scatters into the wind, lingers in their eyes and their jokes and their bones at the fire. They keep moving. Solidarity is a drive half-cool, offering much needed relief against the merciless sun every moment between. 

“Say, do your hands serve the same purpose as your feet?” A voice rises into morning dew. “If you drop on all fours, you may be able to advance faster than that!“ 

“Ha!” You scowl in response, posturing an air of exaggerated disdain and failing terribly. Your lips quiver up at the corners. “I could run to the sun and back and you would still be doing up your boots!“ 

The brown eyed dwarf you speak to turns swiftly on his heels, holding Legolas in his sights. He grins wide, the physical embodiment of mischief. "What say you, elf? Who is swifter?”

“Foul play! I have seen the food you offer him after hunt!”

“Give the truth as you see fit, great war-bow warrior, keen-eye of Mirkwood—”

“Bribery!”

The rest of the circle keeps quiet in amused exasperation, wholly familiar with  your antics. 

“Perchance he should race with us to properly judge. If he loses, the punishment shall be a pleasure of mine to ruffle at least two, no, three hairs loose from his perfect mane!” There’s a teasing incredulity in his purr. “Unimaginable!" 

Legolas smiles. "I do not think you could reach.”

You throw your head back and laugh heartily as the BlackLock squawks in outrage. Legolas watches your face glow. The joyful sound unfurls him from the inside out like wood flowers in springtime. 

Longing surges fast. Sudden.

It would be so easy. 

The thought loiters for only a second, but it is a second far too many. His reaction is all but physical: restraint forcefully barreling into him like a tidal wave. Ire immediately follows. Always, always this with you. Eats him alive. Haunts. Marvel at the vast expanse of his own incompetence, tossed about like a raft in the surf, lost to emotion’s every beck and call as though he were a boy. And if there is anything Legolas is not, it is a boy. 

Outwardly, his ears twitch once. 

The sea laughs and laughs.

iii.

(SII’ !)

Peace shattered by a cacophony of yells. 

He should have known—the forest had been teething in unrest all morning, but he was, of course, unusually distracted. 

And where there is one warg, there are bound to be more. Packs never stray far. Honestly, he would have been more concerned if there was a solo beast; lone, exiled wolves always tend to be more unpredictable, and consequently more dangerous. 

His own pack has tightened, too well polished to break formation. Legolas assesses the situation in a brisk glance before raising a fist level to his sternum, parallel to the ground. The company obediently scatters. Divide. Lure. Incapacitate. 

Earlier hypothesis confirmed, he thinks, absentminded. He did not hesitate for that course of action, now did he?

Legolas frowns. A harrowing blur of teeth and claws draws him back to reality, three answering growls sounding from behind. He presses his lips together. He is in no mood for this. 

In the end it is less a skirmish and more an execution. 

Today, the concept of mercy may as well be as far from him as the Halls of Mandos. He yanks his arrows back from the bodies, apathetically maneuvering around the excessive bloodshed. None of his companions have disappeared from the corners of his visión; in fact, most are beginning to take rest as the struggle winds down. Hard resistance to his movements makes him pause.

The last shaft is unrecognizable amongst the shredded cartilage and sinew. 

Legolas blinks owlishly. 

“Report." 

"All accounted for,” there’s your voice, effortlessly branded to his skull, “don’t worry about the blood.”

He tips his head. Legolas has both been around long enough, and been around you long enough, to recognize nuance when he hears it. The timbre of your tone is too innocent. “Is that s–”

You enter line of visión, and whatever amusement there was fizzles entirely out of existence. 

You’re a bath of carnage from head to toe.

He straightens, bewildered. 

“Don’t worry about the blood,” you repeat. Upon your smile is victory, but he can hardly register such a thing, already crossing the distance in three long strides.

Sturdy. Sturdy in front him. Strong as a bough; chest high, shoulders back, hands slick with sweat and grime. Still vulnerable. The stench of moldy earth fills his nose. “Report." 

You wipe your blade on the grass, eyeing the hand on your arm strangely. Quiet, then whoosh, air punching through your nose in an obvious joking redirection—"Puppy just got too close for comfort. I live.”

Once he has visibly confirmed what you say to be true, the relief is dizzyingly tangible. It feels as though his mind is shooting out sparks. 

Will not. 

Desire alone he could handle, but this is something else, something more tender. And what of it? A living disease.

“Plague,” he hisses.

Now that the threat of your demise has cut short, he cannot ignore the heightened adrenaline running rampant in his veins, yet to temper from the sudden battle. 

Fingers clamp tighter into flesh, as though you would vanish into thin air the moment he took hands off you.

For all your confidence, your palms are shaking. This, however, does nothing to the vicious triumph etched into your visage. 

Something slowly jostles awake within him. 

There’s a sense of pride, yes, but what raises heavy head under his bones is far more ancient, more volatile. He touches your cheek, watches the up down heave of your chest quicken. Liquid crimson marks exposed skin, slides wet between his knuckles. Your brow is slick with sweat. The trees grow louder and louder in their whispering, crisp leaves crunching underfoot where he inches closer. Every detail on your face has sharpened to a point, and Legolas knows his eyes have blown wide and luminescent.

When he says your name, he can barely recognize his own voice. 

“There is a stream up ahead!”

Reminder of an audience makes him all but growl. The fingers on your cheek drop, lightly brushing up and under the curve of your jaw on their way out. He does not imagine the violent shudder that runs through you.

Legolas endures. 

“Alive, indeed,” he quips, gaze smoldering. “Be more careful.”

———

You are going to murder an elf.

You’re going to rip out his entrails and wear them as a badge of honour. You’re going to wrap up the remains and send them to Thranduil himself. You’re going to tug him down to your level and you’re going to, you’re going to kiss the ever living daylights out of hi—

No!

You grind your teeth together, stalking down the hallway threateningly. Passersby steer nervously out of your way. 

When you finally find him, he is alone in the kitchens. “Ah!” Your exclamation is purposefully loud, as you vehemently wish he would jump and smash his perfect head into the pans from surprise. Of course, no such thing happens. He probably heard you coming. This only incenses you further. “There you are you intrepid, lousy, good for nothing—”

“I did not know,” Legolas drawls, “that it was a crime to prepare oneself a drink.”

“Hilarious. You’re hilarious. No really, if you ever tire of being a prince, a jester is right next in line.”

Hot and cold and hot and cold for months on end with the pointy-eared bastard. He’s put the icing on top by avoiding you, when he well knows that with the journey commenced, you are leaving Mirkwood soon.

“There are rumors you have been searching for someone. Were you successful?”

There have been absolutely no such thing—

“Oh? I haven’t heard.” The last dregs of patience spill out of you like a runny egg. “Whose mouths spout such gossip? Ghosts? Are there spirits in these halls?" 

"Perhaps.”

“Alright.” You are very very done with this conversation. “Here it is. I am going to talk, and you are going to listen.”

His eyebrows raise, bemused. Legolas spreads his upturned palms placidly as if to say go ahead, then turns back around, the frame of his body blocking whatever his hands are occupied with from eyesight.

You squint.

“What are you doing?”

“Making tea,” he says. He catches your gaze, and without any semblance of warning, you are struck, once again, by his beauty. 

You swallow. 

One would think the novelty would eventually fade and disappear, but not so. It is a fact of his existence: just as the colour of his hair, or the sound of his voice. Noticing is simply seeing. Unavoidable. Legolas is impossibly beautiful, and you are trapped reliving it again and again. 

He calmly slips a spoon into his mouth.

“Care to taste?”

Before your own cowardice can psyche you out of it, you dart forward, tugging the utensil from his lips to thoughtfully place between yours.

A beat.

Legolas tilts his head like some lazy jungle cat, eyes impassive. 

As if on cue, explosions of colour practically bang behind your teeth: pungent woodsmoke and spice and evergreen, acrid, fine sugared juniper flooding thick down your throat. If the very heart of the earth had a taste, it was this.

You choke.

“That,” says Legolas, “was alcohol.”

“Pardon?" 

You gag around the weapon in your mouth, pulling it out faster than the speed of light in genuine panic. If Legolas was capable of downing an entire bar of alcohol without feeling a thing, what would one drop of elvhen alcohol do to you?!

The face you were making must have been hysterical, because Legolas laughs breezily, sweeping up the mug in one smooth motion and taking a long, deliberate sip. 

"I was joking,” he finally says. “It is tea." 

"Truly?” You clarify. “No repercussion?”

“Well, you may feel unnaturally clear-headed.”

Forget sending remains to Thranduil. You are going to hang them above your front door. 

A sarcastic response nearly flies off of your tongue but dies of clipped wings half way out. You frown. With a start, you realize he’s steered you away from your original topic with frighteningly choreographed ease. 

Unease makes you fall quiet, apprehensive.

“You’re dangerous,” you say. 

“Yes.” He smiles, deliciously slow. “Does that scare you?”

You think even a whisper would drain whatever breath you have left, so you don’t answer. All the air has fled your lungs.

“A score and two moons ago,” Legolas continues evenly, as if you had not become a living statue, “you and I stood outside my father’s throne room. Do you remember? You peered out at the turning of the leaves, those great trunks in their shadow, and wondered how glad I was at heart. You said you would be old and grey by the time my father decided we were worth his presence.” His eyes crinkle at the corners again, sadly. “I know why you are here, valarhîw. It cannot happen." 

You imagine how you must appear to him. The march of time on your features, mortality burning out quick and bright in every tuck and crease of skin, leaking out of each pore, impermeable in your predestined fate. Brevity of such a high-tensioned existence: chase of second to second, the constant companion that is anticipation, desperation, anticipation, you imagine, is inconceivable to a being thousands of years old. Your entire life is simply one of his weeks. 

And yet, something traitorous whispers in your ear. He is still here. 

"You know what I think?” You croak.

Legolas does not respond.

“I think you are trying to scare me off. I think you are more terrified of the alternative.”

“Trust me, child,” he sounds seemingly the same, but his gaze is molten. “Heartbreak is no simple matter.”

The inevitable tragedy of your story. You logically hear what he is saying, but your heart has stopped listening ages ago. The concealed pain on his face squeezes a hand round your ribs and pulls. 

Desire alone you could handle, but this is something else. Something more tender. 

And what of it?

“We will cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Please,” he breathes, struggling against the typhoon that is your humanity, the whirlwind of here and now buried in your species’ gravity, your rage against the dying of the light—tiny little blips in a grand world ruthlessly determined on stamping their footprint on eternity. It completely contrasts his very identity. His mask cracks, soft and unguarded. “You do not know what you ask for. Please." 

"Or maybe,” you sneer. “You are not able to give.”

The words hang in the air. Staggering.

Legolas slams you into the counter. You see a flash of teeth, quick as lightning, before his mouth is on yours. 

The first thing you think is that you were way in over your head. 

Then you’re not thinking anything really because all else instantly ceases to matter.

His kiss is white-hot and overwhelming, drawing a hopeless whimper up your throat like water from a well. You throw your arms up and around his neck until utterly no space exists between your bodies. Or, trying, failing, hands dropping to frantically press and wander about his chest because why is he so tall, your mind going void again as he crowds closer, thighs pressing to thighs and large hands searing above your waist, behind your head. The mug shatters at your feet. Punishing bites are soothed by slow, firm strokes of his tongue, leaving you to gasp and shake against the hard planes of him. He is relentless, steady and insistent against your urgent quickness. Legolas kisses you and kisses you until you think that maybe that talk of mortality was for nothing, no, you are going to die of pleasure right here and right now, at the mercy of your tormentor.

“If—” you tear away just enough to cup his face in your sweaty palms, fighting for air, “if we do this, it is all the way. You do not, you do not take the parts of me you want, you—wait—you accept all of me—”

“Ed’ i’ ear ar’ elenea, Melamin!” He laughs, clear and bright. “For once, shh!”

Your reply is lost to the wind. 

Or his mouth.

(It was definitely his mouth.)

[wickymicky]

the more i think about it, the less i think jaden jeong is a genius lol. i mean i already mostly stopped thinking that but like... like people say he’s responsible for scouting the members and putting them in units and stuff and we all love the units but.. we like the units especially because of their chemistry with each other as people, but if you’re looking at a pool of dozens of trainees and you want to choose twelve to arrange in three units with three different genre-scapes.. like... some of the choices are odd lol

we already knew that a lot of the predebut process was made up as it went, and we know that not all 12 members were selected ahead of time. like even by the time of at least yves and chuu debuting, olivia hye wasn’t even there yet. when she said that she was a trainee for one day, that doesnt mean she only practiced for a day with no prior experience and nailed it immediately, that just means that she was only an official blockberry trainee for a day, and even that is kind of obscuring the truth lol. it just means that blockberry was panicking trying to find someone to be the twelfth girl and none of their existing trainees were cutting it, apparently, so they scouted this member and took a chance on her. it’s not like they hired her normally and said “actually you’re ready to debut right now, let’s do that”, it’s probably that they were looking for someone who was already ready, and the reason it took a day is cause they had to take the teaser photos and get her ready and stuff lol. 

anyway that begs the question... why didnt bbc have that figured out in advance? we love olivia hye so it definitely worked out, but you know... what if it hadnt? why didnt they use any of the trainees that we know they had during the 1/3 and OEC debut eras... 

we know some members were there for a while before they debuted. jinsoul was there, and also choerry was a blurred trainee when heejin was in a loonatv covering let it go (i think? or was it haseul covering vivid? lmao idr). we all are pretty sure that yeojin was intended for 1/3 and vivi was intended for OEC, but they had to rearrange things at the last moment, leading to vivi debuting with 1/3 before her solo song, and yeojin not ending up in a unit at all (though she’s been taken in by OEC and if loona ever returns to subunit comebacks i really hope frog eye circle is a thing). but also like... was choerry a candidate for 1/3? love cherry motion was definitely written with her in mind since it plays on her stage name, but she was there well before OEC, she’s one of the trainees who was with bbc the longest, around the same time that haseul joined but after heejin and hyunjin i think. was love cherry motion originally just the upbeat pop parts and didnt have that OEC drop, and they had to rework the song once it was decided she would be a part of that instead of 1/3? 

and like none of the yyxy members were there for any 1/3 or OEC era stuff, cause if they were, wouldnt yves have been chosen for OEC? i mean come on, it’s a no-brainer lol... and if chuu was there, wouldnt you have wanted to pair her and lip together just like 2jin, to highlight their friendship? 

i think things worked out, and i wouldnt change any of the units now, except for adding yeojin to OEC lol. i’d be okay with new additional units with new names, but as for these specific units, i wouldnt want to change them. but the vibe they have due to having the members that they do is probably different than what bbc had in mind. OEC is lighter with the presence of choerry (and yeojin lol, cause like when they break up into groups of four for things like vlives, of course yeojin’s with them. she’s in the same room as them too), yyxy is darker with the presence of yves, yyxy is calmer and more mature with the presence of vivi.... 

like if 1/3 was heejin hyunjin haseul and yeojin then they’d be more quirky than sensitive, even with around you and let me in in their discography. but with vivi and haseul together, their vibe becomes the dominant vibe of the unit, i think. 

when lip jinsoul choerry and yeojin are together, the vibe is chaotic and rowdy mostly due to choerry and yeojin bringing out the weird side of jinsoul haha, but if they were lip jinsoul vivi and choerry, possibly yves too somewhere, then the mature dance music side of the unit would be highlighted more, and seeing them together would be a little less energetic and more... cool 😎

when yyxy are all together, the vibe is actually the most chaotic, cause they all both have nothing in common with each other and also somehow sooooo much in common with each other. both things are true. i hate these dorks lol. i love them. i cant say who could have been in the unit instead though... because like, since all of them were brought on later, like, we dont know the other bbc trainees who were considered for it initially. i think the vibe they were going for with the solo songs could be highlighted well by a member like jinsoul (with her actual personality, her goofy quirky personality instead of the badass thing they had her do in OEC lol... i’m talking about black-hair jinsoul not blonde jinsoul haha), but i dont really know. 

again, to reiterate, i love the vibes that the units currently have. i just think its funny that this probably wasnt what jaden had in mind, and it didnt go according to his plan. it’s better this way though! i really hope there are subunit comebacks one day, with music and concepts made by people who really get what each unit is like now that we’ve been with them for a long time. an OEC comeback that captures the fun of their personalities, like girl front but multiplied by ten. a 1/3 comeback that maybe delves a little more into their serious sides, more like sonatine than love&live i suppose, but with the mood of a sweet crazy love or something. for yyxy i would kinda want something like so what, actually haha. something noisy and dense, and charismatic too. chuu can handle that, lol. i think all the members were able to fit their solo song and unit songs well, theyre very talented, but for some of them maybe its not where they would have shined the most, you know? maybe something made more with them specifically in mind would sound different from their predebut solo/unit songs, but sound even better because of it. you know? i hope so anyway

[tinabean37]

Hey! How are you? Is it ok if I made a request from the Disney prompt list? If it's possible, I'd love for you to make a drabble combining 7 (Mike Wazowsky) and 29 (Merida). If not, pick your favourite and let the muse run free. Oh, BTW, I love 'My Superman', any plans on keep running that one? Thank you so much in advance! All the love!

I got two similar requests, so I combined this one with:

And yes, I am planning on continuing “My Superman”, I am working on some requests before I get back to my WIPs. I am so glad you like the story. I will do my best to get the next chapter out soon. :) 

I hope you guys like this drabble. Feedback is always appreciated!

You can request your own prompt if you like too. The list is here.

~~~~~~~~~

The Thief

Napoleon Solo x reader (This is my first time writing for Napoleon Solo, and I definitely had fun with it!)

Warnings: None that I can think of. Maybe some slight sexual harassment. 

The soft clink of the ice in your glass was drowned out by the voices of all the party guests surrounding you. Scanning around the crowd, you let out an excited gasp as you spotted your target across the room. You began to make your way over to the short, stocky man, swinging your hips to exaggerate your flirty ruse. When you got close, you sped up and feigned tripping on your heels, bumping into him, and spilling your drink on his coat. He spun towards you, with an angry look in his eye until he took you in. Just as you thought. You wore this skin-hugging violet dress on purpose. You knew how you looked in it, and how other men looked at you.

“Oh, sir; please forgive me. Too much champagne.” You lilted, batting your eyelashes at him like a schoolgirl. That was all it took for him to be smitten. “Please, let me help clean this up.” You didn’t wait for him to respond before you had a rag in hand, helping him dry the champagne off his suit. You actually heard him let out a soft moan while your hands were on him. What a creep. 

“Not a problem dear. How many other chances would I get to have a beautiful woman put her hands on me.” He gave you an almost predatory look, which made your skin crawl. When your lips curled into a smile, he mistook it, thinking it was meant for him. But, in fact, it was because your expertly sly fingers found what you were looking for unnoticed, tucked into his suit pocket. The key to the room where the auction items were kept. Before he could try to leach on to you, you gracefully excused yourself, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

You quietly made your way out of the main room, so not to draw too much attention to yourself. You stealthily made your way down the hallway towards the door you knew held the item you were looking for. Once there, you looked around one more time to make sure there wasn’t anyone who would see you, as you used the key you apprehended from the greasy man upstairs. You darted inside and quietly closed the door. 

You scanned all the items on the tables and shelves. What you were looking for wasn't very large. Easy enough for you to carry out, concealed in your bag. What you didn't know, however, was that you weren't alone in that room. Well trained eyes watched you from a shadowed corner. Quiet as he could, he silently made his way over to you, asking a question directly in your ear. 

“So, what are we looking for?” he asked casually. Unable to stop yourself, you let out a muffled scream as you quickly put your hand over your mouth. How had this man gotten the drop on you? You turned quickly to face him and were met with the bluest eyes you had ever seen. His dark curls were slicked back, and he held the ghost of a smile on his perfect lips. If you weren’t so aggravated with him for scaring you and interrupting your mission, you would have relished in having someone like him so close. 

“I’m sorry, can I help you with something?” you snapped. 

“You look simply stunning in that dress. That color looks lovely with your eyes.” was his response. 

“Alright, if you won’t answer that question, how about this one. Who are you?” 

“Your perfume is quite intoxicating. L’Air du Temps, is it not?” Frustrated, you steadied yourself to tell this rude, but handsome, stranger to take a hike. However, you stopped when you noticed the priceless antique jewelry box that you came for sitting on a shelf, just a few feet from you. You didn’t even make it 2 steps towards the shelf when you were quickly pulled back and turned around by the stranger's rough grip on your arm. Your hand snapped up to slap him for his rough treatment of you, but he grabbed your other arm to stop the assault. You took a deep breath, and you laid into him. 

“What the hell are you doing? Who the hell are you? The longer we are in this room the higher the chance we get caught. You are going to ruin everything.” You spat. His piercing blue eyes were aggravatingly calm as he listened to your stream. 

“Miss y/l/n, this much anger will leave wrinkles on that beautiful face, and we can’t have that.” Your eyes widened first in shock, then narrowed in frustration. You did not like being a step behind. You told him as much. 

“Well, it seems like I am at a disadvantage. You appear to know me, but I have no idea who you are.”

“Oh, I know a great deal about you. Your name is y/f/n y/l/n. You were born in Hamburg, Germany to Military parents, and moved to France when you were in your teens. That is when you began your life of crime, starting small with shoplifting, then working your way up the line. Cars, artwork, and then priceless antiquities. Which I am guessing is why you are here tonight. Am I close?” You did your best to hide your shock. 

“So I see you’ve done your homework. I’m impressed, but I still don’t know who you are.”

“Former fellow tradesman turned opportunist. Napoleon Solo.” He said with almost a bow. Of course, you had heard of him. He was famous, or infamous. You weren’t quite sure yet. 

“Well well, Mr. Solo. You are quite the legend.”

“Legends are lessons, they ring with truth.” He replied with a cocky smile. 

“Yes, well, it was lovely to meet you, but I am here on business, and it is none of yours.” You turned on your heel and started back towards the shelf. Yet, once again, you were roughly grabbed and dragged back into the dark corner you had just vacated. Almost in reflex, your hand snapped up again, ready to strike when Napoleon once again grabbed it midair. 

“Please stop trying to slap me. I am also here on business. My team and I have intel that within one of these items, is hidden some sensitive information about our government that would be very dangerous in the wrong hands if you get my drift.”

“So, it’s true then. You have become a turncoat. Joined the Feds. Out to stop those you helped create. Very poor form.” You shot him a mocking frown, and he almost chuckled. 

“Sure, let's go with that. However, I meant what I said. I’m not sure what you think you are going to walk away with here, but please, leave this to me.” You thought about what he had told you for a moment. You had your eye on that jewelry box. The rumor was it once belonged to the royal family. You couldn’t let that slip through your fingers.

“Mr. Solo, I truly appreciate the situation you are in, but, I can’t find it in me to care.” You said just as smug as he did. Before he could grab you again, you sped to the shelf and grabbed the box. 

“Put that thing back where it came from or so help me!” His voice was stern, but before you could think, the door handle began to shake. Someone was coming in. Without hesitation, Napoleon took the three large strides to you, grabbed you close to him, and closed your lips in a kiss. At first, you wanted to push him away, what did he think he was doing? But then it hit you. This would be your cover as to why you were in here. So you went along with it. And the longer you held your ruse, the more you let yourself enjoy it. 

His lips moved expertly against yours. Your mouths molded together like a perfect masterpiece. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, bringing him closer as his arms circled tighter around your waist. Lost in the moment you let yourself forget that this was just to keep up appearances, and you started to enjoy it. You traced his bottom lip with your tongue, his lips parting to meet your exploration with his own. The smell of this man was nothing compared to the taste of him. You could taste the brandy still, and it almost was as intoxicating as if you drank it yourself. But all too soon, the moment was gone when the men who were at the door saw the two of you. 

“Hey, you two can’t be in here.” You froze when you realized it was the greasy man from the other room that reprimanded both of you. Napoleon started this charade, you left it up to him to talk us out of it. You played the bashful woman, hiding your face in his shirt.

“Oh please, pardon us. We were just looking for a little...privacy.” He looked down at you and winked teasingly. You played along automatically because that impish look made you blush. “The door was unlocked so we let ourselves in. We couldn’t pass up the privacy and the dark if you know what I mean?” The two men that caught you shared a knowing look and offhand comment between the two of them. 

“I can understand that. A woman like that on your arm, I’d look for the darkest most private place myself.” It wasn’t just the statement made you really uncomfortable, it was the look and smile that accompanied it. You guessed Napoleon picked up on it as well because you felt him tense under your grip. His arm wrapped tighter around your waist, molding you as close as he could to him.

“Yes, well, please excuse us, we will find someplace else to continue this.” He led you both out of the room, making sure he was standing between you and the men in the doorway. Once you were out of the room, he kept walking you out of the building and into the parking lot. You tried to turn back around more than once, your job not yet done, but he wouldn’t release the grip he had on you. When you were far enough away from the building, you squirmed out of his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing? I need to go back there. I didn’t get what I came for?”

“You are not going back. I didn’t like the look of that guy. Plus…” Napoleon reached into his suit coat and took out the exact jewelry box you had come for. Your eyes went wide, and instinctively, you reached out for the item.

“You got it? Amazing. Let me have it, and I will be on my way.” He held tight to the box not giving you what you wanted.

“I can’t do that. Your target and my target have turned out to be the same.” Confused, you watched him open the box carefully. It looked empty, but Napoleon was a pro. He knew better. He placed the box down on the hood of his sleek black car and pulled out a small Swiss Army knife from his other coat pocket. When you finally realized his intention with his new tool, it was too late. Using the small sharp blade, he cut a small slit in the lining on the inside top of the box. He dug his fingers inside and pulled out a small yellowed envelope. You couldn't believe all the trouble you just went through to get to the box tonight was just rendered useless by this indelicate oaf. 

“You have got to be kidding me. That box was going to fetch me millions. Now I have nothing. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You don’t have ‘nothing’. You shared the company and a truly amazing kiss, might I add, with Napoleon Solo himself.” You looked at him to see if he was serious, and he flashed you a million-watt smile that made you blush and smile back. “I’d say you had a pretty good night.” You blew out a breath and shrugged. What else do you have to do now? You closed the gap between the two of you and met his lips in another kiss. Who knows, maybe this could end up in a lucrative partnership. All you knew was, kissing Napoleon was the best consolation prize you’d ever received.

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] Includes many beautifully prepared scores, extensive music glossaries, classical scores made easy and step by step Afro-Latin / Caribbean percussion. Scores Included: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star / Baa Baa Black Sheep / ABCs - Form Figure #1 Resolmilafatimila elegant sequence circle of 5ths - World Music Mastery for playing with anyone! Standard 1-4-5 progressions, beginner to advanced - Bars 30-32 of Praelude #1 by J.S. Bach - study of Seventh Suspended chords - Latin Piano (Montuno) 101: "La Bamba" C I-IV-V-IV major and minor (with I-ii-V-ii variation) - Satin Doll by Duke Ellington with 7th chords spelled out on the bass clef - Montuno Etude #0, Montuno Circles Makes Blues Scale, Shekere pattern as piano montuno - Yoruba Diasporas, Rumba Parts translated into Melodic Phrases - Calypso Study in Soca (Soul-Calypso) often the first side (bar) is Up and the second half is Down - Syncro-Nice Sacred Rhythm Scales, Major and Lydian Scales Sync with Sacred West-African Percussion - Conversation Pieces: Extremely Potent Repeatable Perpetual Motivations - Making Improvisation Effortless - Montuno Etude #1, Primer for First Time Montuno (Latin Piano) Technique - Montuno Etude #2, "That Makes This Heaven" C Major 1-6-2-5 Montuno and Bajo Tumbau (Bass) - Swing Montuno Study, 6/8 Swing Jazz, Montuno Rhythmic Tension added to the Melodic Role - Calypso Circles circles of fifths with calypso chuck (downbeat on the first half version) - Clavinet Keyboard Score 1,"Soca Clav" Soul-Calypso standard keyboard chuck - Clavinet Keyboard Score 2,"Superclav" Stevie Wonder's "Superstition" adapted to teach Clavinet Techniques - Bossanova Study, Sweet Love Song, Piano, Chords & Lyrics: "Lost In Love" - Affirmatinas: "Everything's going perfectly, now and ever more!" "Having what I'm wanting, wanting what I'm having" - Affirmatina Song, Piano and Lyrics: "My Successes Are Here" - Classical Derivative Affirmatina #1, "I Manifest My Destiny" based on Chopin Mazurka in C - Classical Derivative Affirmatina #2, "Chopin Made A Way" based on Chopin's C# minor waltz - Classical Derivative Affirmatina #3, "Let It Be's" based on Abbe Franz Liszt's "Liebestraum" - Clarinet Concerto in A Major, the Adagio, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, reduction to piano solo - Canto: Gelido in Ogni Vena, from the opera Farnace by Antonio Vivaldi, piano, chords and vocals - Song To The Moon from the opera Rusalka, by Antonin Dvorak, melody / hook for piano and chords - Canto: The Triumph of Truth & Time (later the opera Rinaldo), George Frederic Handel, reduction to piano, chords and vocals - Canto: Laudate Dominum, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, reduction to piano, chords and Latin vocals - Romeo and Juliet Overture, Pyotr Tchaikovsky, Theme Reduction - Canto: Ave Maria (originally Ellens Gesang for Sir Walter Scott poems) by Franz Schubert, piano, chords and Latin vocals - Bel Canto: Casta Diva from the opera Norma, by Vincenzo Bellini, reduction to piano, chords and vocals - Andalucia later called The Breeze And I, by Ernesto Lecuona, reduction to piano, chords and melody - Les Caquets (short version) by Chevalier de Saint Georges (the Black Mozart), Trio Score version for Bass, Piano & Violin - Percs Score 1, Carmen - Carmen's Habanera, Clave, Percussion, Coro (Chorus) adapted to teach the percussion patterns - Percs Score 2, Yemaya & Santa Lucia, Agogo, Percussion, Coro (Chorus) in Yoruba and English - Percs Score 3, Afro-Blue (Obatala Orisha Song) with Chopin's Eb Prelude / Nocturn (1 verse). Many years of experience in teaching, performing, writing and band-leading have been condensed into handy reference materials, and step-by-step lessons that can be easy to follow, improve music understanding and appreciation. In this book are germs, seeds that can be expanded into lessons in many directions, all making musical understanding and music appreciating improve greatly. This book is great for self-study, and

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Givnology Wellness Arts, Charmony Division (6 April 2012) Language ‏ : ‎ English Paperback ‏ : ‎ 122 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0987871013 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0987871015 Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 299 g Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 21.59 x 0.71 x 27.94 cm [ad_2]