#the silly verses. even. (is in shambles)

[pensivespacepirate]

The Silt Verses is a Comedy

[speakeasyaoi]

Mitzi May x F!Reader

> Requested by anonymous | Mitzi makes me question my sexuality sometimes I won't even lie- I love her. She needs more recognition. She's wife material

PROMPT: N/A

After the fallout of her marriage with Atlas, Mitzi is a little desperate to find some way to fill that hole he left in her heart. Though she tries to cling on to the fleeting memory of her ex-husband to the best of her ability, finding someone new to take his place is a necessity for her to eventually move on, a necessity which you end up fulfilling. By the time you meet her, and even when you start a relationship with her, she's still rather attached to her previous marriage, in both big and small ways, but over time she'll gradually grow more open to her new relationship and start to move on from her previous ones.

And on that note, Atlas's recent passing makes her take steps in her relationship with you much slower than she would in other situations. As much as she yearns to be close to you, it's a long while before she's able to shake off all that lingering guilt that comes with finding someone new in her life.

Mitzi feels the need to be a bit secretive about the fact that she's dating another woman--her business is already in shambles as it is, rumors and gossip about Lackadaisy's newfound owner being a sapphist* will only make her financial situation worse--but despite that, she's more than willing to be with you out in public in ways that aren't as blatantly romantic. She keeps you on her arm like a piece of eye candy, taking you out to the shops or to brunch or just walking around St. Louis and seeing the sights. Once she's warmed up to you, you're practically inseparable.

She loves dancing with you. She's more keen on more tender dances, like slow dancing, but in all honesty she's more interested in the intimacy of it then she is in following any silly rules or steps. She thinks it's rather endearing if you're a bit clumsy or not well versed in dancing, and guides you through it to the best of her ability.

In private, she's significantly more flirty and romantic than she'd be in the presence of a crowd, practically smothering you. She finds it entertaining to come up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist, kissing along your neck without warning to watch your reaction and leaving a trail of lipstick stains along your skin.

Despite it being a rather unintelligent business decision, she likes to treat you to the Lackadaisy bar on the house. ("On the house" being on Wick's tab. Not that he'd notice.) Her ideal date is something along the lines of spending a night alone with you and a bottle of fine alcohol, and once that's said and done, you're probably going to have to nurse her through her hangover in the coming morning. ...On the bright side, it only serves to make her even more infatuated with you.

After a long, tiring day at work, Mitzi likes to unwind by setting you down in her lap as she brushes and/or braids out your hair. It's a quiet ritual for her to just take a bit of a break every once in a while. She also enjoys doing your makeup for you and dolling you up in the morning.

Mitzi is a very praising partner by nature, and while words aren't her main love language, she's more than generous when it comes to petnames and compliments. She'll frequently call you 'sweetheart', 'dear', or 'honey', likely paired with a chaste kiss on your cheek or jawline.

She cherishes every little gift and bit of your attention you give her, and holds it very close to her heart. If you give her a peice of jewelery, she wears it practically daily (think of Atlas's pearl necklace), and if it's something else, say a practical item or article of clothing, she makes sure to use it at every opportunity she can. While she loves to be spoiled, smaller, more personal things warm her heart.

Other notes: *Sapphist in this case is historically accurate terminology for a women who likes other women- sapphic, queer or bisexual would be a more modern term of the same meaning. Or maybe it isn't that historically accurate. I don't really know

[lifesver]

leland's fallout verse sparknotes idk we are just minecrafting for funnies. pls forgive if i get fallout lore wrong i know an approximate amount of things only,

born in vault 41 (idk i just guesstimated based on other listed vault locations) in texas, vibes are space travel environment experimentation on the citizens (idk, NASA in houston etc). they were all unaware that their vault was isolated and submerged underwater to simulate certain conditions in space re: advanced life support systems. they were probably also fucking around with microgravity and pressurization stuff in general, but mostly the vault was full of normies and was a chill vault.

mom was mb the overseer, well-liked etc. but definitely didn't tell leland much of anything. probably his older sister was also on the council type deal.

probably something ruptured and either fucked up the pressure and/or it flooded for some reason. and it was like 'now what do you mean we were all underwater this whole time'. like everyone went down into the vault from on-land so they thought it was just like every other vault.

leland i think in the chaos of it gets hurt/hits his head pretty hard, so he only has the vague memory of someone pushing him into some kind of pod type thing that shot him up to the surface. he wakes up on the beach near it and connie stumbles on him like oh ur alive huh. i was just looting ur shit. he's just in shambles but he wants to know so bad if anyone else made it. what happened and why.

he's like 'what do you mean my vault was underwater this entire time. was no one going to tell me--' and also just learning that there's just no way to get back down there safely unless he finds a way through the connecting vault tunnels from another nearby vault. he's just on the surface w absolutely nothing to his name but his silly vault suit and no way of knowing if his family or friends from the vault made it.

he's just wandering around accidentally acting like a protagonist by default bc everyone else's tired and jaded in the wasteland and he's shiny and dumb and willing to help just about whoever asks. just because it's like, yeah man that's how we do things in the vault???? some of u guys could be a little nicer tbh???? just trusting lots of the wrong people and learning the hard way that shit is very different on the surface, average naive/privileged vaultie moment etc. but he means well and endears himself to a lot of those rough around the edges people. but also you know how it is in the wasteland sometimes being endearing does not solve the situation and u have to kill a man, fundamentally changing you as a person forever,

he's more capable than he comes off but also he doesn't like guns and is bad with them. and also he cannot sneak to save his life. he'd rather knock someone out than kill anyone and ik bro was trying to talk to feral ghouls like hey (: you okay? if there's a trap, he's stepping in it. if someone is even fake nice to him? he'll probably fall for it. if he sees a radroach? near tears-

kind of realizing there was no big reason he was sent up or anything, besides like, love, of his mother. kind of unravelling the truth behind the vaults and how that shit doesn't even matter anymore. coming across devastation after devastation in other vaults. not knowing what his purpose is supposed to be without his newfound companions. the future being uncertain but just wanting to stay with them instead of wanting to go back to the safety of a vault. like hey lets just... live out here where no one will bother us and pretend like we have something simple and normal.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 22nd September

Sometimes listening to the charts like this throws you up a forgotten treasure. Sometimes it's aggressively awful. Sometimes its in the middle and easily forgettable. But once in a while you get something else, something you can't quite categorise so easily. This, I would posit, is one of those songs. It breaks the great-to-terrible spectrum entirely, by dint of just being bizarre.

Close the Door - The Stargazers (peaked at Number 6)

There is nothing this song reminds me more of than a bad acid trip. If you told me that this was a lesser known early Pink Floyd oddity, I would not in any way doubt you. This is music they could play to drive you actually, medically insane.

We start with a high-pitched child's voice going "bah-dah-bah-dah-bah-dah" in a sing-song playground way, except something's been done to it, or it's been recorded such that it sounds uncannily like Crazy Frog's 1950s ancestor. It's a modern enough vibe that I actually stopped straight away and checked I'd got the right song, that's how weirdly 2000s it sounds.

Cutting straight across this, if you can imagine, is a chorus of what sound like grown men shouting Look out! which is all the intro you get before the Stargazers proper launch into the song, imploring you to Close the door, they're comin' through the window / Close the door, they're runnin' up the stairs / Close the door, They're hangin' off the ceiling / Those - bah-dah-bah-dah-bah-dah - are everywhere!

I think the most nightmarish thing here is that it's never specified what "they" are. They're clearly appearing in some number, and obviously unwanted by our main character, who is introduced gardening, before he them coming, warning everybody around him to get into the house, before attempting to hit them with a cricket bat - strong post-apocalyptic fantasy vibes. I'm imagining a world ravaged by attacks by small, malevolent, fanged goblins or pixies, or something of that ilk (Nac Mag Feegle?)

At the end of every verse, our main character gets a couple of lines, and he sings like a drunk pirate with a head cold gargling nails. Once you've got past this, you can hear about how They got into the kitchen, they got into the sink / They went into the cellar and poured themselves a drink / They got on the piano, ran up and down the keys / And soon I was a-standin' in 'em right up to me knees. I think this is meant to give a sense of lovable mischief-makers, except it all just sounds terrifying.

And then they're gone, and we get a comical, slowed-down verse about how Now that all the fuss is over, I sink into my chair / This house is all a shambles, but really I don't care. And... fair enough? You've had an ordeal, you've earned it. Except our main character can't catch a break, because as soon as he announces that I'm going to take it easy, try not to think of them ... You guessed it! Bah-dah-bah-dah-bah-dah-bah-dah - here they come again!

I'll not beat around the bush. This is a fever dream. I don't like it, but I do kind of respect its commitment to weirdness. It's working in a long-established tradition of children's novelty songs, it's got strong Alice in Wonderland vibes (and the Disney film did only come out four years previously) and it's also reminiscent of some of the worst 1990s and 2000s cheaply-produced novelty tracks. You could have easily sold a re-vamped version of this to me as a kid without even adding very many changes.

In some ways, this is a song that could have been a hit at almost any point, just by sheer weirdness. It doesn't make it good, but I like how strongly it commits to the bit. I also enjoyed the shock value of the Crazy Frog-alike at the start - you can absolutely imagine it cutting through the radio fuzz and hooking kids nationwide with its pure silliness and wanton chaos.

Favourite song of the completely-bizarre bunch: Close the Door

[snowdice]

There Are Things That Are Missing (Part 6 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?), Virgil & Patton (?)

Characters: Logan, Virgil

Summary: 

Virgil and Logan take a trip to the hardware store during the zombie apocalypse. Something’s missing here...

Virgil cursed. “Ugh, I hate this. I shouldn’t have come. The lost hoodie was an omen.”

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), It’s a zombie AU and Patton is a Zombie. Angst.

This is the sixth part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton? 

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

“Food You’ll Never Eat”

“Things You’ll Never Do”

“There Are Things That Are Lost”

Logan indulged in a moment to himself after he left the room with the cage but before he went upstairs. It never got any easier. None of it did. Not the cage or the lifelessness in Patton’s eyes or Logan’s existence in a world where Patton never laughed or smiled. Patton used to laugh at everything: things Logan said and the silly movies he liked to watch; he often used to send himself into cascades of tinkling giggles over his own senseless jokes.

And now he didn’t.

Logan shook himself and continued his walk back upstairs where Virgil was waiting for him. He gave him one of those pitying looks that Logan appreciated a lot less today than he did most days.

Logan was irritable. He knew he was irritable. Yet that irritability went beyond the fact that they’d been trapped inside for the past few months or that his house had seemed to spring an elusive leak that was rotting out a corner of his living room. No, those were all mundane irritants that Logan could accept as facts of life. What was causing his emotional distress was what was always causing his emotional distress these days.

Logan had been keeping a secret from Virgil. He tried to justify it to himself by reasoning that the only person who could get hurt from it was Logan himself, but he knew that was a falsehood. Logan knew that if he himself came to harm, not only would it affect Virgil emotionally seeing as Logan was literally his only friend in the world, but it would vastly affect Virgil’s ability to survive as he would be left alone. So really, Logan had no excuse for his recklessness.

A few months ago, they had decided that there was really no point to keeping Patton tied up all of the time. It had been nice, almost. He seemed to like his freedom in whatever way he liked things anymore. Of course, Logan had always been careful to restrain him when they both slept. There was no telling what stumbling over a sleeping prey animal would do to Patton’s instincts. So, he had been diligent… until two weeks ago. It had simply been an unintentional error. He’d had a migraine late in the day and had laid down in his room in the dark. At some point, he’d heard Patton wander in but hadn’t paid it much mind. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep but fall asleep he had. Logan had woken in the morning to Patton in bed with him for the first time in close to 2 years.

It had been an accident.

The first time.

His behavior was absolutely stupid and shameful. Logan was well aware of this, but god were the couple of moments of obliviousness in the morning worth the guilt and self-loathing that would come crashing back to him when the world came back into focus.

“Come on,” Logan said without meeting Virgil’s eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

He and Virgil made their way outside and started towards the Home Depot in town with barely a word between them. One benefit of having Patton upstairs was that both of them were practiced in behavior that was least likely to trigger a zombie’s predatory senses. They were both well versed in silent communication methods and less agitating approaches to movement. The trip was easy, and they only saw three zombies on the way, none of which even noticed them.

They were able to make it through what had once been an employee entrance side door with a surprising lack of effort. Logan could see Virgil growing tense as they transversed the empty building. “This is creepy as hell,” Virgil said, pitching his quiet voice down. Logan had to agree; he didn’t like how their footsteps echoed. Though he had not anticipated the store being full to the brim as it was likely not as occupied by people during the onset of the outbreak as say hospitals, schools, and grocery stores, Logan still expected there to be someone dead here.

“I’m going to check,” he told Virgil.

“Check?” Virgil asked. “What the fuck do you mean ‘check’?”

In answer, Logan hopped up on top of the store’s help desk.

“Oh, fuck, please, no,” Virgil begged even as he scrambled onto the desk next to him and stood with his back to Logan’s. “Can’t we just do this stealthy and run away?”

“It’s better to know what we are dealing with than to be surprised,” Logan reasoned. “Besides, we’re here for timber. Exactly how stealthy do you anticipate that being?”

Virgil cursed. “Ugh, I hate this. I shouldn’t have come. The lost hoodie was an omen.”

“You lose your hoodie weekly,” Logan commented dryly, and then, without giving time for further argument, whistled sharply, similar to how Virgil had drawn Patton to the basement door earlier that day. It echoed loudly through the cement structure.

They both listened in complete silence for anything: movement somewhere, harsh breathing, or moaning. Anything. But nothing came.

“Odd,” Logan mumbled.

“I don’t trust it,” Virgil hissed.

Logan whistled again and they waited, but nothing shambled from the store aisles.

“Oh god,” Virgil said. “I really don’t trust this.”

“Perhaps it was closed during the outbreak and no one was here.”

“Right, because I’m a lucky person.”

“You are still alive,” Logan pointed out. “Luckier than most.”

“Fuck. Thanks. That one helped.”

Logan hopped down from the help desk and Virgil followed after him. “You are rather more anxious without the hoodie,” Logan observed.

“Are you sure it’s not the perfect horror movie set in an empty hardware store post zombie apocalypse?” he asked dryly.

Logan just shook his head. “Come on, let’s go.” Logan could still see Virgil being ever vigilant behind him, turning his head to get a peek down aisles and walking backwards sometimes. Virgil was useful for these types of things. Logan trusted him to notice anything off (including sometimes when there wasn’t anything off, but it was better than the alternative) so Logan was able to focus on the objective.

They made it to a more open location in the middle of the store and they both stopped. “That would explain it,” Logan mumbled.

“Oh fuck,” Virgil said. “it’s a camp. I knew we shouldn’t have gone on this stupid mission without my lucky hoodie.”

Logan studied the little camp. “It doesn’t look like they’re here anymore. They likely buckled down for the winter and moved on now that it’s warmer.”

“But what if they didn’t?” Virgil asked. “What if they’re a bunch of murderers that escaped from a prison and decided since zombies exist that it’s okay for them to be cannibals?”

Logan just gave him a bland look. “Anyway, let’s go get the wood and go home.”

“No, but Logan,” Virgil said following him. “What if they’re like, around?”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “I know that sometimes it may seem that we are the only people alive on the planet, but that is more than likely false. There are going to be living people around sometimes and likely, the majority of them are not murders. You don’t need to freak out.”

“Anyone who survived in this hellscape has to be batshit or a murderer or both.”

“We’re alive.”

“Yeah, and we let your dead boyfriend wander the house, so what’s your point?”

“This is a pointless discussion as they aren’t here. I would be surprised if they are even in the town anymore. Let’s just focus on the objective unless you like living in a home with moldy carpet?”

Virgil shifted nervously on his feet.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Perhaps we should stop by the small clothing section and see if there is anything hoodie like. That way you’ll have two comfort items in case you lose one.”

Virgil shook his head. “It’s a lucky hoodie,” he stressed. “I can’t just replace it.”

Logan scoffed. “If it’s so important, you should keep better track of it.”

“I don’t mean to lose it!” Virgil said hotly.

“Are you certain?” Logan asked. “Because evidence seems to indicate otherwise.”

“Screw your evidence,” Virgil muttered. Logan hid a smile as he continued to walk towards where he knew the supplies he needed should be assuming whoever had made camp here had not moved anything. He was glad the distraction worked to take Virgil’s mind off the “murderer cannibals” in the city. He was still alert at Logan’s back but the lines around his brow had softened a bit.

The stock of timber had been depleted, likely burned for heat. However, Logan was still able to find what he was looking for easily enough. Whoever had been living in the Home Depot had created no problems for them, and Logan predicted they wouldn’t as he and Virgil made their way home.

Thanks for reading!

Just a fair warning, this series is going on a temporary hiatus as I want to have the next three parts completely written before I post the first one. It will be at least one week, probably two weeks, and maybe three weeks. Until then, enjoy wondering why I need to write all three simultaneously. :)

Want to keep reading? The next part of this series is “ And There is a Question”  

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Blame it on the Alcohol

So this is a little one off I wrote because I was bored. It's goofy and dumb but please enjoy neighbour!Bucky

Your head was spinning. Or was the world spinning around you? Maybe it was the alcohol burning a hole in your stomach. You stumbled out of the cab, tossing a generous tip to the driver and slapping the roof like a cowboy rousing his steed to noble action. You turned, nearly falling on your face, your heels twisting under you, the sharp stilettos sinking into the grass as you tried to cross from curb to pavement. You held your hands out in front of you, catching your balance as the ground threatened to come up to meet you.

Your heels clopped up the walk, your purse swung perilously from your elbow as you dug inside for your keys. You weren’t so skilled at multitasking with six shot of tequila in you. You giggled as you stumbled up the step to your front door, you didn’t remember that being there before. Goddamn, where were your keys?

You shook your entire bag, listening for a jingle. Uh oh. You leaned against the door and dug more frantically in the bag, pushing aside your wallet and an empty pack of gum. Shit. You’d just have to crawl in the back window again.

Woah! You were suddenly falling sideways, the door opening inward, a shoe slipping from your foot and leaving you entirely off-kilter. You were saved by a firm but warm wall and a pair of strong arms that wrapped around you before you could overturn entirely. You held in a burp and looked up at the confused pair of blue eyes that mirrored your own wonderment. Wow! So handsome, but you didn’t recall having a roommate. You definitely would have remembered one so hot!

“Um, hello,” His brows knitted together as he straightened you up and you searched with your barefoot for your errant heel. You wavered and he kept one hand on your arm. “I think you have the wrong house.”

Now you remembered those eyes. It was your hot neighbour who mowed his lawn with no shirt on. You turned your head slowly, looking to the familiar awning at the front of the next house. You looked back to the door realizing the brown facade was far from your painted dark blue entrance. Shit!

“Uh, sorry,” You slurred, touching your hot cheek; the alcohol and your embarrassment fueling the singe. “I’m...so drunk.”

“Really, never would’ve guessed,” He said dryly and you cringed. You had been waiting for the right moment to introduce yourself to your handsome neighbour and now you were intoxicated on his front porch having been caught trying to break in.

“I’ll just be going,” You touched your chest as you held in a hiccup and pulled away from him, turning with a wobble. You bent to grab your loose heel, removing the other, and stood, ready to gather the last sliver of your dignity and retreat to your actual home. And you forgot about that step again. You plummeted forward, your hands and knees scraping on the walk as you tried to catch yourself. You lowered yourself so you lay on your stomach, tucked your arms under your head and gave a great sigh.

“Oh god, are you okay?” He was right beside you. You just knew it. You could feel his warmth and judgement radiating over you.

“Yes,” You shot your head up, “My dear sir, do help me up and I shall be on my way to my own homestead and away from yours.”

He stared at you; half-bemused and half-stunned. You weren’t sure why your speech pattern had reverted to the Middle Ages, perhaps it was a silly attempt to seem sober which only made you seem more ridiculous. Even so, he bided your request and took your arm, helping you shamble back to your feet. With heels and purse in hand you bowed to him and hiccuped. “Adieu, my lord.”

You swayed away from him but you sensed his lingering gaze. Surely he was watching this psychotic lady who had just face-planted on his front law and spoken to him in verse. You began once more to struggle with the depths of your purse, fighting not to look over at him as you walked up your own sidewalk. There was no step to your front door and so the way was much easier.

Your keys weren’t in your bag! You got to your knees and dumped your purse on the ground, searching through the clutter and still no shining silver saviour, only a hair tie and pair of scratched sunglasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Your neighbour appeared at your side as if he had some secret super power. You looked up at him pathetically, your eyes doe-like and glossy as your panic set in.

“I lost my keys,” You bemoaned, a harrumph following as you hung your head. “Looks like another trip through the basement window for me.”

“No,” He bent and began to gather your mess back into your purse, “You’re in no state to be squeezing through tight spaces.”

“But...what am I going to do?” You asked, “Where will I go?”

“Come on,” He took your bag and shoes in one hand and stretched his arm across your shoulders, lifting you easily to your feet. “You can crash on my couch until you sober up.”

“Oh my lordy loo, you are strong,” You smiled dopily, swaying on his arm, “I bet you could tear a stop sign in half.” You heard him chuckling, the rumble of his laughter lulling you as he guided you back to his front door. “Carry me over the threshold, my prince.”

“Okay, that’s not going to happen,” He said bemused as he angled you through the door. He set aside your things and helped you through the doorway to his left, leading you to the couch and sitting you down. You fell back against it and he stood back, eyeing you with a sigh. “I’m going to get you a glass of water...and maybe a bucket.”

He left you to sit there and reel on the foreign but cushy sofa. He returned with a glass of water, placing it in your hand, and placed a pail beside the couch. “Drink,” He said and disappeared again, appearing once more with a soft throw and pulling a pillow against the arm of the couch. You dutifully drained the glass as he watched and he took back the empty container, bidding you to lay down. “I’ll check on you, okay? Sleep on your stomach.”

He flipped the light off and his shadow faded down the hallway, leaving you to drunkenly splay out, your eyes closed easily and the darkness welcomed you as your head touched the pillow.

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

Your head felt like it was filled with sand when you woke. Your face was buried in the sofa, the pillow covering your head as you cocooned yourself in the woolly throw blanket. It was difficult at first, opening your eyes, rolling over, the sunlight streaming in painfully as your head pounded. You weren’t in your own house and you looked around in confusion, the memories slowly coming back to you in fragments. You groaned as you pushed yourself up to sit against the arm. You could sneak out now and look into voiding your lease and moving somewhere far away.

You stood up, your stomach gurgling dangerously and fell back onto the cushion. You caught your breath and tried again, quietly inching your way towards the front hallway. You found your shoes beside your purse on the mat and picked them up carefully. As you stood, a shadow caught the corner of your eye and you turned to face your neighbour, watching you sneak pathetically around his house. You gulped and smiled guiltily at him, your lips tense and drawn.

“Would you like a coffee before you go?” He grinned, “Maybe a glass of water? I have tea.”

“You really don’t have to do this,” You protested, “I...I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I should, uh, just go.”

“We all have our nights,” He shrugged, “What was it? Tough day at work? Bad news?” He slowly neared, “Guy troubles?”

“The first one,” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him, “But I think I may have overreacted in hindsight.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was actually kind of entertaining.” He leaned against the wall as he spoke, “I almost regret not letting you try to crawl through your basement window. I suspect that would’ve been even more endearing.”

“Is that what we call a drunken mess now?” You wanted to facepalm but instead, rubbed your neck, trying to hide your burning cheeks.

“What else can I call you? I don’t even know your name,” He mused.

You pursed your lips, realizing he was as much a stranger to you. “It’s Y/N,” You said quietly and your stomach growled loudly. You touched it and groaned.

“I’m Bucky,” He returned, “So, now that we know each other a little better, you wanna stay for a coffee?” He pushed himself against the wall, waving his hand towards the other end of the hall, welcoming you in, “Maybe feed that beast growling in your belly?”

You exhaled loudly, looking around sheepishly. “Fine,” You accepted quietly, setting your purse and shoes back where you’d found them, “I’ll need some caffeine before I try to break into my own home.”

[thesinglesjukebox]

ARIANA GRANDE, MILEY CYRUS & LANA DEL REY - DON'T CALL ME ANGEL

[3.69]

"Independent Women Part III: No Throttle"...

Josh Buck: Absolutely not. [2]

Katie Gill: "Don't Call Me Angel" is a fun piece of movie credits music. There's nothing special here, but it's a jam of a song that would fit perfectly well in the already established oeuvre of middle-of-the-road yet totally serviceable movie tie-in songs. Two of the singers know exactly what sort of song they're in and give it the sultry, radio-friendly, sexy spin the song needs. The third is Lana Del Rey and her inclusion BAFFLES me. This is so far out of her wheelhouse that it's hilarious. Seriously, was Selena Gomez busy or something? The music video for Demi Lovato's "Confident" was practically an audition piece for this type of thing, why the heck isn't she here? [6]

Thomas Inskeep: Ariana does some Grande karaoke, Miley sounds like she'd rather be singing "I Love Rock 'n' Roll," and Lana teleports in to do another take on her breathy schtick (and brings the song to a screeching halt in the process) -- nothing about this, apart from (I imagine) someone's discussion of market share, makes any sense. There's no cohesion here. There's barely even a song. [2]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: So, so, so cringeworthy. Ariana, Miley and Lana sound like reality music TV contestants who were forced to make a song together one week, couldn't get on the same page and ran out of time to rehearse, but had to release something anyways. Ariana is awkward and lonely on the hook, like she's waiting for help that never comes; Miley comes out of nowhere with a cloying shouted verse; and Lana is off in another world mumbling incomprehensible nonsense. Even the backing track has a nervous manic energy. If you want a good song about Charli(e)'s angels, just listen to this instead. [3]

Michael Hong: In high school, I worked on a group project where the only times we met up were when we decided upon a topic and to actually present the whole piece. Rather expectedly, the whole thing fell apart rather quickly and it was a completely embarrassing experience. "Don't Call Me Angel," gives off the same vibe, like Ariana Grande, Miley Cyrus, and Lana Del Rey were each given only the title and asked to write something vaguely empowering for women. Each artist sounds like they wrote for a different track and made absolutely no effort to meld styles, instead forcing the producers to try and mash the entire thing together. Even the chorus buries Miley and Lana completely beneath Ariana, perhaps rather wisely as I can't see the group's vocal tones meshing together very well. "Don't Call Me Angel" survives only through the one thing my group never had, natural charisma. [3]

Alex Clifton: How did Ari, Miley and Lana end up in this? I guess it echoes the three Charlie's Angels but this trio doesn't make sense. I can see how individual duets would've worked; Ari and Lana could've done something slow and spacy, Ari and Miley taking a more upbeat route, Lana and Miley singing something retro. This, sadly, doesn't play to anyone's strengths and just ends up being overproduced mush with a decent riff. If I had to pick any artist who could make this song make sense, it would be Rihanna, and the music video would be her in thirteen different outfits kicking ass. [3]

Joshua Copperman: I didn't realize how dated the Max Martin sound was until hearing "Don't Call Me Angel." Pop music is now either created with substance(s) or has substance thrust upon it. Meanwhile, the lyrics are clunkier than ever, "you know we fly/but don't call me angel" no longer endearing melodic math but shallow feminist lip service at a time when "if you feel like a girl/then you real like a girl" can sneak onto a major label record. It's the first time I can't listen to a Martin production without thinking of this unexpectedly poignant stand-up segment about Martin and Cosmopolitan. When the tropical house is so bland, further lyrics stick out more; Miley's pre-chorus ("Do I really need to say it/Do I need to say it again") is lazy, and Ari's vampire metaphors are just baffling. Lana comes out strongest, someone who seldom charts but has more cultural relevance than the former and is much hipper than the latter. Her verse is classy when Ari is unmemorable and Miley cribs from a Rihanna album reject from four years ago. "Angel", though, feels like a reject from 2013, when Miley was in her imperial phase and Ari was just breaking out from Nickelodeon -- in fact, it probably would have had Rihanna instead of Lana at that time. But no matter what trio, one thing is clear: with this lemon, you cannot make Marmalade. [3]

Katherine St Asaph: Remember, "Independent Women Part I" stopped the otherwise great song dead on the bridge to announce it was commissioned for CHARLIE'S AAAAAAANGELS, so "Don't Call Me Angel" earns points already for not doing that. It keeps its product placement to outside context, namely the fact that the song exists despite the three artists having little in common besides having stanbases and sniping at critics. The disparate styles can work together -- see the "Lady Marmalade" remake, unfairly maligned except by a few -- but here there are only anti-synergies. Miley's verse can't decide if she wants to be the track's Mya or the Pink (probably the better idea), but its bluntness also best fits the backing track. Ariana's sighed, harmonized "angel" is a great millennial R&B hook, but one that outside of an R&B song is starved for air. Lana's bridge, though a complete non-sequitur and only empowering if you squint, is also the most sonically charged thing she's done in ages; if there isn't a reason Lana Del Rey hasn't worked with Max Martin beyond "Lust for Life" (I suspect that there is), that wouldn't be the worst career direction. Everyone's part diminishes everyone else's, the exact opposite of what you need from an event single or a Charlie's Angels shine-theory ad. [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Every big pop collab feels a little unnecessary -- pop stars work based on the idea that they're the center of the universe, and collaborations by their very nature make that seem silly. But this sounds really, really unnecessary. Two artists coming off career highs (and one coming off of "Cattitude") should at least drive some head-to-head comparison, but none of the three credited artists interact in any meaningful way. It's the Batman V. Superman of pop music -- conflict and chemistry built mostly on reputation rather than action, with nothing to defend unless you're an unabashed stan. [2]

Joshua Lu: In which Lana Del Rey learns that her reward for releasing her magnum opus is the opportunity to limp through a thank u, next reject. Ariana Grande and Miley Cyrus's voices already feel unbalanced, but Lana's mushy croons are so inapposite that they grind the song to a halt. [3]

Scott Mildenhall: It rattles along satisfyingly, but this never leaves the marks that the intermittent brass punctuation seems to signify. None of that is aided by how Del Rey, unbending in her lack of persona, has to be deployed in the manner of a guest rapper, wheeled on and off through a side door. The inability to sound at home with her collaborators in the way they do with each other is one thing, but the inability to sound anything other than lifeless in the face of them is another, and that's the precise opposite of what's called for. [6]

Will Adams: As out of place as she may seem on paper, Lana's bridge is the only point where the song becomes interesting: the key dips even more minor, and the arrangement has tangible cinematic sweep. The rest is a cluttered shamble of an Ariana Grande album cut, with her and Cyrus trading off lines with all the dubious empowerment of a Barb Wire quote. [4]

Jackie Powell: All right folks get ready for a sports metaphor, because it's coming. Ariana Grande is a bit of a ball hog on this track. What she doesn't seem to understand is if you are going to lead your team, you've got to provide the proper assist to each of your teammates. To me, saving Del Rey until the two-minute mark supports the idea that these "angels" aren't really meant to work together. I thought the purpose of this was to present a team of strong women looking to take on the world via a song that preaches empowerment for this new wave of both feminism and Charlie's Angels films. Where a point guard should pass the ball and set up her teammates on the wings (no pun intended) and under the rim, Grande instead takes all of the shots. When the mic is pointed toward Cyrus after Grande's opening hook, though, she shoots with simultaneous finesse and power, letting her head voice mix well with the potent sound in her chest. If I was reviewing the visual made to accompany "Don't Call Me Angel," Hannah Lux Davis' treatment would receive a [10]. Grande, Cyrus and Del Rey all exude a mystique, ooze sex and expel power. For a Charlie's Angels theme song, that's right on the money. But what confuses me lyrically is how the hook clearly communicates the theme, even nodding to Destiny's Child, but the verses, bar maybe Cyrus', are underwhelming. The clock-tower cowbell loop that runs through and through grabs my attention, but I think Kristen Stewart could write better poetry. [6]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox]

[sachiwrites]

I actually would really LOVE to see something about Crowley educating someone he sired. It would be great if you considered writing it!! Thank you so much ♥♥♥

the hardest thing about writing this vampire dynamic is projecting emotions without actually connecting them to sincerity. but thats also what makes this series to much fun to write for because there are a lot of moods for vampires to not harbor any.

anyway ! thank you very much for inspiring me. i hope this is up to your expectations

Was his smile…

You imagined it to be more painful. The changing that is. You’d read about it more than once, been warned about the debauched act enough times to fear the transition. In hindsight, it ended up being surprisingly temporal, though wasn’t soft by any means.

The sharpness of his fangs pierced you like any blade would have, drying a brief cry from your lips. He told you beforehand that it would be an exchange. An equal sharing of souls. Or perhaps this is where they were lost.

The agreement is unspoken and with little room for change when his hand finds the back of your head shortly after pulling away, already guiding you in instruction. He encourages you to bite hard, the notion of breaking the skin highly encouraged.

You suppose it’s then that you realize the first enthralled of the upcoming change. Even in the passions of bodies you’d never been able to inflict any damage, bit even the indent your teeth as evidence.

It’s still not a simple task. Rather than the smooth cut of butter it’s more like a bite of tough bread, a necessary addition of force Judy do find the right grip to tear away.

The first taste is bitter, not at all what he described or any indication sun if the supposed elixir all vampires praise. It’s metallic and the taste of copper rings on your tongue like a dropped coin. Yet there isn’t much to overwhelm your palate when so much is being washed over your tongue. In this moment it’s less about equal sharing and more about filling you up.

He means to drown out your humanity and leave nothing but the taste of himself in your essence.

The last time you wake up is to a glass of blood and a plate of fruit. Instinct drives you toward the later and the consequence is the opposite of the sweet blend you remember.

Crowley watches it all with a raise brow and an expectant smile. Amongst your hacking you reach for the glass, liking the intent of it to a cool glass of water to soothe your ache. The outcome is more than enough, the vicious red bleeding into your veins like a life stream. You finish the glass within moments but he doesn’t produce another instead offering a hand that you grip as you have many times before.

He doesn’t expect the grace of Horn or the unyielding force of Chess, but he does envision loyalty. It’s made apparent the most among other vampires. You may have upgraded from livestock but you’re still a step below the rest. You were a mere follower yes, but his follower.

He truly didn’t ask for much. Satisfied with his two aides, intrigue in Ferid’s whimsical stratagem and you. Was your devotion much more in comparison ?

It’s not a seemly transition from the notorious trinity to the expected quadruplet you were projected to create. Crowley was more reserved of your presence as a new vampire than he had been in your human identity. You had a place near him, but not quite at his side.

A place you’d earn, he informed you, with a bit of tutelage.

There was one thing you’d gotten wrong in your new life. Actual dirt tasted much worse than the equivalent you thought the once beloved human delicacies sampled of.

“You’re way too slow.”

The snarky snip of Chess’ voice sounded almost gravely as your conscious wavered briefly upon impact.  She’d been relentless, no less than obedient under her Lord’s orders.

Eternity was already a forbidden gift, you suppose strength and stamina would have been a stretch even for the gods. Fortunately, or supposedly the opposite with how your body was straining under the training, Crowley was more than adamant on preparing you for the war to come.

He’d single-handedly seen to Chess and Horn’s lessons to develop them into his formidable left and right hand. The trio were already legends in the making, a historians dream of war and fatigue. Still, in between uneven breaths, you wondered; with two hands already accounted for, where did that leave you?

“She said you’re too slow. Why are you still lying around?”

Crowley was a picture of barely veiled disinterest, his crimson gaze already dulling behind the murky thoughts of schematics and strategies. He hadn’t even entertained the idea of bringing his sword along, the infamous companion likely lying haphazardly out of place in his office. At his side stood Horn, patiently waiting to intervene when advised.

Gritting your teeth, eventually your knees found their place beneath you and your feet following shortly. You certainly endured more than what you could have while still hanging on to humanity, but this was still a tier too many out of your league. You voiced as much with a bitter tongue,”I didn’t realize you were changing me to fight your war. If I wanted to be a soldier I could have done as much with my own kind.”

The fleeting glint of annoyance was your own warning before your back spasmed from a second impact, this one significantly more distressing with intent. While gloved, his grip was no less threatening, tightening gradually with every vexed word.

“I see I misinformed you of my tolerance of your brattiness in the past. You were too fragile to curb the habit without the misfortune of killing you. I won’t be as lenient from now on.”

His form takes up all the space from every angle, not that his gaze would allow you to focus on anything else. There is a tendril of fear, just a flickering reminder of the truth you already knew when you’d accepted this dance. One would think you did so blindly to so willingly fall in line with a vampire.

“Everyone has their use here. I will only give you so many chances to learn yours before I give up altogether.”

The courts were still a mystery to you. Not that you would have seen the inner structure even if you had been more versed. The hierarchical composition of the vampire race was becoming more complex than any of your former counterparts were aware of. Their numbers were small, but as a society they were a functioning force and there was no question of how they managed to enslave the world and reduce it to shambles.

“But if you’re a low-ranking vampire and I’m a low ranking-“

His voice is as cool as it is crisp, cutting off your speech. “I may be low amongst others but I have a rank. You have none.”

You’re both settled in his study, situated snug behind his desk while he overviews the current reports of the Progenitor Council. Horn and Chess left to their own devices hours ago, bored of their games and in seek of other alternatives. For a while you were torn, too transparent of the mundane lesson plans but craving his touch.

“Even as my sire?”

The history was murky but you suspected Ferid to be his sire by the associations they promoted. Amongst shared lineage they also harbored a near equivalent status. But apparently there were more steps slipped in your thought process.

His voice is bare to the stickiness of humor as it latches on to his words,”. You were but a human not long ago. You have much to climb.” Your curiosity permeates the air and his nose twitches at the stench. He cuddles you with a light kiss to your hair,” You’re mine. That’s a mighty social climb for any vampire this young. “

But you’d always been his, from the moment he ensnared your interest. A mere pet to most, but Crowley’s high regard for your existence spoke volumes with your transformation. You’d learned that the privilege of become a Sire was only predestined to those slated to be nobles. The knowledge made the silly childish free of being kidnapped and turned against your will nothing more than a scary story before bedtime.

They would much rather kill than sully their bloodline.

You watched as he discarded the report among the others, only losing sight of his hand for a short moment before you felt is curve under the line of your jaw.

“When I changed you, it was not without purpose. You will become someone worthy of my presence.”

“Easy, easy. I don’t care if they die but don’t make a mess.”

You refused to look them in the eye, not able to witness the sin of it even when you didn’t have the resolve to let go. Crowley had been meticulously with this lesson in particular, pulling strings in the shadows without your knowledge.

It had always been possible for you to obtain your own food in his manor. It never came from the source but a glass was only a request away. Still you suppose you’d gotten spoiled by the luxury, only receiving when it was offered directly from his hand. It was pure ignorance that subdued the infrequency that lead to your near starvation until a new spring was presented before you.

Crowley had guided you without instruction, silencing the warm body with a simple look. Without words, incomprehensible whimpers were fictitious in contrast the roar of your hunger. They didn’t have a face or a family. It was almost too much to even consider them human.

His unreserved touch is at your throat, coaxing the red essence down without a battle

The habitual warmth of mankind never felt so foreign, even as it ran cold.

It would take some time, but Crowley would mold you into a vampire fit to stand at his side.

Even if it made you a monster too.

- was his smile …. 

always so cruel?

[normanisource]

Ally Brooke Hernandez, 24, has a two-tone thing happening, with a black leather hat and skirt paired with a fuzzy pink sweater and pumps. Normani Kordei, 21, has accented herself with huge chrome hoop earrings and silver-dipped nails. Lauren Jauregui, 21, wears a lacy boho-chic blouse and carries her puppy, a rescue mutt named Leo. Then there’s Dinah Jane Hansen, 20, who peels off a trippy floral jacket to reveal a bright yellow tee that reads, in big block letters, “I’M A RAY OF FUCKING SUNSHINE.”

Fifth Harmony used to tour malls like this: shopped from town to town, crammed between kiosks for tchotchkes and lit by department store signs. That was in 2013, less than a year after its lineup was now-famously chosen by Simon Cowell and Antonio “L.A.” Reid flipping through the headshots of X Factor contestants on the verge of washing out. The teens twice tried to christen themselves, but the first name (LYLAS, for “Love You Like a Sister”) was already in use, and the judges hated the second (1432, pager code for “I love you, too”), so Cowell asked viewers to submit ideas online. Rebranded Fifth Harmony, they took third place and stepped off the show into a joint deal with Reid’s Epic Records and Cowell’s Syco Music.

But those are all tales of an earlier era, before 2016, the group’s biggest year yet -- and the one that ended in shambles when, exhausted and unfulfilled, 5H lost Camila Cabello to a solo career. Last year’s 7/27 debuted at No. 4 on the Billboard 200, propelled by “Work From Home,” the first top 10 Billboard Hot 100 hit from a girl group in nearly a decade. But the acrimonious December split made even bigger news, with 5H accusing Cabello of quitting through her reps, and Cabello denying the accusations. It was... awkward.

“Try experiencing it,” retorts Jauregui when I volunteer as much. The rest of the group, as it so often does, rushes in to complete her thought. “I was literally going to say that,” Kordei quickly adds. “I get to sleep at night knowing we did everything in our power as friends, bandmates and human beings” to make it work. Then Hernandez: “You can’t change people.” And finally, Hansen: “Let’s just say we’re in a better place now -- there are no secrets in this circle.”

Jauregui admits she nearly threw up from anxiety before the downsized 5H’s first performance, at the People’s Choice Awards in January. But today, the members are quick to (literally) high-five each other as they talk about their ongoing 7/27 Tour, the first in which they’ve built in real downtime, and a third album, due later this year on Epic. “Honestly, in this very moment, we could not be happier,” says Hernandez with more assertiveness than the Pollyanna-ish cheer that’s her trademark. Their first new single as a foursome, “Down” -- a neon-edged dancehall bubbler featuring a warmly romantic verse from Gucci Mane (“Got me showing off my [engagement] ring like I’m Jordan”) -- reached No. 42 on the Hot 100. Meanwhile, Cabello’s “Crying in the Club,” which entered the charts two weeks earlier, peaked at No. 47. Both are still active on the Mainstream Top 40 list.

“Crying in the Club” is a wide-screen, Sia-style ballad and “Down” is an airy dance track, but the two have more in common than just a chart trajectory: They’re both grown-up songs for longtime professional “girls” now expected to be seductive women. The 5H video, which racked up 21.6 million views in two weeks, even seems to offer some sly commentary on this, with the group pulling up to a seedy motel and writhing on beds in separate rooms. But the women have come up with their own narrative for the lyrics, which came to them from “Work From Home” co-creators Ammo and DallasK, and include “You the type that I could bake for/’Cause baby, you know how to take that cake” -- as well as the chorus, “Long as you’re holding me down/I’m going to keep loving you down.”

“We dedicate it to each other,” says Hansen. “We’ve been together five years, so that message is powerful to us. We’ve been there for each other through ups and downs.” Hernandez hits her with an “Amen.”

The single is only a slice of what’s to come, because for the first time, 5H is co-writing its songs -- over half, in fact, of those destined for the new album. Since January, it has been holding songwriting camps between tour stops, mostly at Windmark Recording, just two miles from here. The group typically breaks into pairs, then takes turns with that day’s writers and producers like 5H alums Monsters & Strangerz and pop and R&B producers Harmony Samuels (Ariana Grande) and Sebastian Kole (Alessia Cara).

“It’s not like they came in at the end and started riffing,” says Leah Haywood of Dreamlab, which has two songs on the album. “We sat and wrote verses together, because they’re empowered women who want to be pushing the agenda.” Justin Bieber’s go-to hook man Poo Bear, who worked with Skrillex on a 5H session, adds, “I was pretty blown away. They were hungry and excited and seemed like they had a serious new point to prove.”

Those collaborators create “safe spaces,” says Jauregui, where they can try ideas without fear of judgment. But the world outside isn’t so cushy. Plenty of popular girl groups have lost members and carried on, but none have found more success. En Vogue withered commercially without Dawn Robinson. Destiny’s Child hit peak sales just before LeToya Luckett and LaTavia Roberson were ousted. And the one Spice Girls album that followed the departure of Geri Halliwell was an abject flop.

One Direction provides a hopeful example -- Made in the A.M. handily outsold its predecessor even without Zayn Malik. But the industry is perhaps kinder to boy bands. As much as its music (and videos) might be maturing, 5H is dedicating itself to an idea almost radical in its innocence: that four pop stars are better off as a single group -- albeit with a name that, at this point, feels a bit silly. “The fans,” quips Hernandez, “are our fifth member.”

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, whose 15-year-old daughter Simone is “pretty tight” with Hansen, says 5H is “aspirational to so many young girls around the world.” He adds, “Once the drama [of Cabello’s exit] settles, instead of looking at it as a devastating loss, I look at it as an amazing opportunity for growth.”

We’re now inside, aprons on, at The Gourmandise School of Sweets & Savories. The women chat about how much they love SZA’s Ctrl as they pioneer new ways to Snapchat themselves, chopping scallions for quesadillas, charring tandoori-style chicken wings and deep-frying homemade potato chips. Overseen by a chef named Jamie, they share kitchen duties with an almost psychic ease -- except for the cookies. The plan is for everyone to pitch in on a batch of the classic chocolate-chip variety, and that’s how it starts. But then Jauregui asks for white chocolate, Hansen requests pretzels, and Hernandez wants her Texas pecans (she’s from San Antonio). Soon one mixing bowl becomes four, and Kordei is in the pantry foraging hazelnuts, Rice Krispies and almond extract.

It’s a cute metaphor for how 5H’s members are cultivating their independence not only from their corporate minders but from one another. It’s also woefully inadequate in addressing Jauregui’s personal journey during the last few months, starting with a declaration she defiantly slid into an open letter to Trump voters, which she wrote for Billboard in November: “I am a bisexual Cuban-American woman, and I am so proud of it ... I am proud to feel the whole spectrum of my feelings, and I will gladly take the label of ‘bitch’ and ‘problematic’ for speaking my mind.”

In March, Jauregui shared photos from a November “coming-out” shoot, as photographer Nicole Cartolano characterized it to MTV, with her then-girlfriend Lucy Vives (daughter of Colombian singer Carlos Vives). Her sexual identity has since cropped up in her music. Jauregui briefly made an appearance on the Hot 100 as a guest on Halsey’s “Strangers,” which, as a duet about an it’s-complicated same-sex romance, has inspired more than a few think pieces.

Jauregui’s openness speaks not only to the accepting nature of 5H but also to the potential for a mainstream girl group in an era where many minorities feel under attack. 5H is still a place for purity rings. Hernandez is wearing a “TRUE LOVE WAITS” band. She and Kordei identify as Christian, while Hansen is Mormon. But all insist Jauregui’s expression is “supported.” And Jauregui, who believes in “the universe and a god source, like an energy,” seems content with this. But asked if she would be comfortable singing about a relationship with a woman in a 5H song, she says she doesn’t know, “because it has to do with me personally. It doesn’t speak for everyone in the group, which is its own entity as an artist. That’s the whole reason for doing your own thing.”

Kordei has recently added a new chapter to her story, too. She competed on Dancing With the Stars this past spring, returning to a childhood passion. “I grew up dancing competitively and being in pageants, and my grandma made all my costumes and dresses. I remember watching the show on the couch with her, and she’d pause the TV to create sketches based off what she saw,” she says. Kordei and her partner, Val Chmerkovskiy, finished third, which is all the more impressive when you consider that for the first three weeks she flew to the Los Angeles tapings direct from 5H’s Asia tour, popping melatonin on the plane and chugging coffee (a new habit) before doing the cha-cha.

Hernandez recently dropped a summery song with DJ duo Lost Kings and A$AP Ferg. She also clocked a writing session with Christian country-folk singer Cindy Morgan and touts the acting career she plans to launch this year. Hansen has an unreleased RedOne cut featuring Fetty Wap and French Montana, and she loves tennis and jokes about becoming a volleyball star. “I’m at a place where I’m continuing to identify myself,” she says. In other words: find her part in what could become a multidisciplinary 5H empire.

“Last year, we all learned a lesson about mental health and making sure you step away from something. It just makes this stronger,” says Jauregui. “Fifth Harmony is the home base,” offers Kordei, “where we always come back.” “Yasss,” says Hernandez.

Of course, when your break from work is more work, there isn’t much room for, like, life. They all describe their days as a “blur,” and Hansen says she doesn’t know “what vacation means.” For those who keep asking: No, Kordei still hasn’t had a chance to go on that date with DWTS’ Bonner Bolton. And in a quiet moment in the kitchen, Hernandez confesses that there’s nothing she wants more than to get married. But the women don’t even have homes apart from their families -- the houses would sit empty.

It was only 14 months ago, in the middle of my interview with the group for its first Billboard cover, that the same four sitting here broke down in tears detailing the extent of their fatigue and stress. “Jesus Christ, dark times,” recalls Jauregui, and they didn’t let up. The same day Cabello’s exit was announced, there was a leak of what seemed to be a recording of Jauregui telling Hernandez the band was treated like “literal slaves.” “I don’t know where that [audio] came from,” says Jauregui, “but that’s what the game does to you sometimes: runs you dry.” But it was a bit more than that.

“We were little girls coming off of a TV show and had a team of people trying to sculpt us into something we weren’t,” says Hansen. “They took advantage, like, ‘Get in there and record this, you thing,’ ” says Jauregui.

“If you’re told you can’t do something when there’s a creative desire to do it, that’s depressing,” says Geri Horner -- nee Halliwell, aka Ginger Spice -- who just released her first single in 12 years. “Spice Girls always wrote our own stuff, but I can relate to that.”

The long road to liberation began with 5H hiring outspoken music lawyer Dina LaPolt at the end of 2015. “I sat the girls in a hotel conference room and for five hours educated them on trademarks, copyrights and rights of publicity,” says LaPolt, who soon helped secure them new management with the preeminent firm Maverick (Madonna, U2, Miley Cyrus). “Then I educated them about every agreement they signed, which [were] the worst I’ve ever seen in the music business.”

LaPolt successfully transferred the Fifth Harmony trademark from Cowell to the group, meaning the women now own the name, along with the right to control how it is used and to profit from any deals. (The agreement -- signed in April 2016, months ahead of Cabello’s exit -- doesn’t name Cabello in the “Fifth Harmony Partnership.” “I don’t represent Camila,” is all LaPolt will say.) She then renegotiated 5H’s contract with Epic, which she characterized as “a very adversarial” process.

LaPolt and 5H stress that the group’s relationship with Epic is now good. The women count among their “saviors” the label’s senior vp A&R Chris Anokute, who came onboard near the end of making 7/27. (Reid left Epic in May amid sexual-harassment allegations.) “We raised our voices,” says Hansen, “and to have someone in our corner like Chris, who believes in us, is the most important element to make the wheels go.”

Which allows 5H to meet the challenges of being Women of Pop in the late 20-teens. Rihanna, Katy Perry, Selena Gomez and Lorde have all shown how much artistry, agency and album-building matter. Basically, the band needs to pursue the authenticity Cabello secured by going it alone. The challenge is not only doing that in a group, but also while relying on familiar themes, like girl power, diversity, body positivity and inclusion.

Jauregui is the first to admit she was scared about 5H’s future without Cabello. “We’d put blood, sweat and tears -- and birthdays and funerals we missed -- into this thing,” she says. “It’s our livelihoods and our families.’ This is the train, and now you’re like, ‘Is the conductor going to come through with the coals, or are we left here to die?’ ”

Hernandez says there were “many therapy sessions.” Hansen, at least, quit worrying when they released their first press photo as a quartet and everyone, including Ellen DeGeneres, started editing themselves into the frame, “trying to recruit themselves into the squad.” Which raises the question: Have they considered bringing in a new member? They answer in unison: “Heeeell naaaw!”

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Forty-Nine

Mornings. Waking up. How long since I last got to experience such a thing? It felt like an eternity. Moving from place to place, I must have denied myself a life several times over.

Yet there I was, picking myself up off the floor which I had fallen asleep on.

Close by, a tapping sound was made. My attention turned to the sound; a knock on the door.

“Verse, breakfast time!” Trent's voice came in.

What was I doing here? Had I unconsciously made my way back home? But why? My journey wasn't done yet.

The memories of the day before came back to me all at once, like a migraine. I think I actually did have a migraine. Fuck.

I clutched the side of my head.

“I'm not hungry!”

“Can I come in?”

“No, I,” My body had trouble keeping its balance as I got myself up. I had to hold onto the wall for just a bit as I made my way to the door. “I'll be right there.”

Great. Both a rush of blood to the head AND a migraine.

I deserve this, don't I?

I opened the door and faced Trent, who looked both surprised and concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I groaned. “I just woke up. I'm fine.”

My stomach growled. I looked down.

“Oh, shut up, you!”

Ow. I felt sharp pains when I bent down to scold my stomach.

“Are you sure you're not hungry?”

When was the last time I ate? I couldn't remember that, either. Days didn't really seem to go on as I never really stayed in one place too long.

“I just don't want to eat,” I admitted.

“You didn't eat dinner, either.”

“I'm fine, I just...hsss,” the pain in my head increased and my grip tightened. “I have a migraine.”

“Here, I'll get you something. But you need to come out and eat. If you're going to stay the night here, the least you can do is share a breakfast with the rest of us.”

“All right,” I relented. I pressed my head against the wall and looked down. From my peripheral, I watched him close the door. “Thank you...”

What's gotten into me? I'm actually accepting help. Am I in such a weak, miserable state that I'm depending on others?

I adjusted my glasses and made my way out. That was another thing. I knew better than to sleep with my glasses on. They could have broke, not to mention how uncomfortable that was! Hm...maybe that was the cause of my migraine.

“What's gotten into me?” I muttered.

Outside the thing that was less a room and more a walk-in closet, I inched my way out, making feeble movements, and shambled to the kitchen.

Everyone else was already there, sitting down and eating. There was a smell of something cooked. Eggs and bacon? No thanks. Trent walked over with a cup of water. I held out my hands and he emptied his fist and handed me the glass.

“Take this,” he instructed.

“Thank you...”

“Guuuurl, you do not look okay!” Velvet called to me.

I looked over in her direction.

“Whoa, I'm just sayin'!”

I didn't even say anything? Was it the way I looked? My face?

There was an empty seat at the end of the table. I took to it and stared down at the tablecloth. I wanted to just rest my head against the table and not face anyone, but I knew I wouldn't be allowed that. Rather, I did what I could.

“Um...I don't eat meat,” I let Trent know. My words still came out weak.

“Oh, good to know. So no bacon, got it. What about eggs?”

“Eggs are fine.”

“French toast?”

“Yes, but look in the fridge. There should be a thing of almond milk in there. Use that.”

Let's see if I can still use my power when I have a headache...

“Oh, I see it! Okay, I'll make you some french toast with almond milk in the mix!”

Whew. The taste of almond milk always did make me happier than the taste of cow's milk. It was such a shame this world was dying out, I felt like with a clear head, the possibilities as to what I could conjure up would have been limitless.

Some time passed, the headache as well, and without a second thought, a plate was set next to me. Everyone else already started digging in. Trent sat close to Blanc, who rather than eating any kind of normal breakfast, was eating gummy fruit snacks. Velvet and her girlfriend (I presume) sat next to each other, as well, at the other end of the table. The last variable, she was at the far end, positioned so that even if we held the most distance from each other, she could stare me down if she so chose. That was something I wished to avoid.

I dug into the plate. Ah, I hate to take slow bites, but the warmth, the fluffiness...

“I see you're as generous as always, Trent,” I smiled, looking down at my plate, and reminisced.

“I guess, but what do you mean 'as always?' I thought we just met yesterday.”

Oh. Shit. Right.

“Did you meet me in another timeline?” He asked. I gulped. I wasn't sure if he actually believed what I had said, even if it was all true, but that wasn't the question I wished he would ask.

“No, most of you here I only met yesterday. Sorry, I think I'm confused. Maybe I'm still feeling a little unwell.”

“Well, hope you get better, it seems like everyone's counting on you.”

Blanc held out their bag of fruit gummies. “Maybe if you had a fruit snack, you'd feel better?” They suggested.

“No thank you,” I waved my hand away. “Gummy candies are made with gelatin in them, which is a pig fat. Most yogurts also contain gelatin.”

“Oh, that's cool! Didn't know pigs could be so awesome!”

“You must be really smart!” Juniper remarked.

“No, I just have values that I like to stick to.”

“Ooh, and what might those values be?” Blanc egged me on. Heh, eggs.

Am I feeling OK? Just a little loopy?

“I don't think I could name them,” I shrugged. “They're just there.”

“Oh yeah, huh! Just like some of the ingredients on the back of food boxes!”

“Heh, you're a silly one, aren't you?” I smiled. It felt genuine.

“Whoa, you made a literal 180 overnight! Where's the awkward-but-mean version we met yesterday?” Velvet asked.

“Oh, this is how I prefer to be,” I gave a chuckle. “It had just been days since I've allowed myself to eat anything, is all.”

The room felt silent. They all stared at me.

“You were starving yourself?!” Velvet gasped. Great. There goes the sweet time I was having.

“What? It's not a big deal. I can still take care of myself.”

I wanted to slam my head into the table. Why couldn't I just enjoy a normal time without me opening the mouth and killing the mood? Next thing I knew, the worst thing happened: Juniper, looking right at me, looking concerned.

“But Verse,” she asked. “What would your wife think if she knew you did that?”

“Are you doing this just to torment me?” I grumbled, staring down at the table, and not at her.

“No? What do you mean? I just don't think it's a good idea to do that to yourself. People care about you, you know...”

The fork hit the plate. The plate was empty. I got up out of my seat and took my dishes to the sink.

“Thank you for the meal,” I muttered, my tone coming out more dry than I meant it to. As I walked out of the living room, then to the guest room, I heard someone get up after me. Whoever it was should have known to tread with caution. By the time whoever it was approached, I already had my shoes on. I turned around to see Blanc.

“Headed out?”

“I just need some fresh air,” I explained.

“You're not planning to bail, are you?”

I shook my head. “No, not yet. I'm giving this a chance. It's just hard.”

“It's not her fault. She doesn't know. If you want, I could clue her in.”

“Why must you toy with a maiden's heart?”

“You? A maiden? Ha!”

I glared.

“I didn't choose my friends, I'm just happy to have them around,” they grinned as they gave their justification.

“Tell them we can make arrangements for tomorrow when I get back,” I instructed them.

Maybe they didn't use some cosmic power to make me encounter Trent and Juniper, but it still felt like a trick. I pushed past them and made my way out the door.

Well, that was fine! She just woke up and had a headache, of course she'd be a little moody! As for me, I was peachy keen, although, was I ever not? Hmm...moving on! I went back to the table and let them know the deets.

“Hello friends, I am back,” I greeted, then sat back in my seat and grabbed some gummy worms. Guess they were gummy worms and a little bit of pig. Who knew?

“Is she gonna be okay?” Juniper asked me.

“Oh yeah, totes,” I replied, mouth full of gummy worm. “Just had to blow off steam. You know what they say, Pompeii wasn't unbuilt in a day!”

“I've never heard that expression before,” Velvet remarked.

Birch, no, Corey...Andy...Coriander! Coriander had her arms crossed and scowled. There was a little bit of steam coming out of her, too, I could tell. In fact, I could sense a rant about to happen in three...two...one...

“We were having a good breakfast, weren't we? I know I was! I was having a mighty fine breakfast. Argh. Then this happened, and it's just, like, y'know? It's just like that! I want some more bacon!”

Trent shrugged. “Help yourself.”

“I will!” She roared. I watched as she got up, grabbed a handful of bacon off the skillet, shove it all into her mouth, then sat back down.

“Alright, so as I was saying,” she continued her rant, barely coherent. “Screw her, am I right?”

Oh hey, that was short! I thought she'd have an actual rant to go off on!

“No, I think she's going through a rough time and we need to be there for her,” Juniper suggested.

“That's real nice of you, but you shouldn't try to help someone who doesn't want help,” Velvet replied.

“She can help herself by screwing off,” Coriander continued. Oh, there it was. “Why'd she have to have such an attitude for? As if that's any way to act as a guest!”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Velvet groaned.

“Yeah, okay, but then she tries to act all sweet as if anyone's really going to fall for it! Plus, even when she's acting all nice, she gives out orders. Like how she wanted you to use milk fresh squeezed from almond titties! She shouldn't just boss people around like that. By the way, Trent, you should make some more bacon, I just ate it all.”

“Uh-huh...”

“I don't think it's an act,” Juniper suggested. “I think she's trying because she that's how she'd like to be.”

“Velvet, you don't like waking up in the morning and that's a fact!” Nope. Coriander still wasn't done. “Yet what did we all do? We woke up in the morning, sat for breakfast, and even made sure she came along. So what does she do? Storm off.”

“She just needed a breather,” I reminded them. “She doesn't mean any harm, and she'll probably come back and apologize. I'm sure she'll even try to make it up to everyone, somehow!”

“Are you sure?” Juniper asked.

“Not really, but I know her pretty well! She told me to tell you guys that when she gets back, we can all make preparations for tomorrow!”

“Hmph, and what if she doesn't show back up?” Coriander pressed. “What then?”

I shrugged. “Guess since the cat's out of the bag, I can still get you guys there.”

“Maybe you should do that,” Juniper suggested. “So that she can get back to her own place. It doesn't seem like she's enjoying it here and if we lift that burden off for her, maybe she'd be happier.”

Coriander growled; Velvet gave her a few shoulder pats and she calmed down.

“You can try, but don't be surprised if she's not too keen on the idea. She can be even more stubborn than you are, Velvet.”

“Hey!” Velvet took offense to that. Oops.

I yawned. “Well, you guys do what you want. It's not even close to noon yet, so I'm probably just going to take a nap on the couch until something interesting happens.”

Yes, by the way, I actually did sleep. Just fine, in fact. Yeah, who would've thought?

Out by the lake on the docks stood a guardrail which I leaned against. The breeze against my back brushed past my sides and blew my hair forward. I remained still.

After I procured a match and struck it, I placed the lit stick between my lips; it didn't taste very good. Not a moment after, I placed the burnt match between my two fingers and with my other hand, I tried to snuff the flame out by squishing it between my fingers, but instead, felt the burn, and with a jolt, tossed the match away.

“This doesn't spark joy,” I grit my teeth, and just like that, the burn was no longer felt. Likewise, the burn marks on the tips of my fingers disappeared.

“Looks like what worked for you doesn't work for me,” again, reminiscing. Over what, it didn't even feel worth mentioning. No, not that I thought I could mimic her in order to understand her. It wasn't even that I was seeking to understand her, just that I was lost.

“What would you have done in such a situation?” Those words already got swept up and thrown into the water. As to be expected. There wasn't an answer, unless I felt like conjuring up a ghost.

Ah, now there's an idea...

I shook my head. Not even that would have done me any good. I made my way back. As lost as I was, I just had to go back and do my best.

“No, it wouldn't have mattered if I knew what you would do. I'm not you.”

The thought was almost worth a laugh: the idea of asking advice from someone who couldn't answer, someone who no longer existed, and who when alive I considered an enemy. Alas, I held the laugh in and headed back toward the house.

“Now that that's out of my system, time to go back and apologize to everyone about breakfast. There are more important issues at hand than my personal bullshit.”

Yes. That was the right mindset to have.

As I crept back inside, that was the mindset I clung to. After closing the door, slow and quiet as to not reveal my presence right away, I crouched down to slip off my shoes.

“Verse! I'm so glad you're okay!” The familiar voice greeted me from the distance. I looked over, to see Juniper.

“You are?”

“Yeah! I was so worried when you left!”

I looked away. “I'm sorry to worry you. There's just been a lot on my mind and I've been under a lot of stress, that's all.”

“I don't blame you, what with the state the world's in. Plus, you're not even from here, so it probably comes as a shock to you!”

Hm...yeah. Maybe in a sense. Out of all he atrocities I could have predicted, the destruction of Earth due to the same thing Blanc was more or less merged with was not one of them.

“That is true, but I agreed to help, so that's what I'm going to do.” Even if I do still find such a thing a hopeless endeavor.

“Maybe you don't need to, though!”

Glad to see someone agrees with me after what I told Blanc last night. Still, I'm giving everyone a chance, just like they suggested, so what else was I supposed to do?

“What?”

“You should go to her, you're clearly not happy here. Plus it's probably better than spending time with someone like me.”

“ARE YOU FOR REAL?!” I snapped.

“What? I'm just saying, it would probably be better for you if--”

“I can't believe you!”

I rose to my feet and I could feel myself shaking.

“How many times have I told you? I don't want to talk about it! But it's always the same with you, isn't it? 'Wife this, wife that'! Just...shut up!”

She took a step back. “Was...was it something I said?”

“It's everything you said! Eve since I came here, you've been a thorn in my side, and I'm sick of it! For the duration that I'm here, I don't want to hear the word 'wife' come out of your mouth! I don't even want to think of the words 'Juniper' and 'wife' in the same thought! You got that?”

“Ye...yes!” Her voice came out a whimper as she pursed her lips and I watched tears stream down her face. As I stood there, she went and covered her face as she walked away and went right into the guest room next to the stairs.

“This is my fault, isn't it?” I spoke, my voice low. No one else was in the living room, save for Blanc, who looked asleep. I had my doubts, but I wasn't about to test them. I now had bigger concerns.

I never meant for this to happen. I just let my emotions get the better of me and because of me, I made her cry.

As I walked toward the door to the room where I had slept in, I approached with hesitance. Yes, how familiar. In this scenario as well, I didn't want to face her, not like that. But it was already too late, and I felt the need to try what I could.

It's useless. She already hates you and you can't take back anything you said.

I let out a deep breath and gave a light tap on the door, then opened the door.

“Hey...” My voice croaked, barely a whisper.

There she was, sitting in one of the chairs in the room, and sobbing into her hands.

“I know I don't really have any right to be in here after what I said, but I'm really sorry.”

“But you're right,” she sniffed. “You told me it was a sensitive subject and I just kept bringing it up anyway,” she sniffed again. “I just have trouble with social cues sometimes.”

“No, no, you did nothing wrong. It was all me.”

She looked up, her face was red and there were still tears coming down.

I remember wishing that if I could get Juniper to break down, she'd see that I was no good and hate me. But now I made her break down and all it feels is horrible.

“Here,” I handed her a tissue.

“Thanks,” she croaked, then blew her nose.

“Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was make you cry.”

She wiped her face. “You had every right to get mad, you said it was something that hurt you and I kept pressing it.”

I shook my head. “But I'm not hurt right now. Look, I'm fine!” I grabbed my cheeks and pulled them up so it looked like I was grinning. “See?”

“You shouldn't lie, you know.”

“Yes, you're right. But I'm only lying because I want to make you feel better.”

“You shouldn't pretend to be fine for my sake, either.”

I sighed. “You're right. But again, you did nothing wrong. I had no right to say those things to you and just because I've got my own problems doesn't mean I should have taken them out on you.”

“It's not that I meant to be hurtful. I wanted to help you.”

Right. I should have picked up on that.

“I know and I appreciate it. Don't think that I don't. I'm just not good at accepting help.”

“I do care about you, you know...”

Whatever her reason for saying that, I looked away. “Why? I'm a stranger.”

“You care about me and I'm a stranger.”

“No, you got it wrong, I...I'm just trying to be a better person.”

“I think you're already pretty good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I like how confident you seem, for starters. I could only wish to be as confident as you are.”

I chuckled at that. “You think I'm confident? It's all an act.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Deep down I'm just a big scaredypuss.”

“You? But you act like you got it all together and you say whatever's on your mind.”

“That couldn't be further from the truth, either. Some things I shouldn't say out loud, and other things might have turned out better had I said what was really on my mind.”

“Well, if it's that, I could tell you were going through a hard time. You could say you're fine, but would a fine person starve herself?”

“No, I guess not. It wasn't even a conscious thing, to be honest. I've just been very neglectful with my life as of late.”

“It's easy to do, isn't it? Get wrapped up in other things, forget that you have a body.”

“Heh...I guess that's one way to put it.”

“You know, I think it's really sweet, actually, that you have a wi...sorry.”

“No, go ahead. Say it as many times as you want.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. Truth be told, it still felt a little uncomfortable.

“Okay, here goes: wife, wife, wife, wife.”

I laughed a little at that. It seemed funny in a cute way, how she said it.

“See? I'm not mad.”

Tears continued to stream down, even as she smiled. It seemed it was time to try a different tactic...

“You know what I do sometimes when I need to calm down?” I asked her.

She shook her head.

“I like to find an empty room, or somewhere where I think no one will hear me, I'll clench my fists, then yell whatever's bothering me, then unclench and let out a deep breath.”

“Does that work?” She asked.

Beats me. I've never tried it. I just made that up just now.

“Sometimes,” I replied. “Wanna try it?”

“Sure.”

She closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and a few seconds later, she yelled:

“I WANT SOMEONE TO TOP ME!”

...What was that?

After, she let out a deep breath and smiled.

“You're right! I feel much better.”

“The heck? I mean, uh, that's not quite what I meant, but okay!”

“Well, it's just like how Velvet has Coriander, and I'm like 'aww' but also 'damn I wish I had something like that', y'know?”

“Not...really?”

“Aren't those two just the cutest, by the way? I always like seeing cute couples.”

“Those two? Really? They're dysfunctional!” Okay, she was beginning to baffle me again.

“Yeah, but they make it look so cute!”

“I guess?” I thew out my hands in confusion.

At least it was a nice change of pace to be talking about something not centered on me.

“Is it okay if I say something else that's bothering me?” She asked with her warm smile I knew too well.

“Well, usually I would advise limiting it to one issue. If you start listing out everything that's bothering you, while it seems like a good idea, you could end up working yourself into a breakdown, which would be counterproductive when the goal is to calm yourself down.”

“So is that a no?”

“I will allow it. Although a risk is present in this method, said risk is not a guarantee. If it starts to look like you're getting worked up, I will be there to walk you through it and help you calm back down.

“Okay,” she drew in a breath. “Here goes.” Her cheeks were puffed up, which I had to hold back a laugh from the image.

“I DON'T LIKE BEING TREATED LIKE A LITTLE KID!”

After, she let out a deep breath, but this time, there were more, shorter, breaths that followed. If the previous statement she yelled caught me off guard, I was especially taken aback by that one.

“People are like, 'that Juniper, she's so adorable' when I don't know something, but that doesn't mean I'm not an adult and I want to be treated like a baby! I hear stuff like 'aw, she's so cute', but if it's just because people think I'm childish, then I don't like it. Yeah, it's nice being fawned over, but, but, but--”

“Deep breaths. Remember, deep breaths. It's hard to tackle more than one thought at a time.”

Thankfully, she listened to me. With a slow, deep inhale, then exhale in equal measure, she regained composure.

“...Do you really think people treat you that way?” I found myself asking.

“I-I don't know. It just feels that way sometimes. It's okay in small doses, but sometimes I just start to wonder if that's all they see in me.”

“That's not why I love with you,” I let slip.

“What was that?”

“What I mean is, if I should have been treating you like you aren't an adult, it never crossed my mind to. Yes, I've been really harsh, but I've still viewed you as an equal. What I like, and what I find sweet about you, is your kindness and willingness to help others. I can't say for sure what others think of you, but I think what people end up drawn toward is your sunny disposition. There's nothing wrong with being cute or liking cute things and you can still be an adult while doing so.”

“You think so?”

I nodded.

“You're kind, too, you know that?”

“No, I--” I stopped myself before I could finish that thought. “Thank you.”

“Your wife must be really lucky to have you.”

Really, it was the other way around.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she and I would be friends?”

“I think so.” That wasn't really a thought I wanted to entertain, but oh well.

“I wish I could meet her.”

“Yeah, she'd probably like that.”

Except that could never happen without one of you two dying.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. Rather than look away like I had done so before, I found myself staring back and smiling as well. We must have sat like this in silence until she broke it, herself.

“Oh! I just thought of something!” With that, the spell was broken, and I jolted.

“Oh?”

She got up and ran out of the room. I continued to sit in place.

What was I doing?

I looked around. Not that it didn't catch my attention yesterday, but it really was such a small space, and with two chairs just coincidentally occupying it just lessened the space so much more. With that in mind, how did I manage to get to sleep at all last night?

The real question is: what am I doing? Focusing on the layout of the room at a time like this?

That too must have been a spell, as I broke from that trance as well once the door opened back up, with Juniper coming into frame. She leaned forward, her hands behind her back, and smiled bright. It filled me with the fear that I may start to turn red with how close she was. Any closer and I would have sworn that her breath would have met my own.

“Okay, hold out your hand!” She instructed, although it sounded more like a cheer than an order, like something out of a pep rally.

I closed my eyes, as my mind was already going several places as to what that might entail. Just as she ordered, I held out my left hand. I felt her place something through and brush against my wrist. When I opened my eyes, she was standing up with one hand on her hip.

“Well, what do you think?”

The thing in question was a bead bracelet with letters between each bead. “B-E,” a heart shaped bead, then the next four letters, “K-I-N-D”.

“Be kind,” I read aloud. “Good reminder.”

“I know, right? But not just to others! It's a reminder to be kind to yourself!”

“Thank you. I'll treasure it.”

“Yeah, you better! That bracelet would've cost you a couple bucks on my Etsy!”

“What-see?”

“It's an online place where you can sell crafts you make!”

“I see,” I suppose that was as fitting to how I knew her than anything else. Really, the differences between the Juniper I knew and this one seemed minimal.

“C'mon, let's get up. I'm sure everyone else would love to see your smile!” She held out her hand.

“Sure, if I haven't pissed everyone off...”

“Hey! Look at the bracelet again!”

I gave a little chuckle at that. “Okay, you got me.” I took her hand, and together, we left the room.

As soon as we exited the room, we were surrounded by the others. Velvet and spice girl right outside the kitchen, Trent and Blanc both seated at one of the couches.

“Whoa! Talk about sudden development! You two are holding hands now?!” Velvet reeled back, in shock, though her expressions seemed more comical than genuine.

“Wha...AAA,” I didn't even realize that was the case, and as soon as Velvet said something, I let go.

“I swear, it's not what you think!” I scrambled to cover my image.

“We were worried about her,” Velvet explained. “When I heard her shout how she wanted to be topped, I was gonna run to her aid, but then decided to give you two privacy.”

Coriander glared and elbowed Velvet in the stomach. I heard a squeaky “ow” emit from the so-called 'badass'.

“Um...let's move on to serious business, shall we? We were gonna talk strategy, right?”

“Ohhhh, that's right! Fleshlight stuff!”

“Flashbulb,” I corrected.

“That was a test and you passed.”

I groaned. Who was I kidding? Change would never be absolute. Being surrounded by dorks was just not my ideal environment.

“Hey Ves,” Blanc turned to me. “Er, Verse. If I may make a suggestion, I think you should sit in that chair rather than the couch. Velvet, you're okay sitting where you were yesterday, at the other end of the couch. Coriander, that other chair next to Velvet? Perf.”

“Why?” I stood confused.

Blanc sat up and shrugged. “Eh? Feng Shui.”

“Sure, I'll take your suggestion. I think I prefer the chair, anyway.”

“As for me, it's a great metaphor: So close to my beloved that we could reach out to each other, but there's the end of the couch and the end of the chair signifying us as star-crossed,” Velvet concurred. If she was trying to wax poetic, it only came off as corny.

“You're smelly and gross and I would never be your Romeo,” Coriander spat back at Velvet.

Well, in any case, once we all took to our seats, I began the meeting.

“Now, let's get started: tomorrow, we will all--”

My statement got cut out. In its place was a cloud of smoke as the wall behind the couch tore open and the couch itself broke in two.

“MY HOUSE!” Trent called out.

I covered my face with my arm, but I couldn't tell how the others were. My heart started to race once more.

Have we been attacked? So soon?

“WHAT UP, ASSHOLES? IT'S ME, YA BOI!” Yelled out a voice through the darkness. I watched as the smoke cleared and the figure of someone in an odd suit of armor appeared.

Is this someone The Flashbulb sent to kill us all?

“Kelly Roger?” Velvet replied to the armored figure. “Is that you?”

“Hell yeah! Finally someone I recognize!” The figure took off their helmet and some curly haired redhead was now in view. I watched as who I assumed to be this 'Kelly Roger' person walked over to Velvet and held up a hand. Velvet high-fived the stranger.

“What are you doing here? I thought you died,” Velvet asked.

“Okay, you guys won't believe this, but here goes: I'm, like, from another dimension!”

Nobody replied to that.

Who does this make now? Three?

“What? Why do none of you look surprised? I'm, like, the tighest shit y'all ever shat!”

“Well, I thought it was a neat twist,” Velvet replied.

“Right on! At least one of you gets it!” Kelly Roger held up a hand again. Velvet shrugged, then high-fived again.

“So, what brought you here?”

“Okay, so lemme go ahead and tell my tragic backstory. Y'all ready?”

Nobody gave a response.

“I got mixed in with some bad folks and I lost access to my body pillows and figurines! It was tragic as FUCK!”

“Oof, that does sound rough,” Velvet replied.

“Oh yeah, not only that! But then I met a girl and it was like love at first sight!”

“Good for you, proud of you, KR.”

“Yeah, but then some shit happened and I left her behind.”

“I know how that is, buddy,” Velvet gave Kelly Roger a pat on the shoulder.

“WHAT?!” I cried out.

“Yeah, it was real sad 'n shit,” Kelly Roger added. “Like, some Lifetime movie BS.”

“Wow, I never thought I'd hear someone go through something similar as me.”

“HELLOOOO? I HAVE? I'M RIGHT HERE!” I waved my hands around, pointed to myself, the whole deal. Those two continued to ignore me, though.

“Yeah, well, anyway, she wasn't even into me, plus she was kind of a loser. So no big loss,” they added.

“Oh,” Velvet sounded just a tad surprised by that. “Well, good for you, then?”

“This is ridiculous!” I crossed my arms.

“That's the saddest story I've ever heard,” Juniper wiped her eyes as if she were weeping.

“YOU TOO?!”

“Anyway, I picked up this cool suit that allows me to warp through dimensions so now I'm just warping around between different versions of Earth until I find one where I save the day and I'm a hero!”

“Listen to me, young man,” I addressed the armored figure. “You can't just keep going around to different universes willy-nilly! There are consequences.”

Kelly Roger turned to me. “Y'know, just for that, I'm gonna be a girl today.”

I applied my palm to my face, as if everything I said was just a joke to this person.

“This is serious! Every time you go to a different universe, the version of you that belonged to that universe dies!”

“Oh, yeah. I already knew that. That's part of why I'm doing this.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, after a few universes of not coming out on top, I started to realize the one thing that kept standing in my way: me. So now I'm going around to every universe to make sure I die, that way I'm more free to defeat the likes of Marco and Etna.”

“Are you serious?! You're just going to genocide yourself?!”

“THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!” Kelly Roger roared.

“Ah, a Highlander reference,” Trent acknowledged.

“Shut up, old man,” Kelly Roger pointed. “I don't know what the fuck that is and I don't give a shit.”

“Fair enough,” Trent shrugged.

“Am I the only sane person here?!” I looked around and cried out.

“Nah, bruh. That would be me,” Kelly Roger replied. In fact, they were the ONLY one who replied.

“Oh, COME ON! This is ridiculous! Blanc, back me up here!”

“Mm...this is some good popcorn,” Blanc tossed handfuls of popcorn into their mouth from a bowl that wasn't there just a minute ago.

This is so unfair, Blanc! Leaving me to fend for myself amongst this nonsense!

“Hey, now that I think of it, you look kinda like Etna,” Kelly Roger turned back to me. “Took me a few universes, but I finally got her name and learned that it is indeed, not Kizuna AI's distant cousin.

“I am and I will kill you,” I growled.

“Cool. On that note, I should probably skidaddle.”

“Conrad wanted me to tell you something,” Blanc called to Kelly Roger before the armored idiot could leave.

“Eh? That loser? Well, spit it out.”

“Yeah, Conrad said he was very proud of you and there wasn't anyone quite as good as you at what you do!”

“Really? He said that?”

“Mhm!”

“Heh. I thought you were a lame-o because you were Conrad's androgynous lover.”

“Close enough!”

“But eh, you're not so bad.”

“Aww, you mean that?”

“I don't have to mean anything. God, you're such a loser,” Kelly Roger's face turned to that of disgust.

“Heh, fair enough!”

“Blanc?! Are you just going to take that?!” I cried out.

“Why not? It's true, isn't it?” Blanc shrugged.

“Anyway, I'm off to go kill myself!” Kelly Roger turned away and waved bye.

“Have fun!” Both Blanc and Velvet called out.

Have fun?! What kind of response is that?!

...with that, the being known as 'Kelly Roger' vanished. The damage, of course, was already done. The wall was destroyed, the couch was torn in two, and I was about to rip all my hair out in frustration.

“Okay, Verse, what were you gonna say about the plan for tomorrow?” Velvet asked.

“Really?!” I threw my hands up. “We're all just gonna brush aside what just happened?!”

Velvet shrugged. “I mean, sure. Didn't seem all that plot relevant.”

“Yeah, and besides, at this point, we're kinda used to random shit like that,” Coriander added.

“You were saying about tomorrow?”

“No,” I got up. “I can't do this right now. I'm at wit's end! This is all just too much for me! I need a chill pill!”

“Valid.”

I was about to head into the kitchen to grab a cup of water when I passed Blanc, who started saying in a sing-song voice, “sure is fun to be a loser.”

“Hey!” I faced Blanc. “Don't say that about yourself!”

They turned to me, smiling wide, because of course. “Why not?”

“You don't actually think that about yourself, do you?”

“Maaaaaybeeee.”

“You listen here, as your personal therapist, I will not have you calling yourself a loser. You got that?”

They started to laugh. “Sure, if it pleases you!”

“You are not a loser!” I barked. “You got that?”

“Why's it matter so much to you, anyway?”

“You gave me a chance when I probably didn't even deserve one, so I won't stand here and listen to you self-deprecate!”

“You're funny. You just did what you told me not to do in the same sentence!”

“Grr...I want you to say one positive thing about yourself! I won't leave until you do!”

“I don't see what's so bad about being a loser, I mean, I've had my share of losses, right?”

“You've accomplished plenty and you know it! Now one thing!”

“Okay! I've made friends!”

“That's good, but that's not something about you.”

“Sure it is! I mean, there's people who I've made friends with who don't even like making friends and yet they still ended up considering me their friend! That's gotta be worth something.”

“Heh. I see,” I closed my eyes and smiled. “I'll accept that.”

“Wait just a second. Personal therapist? Really? Some therapist you are! You didn't help me with jack shit when I talked with you yesterday!” Coriander butted in.

I sighed. “Yes, well, I've been out of practice and dealing with my own things. Even therapists have problems.”

“Mm, yeah! She's really good, actually! She helped me!” Juniper jumped to my defense.

Aw, thanks not-hun.

“All right, you're off the hook now,” Coriander warned.

When was I ever ON the hook?

“I have an idea! Since you're kinda burnt out and I'm a bit of a procrastinator anyway, how about we just figure out a plan as soon as we're about to leave tomorrow?” Velvet proposed.

“That's stupid,” I groaned.

“Come on, I thought I was onto something here!”

“We shouldn't just run into something blind. Maybe that worked for you in the past, but as a group, that's recipe for disaster.”

“I have an idea!” Juniper jumped in. “What if we all threw a party tonight that way we're not super nervous about tomorrow?”

“Actually...that doesn't sound too bad,” I replied.

“How is what I proposed any different?” Velvet seemed confused.

“Well, you didn't propose a party,” I pointed out.

“You're just taking her side because you like her,” Velvet added.

“What? No, no, no! I've hardly met her! Or you, or anyone else but Blanc for all that matter. Even with Blanc, I would hold no special favor toward them, so I really don't see how you could get that impression!”

“Yeah, and besides, Velvet, if you mean like in 'that' way, she's a married woman! I'm sure she's faithful!” Considering who said that, the irony cut deep.

“Okay, fine, y'all got me there,” Velvet conceded. “So how about this, then? We'll throw a party, and I'll go out and get the supplies.”

Coriander nudged. “Is this just an excuse to go to your ship?”

“I won't deny that the thought crossed my mind, but nah, a party ain't a bad idea. In fact, maybe I should make a list of things to get while I'm out.”

“Champagne!” I blurted out.

“You sure alcohol's a good idea considering what you told me last night?” Blanc asked. Their concern was not unwelcome, but I had to set the record straight.

“Please, Blanc, I'm an adult woman. Who would I be if I couldn't handle my liquor?”

“If that's how you measure being an adult, I don't wanna know what your definition of 'maturity' is,” Blanc muttered.

“What was that? Have a death wish? Hm?” My eye twitched.

“Okay, champagne, got it,” Velvet jotted down. I didn't know she had a notebook and pen all ready to go. “Anything else?”

“Smoked salmon, crackers, some kind of dip to go with it,” Trent spoke up. Seemed rare for him to input anything at all. “Maybe some cauliflower, carrots, a ranch dip.”

“Healthy, I see. You know, these are End Times and all, so can't guarantee I'll find any of those things, but I'll do my best.”

“Great! I've been wanting to eat healthier for a while now.”

“Fuck that! We only live once, and like Velvet said, world's ending! Be a little more creative!” Coriander rebutted.

“We do only live once, but we also all live an infinite amount of times!” Blanc jumped in. “Because there are an infinite number of us! As for me, I've already lived and died a few times!”

“Yeah, okay, Blanc, but what do you want me to get while I'm out?”

“Fruit snacks!”

“Somehow I knew you'd say that.”

“Kinda fucked up how jello shots aren't vaccines you get to prevent the jello disease,” Blanc added.

“Are you saying you want Jello shots, Blanc?”

“No, I don't like needles.”

“You know that's not what they are, right?”

“Yeah, that's what makes it so fucked up!”

Juniper walked over to Velvet and whispered something in her ear.

“You know, you don't have to whisper. We're all adults here,” Velvet replied.

“Yeaaah, but it's embarrassing!”

“Okay, hard or soft?”

“B-Both!”

“'Kay. Couple bottles of apple cider.”

Really? That was so embarrassing?

“Well, I think I got a good idea of what everyone wants, so looks like I should head off,” Velvet got up.

“Wait just a finger-fucking minute!” Coriander got up after Velvet. “How are you gonna carry all those things yourself? Obviously you're hopeless on your own, so I'm coming with you!”

“'Kay.”

'Finger-fucking'? Did she have to choose those words?

“Ooh! Ooh! Can I come with you two! I think it'll be easier to pick out stuff if I join in!” Juniper raised her hand and beamed.

“Sure, three's company.”

“If she's going, I should go with her! I ought to keep her safe!” Was what should have come from my mouth, but instead came from her brother's.

“Trent, with all due respect, she doesn't need you following her around all the time. She's just as independent as any of us,” I stepped in.

“You know, you're right,” he sighed. “She's always been pretty good on her own, I've just been so used to her living with me and not having an income of her own that I forgot about that.”

“Well, it's easy to see where you're coming from. I don't think it's a bad idea for you to go outside,” I told him, even though I glanced over at Blanc and winked. “In fact, maybe you should get out of the house for a few hours. Take a walk, do something fun, maybe stare off into the water and contemplate things!”

“So it'll just be you and Blanc at home?”

“Sure! We'll get the house all cleaned up while you guys are away! It'll be great!”

He mouthed the word 'wow', then said, “you sure have been a fine addition to this household.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“Well, at first you were contentious, but now I feel like you've lived with us for a while.”

“Wha..a...a...I! I swear that couldn't be further than the truth!”

He laughed. “I know, it's just a figure of speech. I think Ol' Conifer Bark would have liked to have met you.”

“Ah, your mom sure was something,” I recalled.

“You knew her?”

“Err...no! Just the impression I got!”

“Ah, right. Well, it's settled. Take care of the house while we're all gone!”

I raised up a thumb. “You bet I will!”

As soon as everyone dispersed and Blanc and I were the only ones left in the house, it was time to get to work.

Guess all she needed was a nice chat with her not-wife for her to start making improvements. Worked for me, now if only I could figure out why she wanted to stay in the house while everyone else went out.

“Hey Blanc,” she turned to me. “I think it's time to undo all the damage done.” Although dramatic in her tone, she smiled the whole way through. I, on the other hand, was bored. It would have been better to just skip forward a few hours in time to the time of the party.

“Do you have to make it sound so serious? Just do what you're going to do,” I droned.

“You know how I roll. Nothing without its weight.”

“Yeah, yeah, just wave a magic wand or something and call it good.”

Her face lowered. “Couldn't you let me have my fun? Ah, very well,” she sighed. “I just think it would make me happier to help everyone else, even if it's something so small as making the house be like it was before that 'Kelly Roger' person broke through.”

“If that's what makes you happier, I'm all for it,” I gave my approval.

She waved her hands around, as if just to stim, but if I had to guess, it was to make up for the lack of a magic wand.

Just conjure a magic wand up and don a magician hat! Shouldn't be too hard!

Regardless, in a flash, the couch was back intact and all the destroyed bits of it were no longer scattered on the floor. The wall behind the house also reappeared. All in all, an adequate job.

“Bravo! Bravo! Now destroy it again so you can repair it again!” I clapped.

She gave a little laugh and did so and I was sure it was purely for my own amusement.

“Again! Again!”

“No, once is enough,” she laughed. “But that was a little fun, I gotta admit.”

“Yeah, so you see, you can hurt, but you can also heal!”

“Hey now, just because I'm in a good mood does not mean I need a lecture.”

I started juggling some balls. Badly. See, even with my ability to make things appear, it still didn't make up for talent. Still, I kept trying, just for the heck of it.

“Whatever mood you're in, I approve!”

“Thank you,” she smiled back. I watched her go into the kitchen and get that much needed glass of water she said she would get just a bit ago.

“You know, I think I'm starting to remember what it is that made me like her in the first place,” she said after sipping a nice, refreshing glass of...what the hell does water even taste like? Y'know, that would never not bug me. How do you describe water besides water?

“Well, that's good, but try not to get too comfortable,” I pointed out.

“Why not? Isn't this better than being bitter? Let me have this!”

“I'm just saying, it's good you two are getting along, but I think it would be good to remember she's not the one you're married to.”

“I'm not gonna cheat on Juniper with Juniper!”

I snorted. God damn! It was worth it just to hear her say that.

“Nah, wasn't suggesting that. Good point, though. I'm just worried about you, y'know? If you start getting the wrong idea, you may feel good now, but then you'll bring yourself back down. Plus, you're only here for a little while.”

“I know,” she groaned. “I knew that the moment I came here. Sheesh, for someone who's merged with a literal happiness angel, you sure are being a buzzkill.”

“You can still have fun! And besides, I have a feeling you'll make that mistake anyway and get yourself hurt, but that's probably what's gong to lead you to be happy! So it's all okay!”

“You know, I really don't remember why we're friends.”

“Because I'm fun!”

She went over and sat next to me.

“I never thought I'd get so comfortable with someone who looks just like the main villain!”

“Don't remind me,” she sounded exhausted rather than mad.

I decided to get up. No offense to her, quite the opposite! I ran up the stairs, went into to Velvet and Coriander's room, then ran back down the stairs.

“What is that?” She pointed to the thing in my hands.

“It's a Nintendo Switch! It's not mine and Coriander would hate it if I took it, but let's play some games while everyone's away!”

So there we were, sitting together as I taught her how to play Animal Crossing. I think it helped take things off her mind just for a bit. Tomorrow was tomorrow, but having fun was good for the now!

We all arrived home at the same time as if by some miracle. As I made my way back home, Coriander and Juniper also carrying bags of looted goods in tow, Trent looked to be walking back toward the house, too. We didn't comment on the coincidence, though it seemed a little interesting that it all worked out that way. Once we arrived, we were in shock.

“What happened to the living room?” Trent gasped. “It's like it never got destroyed!”

Verse stood up and that's what led me to remember just how tall she was. It was like a giant awakening from slumber.

“Blanc and I fixed it!”

“How?” Trent asked. It seemed he couldn't fathom how that was possible. Honestly, I didn't think I could blame him.

“Hard work and dedication!” She winked and gave a thumbs up.

“Magic,” Blanc looked up from Coriander's Switch and seemed to correct her. Coriander seemed not to notice that they were playing on her switch. Verse gave Blanc a glare in response to Blanc's correct.

“The magic of hard work and dedication!” She reiterated, thumb still up, her smiling.

“Well, thank you both! I couldn't be happier!” Trent exclaimed.

“Good, because I didn't actually do anything!” Blanc replied.

Not only that, but there were decorations all over the ceiling, the coffee table got reworked into the designated table with a punch bowl. Yeah, safe to say, I was impressed.

“Oh, right!” I got all caught up in the living room's transformation that I forgot to hand out the goodies. I walked over to tall lady, herself. “Verse, here's your champagne.”

She swiped the bottle from me and held it close.

“My precious,” she hissed.

Blanc nudged. “We poppin' the biggest corks, eh? Eh?”

“Trent, I hate to tell you this, but I didn't find any smoked salmon, so instead we got you some sushi.”

“But I eated it!” Coriander chimed in.

“...That's why we then went and got you some more sushi.”

“Gee, thanks! Those are also good!”

“Juniper, for you, two bottles of cider: one bottle of Screaming Trees hard cider, the other a nice soft case of Martinelli's.”

“Yay! You're the bestest!”

Coriander tossed Blanc a huge bag of fruit gummies. “Don't spend it all on one place, kiddo!”

“I thought of getting you gummy bears, but then I thought you would say 'all life is precious, I couldn't bear to kill a gummy bear', so I passed.”

“Thanks for being considerate, Velvet!” Blanc grinned.

“No problem, bud! As for Coriander and I, we're just gonna gorge ourselves on pizza and root beer. Though it wouldn't surprise me if she slipped some alcoholic root beer into the bag when I wasn't looking.”

“I live on the edge!” My lifelong roommate declared.

Yes, I think I did a pretty good job, if I did say so myself. There was one last thing to say:

“With that out of the way, let the party commence!” It hadn't even turned to dusk, but best to get the festivities going as soon as possible.

...At least that's what I thought. By the time it was actually late at night, I was certain I was the only one that wasn't shitfaced. Well, there was Blanc, too.

“Isn't it odd that there's a drink called a screwdriver but apparently it's not actually a screwdriver in liquid form?” Blanc went around the room and asked us each at random intervals.

In Blanc's case, it sounded more like a high than a drunkenness.

Verse was sitting at a chair, musing with a glass of her champagne.

“To drink or not to drink, that is the question, right Mr. Skull?” She laughed and a bit of her drink spilled onto her lap. “Aye, these seas be rough, matey!” She laughed again. “Oh, Mr. Skull! I can't be Hamlet, because you're not a skull, you're a glass of champagne!”

“You know, I don't know why Blanc thought her getting drunk was a bad idea,” I remarked. “This is the happiest I've seen her.”

“O Captain, my Captain!” She bellowed. “Pour me another glass!”

I went over to her. “Everything all good, cap?”

“VELV!” She was excited to see me. “I'm so glad you're here, I love you so much!”

“Uh...okay...”

“You could,” she hiccuped. “You could change your name to Red Cedar.”

“No thanks.”

“Aw, give it a try!”

Yeah, moving on.” I walked around. Laying on one of the couches was sleeping pixie. I mean, beauty.

“Hey babe,” I nudged her shoulder.

She snored.

So now I know what she's like when she's drunk. She just passes right out.

That just left Juniper, but she didn't seem to be paid much mind. She was just standing next to the table where the punch bowl was and chatting it up with her brother.

I was about to go sit down when I noticed Verse get up and go to the punch bowl. Something stirred in me, like I should watch what would happen next.

“I need a punch! Right in the gut!” She hiccuped and swayed on over to the punch bowl.

“Oh hey, it's Versey-Verse! Good to see you, BDSM Therapy Librarian! You know, I was just chatting with Trent about solipsism and then I got distracted thinking about how I don't actually know what the 'self' is! Isn't that funny, like we're just standing here, but are we really ourselves? You know, don't answer that, I'm drunk!”

Ah, I see. Juniper gets really chatty when she's drunk.

“I'm just here for some punch,” Verse replied.

“Yeah, funny that, that punch thing! I've always wondered what fruits go into a fruit punch, like I'm pretty sure one of them is apple, and maybe there's an orange, but what accounts for the red? Is it strawberry? Raspberry? Oh, it doesn't matter! In the end, they all come together to form that thing we call a fruit punch, and I think that's what life is all about. See, my brother here's kinda like you, he gets all worried a lot about things and holds a lot in, so maybe that's how I can tell that something was up with you.”

“I think there are too many things going on at once,” Verse spoke, still in her silly drunken stupor, but the closest thing to her usual phrases I've heard all evening.

“Yeah, so as I was telling Trent, you just gotta do what's right for you!”

“But you're what's right for me,” Verse spoke in a whimper.

“What? Was that flirting? I can't tell if that was, I'm never good at telling when someone's flirting with me, so if that's what it was, can you tell me? But anyway, don't you have a wife? Why would you be flirting with me?”

“You're my wife!” She cried out, then left the living room sobbing.

Rather than run into the guest room that she had been staying in, she ran up the stairs, where there were three different bedrooms she could have ran in.

Now I see, Blanc. Now I see.

I sighed. “Looks like I gotta be the designated talker tonight.”

Before going up to console her, I went over to Coriander, as I knew if she walked in on us, she was prone to getting the wrong idea. So I nudged Coriander again, and this time, she woke up, if only a little.

“Hey, a lot of drama stems from poor communication, so I'm trying to nip this one in the bud. So just to let you know, I'm going to go upstairs to get intimate with a very tall lady. Don't wanna alarm you.”

“Mm...okay,” she replied. “Can you give me a kiss goodnight?”

“No, you're drunk.”

“Okay,” she smiled, then went back to sleep.

The fuck? It was that easy.

One task done, one left to go.

It took me a few rooms before I got it right, but finally I found her. There were gadgest and gizmos and stuffed rabbits. If I had to guess, it was probably Juniper's room. Even when I entered, Verse didn't seem to notice me, she was instead sobbing on the back of a futon.

“I'd say she'd get mad if she found out you were in her room, but let's be real, she's probably gonna pass out in the middle of the living room tonight.”

She turned to me, and leaped back in shock.

“What am I doing here? Where am I?”

Did she sober up already? I wasn't sure if that was really the case.

“You're in sweet little Juniper's room,” I told her.

“Sweet...little...” She gasped and started hitting her head against the cushion of the futon. “This is terrible, so terrible!”

“It sure is something, alright.” I went to sit next to her on the futon. “So what's going on?”

“She continued to sob. “I...I miss her.”

“Who?”

“Juniper.”

“Well, you can still see her.”

“She probably hates me.”

“Nah, she probably just figures you were saying weird things because you were drunk. Which, she's drunk, too. You two can still talk.”

“No, I mean my wife! I miss Jun,” she hiccuped. It sounded like she said Junko.

“Junko? Your wife's name is Junko?”

She nodded, then looked confused. “Who's Junko?”

“I don't know, you tell me!”

“I'm just upset because when I look at her, she reminds me of my wife, and it hurts so much. I get so confused.”

“Who? Juniper?”

“Yes! Then there's all the questions and it's just a lot. I just wish I could look at her and see someone else!”

“I don't understand.”

“It's like she's there, but it's not her, and I want so bad to be with her, but it's not her!”

“Again, I'm confused.”

“It's like I've been close to being happy, but I just don't deserve to be.”

Huh, where have I heard that one before? Oh right, me.

“Why don't you think you deserve to be?”

“Because!” She continued to weep. “It seems all I do is hurt people, and the worst part is, sometimes I even enjoy it.”

“Oh girl, you bad. You real bad,” I teased.

“I know!” She cried out, then cried some more for good measure.

“Whoa, I was just kidding. I mean, it's probably not that bad.”

“It is! I know it is and I can't stop! Even tonight!”

She was being a lot more coherent than when she was drunk downstairs, but I knew she was still drunk. I could tell because she was one of those 'emotional' drunk types, which I used to be as well. Now it made total sense why Blanc warned her. I was starting to piece together how much of an idiot she could be at times.

“Hey,” I rubbed her back. “She's fine. Everyone's having a good time. Nobody's hurt.”

She faced forward, but started sobbing into her hands rather than the cushion of the futon. I couldn't tell which was the better option. Now her hands were gonna be all gross with tears and snot.

“Why are you being nice to me?” She poked her head out from her palms and asked.

“Because I'm bored? Because you're a friend of a friend? Because you being in a bad mood kills the vibe? What does it matter?” I picked up a stick and started poking her with it. “Hm?”

“Hey! Stop poking me! Where'd you get that stick, anyway?”

“Never mind that. That's not important now.”

“I miss her, I really do. It just makes the fact that I can't see her all that harder,” she went on.

“Why? Why can't you go back and see her?”

“Because I hurt her and I can't face her. Now I'm going up against an entity that's larger than any of us and I probably won't survive.”

“Don't talk like that. Nothing's set in stone. Let's say you do survive, and you are able to go back to her.”

“I don't think she would accept me,” she wiped her face. “I've failed her, just like I've failed myself and others so many other times.”

“You know, I bet I have an idea why Blanc wants to help you.”

“Why? Why would they be relevant right now?”

“Well, it's just that they went through similar things. Not the whole love life thing, but they were really down on themselves a lot and didn't have a bright outlook on things. I remember how they told Conrad once how they didn't belong anywhere and how they wanted to. With Blanc, they used to go about thinking they didn't fit into any group, and how no one would love and accept them, and how all they wanted was to be happy. So if they're happy now, and they have friends, even if we're not perfect people, I'd say I'm happy for them.”

“Really?” She began to look down. “I mean, I already knew, to an extent. When they got their new arm, I remember asking if they were okay not having their memories and living with my wife and I and they said they were happy like that.”

“Dang, so they lived with you two?”

“Two? Three? There was...hm...yes. We lived together. It was like an abstract family, of sorts.”

“Odd, but if they wanted a family who loved them, even if those people weren't much older than them, makes sense.”

“Then they told me about you and Conrad later, and how they missed you guys, but wasn't sure if you thought of them as a friend as well.”

“Yeah, I still don't think they're perfect. But I think it's good that they got what they wanted, in a way.”

“What does all that have to do with me, though?”

“Well, if you got what you wanted, wouldn't it make you happy, even if it felt like hell to get there?”

“I've tried that. It didn't work. I've done what I thought was right for me, too, but it all led to disaster. The only thing that's right for me is death.”

“Don't talk like that! Didn't you scold Blanc over self-deprecating? You may not have found what's right for you, or you might know what's right for you, but it wasn't right for you at the time.”

“I want to see her again! So bad! But I feel like I already ruined that!”

“Well, did you? Was it or was it not a break up?”

“It wasn't, but it may as well have been!”

“If it wasn't, doesn't that mean there's still a chance?”

She nodded. “But what if I fail again? What if she doesn't accept me?”

“Then you fail. You move on. It hurts, but that doesn't mean all you will do for the rest of your life is fail.”

“You're right,” she wiped her face again. “I have to do this, don't I?”

“You don't have to do anything. You can do whatever you feel like doing. But if that's what you feel like you should do, then yeah. Go for it.”

Then it happened: she hugged me.

“Th-Thank you!” She blubbered. “You're a good friend!”

“Jeez,” I struggled to break free. “You're so tall.”

“Shut up. Don't be ungrateful.”

It was at that point in which I couldn't tell whether or not she was drunk anymore. But, the very next second, she passed out. I slipped out of her grasp and got up.

“I should pour cups of orange juice for everyone. The last thing we need before a final battle is a hangover.” That was more a verbal reminder than anything else. As for the tall lady passed out on the futon, I said to her one last thing. “Goodnight, Verse. We have a big day tomorrow.”

I turned out the light and went to my own room. The living room would have to stay a mess. It wasn't like we would be seeing that house much longer. Maybe none of us were prepared for what was to come next, but we would all soon find out.

[thevalicemultiverse]

Things You Need To Know About: Somebody I Used To Know

Tag: ~V: Somebody I Used To Know

Premise: Victor Van Dort’s best childhood friend was Alice Liddell – until the fire that killed her family and sent her into bedlam. Victor was kept ignorant of her fate for years, being told only that she was “sick,” until driver Mayhew accidentally let the news spill. Furious, Victor demanded he be allowed to visit her in Rutledge Asylum, where he became one of the few able to get a reaction out of the catatonic Alice. And then, one day, after the exchange of a drawn ticket for the Looking-Glass Line and the return of Alice’s rabbit by a kindly nurse, Victor took his friend’s hand – and was pulled down into a world of wonder and danger, forced to fight by her side if he wanted any chance of getting home with his sanity and will intact…

This AU was based off an RP/OTP prompt I saw a LOOONG time ago and unfortunately forgot to like. The gist of it was: Person A is catatonic in an asylum, and Person B comes in to read to them on a regular basis. Just as Person B despairs of ever getting a response, Person A looks directly at them. End result is Person B finally breaking through Person A’s silence. Naturally my mind put Victor and Alice into the appropriate roles, and this universe was born.

The starting-off point is a really old story of mine where I had Victor and Alice meet as children: By The Riverside. In this universe, though, Victor delays leaving at the end, and Nell comes storming up demanding to know what's happened and who this little girl who's also sopping wet is. The moment Alice's boating companions mention she's the Dean's daughter, though, Nell's suddenly a picture of politeness, offering them all a lift back in their carriage. And once back at Alice's house -- well, they could stay for tea, couldn't they, their children get along so well after all. . .

The end result is Victor and Alice soon develop a close friendship through little visits and exchanged letters. Unfortunately, when the fire happens, Victor finds himself abruptly cut off from his pal -- his parents don't want to traumatize him with Alice's burned state, and when she gets committed, they certainly don't want to be seen in Rutledge. They fob him off with stories that she's become very sick, limiting his contact to letters that never get a response.

Roughly ten years later, Mayhew, seeing Victor writing his latest missive, lets slip that Alice is in bedlam. Victor, horrified and infuriated, insists on going to visit her. Dr. Wilson is surprised to see a friend of hers after so long, but nevertheless lets him in gladly, hoping he'll be able to provoke a response from the catatonic Alice. Which he does, eventually, via the situation described in the prompt. Shortly afterward, Alice does some of her famous asylum drawings, as described in the casebook. Victor, delighted, reminds her of all the stories she used to tell him about the place and how he'd always wished he could see it -- in return, she draws him a ticket for the Looking-Glass Line railway. A few days later, he arrives in time to see the nurse return her beloved bunny toy, and takes her hand as he sits by her side --

Which, unknowingly for both of them, is the catalyst for casting the spell Travel Into Fantasy, the first condition of which (written permission) was fulfilled earlier by the ticket sketch. So when Mr. Bunny suddenly comes to life and sends Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole -- Victor comes with.

From then on, Victor and Alice find themselves dealing with all the dangers and wonders of AMA-era Wonderland, while in the real world the doctors are absolutely baffled about why Victor's suddenly lapsed into a semi-lucid state where he's talking about bouncy mushrooms and snapping Snarks with Alice -- and won't let go of her hand no matter what they do. They make it all the way to Queensland together, but Alice has him wait in the Castle Keep while she takes on the Queen of Hearts alone, frightened he'll be killed otherwise like all her Wonderland friends. She defeats the Queen, restores Wonderland, and the two return to lucidity. Victor remains at the asylum long enough to see Alice off to Houndsditch (and reassure the doctors that yes, he's fine now, he doesn't need leeches), then heads home, thinking his adventures are over and preparing to settle back into a pen-pal relationship.

However, their separation doesn't last long -- in late December 1874, Victor's parents inform him he's getting married to the daughter of the lord and lady across the square. Astonished, Victor informs Alice -- and admits that he fell in love with her during their adventure and will run away with her in a heartbeat if she asks. Alice replies that while she cares deeply for Victor, she's not sure if she's ready for that sort of a relationship and doesn't want to leave him hanging. Victor, understanding if sad, agrees to go along with the marriage, and Alice promises she'll come to the wedding for moral support. She and Bumby show up for the rehearsal, where Victor discovers he does like Victoria -- but his nerves sabotage things, and the rehearsal is rendered a shambles, with him fleeing in shame. Alice sticks around the Everglots to reassure Victoria on Victor's good qualities and to get to know this new person in her and Victor's life --

And thus is present when Victor shows up on the balcony, followed by a dead woman claiming to be his wife. The shock of learning that the afterlife is real, coupled with some growing doubts about the story she's been having about Dinah's role in the fire, makes something click in Alice's head, and suddenly Wonderland opens up beneath her, ready for a second adventure. But as it turns out, her natural talent for Travel Into Fantasy -- awoken when she took Victor with her to Wonderland in the asylum -- is stronger than ever, and as Victor and Victoria both grab her to steady her and Emily grabs Victor to ask what's going on --

All FOUR of them end up in Wonderland.

So Alice's hunt for the truth behind the fire is undertaken with three extra helpers -- the now-an-old-hand-at-this Victor, the somewhat-stunned-but-gamely-pushing-forward Victoria, and the surprisingly-enthusiastic-because-she-temporarily-gets-her-living-form-back Emily. The four grow very close over their adventures, to the point where they all eventually admit their love for all the others. Alice of course discovers the truth about Bumby and Houndsditch, while a little additional prodding from Wonderland has Victor, Victoria, and Emily realize Emily's killer is the newcomer at the Van Dort/Everglot wedding rehearsal. So when they wake up after finally reaching the Infernal Train, they're all furious and ready to enact some justice. Bumby and Barkis try to talk their way out of it, but eventually decide murder might just be the best solution, and a battle occurs, which ends with the two men very soundly defeated. Emily, now having had her murder avenged, moves on to the next stage of the afterlife a bit reluctantly, while Victoria "hires" Alice as her lady's maid so she can stay with her and Victor without suspicion. And on their honeymoon, they discover two things:

A) They can all still enter Wonderland in their dreams (Alice jokes they must have a season ticket on the Looking-Glass Line)

B) Emily is now a permanent resident of Wonderland. No, she has no idea how it happened, and nobody's going to question it -- they're just going to settle into being as happy a quartet as they can be under the circumstances.

This verse has three distinct time periods/locations threads can be set in:

The Red Pool: August to November 1874, the rough time period of American McGee's Alice. Victor's visiting Rutledge and either dealing with the characters there (yes, thank you Monroe twins, he knows he's stick-thin and too pale), visiting Alice during one of her rare lucid moments, or recovering from Wonderland adventures during one of his lucid moments. Please tell him he didn't hurl that teapot across the room. . .

Van Dort Wedding Rehearsal: December 1874 onward, including Corpse Bride (January 1875) and the pushed-up four-player version of Alice: Madness Returns. Victor can be dealing with the terrors of his upcoming arranged marriage, or settling into a much happier life than he ever expected with his wife and their mutual mistress. (And if you threaten to tell his parents about the arrangement, he has months of simulated combat experience under his belt. Tread carefully.)

Destroy The Queen Of Hearts: Like Derail The Infernal Train in Valice Madness Returns, the name is non-indicative -- it's meant for just Wonderland in general. That means threads can be set during Victor and Alice's initial run to destroy the Queen; the four-player quest with Victoria and Emily to derail the Train; or even the quiet times afterward with Victor and Victoria happily married, Alice pretending to be Victoria's "lady's maid," and Emily making a home for herself in the Vale of Tears. Victor (or indeed any of them) wouldn't be too surprised to find a stranger in Wonderland -- after all, if Victor, Victoria, and Emily can be pulled in, why not someone else? -- but he will be on his guard. And again, that Vorpal Fork may look silly, but it is sharp.

Common NPCs:

Alice Liddell (throughout)

Victoria Everglot (Van Dort Wedding Rehearsal, Destroy The Queen Of Hearts)

Emily Cartwell (Van Dort Wedding Rehearsal, Destroy The Queen Of Hearts)

Wonderlanders (Destroy The Queen Of Hearts)

Dr. Wilson (The Red Pool)

Lightning the corgi (Van Dort Wedding Rehearsal)

Shipping: Welcome to our first poly AU! While Victoria and Emily are only present in threads set after AMA (aka Van Dort Wedding Rehearsal or post-AMA Destroy The Queen Of Hearts), by the end of the main plotline of the universe, the two have joined up with Victor and Alice in a happy little quartet. (Or, well, trio during waking hours, quartet during sleeping ones.) So Victor's open to romantic interactions with any of them.

NPC Ships: None

Important Facts:

Victor has all the same Wonderland weapons from Valice Madness Returns -- the Vorpal Fork, the Grim Scythe, the Quill Bow, the Wedding Wine, the Sketchbook, and the Altar Candle (yes, I'm aware the Fork makes less sense in this world but I still like it). He'll also use Alice's weapons from the first game, favoring the Cards and the Croquet Mallet.

NPC Victoria and Emily also have Wonderland weapons -- these are still being designed, but I know Victoria has a fireplace poker and a sewing-needle rapier, and Emily has a rose-thorn whip. More to be added later!

The four are very close, especially near the end-game of this world’s version of A:MR. Threatening one of them is basically inviting yourself to a world of pain from the other three.

Victor knows some magic (if being pulled into Alice's head in Rutledge wasn't enough to convince him it exists, raising a dead bride certainly was), although he's not nearly as far along on his journey as either Forgotten Vows or Valice Madness Returns Victor. He obviously knows Travel Into Fantasy, and he's picked up Glowing Orb, Mend the Shattered, and Imagination Into Reality. Others may be added later!

NPC Alice has Travel Into Fantasy as a natural affinity magic-wise, and it's strong enough to pull others into her mind if they're just touching her (instead of the usual rigamarole with exchanging written permission and then having to hold hands). With Victor and Victoria she might not even need that much (though they generally keep their Wonderland escapades to sleeping times and almost always share a bed, so the point is kind of moot). She also knows Victor's spells, plus Write Across The Miles and Reaper's Speech (because the moment she learned she COULD talk to Lizzie again, she was going to).

NPC Victoria knows Victor's spells, plus Scrub & Shine and Eden's Blessing (creates food from fruit seeds). NPC Emily had an affinity for Converse With Beasts (allows one to speak with a specific animal species; this is how she understood Scraps), but as most animals in Wonderland speak English. . .

All the AMA and A:MR Wonderland realms are open for threads (yes, the same domains from canon appear here in the four-player A:MR, just with different “triggers” -- the Van Dorts being fish merchants is what inspires the Deluded Depths this time around for example). Post the Barkis and Bumby mess, Victoria ends up taking over the Dollhouse as “her” domain, and Victor and Emily each create one of their own -- the Butterfly Jungle for Victor, and a moon-based one (like in the artbook) for Emily.

This verse is open to everyone!

[thesinglesjukebox]

RITON X OLIVER HELDENS FT. VULA - TURN ME ON

[6.00]

The doctor is making house calls...

Scott Mildenhall: It's great to see Vula Malinga finally given an artist credit on a top 10 single, and the "Don't Go" riff is one of the most indelible of all time, a monolith. But for that reason, plundering it so flagrantly is best done with a bit more impertinence, and that is why the superior ongoing theft of it is in Madison Mars' "New Vibe Who Dis", a boundlessly pandering attempt at running vernacular through the Purple Disco Machine. That shambles is so stupid that it's enjoyable, whereas this gestures vaguely toward a sophistication that it neither attains nor should bother pretending to. [6]

Edward Okulicz: This song is unacceptable on most levels, but I've realised that I quite enjoy it. "Doctor love, doctor love!" is a fun little exclamation, though by itself that doesn't explain the multiple bops I do in my chair. I believe there are two factors at work. Firstly, just yesterday the radio station I listen to at work played "Turn Me On" directly after "Brokenhearted" by Karmin (someone requested it, in 2019, really), and the verse melody kind of reminds me of that. The comparison is favourable, because instead of "cheerio!" there is a big dumb Yazoo sample. Secondly, EDM producers have yet to work out that Yazoo had songs other than "Don't Go," so I've also been exposed to this other recent song with the same sample. This other song is mind-blowingly stupid and ridiculous, and "Turn Me On" is downright sophisticated by comparison. I'm ready to be condemned for being an uncouth boor. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: An eternal rule of the universe: Doctor metaphors in pop songs have always been and will always be indefensibly, laughably cheesy. (Perhaps because if you take the metaphor even slightly more seriously, it becomes kind of gruesome. Or else becomes, like, "Medicare for All for Love.") But if you attack the metaphor with enough drama, that drama will make for an effective song, if one you'll never mention in public. [6]

Will Adams: Why on earth is this not called "Doctor Love?" It's the song's biggest hook, befits the cheesiness of its Yazoo sample, and it would have avoided any confusion with the David Guetta/Nicki Minaj song. Confusing title aside, Riton's and Oliver Heldens' respective styles allow for some edge to seep in via a driving synth bass and active rhythm section. Vula, too, turns in a performance on the level of a classic house vocalist, which is unfortunately rare these days. [6]

Oliver Maier: There are things here -- the brassy loop, the silly "doctor love" lyric, the chord progressions, moments in Vula's performance -- that feel like fragments of bygone EDM eras beamed into the present. But "Turn Me On" is still unmistakably, depressingly 2019. Perhaps it's the bloodless drop -- when did producers collectively decide that silencing the offbeat hi-hats, the best part of any dance track, is essential to the climax? Or perhaps it's the cowardly decision to name this something forgettable instead of running with the much better, much more suitable "Doctor Love." I want to be charmed by this, but it needs to work harder for it. [6]

Kylo Nocom: Vula is a very good singer; "Turn Me On" still rings on in my ears after the song is turned off. The beat constantly donks on in dumb Euro glee. I don't think there's anything this song could have done to be better than what we've got here. I think this was condemned from the start to be just fine. [5]

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