Encore Think Tank

Posting Schedule

INBOX CURRENTLY CLOSED!!

Currently no schedule due to motivation issus + feeling out the process. This is my first time trying something like this so be patient, please!

Do's

FemPOV or AnyPOV

I've written fanfiction since probably before highschool. This is just what I'm most familiar with! In fact, I might mess up AnyPOV, but I'll just make sure I proofread those to try and avoid this mistake.

(N)SFW

I an an adult... and I'm only a woman...

Many dynamics!

This is not limited to romantic! You can also request platonic or familial dynamics! (or a secret other thing I missed...?)

Headcanons

This is something I'd like to mostly do! Bulleted points, no strict story flow, just some ideas thrown on the metaphorical paper!

One-shots

This would be a short story with a plot! Longer, no bulleted lists! Feel free to check my AO3 for ideas on my writing. One-shots should only contain one shipped person UNLESS it's a polyarmorous relationship. Just feel free to send a second request, if you want one plotline for multiple people!

Chatting!

I would love to get to know some folks and talk about headcanons. You're free to even disagree with me in the comments of posts, as long as you keep it civil!

Don'ts

Canon x Canon

Sorry, discomachine lovers (I am discomachine lovers...). I just want to keep the sanctity of the blog and keep it for reader inserts only!

Unrealeased Idols

I just don't feel comfortable with them! But fret not, as soon as idols release and I've done their fights/quests, I will add them to the list!

Explicit depictions of drug (ab)use, violence, or gore

I just don't feel comfortable with it :( And I'd rather not misrepresent anything. I will, of course, stay with canon-typical violence, but not any gore. Canon-typical violence will be tagged when applicable!

Problematic topics

Things targeting minors in inappropriate manners is mostly what I mean by this bullet! Will add more when they come up.

MalePOV

For as many times as I've been disappointed by a man, I don't want to return that energy, so I'd rather keep my thumb out of that pie. I'm not a man, and I don't really wanna write for one.

18+ blog!

While not all of my posts will be, I fully intend to get into adult topics, so the blog will be 18+. If I remember, there'll be a warning at the start of each post.

Right to refuse

I maintain the right to refuse to do a request that gets sent in. Sometimes, I'm just not comfortable with a topic, and I don't need to justify myself to people on Tumblr dot com.

Busy life

I work! I stream! My life outside of Tumblr means I won't be online all the time, and requests might be slow. I'll do my best to get around to them eventually, though.

Anti-AI

I am against the use of generative AI. I don't use it for my writing, and I'll warn to NOT feed my writing to AI. Sucks that this warning is even needed, but we live in a new era.

Arora

I don’t think jealousy is something that she was programmed to feel.

Why would Harmony do that? lol

But when she’s with you, and then she sees someone else with you, she gets this ugly feeling in her chest. She stares, wide-eyed, scanning this person’s face and observing every micro-movement you make. She’s waiting for you to feel uncomfortable so she can swoop in and save you.

But it doesn’t happen, and she’s left awkwardly clasping her hands and staring really intently at you.

She gets impatient very quickly when someone encroaches on her beloved. Arora only has so much time with you in a day, and this schmuck is stealing that!

Arora thinks that she’s being good because she isn’t rushing in and stealing you away. She trusts you to be loyal!

But you have to tell her that she scared the other person off with her intense glare.

“Oh.”

But then she hugs your arm as she smiles at you. “But now that you’re free, we should hang out!”

Charlie Disco

Charlie at least tries not to be jealous. He’s bad at it, but at least he tries.

He sees you talking with someone else and crosses his arms. He’s waiting for you to finish the talk, but it just keeps going on and on.

Don’t you want to spend time with him?

After a total of… what, thirty seconds? He walks over and puts an arm around you.

He acts really smooth about you. He gives the other person an apologetic smile before looking at you and telling you that you’re needed elsewhere.

You follow, confused, and once you’re far away from who you’d been talking to, you ask him where you’re needed.

“Beside me,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “What are you doing, talking to someone else?”

You tell him that you were just talking. He should stop being so jealous.

He scoffs and acts hurt, but he knows it’s true. He’s already pulling you into a quiet corner. “Just a few extra kisses, so I don’t feel so insecure.”

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

Dex is at least capable of not getting set off the moment you’re not at his side.

You have a life outside of him, and he knows that. He accepts that.

However, when someone gets a little too close, and their eyes linger in the wrong spots, Dex’s own expression darkens, and he moves before he can tell himself to stop.

He steps up either behind you or beside you, glaring at the person who’s been bothering you. He’s got a nasty RBF, so a genuine glare scares most people away.

When you look back and ask him what the matter is, he just scoffs and looks away.

He’s got an avoidant personality, so he’ll just leave you alone after that.

You have to follow up with him after that, because he’s obviously in a Mood™ and refuses to talk about it.

You approach his side and take his hand in yours, staring out at the crowd instead of him. “Thanks for saving me from that,” you tell him casually, not making a big deal about it.

He just huffs, not answering you outright.

Your thumb rubs comforting circles across his knuckles. “I definitely prefer being here with you.”

Dex still doesn’t respond, but he does relax. You see from the corner of your eyes the way his shoulders relax and the tension in his jaw finally gives way.

Even in jealousy, his first instinct is to protect you. Who can fault him for that?

Hemlock

Hemlock is a VERY loud person, we all know that.

And he’s very territorial as well. Is it insecurity or just a short patience? He will not tell.

So if someone else talks to you, he’ll get huffy and he won’t leave your side. Why would he leave you with someone else? Anything they wanna say to you, they can say in front of him.

Yeah, he’s possessive.

If you’re enjoying your time with the other guy a little too much for his liking (which is easy to happen), he’ll just groan and pick you up, carrying you away.

You yell at Hemlock for being immature and causing a scene, but he doesn’t care. In his mind, he already won because you’re spending time with him.

I hope you’re not socially anxious, because if he detects that you’re even SLIGHTLY uncomfortable, locked in a conversation with someone else, he’s immediately getting physical with them.

He’s got a short fuse and is very protective of you. It leads to pretty disastrous results.

Prophet

I really don’t see Prophet as the type to get jealous.

He’s an understanding guy, and he’s very secure in his place in your life. He doesn’t doubt you for a second.

After all, he knows who’s bed you return to at the end of the night.

So, go on, talk to whoever you want to talk to. Dance with whoever asks you. He’ll always keep a seat for you, when you get tired.

However, if he sees you getting uncomfortable, he’ll stop what he’s doing and head straight for you.

He wraps an arm around you and gives you a loving smile, but the moment his eyes fall on the person who’s been bothering you, he glares hard.

Prophet won’t even give the other person the time of day and just leads you away. Is anyone really going to argue with Prophet? 

If you’re trying on purpose to make him jealous, he won’t. He’s a mature guy.

Charlie Disco

Things haven't been the same since Charlie died

It was a quiet, universal truth that went unspoken between the members of the band.

You don't personally know what happened during that after party. You weren't there. You missed that Charlie died. You didn't hear about it until after everything was cleaned up.

And how could the not tell you? You had just as much of a right as his girlfriend. His friends got to know immediately, why not you?

It's almost suspicious.

The band quietly breaks up after that. There isn't really an explosive fight or negotiation. People just slip away, one by one.

You are one of those people. One day, you get tired of waiting for your boyfriend to come back. You get tired of people clutching to Charlie's songs and things. 

You walk away, but unlike the ones before you who had left, you don't turn to Harmony. You promised to never sell out, and you would stand by that. 

You continue to sing and perform. You find places that will take your solo act. You sing your own songs. Charlie helped you discover how to write your own songs, and you've taken those lessons to heart.

You bury yourself in drafting and performing. If you aren't doing one, you're doing the other.

Eventually, you buy yourself a place of your own, and you transform it into your own club. Something that you've always wanted to do. 

You don't tell the others. You don't really think they have a right to know. 

Your club is blessed with good business. The news of a new club draws in patrons who are charmed by the decor and the owner. The good drink and better entertainment (frequently original songs performed by you) keeps them coming for years to come.

When the offer to get back together with the band, just for one night, arrives at your desk, you're tempted. It's in memory of Charlie.

Admittedly, you've been a little messy about it. You either couldn't stop thinking about him, to the point of pulling at your own hair, or you would ignore everything that reminded you of him. It would be nice to have a proper memorial.

But you couldn’t. There were too many bad memories, and you lost touch with the other band members. What would you even say?

So, you ignore the invite. There’s no sense in lingering on the past, anyway.

However, before you can go out for your number, there’s a commotion that causes you to step out and investigate.

That’s where you see Charlie Disco walking up, brushing past the bouncer.

Charlie. Disco.

That’s not possible! He died ten years ago, and now he’s sauntering in like it never happened.

You’re too stunned to react. You don’t react until he’s standing at the foot of the stage, smiling up at you. “Hey, babe!” But there’s no reaction from you, so he chuckles. Yeah, it would be a shock to see him. “You know, you’re gonna catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.”

Your jaw immediately snaps shut, and you pinch yourself to make sure this isn’t just some cruel hallucination.

That makes him laugh. “Don’t worry, honey, you’re not going crazy. I came to bring you back.”

Back? You have to ask what he means by that, and he explains that he wants to get the gang back together. “What?” The idea is so ridiculous that you almost laugh. “The band? One of them killed you, Charlie! Why are you even trying?”

Yeah, he knows. He definitely didn’t die from natural causes or health complications. Foul play is part of it, but he doesn’t know how.

“Don’t you remember how much better we were together?”

You don’t want to hear this! “They killed you! How are you forgiving this?!”

Charlie knows that it’s stupid, obviously he knows that. “I’m just looking for the truth.”

“Then find the truth on your own!” You gesture for the bouncer to grab him, pulling Charlie away. “I’m not going back to that backstabbing band! I made a life for myself and I’m not going to abandon it!”

The entire time, Charlie is trying really hard to listen while also fighting the bouncer. “And I’m proud of you, babe, really! It’s just—” He struggles for a moment, glaring at the bouncer. “Would you let go? I’m trying to talk to my girl, here.”

When it doesn’t work out, he plants his feet firmly on the ground, wrapping his arms firmly around the arm of the bouncer before chucking the bouncer over his shoulder and onto the ground.

“Fine then! If you won’t come back, then I’m taking you back!” Charlie suddenly moves, arms coming out as he snaps his fingers and poses. “Hope you’re ready for a brawl! Show me some of those songs I know you’ve been writing in my absence!”

This feels like some sick joke. Why is Charlie doing this? Why is he so insistent? He finally comes back and he just wants to fight and defend the people that killed him?! You wouldn’t have it!

The staff goes out first, rushing him in an attempt to take him down. You, however, do as he asked, singing one of your earlier songs, the one that better foretold your grief after he left. Bass and drums fill the space, lifting your vocals up and through the club.

Of course, the staff is no problem for him. He dodges and counters perfectly. Being dead for ten years didn’t even dull his rhythm.

“Enough!” You call off your staff before motioning Charlie towards the stage. “It’s time for some one-on-one time, sweetie.”

“I thought you’d tease me all night,” he says as he approaches, helping himself onto the stage. “Time to get physical.”

You take your mic stand and spin it around before grasping it firmly, holding it in both hands to use as a quarterstaff.

The two of you fight, tossing each other back and forth, trading blows. That confident aura of Charlie’s, something you had grown so used to back when he was alive, never left him, even when he takes a hit.

In the middle of the fight, you swing your mic stand quarterstaff down from above, but he sidesteps you. He quickly steps onto your quarterstaff, slamming it onto the ground and forcing you down onto your knees.

Before you can pick yourself up off the ground, Charlie leans down and grabs you by your chin, forcing you to look up into his shades. “Nice try, honey. You ready to come back with me?”

You scoff as you yank your face out of his hands, but you don’t get up. You don’t fight. “Why are you doing this?” Then: “How? You died.”

“The specifics are hazy to me.” He steps back and offers you a hand. When you take it, he pulls you up and then pulls you close, holding you for a moment. “But I’m here for the truth. And I won’t find it unless I get everyone back together. That includes you.”

Your expression softens, something much like hurt and guilt. How can you accept it?

Charlie sees what’s going through your mind, and his own expression softens. “We can stay here for a little while.” But eventually, he would need to get you back to The Encore.

The two of you stare at each other, locked in that embrace on the stage, and Charlie eventually leans in, finally kissing you. He’s been dying to do it since he got back from the dead.

The two of you kiss and it feels as though you’ve finally gotten closure. You weren’t there for his death, but you’re here now.

That’s all you have.

So when you two finally separate, he takes his hand in yours and gives you another smirk, but the edges of it are softened slightly with the love and adoration he always carried for you.

“Let’s go home.”

Wherever Charlie went, that was your home, if just for this night.

You guys are SO good at giving me so many amazing requests, but if I keep seeing them pile up faster than I can pump them out, it'll stress me out, so they'll stay open for ~23 more hours before I close them at midnight my time.

My timezone might be different from yours! So try to send them in before it's too late! And if you miss it, just write it down and send it in when I open them again!

Arora

Small out of necessity

In an ideal world, Arora would have a big wedding with all of her found family (the band). It would be loud and fun and colorful, because she wants to give you everything she can.

However, no amount of delusion—no amount of mood boards or late night talks or imaginary itinerary—would ever allow that to be real.

At the end of the day, she belongs to Harmony. They made her. If she got married, their stocks would plummet, and her fans would fume with jealousy and betrayal (as if they ever had the right to do such a thing).

So the closest thing that she can get away with while avoiding Harmony’s gaze is a hushed affair backstage. 

It’s a greenroom that she and the other band members decorated and surprised you with.

When you walk in, she watches your expression closely. She’s smiling, but she still feels anxious. She’s waiting for that look of disappointment to cross your face.

But how could you possibly be disappointed? You realize that she’s wearing a white outfit for tonight’s show.

She’s been planning this for awhile.

Hemlock suddenly barges in, startling you from your awed reaction. You didn’t even realize that you were near tears until he suddenly, loudly announced himself, presenting a set of matching earrings.

She could never get away with hiding a ring, not under the sharp eyes of her fans and creators. But no one would bat an eye if she had some diamonds sparkling from her ears.

It finally, truly clicks for you what this is. Her own little version of the wedding you two had fantasized about. The closest thing to a dream wedding that reality would allow you two.

Hemlock is the one to officiate the marriage. You don’t know if he’s actually registered to do it, but it’s comforting to both participants to hear the familiar, gravelly voice of Hemlock announce you both as a pair.

Vows are quick, and the kiss she gives you is chaste, but you still feel the depth of her sincerity even in the swift actions that are done before you can properly cherish them.

She’s whisked away before you can hold her close, but that kiss still lingers with you. Her words remain close to your heart long after she’s gone.

It had been quick. One might even call the wedding impersonable, but you know the truth.

Every time you watch her take the stage, no matter how far you are, you can see those diamonds she wears catching the light, glinting her true self through all her fame and glamour.

Charlie Disco

Big and classic

It takes time for Charlie to show preference over one person in his life over another. When he forms a bond, he means it, thick or thin.

In that same vein, he’s a little hard to impress.

This, however, has never stopped your pursuit of him.

Charlie has never been a solo act and he never wanted to be either. He’s receptive.

When you’re alone together, you somehow manage to draw out a special side of him. Everyone knows the warm familiarity of Charlie’s smile and loyalty, but not just anyone knows that specific glint in his eye when he sizes up someone who matches his rhythm flawlessly. You know it well.

It’s a special look he gives you—the way his eyes wander to you when he’s performing, the graceful and subtle way he signs his affections to you when the group conversation drifts.

He’s classic, and with that, classy.

When he proposes, it’s perfect: a night of good food, good drink, and excellent music paired with excellent dancing. You had already been out of breath just keeping up with him, but all the air steals from your lungs when Charlie wordlessly gets down on one knee in the middle of the dancefloor. He sends you a mischievous but earnest wink.

Your wedding is no different from the proposal, just perfect.

There’s an aisle, thrown rice, and live music. He picks your favorite venue and fills the place with enough chairs to make sure everyone you’ve ever loved could participate. He even matches you in a white suit, and yet he keeps his signature lowcut shirt and popped collar. It wouldn’t be Charlie without it.

He feeds you cake and laughs when you shove his slice in his face. While you sit together, he teases guests in your ear, and you both have to hold back your laughter.

It makes you forgive that he got an open bar, resulting in drunken dance offs between you two and the rest of the band.

Against the two of you, they don’t stand a chance.

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

No wedding - not needed

Just getting to the point where Dex feels comfortable enough to marry you takes ages, but every second is worth it.

Every dismissive look, every shrug, every conversation cut short by his laser focus to his craft… It's all worth it to get to this point.

It always seemed as though he had no one in his corner, so by god, you stayed in that corner through it all. You brought him meals when he wouldn’t pull away from his guitar long enough to eat. You draped a blanket over him when he passed out from exhaustion.

Your little efforts weren’t one-sided, either. More than once, he would mumble about a song he made for you, or play you some melodies he was working on. Sharing his unfinished works is the ultimate show of trust for him.

He silently tells you through this that your opinion matters to him, more than all the people telling him that he’s meant to be a perfect little guitarist. 

When you asked how to play the melodies he showed you, he didn’t stop at showing you. He guided your fingers to the strings of his guitar and gently moved your fingertips down the neck. It’s a strangely intimate moment, and that’s when he realizes that he does want to marry you. He wants to spend any moment he can with you.

Dex already knew that he loved you, of course. When he sees you tearing up the mosh pit, you would get him to genuinely smile. You get him to be vulnerable. You make him feel human, and he doesn’t want to lose that.

During one of those nights when he sees you in the pit, he finally gets the courage to do what he’s been meaning to do.

He waits until a break between sets, and then he pulls you back behind a curtain to slip a modest, black iron ring on your finger. You see his hands are shaky and he refuses to make eye-contact, opting instead to return to the stage and pretend he didn’t just rock your world.

There’s no actual wedding. The planning alone would stress him out impossibly more than he already is, and in turn stress you out too. Perfection haunts you both, and you’d prefer those expectations didn’t touch your love for each other.

Instead, you match his wordless approach and leave the paperwork to file a marriage certificate together on his guitar case.

Going to the courthouse together is similarly wordless. The fingers of his free hand move as if he’s still playing his guitar, but you take his calloused hand in your own when the judge pronounces you wed.

Dex takes you to your favorite restaurant afterwards. It’s the longest he’s been without Ragnarock, but today? For you? He makes the effort.

Hemlock

Elopement

It just happens one night when the both of you are partying. The bass is pounding and his blood is hot and so is yours. He stares intently at you before leaning in. 

“We. Should. Get. Married.”

You’re a little drunk yourself, but even if you weren’t, you would have said yes. You’ve always wanted to marry him.

So when you say yes, he scoops you up and takes you, kicking and laughing, to a Vegas-style insta-chapel. He takes all of his punk rocker friends and fans with him too.

The classic white of the cheap venue gets totally eviscerated by both him and the company. However, the proprietors know better than to try and bill him for the many, many damages.

The entire event isn’t fancy. The two of you can barely remember it. But there’s no regret from either of you. It’s somehow the perfect wedding.

The whole fever dream of a night becomes a foggy memory of bad decisions and laughter so hard it burns like screams.

You’re pretty sure the ringing in your ears is from shredding whatever instrument inevitably ended up in your hands that night, a discordant and legendary harmony between yourself and your new cheaply anointed spouse.

Prophet

Block party wedding

When Prophet proposes to you, it’s a secret, special moment between just the two of you. He’s a major player not just in the neighborhood, but in the city as a whole. He’s shaped countless lives. 

And yet, despite this, he kneels before you like any man would. It’s quiet and it’s so, so intimate.

The party after you say yes, though? It’s anything but. It’s a party that shakes the world.

In regards to the wedding itself, absolutely no expense is spared. Every corner on Dead End Drive is either decked out in bling and lights to celebrate, or blasting fresh beats that reflect the joy everyone has for their resident hero and mentor. The block party wedding is so legendary that the power grid is almost knocked out.

Your wedding outfits compliment each other, but they don’t match perfectly. He wants you to shine as yourself when you take the stage with him.

His vows are deep with the love he has for you. He promises to protect you at every turn. His neighborhood supported him since childhood, and he would show you the same support in turn.

Once you two kiss and exchange your rings, he calls for the party to really start. Dancing and bass and voices in harmony fill the street until well past sunrise.

You know that, with him by your side, the rollercoaster would never stop.

Arora

I don’t wanna say that Arora sleeps upright in some pod to charge at night. That, I think, is going too far.

However, her bed isn’t exactly comfortable.

She doesn’t have a bunch of sheets or pillows. Too much of those would block her ventilation and would make her internal fans overheat.

So, she has exactly one blanket and two pillows. She sleeps stiffly on her back, so one pillow is for her head and the other is for her knees (the proper support for back sleepers).

Arora doesn’t think much of it when you ask to spend the night with her.

“So funny!” Back when she reported to Harmony, she would have been disassembled and replaced with a fresh AI system, if she returned home with someone else, especially to sleep with. So, this new experience of sleeping in the same bed with her beloved is too good to pass up.

As this is exactly how she sleeps (and she doesn’t have muscles that get sore from sleeping on a hard mattress), she invites you in without any warning.

It’s like sleeping on a glorified table. It’s uncomfortable, and you shift around all night. 

Arora, unaware of the issue, offers you the blanket. “I never use it anyway.” Then she offers you one of her pillows. “I suppose you will need this for your head, hm?”

She doesn’t go to bed unless she’s ready to sleep, so there’s no cuddling either, not unless you request it or you two do it before on the couch/somewhere similar.

Sleeping, to her, is just a necessity. She doesn’t change her patterns even if you sleep with her. You have to bring it up to her for her to even realize there’s a problem.

“Oh, yes, I noticed you rolled around a lot last night. Did you struggle to get comfortable?”

Finally, you invite her over to your place so she can see what a real bed is supposed to feel like.

She debates about it for a while, but she relents very easily. She wants to be with you, so of course she’ll do it.

When at your bed, she lets you lay down first. She witnesses you get comfortable, treating it like some study, instead of just getting ready for bed.

Once you’re comfortable, she lays down beside you exactly as she does in her own bed. She asks you for a second pillow, and she places it under her knees. Then, she closes your eyes.

You’re used to her falling asleep instantly, and you assume that she’s done so now. You move to cuddle up against her arm and let out a sigh. “I love you,” you tell her sleeping form.

“I love you too,” she replies, very much not asleep. Arora opens her eyes and tells you. “I feel very distracted. I’m sinking into the mattress.”

You lift your head as you stare down at her. “Is it uncomfortable?”

But then she shakes her head and puts her arm around you, pulling you back against her side. “It is very comfortable. I don’t think I’ve been this comfortable before.”

Ever? You almost want to ask about it, but she’s closing her eyes again, so you just sigh. “Take all the time you need, Rori. We have all night.”

She doesn’t fall back to sleep immediately after, but she doesn’t move an inch at all. She stays on her back, face turned up at the ceiling as she keeps an arm around you. Unlike others, her arms won’t fall asleep if you lay on them. 

Once she registers that your breathing has steadied out and you’ve fallen asleep, she finally looks towards you. Is this what it is to be in love and comfortable? 

Would she have ever experienced this without you?

“I love you,” she whispers to your sleeping form.

Charlie Disco

His favorite thing to do is pull you as close to him as possible, and that also translates to sleeping together.

He wears comfortable pajamas in the winter, and nothing but his boxers in the summer. This is to divert the fact that he won’t let go of you all night, no matter how hot it gets.

So I hope you enjoyed your personal space while you had it.

Charlie is a very big cuddler, so you better be prepared for that. He’s attached to you the moment that you’re both in bed.

You try to tell him that you need to get up for the bathroom, and he half debates going with you.

But he finally lets you go, and he moves over to your spot to keep it warm for you. Yeah, that’s the kind of person he is.

When you come back, he acts like he’s been dying ever since you left. He could be such a drama king.

“Seriously, I was gone for three minutes.”

“Three cold, cold minutes, babe. Get back in these sheets.”

You just roll your eyes before doing as you’re told, immediately getting slipped right back into his embrace.

There’s no way that you’re getting out of bed in the morning before him. He’s either already up, or he keeps you trapped in bed until you convince him not to miss breakfast.

He just loves to hold you. When you guys don’t sleep together, he whines the next day about how he just couldn’t get comfortable without his favorite person to hold.

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

It definitely takes awhile for Dex to get comfortable enough to sleep with someone else.

Part of it, yes, is because of some self-doubt. However, he also just doesn’t sleep very regularly. His sleep schedule is wack as fuck, and he doesn’t want to bug you with crawling into bed too late or getting up before you. He doesn’t want to be a bother.

But one day, you’re spending the day at Dex’s apartment. It’s always more convenient for you to go to him, than it is for him to come to you.

It starts to rain heavily, and you stare out the window with a frown on your face. “It’s gonna be impossible to get through that rain.”

That’s right. You live across town from him. Taking the bus was a nightmare, especially since the weather suddenly changed, and even just driving, anything could happen.

“Just stay here,” he tells you, not looking up from his guitar. 

You look back, shocked. He usually tells you in that polite but straightforward way that you should start heading home once the clock strikes a certain time. Or, he’s quick with an excuse back home, if he’s out with you. The fact that he would so willingly just offer you to stay the night is sort of a surprise.

“Like, for the night?”

He sighs. “Do you want to walk home in this rain?”

You obviously don’t object, and he finds you something that will substitute as pajamas for the night. “Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch when I’m done practicing.”

With his bad leg? Not a chance. 

“C’mon, Dex, just come to bed. We can both sleep together.” You hesitate for a beat. “Don’t you want to do that?” You aren’t trying to fish, by any means. Sometimes, though, you can’t be certain with him.

“I’m going to be up for a few more hours. I don’t wanna bother you when I’m done, so it’s fine.”

You take one of his hands in yours, and with your other hand, you pull Ragnarock out of his grip and set it in its stand.

You can see Dex blush as you finally take his other hand and walk him to his room. You smile at him the entire time even though he pointedly avoids eye contact.

“Come on.” You sit down on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you. “Let’s get some shut eye.”

He’s constantly thinking of how he should be pulling away. He should be telling you that he’s busy and can’t sleep right now. But… he can’t deny the desire to sink into your embrace. Maybe with you in the sheets with him, he’ll actually get a good night’s sleep.

At first, when he relents and climbs into bed, he lays decidedly on his side of the bed (though his bed is pretty small anyway). He lays on his back and just tries to get comfortable that way. 

You don’t push him and just get ready for bed yourself. You close your eyes and try to sleep, but you can feel Dex staring.

When you feel him shift closer, you open your eyes and see what’s going on. He’s decidedly not looking at you.

“Shut up,” he tells you even though you haven’t said anything yet. “It’s cold…”

You pull him close and the two of you curl up together. Probably the only time he’ll be the little spoon.

He doesn’t make a habit of cuddling in bed. He usually only retires when he’s too exhausted to be awake anyway.

However, he’ll let you lean against him before bed, if you don’t mind him being distracted the entire time. He puts a lot of his focus on his guitar, but that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to spending time with you.

You tell him that a cuddle has to be mutual to actual count, and he just groans as he sets Ragnarock down. You can win that fight, maybe seven times out of ten.

Hemlock

This dude FOR SURE starfishes in his bed. And he is FOR SURE going to starfish on top of you too. Free weighted blanket.

He’s a deep sleeper, so you’re not going to get anywhere once he has you pinned underneath him. 

He’ll usually be doing things until he collapses in bed. He doesn’t exactly take time to just lay in bed for the hell of it.

But, if you ask him, he will retire early and let you cuddle up with him. He enjoys cuddling with you, so as long as you catch him before he crashes, you’ll be able to get as much cuddling as you want.

As soon as he deems that the two of you have hugged enough, he just goes “Well, that’s enough of that,” and immediately rolls over to lay on top of you.

You whine and try to push him off, but he isn’t budging. Unless, of course, he’s hurting you. He’ll get up if you’re actually hurt.

(which can happen if he’s not careful with that dome of his.)

Dude tends to sleep in the buff so good luck with that.

You’d think he wouldn’t run hot bc of all that… metal and glass… but the body mass has a tendency to trap heat.

So, good luck with him in the summer.

Prophet

This dude has a gigantic mattress. I’m talking California King.

Does he need all that space just to sleep? Absolutely not. He doesn’t tell you that he used to have a smaller mattress. He definitely did not change to a bigger bed once he met you (<- he totally did).

But having all that space definitely makes for an interesting sleep. He doesn’t really toss and turn, he’s a sound sleeper, but on the off-chance that he has to turn in bed, he’s never short on space.

And admittedly, all that space gets lonely. He tells you that you should spend the night more often. “I can only fill up so much of this space, baby. Come on, just for the night.” He says that every night.

He loves to cuddle. You don’t have to ask him, he’ll always be pulling you close. You’d be hard pressed to find a time when he doesn’t want to hold you. 

On the days that he doesn’t get to have you in his bed, he trains his internal clock to wake up early so that he can make you breakfast.

Yep, you’re getting breakfast in bed. He may not always get up in time, though, so he’ll ask if you want to order some breakfast to be delivered. Prophet always manages to make it work.

Lingering in bed with you is his favorite pass-time. You don’t have to sleep, and you don’t have to be intimate. It’s about spending time with you in a comfy place where you both feel safe. That means the world to him.

Arora

When Arora brings up your past, she does it rather suddenly. There’s no real indication as to what might have tipped her off to your previous profession, but one day, she has that knowledge.

“Why did you never tell me about this?” She brings up your career. She brings up your stage name. It all makes you wince.

“That’s not who I am anymore,” you tell her, but she persists until she wears you down.

Finally, you decide to tell her. You try to make it quick just to make it painless as you explain to her that you used to be a pretty famous musician.

“You are underselling it,” she tells you bluntly. “You were a little more than ‘pretty’ famous.”

Her words make you roll your eyes. “That’s in the past. I walked away from all of that to become a teacher, and I’m happy with my choice.”

Arora doesn’t get it. Why would you give up music? The idea makes her pensive.

Of course you notice. Part of you debates not digging into it, just because you want the subject dropped, but you decide that you can’t leave Arora hanging, so you give her the mercy of explaining things a little more.

“I almost gave up on music, yeah. It just… didn’t feel right. It felt hollow. But when I saw people discovering music in classes, I realized that I was too lost in the fame and drama. Teaching helped me reconnect with why I loved music in the first place.”

When she looks at you, she briefly wonders what brings her back to her own music. Is it passion, or is it programming? The unknown of the answer scares her.

But then she feels your hand hold hers, and it snaps her out of her thoughts. It’s sweet. She loves the smile on your face. She loves the way you lean in.

She thinks you’re about to kiss her, and so she closes her eyes.

But then you just speak. “Don’t bring this up again. It’s in my past for a reason.”

Well. She supposes that she can do that.

Charlie Disco

Charlie had been going through some old shit, and he managed to find your stuff too. 

He found a box of pictures, costumes, old merch. He was really surprised to see everything. 

He ends up taking a CD and playing it while he does some research, and he finds out that 1) your music was awesome and 2) you were extremely popular, back in the day. Famous.

But you don't make music anymore. You just teach. It makes Charlie wonder what happened that you would leave it all behind. Were you tossed out? Did you walk away on your own?

Well, the only way to get answers is to ask you, so he leaves with the CD to ask you about what happened. 

When Charlie shows you the CD and its case, you take it to get a closer look, just to make sure you weren't hallucinating.

Once you're certain, you drop the case onto the ground and stomp it under your heel, making sure to shatter the CD inside as well. 

Charlie acts hurt for five seconds before he smiles. “Sike! I already burned that CD!”

"I'll burn you!"

You immediately put Charlie in a headlock, and it's a surprisingly easy thing to do. He just laughs. “What? You didn't throw that stuff away, you kept it! That must mean you didn't hate that job.”

You keep him in that headlock as you think about it. It was a long time ago. It wasn't your life anymore. 

“I just lost track of what music meant to me,” you tell him, finally letting him go. “I needed to get away from the noise to hear the music.”

Charlie takes some time to readjust his shades and his hair, but he nods, smiling. “I get it. But why a teacher?”

“I think it helps keep me grounded.” You shrug. “Besides, I get to light the path for future musicians with my teachings.”

Pointing to himself, Charlie says, “I never had formal training, and I'm doing well for myself.” A bit of an understatement about how well Dead As Disco was doing. 

You just give him a gentle nudge. “Not everyone has natural talent. Some people have to work their skills from zero.”

Charlie hugs you, pulling you close all of a sudden. “You have crazy patience to be training future rockstars.”

“I get it from dealing with you.”

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

Things are quiet between you and Dex. He plays quietly on his guitar while you grade assignments. 

Then, you hear his playing stop, but he doesn't say anything. He is, however, staring at you pretty intensely.

You finally turn back to face him and ask if he needs something. 

Dex remains quiet for a moment longer before suddenly speaking up. “Disco says you used to be famous, back in the day.”

The comment makes you roll your eyes. “And you know he has a tendency to lie for the sake of a joke.”

The problem lies in the fact that Dex knows Charlie wasn't lying, he just can't understand why you are.

He focuses back to his guitar, his playing getting a little intense as he tries to ignore his own frustration. “I just thought it was interesting.”

You can tell he's upset. It's not right to lie, but your past isn't something you like to get into. 

“I was,” you suddenly say, though Dex doesn't stop playing. “Back in the day, I was… popular, I guess. But…” How do you explain what happened? How do you explain how overwhelming things got? Or how it felt to lose your heart in the music that used to mean the world to you?

You're so lost in thought, you almost don't hear his guitar riffs get softer. He realizes that your past is a heavy thing, and he doesn't want to push you about it if you aren't ready. He knows that the past can be difficult to talk about.

“It's okay,” he finally tells you, pulling you from your thoughts. “You don't have to talk about it. I guess I shouldn't have pried.”

You huff. “I shouldn't have kept it a secret from you.”

“You're allowed to have your secrets.” This is quickly becoming an irritating conversation. “You're human. It's not like I tell you everything.”

His words silence you, making you think for a moment longer. “I'd be willing to tell you. Someday,” you offer.

Dex, however, is already focused back on his guitar. “Whenever you're ready.” His words keep any pressure off of you, but you don't miss the weight behind them either.

When you were ready, you would tell him.

Hemlock

It's honestly a miracle that Hemlock knows anything. What with all those totally legal substances he would imbibe, plus the alcohol, his memory is not the greatest. 

But then one day, while you two are spending time together, someone approaches. You assume they're there for Hemlock, since Dead As Disco is at a peak. 

However, when they're close, you notice that they're looking directly at you. They hold out a pen and paper. “Omigod, I never thought I'd see you again. Will you please give me your autograph?”

You try your best to turn them down, but Hemlock ends up needing to step in.

“Oi, no means no! Piss off already!”

The fan stumbles away, spurned, muttering something about rockstars while Hemlock puts a protective hand on your shoulder.

The two of you walk for a little bit without addressing it, but he suddenly turns his skull towards you. “So, you hiding an OnlyFans from me or something?”

You're shocked at his audacity, and that reaction makes Hemlock laugh. “No! Nothing like that! You're the worst, Hem.”

It takes him a moment to stop laughing, but once he does, he shakes his head. “Then what? You a rocker in a past life?”

“I was a musician in this life, yes.”

Hemlock stares just to make sure that you're being serious, and once he sees it, he finally stops trying to joke about it. 

“Well… why didn't ya tell me? You could have helped with the band's songs!”

You just shake your head. “I already have to grade homework, I don't have time to grade yours, too.”

Hemlock lets out a “pfft” before falling silent, letting the two of you walk in semi-peace. You know, however, that he's thinking. 

Hemlock thinking is never a good thing.

“Before you ask,” you interrupt. “I don't make music anymore, and I certainly don't perform. That's all in the past.”

“Why are you so against the fact that it happened?” His simple question shocks you, and you look back towards him, eyes wide in surprise. “It's still part of you. Even if you hated it, why reject it?”

What the fuck? Is Hemlock being deep right now? Your face must have said it all, because Hemlock sighed, acting like it was some big deal.

“What? Just because I’m angry all the time, doesn’t mean I only got shallow thoughts in my skull.” He pantomimes rolling his eyes. “Whatever. I’m glad you ended up where you did, because now you’re with me.”

“Yep.” You nodded. No sense lingering on that surprsingly meaningful conversation.

Prophet

Prophet actually already knew that you used to be a musician.

He’s nothing if not thorough. 

But he’s aware that the past is the past, and so he waits for you to approach him about the subject. He’s a musician, so it might help you feel inclined to talk about being a musician in the past. That’s his thought process, anyway.

However, nothing ever happens. He invites you to judge his work, but you just tell him that it sounds great, or maybe you make an excuse about needing to focus on grading papers. It makes him wonder how uninviting he is to have you avoid the topic so severely.

But still, he doesn’t push it. He waits for the perfect moment, because that’s what he does best.

One day, the two of you are watching TV together after supper, and he finally breaches the subject as delicately as he can without beating around the bush.

“You love teaching music. Makes me wonder why you don’t make music yourself, anymore.”

He feels you tense at his side, and he feels that maybe this past weighs down on you more than he thought. “How did you know?”

He shifts a little, looking down at you with faux hurt. “You think I wouldn’t know everything I could about you?” But seeing your reaction, he lets out a sigh. “Listen, I know it’s not my place to bring it up if it’s dead to you, but you were famous. You can’t hide fame like that, baby.”

You know that he’s right. Just because you don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean people can’t find out. “That’s just not who I am anymore. All the noise and the… pressure…”

When Prophet sees you getting embarrassed, he rubs your arm in a comforting gesture. “You don’t have to defend your past to me. That’s not why I brought it up. If you wanted to make music, I’d give everything to get you in a recording studio. That’s all.”

You lean your head against his shoulder as he pulls you close. “That’s behind me. Besides, I like teaching more than I liked being a musician.” At least at the end of your career, when things got messy.

“I like you teaching, too. You really have a way with words.” He’s silent for a moment, his gaze flitting away from both you and the TV. “Teachers are hot, too.”

His words make you sigh, but honestly, you just appreciate how supportive he is.

Arora

Arora really isn’t going to get squeamish at anything. She’s a robot.

This probably means that she has protocols for plenty of blood-loss inducing injuries.

She’s got medical procedures in her programming, so she can at least do surface level things when it comes to getting injured.

(She’ll always iterate that she’s not a medical professional and that one should seek a doctor, after she helps someone)

So she is concerned about your frequent nosebleeds, but she’s not uncomfortable in the slightest.

“Another anterior epistaxis?  You aren’t picking your nose, are you?” <- She’s just teasing you with this one.

When she realizes how common your nosebleeds are, she decides to just stay prepared for any situation.

She’ll constantly have tissues on her. Where is she keeping them? Arora won’t answer you when you ask her.

When you two make it to a new location, she’ll update you on the air conditions. If it’s too dry, she’ll offer a nasal spray she seemed to pull out of nowhere.

You try to tell her that she’s doing too much, but she hits you with the “Is it so bad to want to prevent you from bleeding? I hate seeing you like that.”

And when you cave in and let her continue, she’ll giggle innocently, knowing that she won.

Charlie Disco

Charlie is the type of guy to lay in a hospital and say “The doc said all the bleeding is internal. That’s where the blood is supposed to be!”

So he’s pretty casual about obtaining injuries. He’s seen plenty of bruises and blood and scraped skin and cuts.

He hovers the moment he sees you injured, however. He’s like a fretting mother when he sees you hurt.

“Here, take these tissues. Oh, tilt your head back.”

He won’t know the best ways to help you, just what he does in that situation (you shouldn’t tilt your head back during a nosebleed). This means that sometimes, helping you is a learning process.

He keeps loose tissues in his jacket pocket for you. He goes to pull one out, and a handful of them fall to the floor in the process. “Shoot,” he mumbles as he picks up the fallen tissues.

So again, not uncomfortable or grossed out, but mostly concerned about you.

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

When he sees your nose bleeding, Dex will always curl his upper lip in disgust. It’s gross to him.

It gets even worse when he sees you tossing tissues aside and they’re just coated in blood. It makes him tense up.

Dex tries to leave, but you ask him to get you something in the middle of one of your nosebleeds. He hesitates, looking anywhere but you. 

“Just get it yourself,” he tells you, but it comes out more as a question than a command.

You tell him that you’re in the middle of something and to not be a dick. He goes to get what you asked of him after that.

However, when he returns, he refuses to look your way as he hands the thing over to you. You ask him what his problem is, and he just scoffs.

“That’s gross. It’s not like I’m the weird one for thinking you bleeding from your nose is disgusting.”

You laugh a little. You never expected that emo to be so adverse to blood. “Are you scared of it or something?”

“I’m not scared of blood,” he snaps at you, but quickly looks away afterwards. “It’s just gross.”

“It’s just blood vessels in my nose. You have it too.”

Dex quickly tells you to shut up and stop bleeding already. 

He’s not exactly the most reliable person to help you when you get a nosebleed.

Hemlock

You can’t convince me this guy doesn’t get in a lot of fights.

So obviously, Hemlock is used to a lot of injuries, and blood doesn’t turn him off (can’t exactly say it’s a turn on either, though).

He’s not going to baby you if you get hurt. However, when you just suddenly get nosebleeds, he gets really confused. 

“The ****? Again?”

He thinks you should only bleed if someone or yourself hurts you, so he really doesn’t understand your frequent nosebleeds.

However, he’ll stay and makes sure you have tissues and whatever else you need. He’s not gonna dote on you, though.

If he accidentally gets some blood on his hand by helping you, he’ll look at it for a moment before wiping it off on his pants, because he’s an idiot.

“What? They’re red! It’ll blend right in!”

Maybe he’s not the best to ask for help in these kinds of situations.

Prophet

Maybe it's a sixth sense, but the dude somehow knows that he’ll need to keep some tissues on him when he spends time with you. 

So, when you start bleeding, he hands you the tissues. “Here, sit down and lean forward. Don’t get blood on your shirt.”

He’ll do everything to take care of you. If there’s nowhere to sit, he’ll kneel down and let you sit on his knee.

You accidentally get some blood on him and apologize profusely, but he just shakes his head. He thinks it’s funny, how worried you are. “It’s fine, it’ll come out. Just wait for this to pass.”

Yes, he’ll let you sit on his knee for the full ~10 to 15 minutes if your nosebleed goes on for very long.

However, he might raise some concerns. He’ll ask if you need the hospital, but that’s not really important unless you start showing some other symptoms.

Prophet’s number one priority is to take care of you, and sometimes he can go overboard. Just remind him that the nosebleed will go away after some time, and that will prevent him from taking extreme measures.

He isn’t disgusted or uncomfortable because of your nosebleeds. The human body is confusing and weirdly fragile, so he knows that the nosebleeds just need to be taken care of. 

Definitely a good guy to have on your side when your nose starts to bleed.

Your mom has always been cagey about your dad. She doesn't say much, but everything she says is good. If he's so good, why isn't he around? She always gets huffy with you when you bring that up. You get the feeling that she doesn't like you painting him in a bad light.

Once she deems you old enough, she tells you about your father: some guy named Charlie Disco. He was a drummer for a band called Dead As Disco, and little you thought it was weird that a guy would be named Disco, and that he would predict his own death with a name like that. The idea of the disco craze back in the 1970s and its subsequent downfall was beyond you. It was way before you or even your mother were born. All she can really tell you about the band itself is that she saw it at The Encore 12 years ago, where she met your father, and the two of them… liked each other very much. 

But his band left on tour before she even realized she was pregnant. She never had the chance to tell him, and then news came out that Charlie died on tour, before he could ever learn about you.

It's difficult, even at your VERY mature age of 12 (seriously, you were almost a teen!), to process the idea that your dad, even if you never knew him, was dead. You stare at his picture, and it's really just him in the back of a group photo on some band merch. Your mom didn't think to get a proper photo of him at the time.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you smile and tease her. “Mom and Dad weren't even married…? So scandalous!”

“How do you even know that word…?” But you did manage to get your mom to smile, and that was the goal. You could tell that Charlie meant a lot to her, and it hurt her a little to talk about it. You weren't sure why, though, since it sounds like they only knew each other for one night.

After you thank her for telling you about your dad, you go off to do some research. You're pretty sure that you remembered the name of the place she mentioned. You must have seen a sign or something. Maybe you shouldn't be looking into it, but your mom barely told you anything. All you really knew was that your dad was a drummer in a band, and he wore a gaudy, yellow jacket. You needed to find out more about him, and you weren't going to get it from your mother, so the next bet is to go to that place that they had performed in, The Encore. You definitely walked by the building it was located in without even realizing it. So strange…

You read reviews—mostly about nostalgia seeking people who were disappointed with the current state of the bar and the fact that it's barely open these days—and you decide to go over and check it out yourself. It can't be that bad, right? If it was quiet, then you were less likely to run into drunk people, which was good! You were still a little too young for that crowd, and you were fine with that. 

Your mother leaves for a night shift at her job, and after she's gone, you sneak out. You had gotten directions when you were doing your research, so you were on your way to The Encore. The reviews mentioned that the bartender was the same as back in the day, so maybe he could tell you something about Charlie Disco and the band he played for. 

You make it up to the floor that The Encore is on, and when you try the door, it's unlocked. Yeah, it’s technically working hours, isn't it? It sounds very quiet when you step in, and you glance around to spot absolutely no one, except for the man behind the bar.

“Excuse me?” You approach the bar, gripping the bartop and pulling yourself a little higher. “Are you the bartender?”

The man—clearly older, with a gray beard and dreads, hiding behind shades despite the dim lighting of the bar—chuckles as he looks at you. “What does a bartender look like to you?” Then, standing from his stool without any rush to him, he pockets the drumsticks he’d been beating at the air around him, shoving them into some pocket attached to his belt. “A little short to be in a bar, aren’t you?”

“I’m not here to drink, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You shift, sitting on one of the barstools. “I’m actually just looking for information about some guy named Charlie Disco.”

He tries to think about it. “Think a kid by that name is resting here. Yeah, he was part of that band. I hear they’re all getting together tonight.”

A kid? That didn’t sound good. You were looking for an adult. “He’s not older? Maybe like… thirty or something, by now?”

He just shakes his head. “Sweetie, when you’re as old as me, everyone is a kid. He’ll be by with another of his friends later tonight. Just sit and relax. I think I got a pop around here somewhere…”

He manages to find a warm soda that you don’t even like, and he grabs a glass before tossing the soda can around like a drink mixer. However, when he opens it, the soda sprays everywhere because it had been shaken up.

You watch him clean up, luckily unstained from the spray of sticky soda, and you finally ask him, “You really don’t remember him at all?”

“I’m a little old to be remembering anything,” he admits as he wipes down the counter. Remembering, he plucks the note that’s been tucked into the band of his hat. “I leave notes, but some things are just lost to me.” Then he puts the note back and shakes his head, going back to cleaning.

For the time being, you’re left to wait until this kid comes back. Did your dad have another kid with another mom? It stresses you out just to think about it.

However, the door suddenly opens to immediate and playful banter.

“I’m just saying! Next time, don’t throw cars at your best best friend!” That voice is excitable, friendly. That kind of voice belongs to someone who easily makes friends and steals hearts.

There’s another voice, one that chuckles. “You are not my best friend, dawg. Try again.” It’s a voice that’s smooth and warm, one that you could melt into.

You watch as two people step into The Encore. One of them is much taller, with a comfy looking coat on and spiky hair. The other, however, looks exactly like the man on the merch your mother showed you: swept-back hair, yellow jacket with one sleeve rolled up, and those glasses. Charlie Disco.

The noise brings out some people that had been hiding further in the bar, but your eyes are focused on the man himself.

Arora

Arora had been sitting in one of the side sections of The Encore, still calculating, running evidence (both hearsay and prima facie) alongside her own spotty memory of the band. It kept herself from even noticing that someone else had entered.

She knows that it's frowned upon, typically, to bring a kid to a bar, so she immediately scans your face to make sure you're not in some missing person database.

Because of this scan, she recognizes you immediately as related to Charlie.

You have the same face shape, same eyes.

When she sees the way you move, she recognizes that you carry the same flow that he does. 

She purses her lips as she turns to look at Charlie. It's sort of like staring at a much younger reflection of himself.

“Charlie! You didn't tell me you had a beautiful daughter!”

Ignoring all the sputtering and yelling that he does at the sudden exclamation, she bends down a little and smiles at you. She's very sweet about it. 

“Hello, little one! It must have been difficult without your father, these past ten years.” She stands up straight and asks, “Would you like an ice cream?”

You quickly tell her that you're twelve years old, and you're not going to be bribed to go away by ice cream. It makes her sigh. “Worth a shot, hm?”

Charlie Disco

Okay, even when he first saw you, he thought it was a little freaky that you looked just like him when he was a kid. For a second, he thought he might have been hallucinating. This entire night has been a mess of head injuries, so he wouldn't be surprised if he was hallucinating himself on that barstool.

But when Arora loudly announces you as his daughter, it becomes clear as day that you're real and related to him.

Which is impossible! He always practices safe sex. Well, he did, back when he was alive.

You're twelve years old, so that means it does fit into the time frame of him being alive.

Then a thought hits him and it makes him groan. “Oh ****. All the child support I missed.”

But he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I was dead! It wasn't my fault!”

When Charlie looks at you again, he can see that look in your eye, and he knows immediately that he's in trouble. But for what?! It wasn't his fault that he died!

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

Like he had been ever since Arora got to The Encore, Dex had been on the balcony, strumming mindlessly on his guitar. The thing was supposed to calm him down, but Dex was still feeling anxious about something he couldn't quite place.

When he heard yelling coming from inside, Dex managed to climb off the railing and drag his feet back inside. 

He wasn't prepared to see Charlie getting yelled at by a kid. She was really tearing into him, and Dex could see just how much these words were affecting Charlie. 

Good. That asshole deserved it.

He just crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the whole thing go down.

He grew up with that annoying drummer, so he knows exactly what kind of person he was, and you act exactly like him. You look like him, too. He wonders briefly what woman was unlucky enough to get stuck with a mini Charlie.

Dex has to listen to Charlie explain rather timidly that he's been dead for ten years and didn't have the ability to reach out for a family reunion. He then listens to you tell him that people don't just die for ten years and then come back.

When it's obvious that nothing of significance is happening (other than Charlie getting destroyed by a twelve-year-old), Dex just shakes his head and returns to the balcony.

Hemlock

During all the arguing, a groan had been let out from some nearby booths, and the pile of coats and other abandoned clothes was thrown to the ground, revealing Hemlock. He had a bit too much to drink since coming here, and has been trying to nap it off.

All that yelling, however, woke him up. He stared at the commotion but couldn't quite make it out, his vision still bleary from being hungover and tired (somehow, just trust me).

“Oi! Tell tiny Charlie to stop yelling at big Charlie!” He throws an old, tattered scarf in your direction. 

Hemlock sort of figures he's just seeing things, but Arora tells him that the tiny Charlie is actually his daughter, and that gets him sitting up in an instant.

“Oh! Did Disco get a little sloppy, then?” He's immediately laughing at the situation. “Can’t say I’m surprised! That guy loved to get his love wherever he could.”

Charlie brought a finger up to his lips. “Shut up, Hem! Can you not hold your tongue around a child?”

Hemlock only shakes his head. “You forget that she’s your child. I’m not worried about a few bad words.”

“She’s not mine,” Charlie suddenly insists, much to your own shock, as well as everyone else’s.

Hemlock, however, deadpans at that. “Mate, she has your face. Just own up to it.”

When Charlie just continues to deny the whole thing, Hemlock sighs and gets up from the booth, approaching as he digs in his jacket pocket. He then pulls out a wrapped lollipop and hands it to you. “Here, caramel apple. Stole it from your **** dad.”

You hesitate, but grab it anyway. “Only because I love caramel apple,” you tell him as you toss the wrapper.

Your answer is funny to Hemlock, who laughs. “Christ, she even has your weird taste, too!”

Charlie only glares. “Is that why they always disappeared, back when I was alive? You stole them?”

Prophet

Prophet has been watching all of this from the sidelines, finding amusement from Charlie’s freak out. However, he noticed the way you reacted when he loudly disowns you. You were pretending to not care, distracted with the sucker, but Prophet could tell you were feeling insecure.

So, he moves to sit on the stool beside you, resting an arm on the bartop to lean in closer while Charlie and Hemlock argue about stealing.

“Don’t take what he says too personally, kid. He’s just shocked.”

When you pout at him, Prophet feels his heart ache a little. You were just a kid wanting to connect with her dad. That isn’t a crime.

He turns to you and explains things as plainly as he can. You deserve the truth.

“I know it’s difficult to believe, but he really did die ten years ago. He’s been dead. I was there when it happened.” He can see that you don’t believe him, but what else can Prophet do? “I don’t know how exactly he came back from the dead, but I promise he didn’t ditch out on your life by choice.”

Your brow furrows as you look away, deep in thought. It’s a look he’s seen many times in the past on his drummer.

He nudges you, smiling once he gets your attention. “You have tonight, okay? Take the opportunity while it presents itself.” Prophet gestures over the Charlie, who only just now seems to realize that you’ve been speaking to someone else. “Before it’s too late.”

Aftermath

All of the arguing with the others is sort of the last thing that Charlie needs, and so he decides that he needs to get away from all of them and just talk to you one on one. He doesn’t need everyone telling him that you’re his daughter. He can see it himself. It’s just taking him some time to wrap his head around it.

“Alright, knock it off, leave her alone!” He waves Prophet away before picking you up and taking you away from the bar. You yell at him, but he just sits you at one of the booths further in and sits down across from you.

It takes him awhile to finally start a conversation with you. He looks pensive and uncertain. You’ve seen that look in the mirror before. “Okay, listen, I get it. You’re…” But he pauses. “Your mom says that I’m your dad.”

“Because you are,” you insist from around your sucker, frowning. “All she had was that t-shirt with the band on it. It’s the only picture she had of you.”

Charlie just wishes that he could remember which one he had slept with. He was always careful about it! Wouldn’t either of them notice that the condom broke?

Looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, he mutters, “Trust me, kid, I see the resemblance…” However, he’s at a loss about what to do about it. He only has one night. He doesn’t know what will become of him after tonight.

“I didn’t expect to see you at all,” you tell him, carefully setting your sucker down on its wrapper so it won’t touch the table. “I just wanted to learn more about you. Mom only knew you for a day, she told me. Doesn’t even have a proper picture.”

Charlie finally looks back at you with a frown. God, what is he doing? You’re a kid. He shouldn’t be treating you like this.

“It’s a picture you want?” When you look up at him, he’s smiling. “I won’t even charge you. Y’know, the band I was in was pretty **** popular, back in the day.” But then he flinches. “Shoot, sorry. I’ll watch my language.”

You just roll your eyes when he moves to your side of the booth. “Come on,” he calls back to the bar. “Someone get the camera! Kid wants a picture.”

Hemlock had grabbed it, but Arora quickly took it from his hands, moving over and snapping a picture of you and Charlie. “There you are!” The polaroid prints out at the bottom, and Charlie grabs it, waving the thing in the air.

Putting his focus on you even as he works with the polaroid, Charlie tells you, “Seriously, I’m sorry that I never knew about you. I had no idea.” You just shake your head, crossing your arms as you look away. It’s still a little weird, seeing him sudden accepting you after he spent the first ten or fifteen minutes pretending it was impossible for the two of you to be related. “You didn’t know. You said so.”

Charlie puts an arm around you. “I can’t promise you a future. All I know for sure is that I have tonight. So, tonight, I’d like to get to know my daughter. Probably killing it at life, huh? Can't do any worse than me.”

He chuckles, and you don’t want him to see that you’ve smiled. “Something like that.”

So, you two talk about yourselves. Sometimes, the others tell you embarrassing things about Charlie that he wouldn’t have ever told you himself, and it makes you giggle every time.

He tells you that he has to go for awhile, to get another friend of his, but he does give you that polaroid, now that it’s showing the picture of you and him. He’s smiling more than you in the picture, but just looking at it, you feel your own soften in a weird mix of happiness and pain.

Grief is a difficult thing for a child to grapple with, after all.

Deckard “Dex” Voltaire

You really felt betrayed when you realized that Dex had sold out to Harmony.

One day he was with you, and the next day, you had a cold space where he used to be. 

He didn't consult you, he didn't warn you. Dex just left you, and it caused a cold anger to wash over you. 

It didn't take much for you to hear what they'd done to him, of course. Hell, Harmony promoted how they, as a music label company, managed to provide the city with clean energy with only the energy created from playing the guitar. Dex was on the cover of that.

At first, a terrible and bitter part of you thought that he deserved it. He finally got to be “perfect,” whatever that meant for him.

Your immediate thought caused you to feel guilty, and so you let him go to achieve his perfection. You never got to see him whenever you tried to physically go there, anyway.

However, the longer this goes on, the more you start to lose your friends. They all sell out one by one until you’re the only one who goes to The Encore anymore.

Eventually, the loneliness gets to you. You look out of one of The Encore’s windows and spot the Harmony building looming nearby.

They took everything they could get their hands on. You might as well take back what's yours. 

By some miracle, you managed to reach him. You couldn't recall how many people you pushed and fought through to get here, but you finally stepped into the chamber with the city's generator.

The people who gawk and cheer to see a man forced to perform 24/7 notice you and the look in your eyes. It immediately causes them to step aside for you, creating a path straight to the barrier that separated you from Dex. 

You hadn't seen him since he left, but you saw him on magazine covers. You saw all the wires and cords that connected into him. Seeing it in person, though…

Your approach and immediate vault of the barrier caused a hush to fall over the crowd near you, which spread with a sense of curiosity to those that couldn't see you until you stepped out into the clearing.

Dex heard the dimming of the noise, and when he lifted his head to see what caused it, his fingers slipped.

He didn't stop playing or anything. He's been at it for far too long to do that. But the next note or two to come from his guitar didn't quite fit into what he was playing prior. 

“Dex,” you start, voice cold and firm like steel. He only stares at you. The fact that he keeps playing despite the confrontation irritates you even further. “You enjoying yourself up there? You like seeing them gawk at the freakshow?”

Dex flashed his teeth in a snarl, unhappy with your words. “I don't enjoy things, I get things done. It's the price of perfection.”

Words seem useless. It doesn't matter what you two say to each other, you won't meet eye to eye. Arguments like this weren't uncommon when you two were together, but it felt different, having him hoisted in the air with a hundred wires attached, watching him play even as he argued. It made you mad—yes, at Dex, but mostly at Harmony for turning him into this. 

So, you don't argue. You don't throw in his face his old promise to never turn to body mods and never sell out. You don't remind him of the people he left behind. 

Instead, you approach, and once he sees, he rears up his guitar. It acts as a signal, and suddenly you have guards and over-eager fans climbing past the barrier to get to you and stop you.

If he wanted to play this game, then you would too.

It was almost as if you entered a flow state when everyone started rushing you. You dodged and countered with ease. You punched, you kicked, you tossed people around with an ease that only came from spite and anger. A need to prove yourself.

For a moment, you feel your hair stand on end, but before you can do anything about it, the lightning strikes. The electricity courses through you, briefly knocking you off your feet. Your limbs tremble as you try to peel yourself off the ground. 

Dex doesn’t want to admit that he got scared to see it happen. He wants to push you away, scare you off, but hurting you… It was an accident.

But Dex is an all-in person, so he doubles down. He casts the goons aside and metaphorically steps into the ring to fight you himself.

He swings, you dodge. He throws, you parry right back at him. It infuriates him!

So, in an attempt to end it, he brings his guitar up above his head and brings it down. And in usual you fashion, you dodge it, rolling onto the back of Ragnarock as soon as he tries to pull it up. You use this opportunity to grab onto the cords that connect him to the generator and to Harmony. 

Your grab stops your momentum, and you're pulled back towards Dex. Your feet land on his back as you pull and pull and—

BZZT!

The wires are finally pulled out. Dex, used to the constant influx of energy, immediately falls to his knees. You act instantly, pulling out the wires attached to his legs, taking away the things that made him a machine.

He wants to yell at you, tell you to stop messing with things, but he can’t bring himself to do it. A quiet part of him is just happy to have your hands on him again.

You end up having to take him to The Encore yourself. He leans against you and curses at you quietly as you walk him back.

By the time you get him to The Encore, he feels a little more comfortable with holding his own weight, and you sit him down in a booth before sitting across from him. 

Knowing that he won’t break the silence, you give him a look. “Talk?”

“About what? You won. Leave me alone.”

“This isn’t about winning, Dex! It’s not always a competition! I just want my boyfriend back.”

Dex looks away because he feels guilty and lost. He hates it.

After a very lengthy silence where he avoids your eye, he finally speaks, still keeping his eyes averted, his fingers moving along to the song playing faintly from the jukebox as if he knew the chords by heart. “I… want you back too. But I betrayed you and everyone else at the first opportunity I was given. I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.”

“Would you do it again,” you ask him, head tilted curiously. When he confesses that, no, he wouldn’t, you tell him, “Then I’m not worried. We… We were all hurting then.”

It was, after all, shortly after Charlie’s death that Dex left you for idoldom with Harmony.

Dex snaps at you. He doesn’t want it to be that easy. “It’s not an excuse! No one else did it! No one else let their grief turn themselves into monsters!”

You move over to his side of the booth and you wrap your arm around his shoulder. He resists, refusing to lean against you. “Dex, no one else is here. They didn’t go immediately, but they all got worn down eventually. That doesn’t make them a monster. It makes them human, ironically. Just… doing what they have to, or what they think is right.”

You can see Dex’s lips purse into a thin line. You catch the look in his eyes. He’s trying not to cry. “I left you alone for ten years.” Unable to help himself, he leaned against you, finally giving in to your embrace. “You waited for ten years… Why? What made you think I was worth that?”

“I love you, Dex. And even if you’re different from the person you were all that time ago, you’re still human. I still love you.”

He made you promise not to tell anyone about how he cried after that. You didn’t have any intention of letting anyone else in on that vulnerable moment. You were just happy to have your boyfriend back.

Hemlock

It was always meant to be you and Hemlock versus the world. The others gave in, but you two stood your ground.

It never was easy to see Hemlock lose all his friends and bandmates to the enemy, but you always held him. You always gave him something to smash. Something to paint.

But one day, Benny suddenly pushes the two of you away. He’d never been the same since Charlie died, but he at least kept up with Hemlock. Those two had been friends since childhood.

So, when he was suddenly gone, Hemlock couldn’t take it anymore. He stomped and yelled and refused to listen to you. You couldn’t get a single word in, and when you kept trying, it only pissed him off more.

He yelled at you. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but the stress and the hurt was too much for him to realize that, in lashing out, he hurt you.

It’s not like he was ever that smart in the first place.

That night, Hemlock stormed off, and then he didn’t come back. You had, at the time, a clawing urge to chase after him and get him to talk it out, but you were hurting too, and so you didn’t.

For a while, you worried that he might have gotten in trouble or hurt.

But then you saw the magazine cover in a bodega you passed by: “Rocker Up” Hemlock exclusive: Toxicmaniac Apocalypse.

Without even thinking, you tore the cover from the magazine and ripped it to shreds. When the stand owner told you to pay for that, you just tossed the money in his direction before storming off.

Harmony! He fucked off to Harmony for fame just because you two had a fight! It infuriated you! It… It hurt you.

But you took a quiet moment to cry in private before storming off to where he usually spends his time—that damn subway.

Of course, anyone can take the subway: it's free. You can see it advertised as you walk down into the sublevel. It wasn't hard to find the platform he was on—you could hear the cheers all the way from the top of the stairs. 

Showboating. You thought Aussies were supposed to be more down to earth than this.

You step inside, pushing your way through the crowd to get to the center. It seemed people were kind enough to leave it unoccupied for anyone waiting for the subway train. No one was actually here, but the thought counted, you supposed.

This hadn't been the first time he did this, actually. He would usually retreat into the subway and perform for his fans. Even before everyone all sold out, he would come down and rally people. Whether it was just for music or for some cause, people loved to band together for a shared cause.

And here he was, pretending that nothing changed, pretending that he hadn't given in to the man.

It pushed that anger back to the forefront of your mind.

Hemlock, atop the opposite set of stairs from you, saw you push through the crowd. You were familiar, but it was difficult for him to get a clear view through the crowd. 

“Oi! Is that—”

Any kind of smartass remark dies in his throat when you finally manage to break free from the crowd. Of course he recognizes you. How could he forget you? You were the best thing that ever happened to him.

His girlfriend. Or, ex, now. He didn't know where he stood with you, and it tore him up inside. 

But then he heard you speak.

“Do your fans know that you sold out to The Man?”

His fists clench tightly. “Say what you want! I've got real power now. I wouldn't call it selling out; it's more like… using my resources.”

“Is that what they call becoming Harmony’s musclehead?”

“That’s it! Everyone!” He points at you angrily. “This girlie’s banned from the subway! Get her out of here!”

Enemies swarm you. Not only fans, but even the riot cops that were meant to be watching Hemlock turn their gazes towards you.

Hemlock thought that would be that. He thought they’d give you a stern talking to, maybe toss you back above ground, but they start fighting you. Swinging, kicking. He wanted to yell at them to knock it off, but how would that look, going back on his word?

Tuning his bass was the only thing he could think to do to ignore you. He wanted to yell, maybe even talk, but he already laid down the law.

It was impressive, just how easily you weaved through the crowd, dodging punches and catching kicks before they could connect with your side.

But this couldn’t last forever. Hemlock never was one to stand back, away from the action. “That’s enough! It’s time for a proper reunion!” He tore through the crowd and leapt, swinging his bass, the blades spinning wildly as he slammed it into the ground where you were.

You dodged, of course. You didn’t miss, however, the way Buzzkill had landed a few inches from where you originally stood. Did he miss on purpose, or was he just rusty?

Hemlock comes at you in the only way he knows how to—with absolutely everything he’s got. He swings wide and you duck under him. He swings down and you slide beside him, giving him a harsh elbow to the side.

You’ve seen your boyfriend fight before, and this wasn’t quite it. Every move was predictable, he might as well be telling you everything he’s doing. You know he hits harder and faster. He fights nastier than this.

But if he’s hoping to drag this out, you aren’t having any of that. You rush him. When he swings, you fall to your knees, sliding under him and hitting the back of his knees, causing him to stumble down onto his knees.

You were up in an instant, bringing a leg up before swinging it down onto his chest, knocking the wind out of him as he fell onto his back.

The force of it caused him to lose his grip on Buzzkill, and you of course grabbed it, raising it over your head while turning towards Hemlock. 

Your eyes locked moments before you swung down. Hemlock flinched, expecting a hit, and yet nothing happened. He could hear the blades of his bass still turning, and when he finally registered that his own weapon wasn’t imbedded in his chest, he looked up and saw you holding it mere inches from the flesh of his chest.

That could have been ugly.

But he wasn’t mad at having his own bass stolen from him. No, he couldn’t get over how hot you looked when you were angry.

After a beat, he feels the need to tell you: “You do know this is turning me on, right?”

His inability to take this seriously causes you to scoff as you toss his bass aside.

“Is this really what you want, Hemlock? To be at the beck and call of Harmony?” You bent over him, hands on your hips as you gave him a disappointed look.

“Obviously not! Of course not!” He sits up, his hand skating over the back of his dome. No cracks. That shit is durable. “But what the **** was I supposed to do? Honest change doesn’t happen anymore. You gotta get what you want, however you can.”

It shocked you to hear him say that. He was always so set in his ways. Rallies, petitions, protests, anything that would garner the change in the world he demanded, he took part in it. So what changed his mind now?

You're interrupted from your thoughts when you feel Hemlock take your hand and tug you close. You know that look. He wants you in his lap.

Here? Really? The subway was gone, and so were the people, but was this really the place for that?

You let out a sigh and let him pull you into his lap, straddling him as he held you close.

“I didn't mean to yell at ya,” he tells you as he presses his glass into the crook of your neck. No lips to kiss with, you were used to this. “I just… I got frustrated. Everyone left. What the hell was I gonna do by myself, huh? I look like a dumbass, nothin’ but my bass.”

“Not everyone left,” you tell him as you wrap your arms around him, holding him just as close. You missed him more than you would admit. “You had me. I would have stayed by your side until the world ended.”

His hands, which had been drifting lower and lower, stopped just before he could grab your ass. He sighed as he pulled back to look at you. Hemlock may just be a skull in a jar, but you could sense the regret seeping from him. “I didn't want you to see me like that. Just… givin’ up because life got hard.”

In response, you grab his jar, though his skull still floats freely inside. “You didn't give up. You used your resources, didn't you? That's what you told me.”

He lets out a small chuckle as his skull tilts to the side to avoid your stare. “Bah… you don't need t’spare my feelings. I learned my lesson: no more making you mad.”

That makes you laugh. “Let's go. The Encore is waiting.”

“Oh!” He holds you tightly as he stands up. He always acts like you weigh nothing to him. “The Encore?! I haven't been there in ages!” The man bends down to pick up his bass before he takes you back, refusing to let you go the entire walk back. 

Prophet

Prophet actually tried to pretend he wasn't affected by Charlie's death. As he lost one person after another to Harmony, he just smiled and pretended that Dead As Disco wasn't falling apart.

But one day, Prophet comes to you with a deadly serious attitude. He sits you down and gives himself a beat before just asking you outright to join him when he leaves for Harmony.

Not if. When.

It shocks you entirely. You could tell that he wasn't joking. He was leaving, and he wanted to take you with him. 

“Are… Are you serious?” It felt ridiculous to even consider it. How could Prophet choose Harmony over the others?

“I have to do this,” he tells you. “It's okay if you don't understand. But I don't want to lose you either.” Prophet takes your hands and looks into your eyes. “Please, baby. Come with me.”

It takes you a moment to wrap your head around it. How could he betray the band? They promised to never sell out. You pull your hands from his and tell him exactly that, and it seems to cause him to close himself off. He already treated that as a rejection. 

He expected to be rejected, but a small part of him still hoped.

“I get that you don't want to go.” He didn't either, not really. “And I won't force you. But you're not stopping me, either.”

He gives you one more opportunity. “After today, I’m not coming back to The Encore, but I will miss you.”

“Are you serious?” You grab his hand when he tries to walk away. “You’re just selling out like that? What are you trying to get at?” What did he mean, you wouldn’t understand?

Prophet pulls his hand from yours before he can process that he’s done it. It hurts to push you away, but he does what he needs to do.

He leaves you there in The Encore. Part of you still thinks he'll turn back and say “sike” or something, but it never happens.

Prophet doesn't return the next day, or the day after that. You see him in interviews and magazines as the days pass. That shock freezes over into anger. Each time you catch sight of the eyesore of that Harmony building, your brow furrows harder and harder. 

You walk with a quiet but intense purpose. People who see you on the street give you a wide berth just so they don't get shoulder checked by you.

You walked until you made your way to Dead End Drive. You weren't sure if Prophet would be here, but you could at least ask around. God knows you wouldn't get into that Harmony building. 

You learn that Prophet runs with some group inside Harmony called Killa Boyz, and he spends most of his time as Harmony's talent agent. He was the gatekeeper on D.E.D. and he remains as such for Harmony as well.

You sit with the others and listen to them talk, not just about Prophet, but about D.E.D. as a whole. How could he abandon this? Even now, people look up to him. They don't see it as selling out, they see it as the next big step in his career. Hearing them talk almost quelled the anger in your heart.

A hush falls over part of the crowd. Spray cans fall silent, chatter is reduced to reverent whispers, and you turn just in time to hear the man speak.

“Look who it is! Miss me, baby?”

“Prophet,” you mutter as you get up, squaring off against him. There he goes, pretending nothing is different. “Playing at being part of the street even though you spend your nights in that cushy tower?”

Your words cause a murmur to spread through the crowd, but Prophet just chuckles, acting as though you told a joke. “Don't forget, this is my home. I grew up here. You saying I don't belong here anymore?”

Instead of answering, you just raise your hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you're the one who said it.”

Prophet's smile falls as he watches you. “You seem to be the only one who's mad. Maybe you're actually just jealous, hm?”

Why is this becoming a diss challenge? You don't want to argue, you just want your boyfriend back.

“Forget about the crowd for once, Prophet. I'm not gonna play these games. Let's go back to the Encore together.”

Now that made him laugh. “You think you can take me? You think it's that simple? It would be funny, if it wasn't so pathetic.”

How could he talk to you like this? It was like he was a totally different guy.

“I'm going to start swinging. And when I knock you on your ***, I'm taking you back to The Encore. No more Harmony, no more gatekeeping.”

His eyes narrow, all that friendly familiarity gone from him. “I’d like to see you try.”

The both of you break out into a fight. The people around you swarm the sides, all desperate to get a good look at the fight, and you can’t help but wish they’d all go away. Prophet is probably acting this way because of all these people.

He always loved to put on a good show.

And your fight ends up as quite the spectacle. Prophet spits words at you almost too quickly for you to keep up, but every time he throws a hit, you manage to parry and counter them all. You’re so locked in that you can feel how tense your muscles are. 

One thing hasn’t changed: you’re incredibly nimble, especially compared to him. You slip past all of his attacks, you taunt him. You don’t know when, but the crowd fades away and leaves just you two to tango. When you tease him too much, he scoffs.

“Warm up’s over,” he tells you as he cracks his knuckles, but you’re not done with him.

He gets more aggressive. He’s not waiting for a perfect move anymore. More than anything, he wants to get you to back down, even if that means getting tougher with you.

And when the adrenaline starts pumping too hard, he makes a lunge for you. It’s a sloppy lunge, and you duck under, sticking your leg out and tripping him to the ground. You smile at him as he turns to sit, glaring at you.

Before he can get up, you point at him. “And there you are, on your ***. Guess that means I’m taking you back to The Encore.”

“It ain’t that simple. I’d like to come back with you, sweetie, but I got things to do. You wouldn’t understand.”

“There it is again,” you tell him, narrowing your eyes. "‘I wouldn’t understand.’ Probably because you never bother to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours!”

No, he didn’t. Prophet took on that burden by himself. He thought he could carry it without needing to worry you.

He sighs as he pulls himself up, shifting onto one knee. He gestures you closer, and you oblige, letting him take your hands in his.

“I wanted to keep you from worrying. It wasn’t right to keep you in the dark.” He looks down, his fingers tracing circles on the back of your hands. “I just…” Finally, he looks back up at you. “I wanted to protect everyone, you included. I thought, if I took Harmony’s deal, I’d be able to keep an eye on everyone. Keep the execs from comin’ down on them.”

He finally gets up to his feet, but not before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry for walking away from you. I was doing what I thought was right.”

You purse your lips tight as you watch him unfold to his full height. “Just like you, always wanting to protect others. You’d sell your soul to keep your friends safe.”

“But I left you to do it. How can you forgive that?” “Probably because I love you.” Plus, you understood what he was doing. Maybe there would be more talking involved at a later date, but for now, you were happy to have him back.

Your quick response gets a smile out of him, and he picks you up in a hug. “You are an angel, you know that? I’m never leaving you again.”

You would hold him to that.