#Dixie Melody

[fredandginger64]

"Rock-a-bye Your Baby With A Dixie Melody" has been playing in my brain for 2 days. I cannot get over how much better Jerry sings it than anybody else.

[dailylooneys]

The Dixie Fryer

(1960, Robert McKimson)

[jerrylewis-thekid]

Rock-A-Bye Your Baby With A Dixie Melody Al Jolson - Dean Martin - Jerry Lewis

[mood2you]

That's the reason Gomer Pyle would heal our rifts. I mean our "artistic rifts"

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 15 | S.R

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Summary - Spencer’s birthday continues to not go entirely as planned. An argument leads to Spencer’s biggest confession yet which in turn leads him to decide he is finally ready to take the next step in recovery.

A/N - @andiebeaword brought to my attention a scene from Hart of Dixie for which their stable scene is loosely based around.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, arguing, mentions of dissociation and self harm, swearing, detailed talk of past sexually assault and use of “rape”, making out, fingering, handjob, penetrative, unprotected sex, cock warming, oral sex (f receiving), cum play(?), self deprecating thoughts.

WC - 5.7K

Chapter 15 - Heavens Just a Sin Away

Everything you had assumed would happen when the fuel of alcohol was added to the flames of your anger, did happen. The more you drank, the more enraged you felt towards Spencer and it showed. 

The band, the Lonestar Gamblers were average at best but it didn’t stop you from dancing along to their country western melodies, trying to encourage Spencer to join you but continuously being shut down by mumbles of “I don’t dance.”

The more you observed him, the more your resentment grew. He was subconsciously running his fingers over the arm sling as though he was in pain and trying to take his mind off of it. But if he was in pain, he had no one to blame but himself. 

And you couldn’t move past it, no matter how much you wanted to. 

Perhaps that was why when you felt a strange and warm body pressing up against you from behind while you danced, you didn’t question it. You let the person snake their arms around your waist, grinding against you from behind. 

You didn’t even mind when they turned you in their arms to face them. The man was fairly young and moderately attractive. He dressed as was the norm for these parts. He had blonde hair which was swept back off of his face and large blue eyes which were staring right at you.

“Howdy there little lady,” he spoke, his hands returning to your waist and swaying you in time to the music.

“Hi,” you replied, letting your body be moved by the man's strong hands. 

“You are far too beautiful to be up here dancin’ on your own.” He smirked at you.

“Well I ain’t alone anymore am I, stud?” You returned his smile, using the nickname you usually reserved for Spencer.

“No ma’am you ain’t.” He chuckled deeply, pressing his body flush against yours. 

The whole thing only lasted a minute or so before Spencer was at your side, gripping your shoulder and pulling you off of the blonde cowboy. It was all too reminiscent of Grant and your encounter with him.

“She’s with me.” He spat at the man. 

“Didn’t look like it to me.” The other man folded his arms across his chest in what was supposed to be an intimidating fashion. Spencer was not perturbed. 

“Well, she is. So hit the road.” Spencer scoffed. 

The blonde rolled his eyes and unfolded his arms with a huff.

“Whatever, ain’t worth the hassle.” He shook his head, soon turning on the heels of his cowboy boots. 

Once he was gone, you turned to Spencer with an unamused look on your face.

“What the hell was that about? I was just having a little fun.” You growled at him.

“Trying to make me jealous?” He cocked an eyebrow at you. 

“Not everything has to be about you.” You suddenly pushed past him, making a beeline for the front door.

Spencer ground his teeth before following you, this situation all too familiar to him. You pushed your way outside and Spencer was hot on your heels. You didn’t stop, just kept walking in the direction of his ranch.

You were tipsy but not so drunk that you didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t sway on your feet or stumble. If Spencer didn’t know any better he would think you hadn’t been drinking at all.

“Would you slow down?” He called after you, impressed you could walk so fast in your high heels.

“Nope.” You spat over your shoulder, and if anything you picked up your pace. 

Spencer grunted, hurrying after you like a lost puppy. Even when he caught you, you wouldn't look at him. 

“This is still about what happened yesterday, right? My dissociation, my self-harm.” He watched the side of your face as you both continued to walk. 

“You’re suicide attempt you mean?” You bit back, eyes trained straight ahead. 

“Accidental.” He corrected you.

This gave you pause and you suddenly halted in your tracks and faced him glaring wildly at him.

“I don’t care if it was accidental or not, Spencer!” You raised your voice. “I am never going to get that image out of my head. I tried to put it aside to give you a good birthday but I can’t ignore how fucking angry I am!” 

“You aren’t the only one.” He scoffed. “You think it didn’t make me angry seeing you dancing with that guy? On my birthday?” 

“I can’t dance with someone?” You played innocent.

“There’s dancing and then there's dancing, Y/N. What you were doing was more just than dancing and you know it.” Spencer rolled his eyes. 

“Well with any luck he might not be as much of a fucking mess as you.” You spat, causing Spencer’s eyes to turn dark. 

“Fuck you,” he growled with a shake of his head. “You think this is easy for me? To find out I opened my home to a goddamn murderer! I’m going to have to leave my ranch to keep you safe, do you know that? As long as Luke knows where I live, you aren’t safe. We’re going to have to flee and I’m going to have to leave everything behind that I’ve been building for the last two years. If I can give up my entire life for you, the least you can do is cut me some slack over my goddamn mental illness!” 

He was yelling loudly, thank god there weren’t any people on the street. You scowled at him as angrily as you could but inside you wanted to cry. You should have known he would use that against you, throw it back in your face. Spencer liked to act like the nice guy, the caring guy, but ultimately he was just the same as everyone else, wasn’t he?

“Go to hell.” You snarled. “You don’t have to do anything. First thing tomorrow I am outta here, on my own. I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone.” 

You turned to storm away again as you felt the first rain drop hit your exposed shoulder. You’d barely taken three steps before the heavens opened and it started pouring.

The sound of the rain as it slammed against the asphalt assaulted your ears as the water almost instantly soaked you through. You looked back at Spencer as he was reaching towards you. 

You let him grab your wrist and soon the two of you were running a little way down the street. There was an old, slightly dilapidated stable up the road which you’d passed countless times but never paid much attention to. 

Spencer let go of your arm so he could wrench open the rickety door. He moved his hand to your back and hurried you inside before he followed, quickly closing the door behind himself.

It was immediately clear that the stable was disused. All the paddocks were empty and all they remained was piles and piles of hay and a lone rusty pitchfork hanging on one wall. 

Spencer grunted as he got the large door closed and turned to you. His overgrown hair was drenched, hanging limply around his face as water beads dripped onto his shirt. 

His shirt was wet through, clinging to his body the same way his jeans were. You could feel your dress also bonding to your skin with the water. 

The rain beat heavily on the tin roof, almost aggressive in its downpour.  The two of you stood a few feet apart staring at each other for several long minutes, lost in the sound of the rain. 

He moved his good arm to his neck when he unfastened his saturated sling, peeling it away from himself and dropping it onto the floor.

He flexed his fingers a few times, his face creasing in pain.

“I really think you should keep that on.” You huffed. 

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt too much.” He shook his head in defiance. “I guess there’s a storm coming.”

“No kidding.” You rolled your eyes, running your hands over the sopping fabric of your dress. 

Spencer exhaled, straightened up and dared to take a half step closer to you. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” He croaked. “Not without me. I love my ranch but I love you more.” 

“What happened to you?” You asked, seemingly ignoring him. “Why are you like this? Trust me, I know all about prison being stressful but there is more to it than that. You need to tell me right now what it is you’re keeping from me or I swear to god Spencer, I will leave and never look back. I love you but I have to know what I’m up against here. You almost killed yourself and I deserve to know why.” 

Spencer averted his gaze towards the dusty, hay riddled floor and scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. He knew that he owed you an explanation but it didn’t mean he readily wanted to give you one. But he knew it was time. 

He knew if he wasn’t honest with you, you were going to leave him. You may even leave him once you knew the truth. But at least if you had all the facts you could make an informed decision and maybe, just maybe you would choose to stay despite what he’d been through. 

He looked back at you and you could see a wealth of sadness hidden behind his eyes. You already knew what he was going to say was going to be huge. He took a long breath in, held it for five seconds before exhaling it and then he spoke the words he wished to never have to say out loud again. 

“I was sexually assaulted in prison.” He said, ripping it off like a bandaid. “Technically I was raped. Three different men forced me to perform oral sex on them. Because of the crippling fear, I got an erection and they berated me for it. 

“I have not had sex since. The most intimate I have managed to be since has been with you. Before I met you I couldn’t even get erect, let alone orgasm. I couldn’t kiss Luke without feeling sick, nevermind anything else. My dissociation seems to happen the most often after intimacy as it leads me to think about what happened to me.

“We, uh…were amorous and then you left. What I needed was comfort, just someone to be there so I didn’t go off of the deep end like I did. But you couldn’t have known that because I didn’t tell you and I should have. I should have been honest with you the first time we kissed and I pushed you away but I didn’t. I couldn’t. 

“Talking about what happened to me is the hardest thing I have ever done and the only other person I have told is my therapist. Luke knew, he said he saw my prison medical records, I’m sure you heard that when you were eavesdropping on us. My old boss knew too for the same reason.

“But saying it out loud is…there isn’t a good enough word to describe how difficult it is. I was raped. I was assaulted by three fellow inmates who saw me as weak and subservient. That’s why I have PTSD, that’s why I dissociate sometimes and that’s why there is some part of me that apparently wants to die, okay? Now you know.” 

He became irate towards the end, pacing back and forth in the stable and not allowing himself to look at you for fear of what your reaction might be. 

For a minute or two after he stopped talking, you were silent and you digested his words. You’d had your suspicions about what had happened to him but hearing the words out loud caused you to wince. 

You watched him pace, trying to think of any words that might help him but knowing there were none. You had no idea what he was going through, no idea of the damage that kind of trauma did to a person. 

You cautiously stepped closer to him, stepping in the path he’d been walking back and forth which forced him to halt in his tracks. His eyes flit up to yours, full of unshed tears. You reached for him, careful not to touch him before he gave you a soft nod. His flinching at unprovoked touch made so much sense now.

When he nodded, giving you the green light, you raised your hands and placed them on either side of his face. Skin on skin, help keep him tethered. He seemed to relax at your touch, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he exhaled through his nose. When he opened them again, the tears hidden there previously were gone.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Spencer.” You whispered, only just loud enough to be heard over the onslaught of rain on the roof. “I wish I had the magic words to say to make it better for you but I don’t think there is any such thing. What happened to you is horrifying, no one should have to go through that. I’m sorry I forced that out of you.”

“I figured I’d have to tell you eventually, I just…I hate saying it out loud, it makes it so real.” He swallowed, nuzzling into your touch. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, at a loss for what to say. “And you know we never have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with or that you’re not ready for.” 

Spencer nodded, nuzzling further against your hand. His stubble was getting long and was less scratchy than it was previously on your palm. 

“I don’t want to keep letting them win.” He sucked in a breath. “I can’t keep letting them win.” 

Before you could respond his hand was on the back of your neck and he drew you close before crashing your lips together. 

You gasped at his sudden kiss and his tongue plunged between your parted lips. He started moving you backwards while keeping a firm hold on the back of your neck. 

He kissed you fiercely, moaning into your mouth like you’d never heard him before. He continued to move you until your legs hit something and a second later you were both topping backwards onto a bundle of hay. 

Spencer kept his lips on yours while his hand that had been on your neck moved between your bodies. His body weight was pressing into you, his left arm too weak from his fractures to hold himself up. 

His hand glided down the fabric of your dress before disappearing under the hem, shimming the garment up your legs and soon his fingers were brushing over your panties clad core. 

You hissed into his mouth and he tore his lips away, resting his forehead against yours instead. His eyes were full of a combination of lust and fear. 

“Sp-Spencer,” you moaned as he stroked you through your panties again.

His lip quipped into a smirk as he pushed the material aside and with no warning plunged two fingers inside of you. 

You moaned so loudly it rivalled the sound of the rain still drumming down on the tin ceiling. The sudden movement caused you to jerk on the bed of hay, scratching your arms but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

Spencer’s fingers buried inside of you, brushing up against your cervix as your walls fluttered around his digits. He was already painfully hard just from the feeling of you around his fingers. 

You were already soaking, coating his hand in your arousal but the rain drowned out the sounds as he moved in and out of you, scissoring his fingers. 

His wet hair fell in his face, framing his sharp features. The bulge in his slacks was even more noticeable through the rain drenched fabric. 

You reached for him but stopped short before you touched him. He roughly thrust his fingers back inside of you, jerking you on the hay bale again whilst nodding his head. 

You fumbled a little with the button of his jeans as wave after wave of pleasure flooded your body. When you got it undone you reached straight inside the wet fabric and pulled his shaft free. 

He scrunched his eyes close as you hand wrapped around him, his fingers stilling momentarily. You watched him take a few deep breaths and his lips moved ever so slightly as though he was talking but no words come out. 

In his head he repeated the words he’d penned in his therapy session some eighteen months ago. 

I was sexually assaulted, but I am not a victim. I was coerced but I am not weak. I am in control of my own body, of my own mind. I will not let them win, I will not let them ruin my life. 

I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I am a good person. I am a strong person. I will move past this. I won't let them break me. I am still worthy of love and affection. I am still whole.

I am still whole. 

I am still whole. I am still whole. 

His eyes shot back open and he looked down on you, withdrawing his fingers. You whined as he did so, worried he was imminently about to freak out. 

Instead he parted your legs wider, took his shaft from your hand and held it in his own as he moved in closer to you, moving your panties aside once more. 

“Spencer,” you panted as the head of his cock moved between your legs. “We don’t have to do this. I don’t want to rush you.” 

“I'm ready.” He spoke with as much confidence as he could muster. “I am still whole.” 

You let your legs fall further open as he pressed his thick head at your slick entrance. He kept his eyes on you, manoeuvring your hips a little and you arched your back, allowing Spencer to glide inside of you swiftly. 

His eyes widened and the most feral sound you’ve ever heard left his lips as your slicken walls caused him to plunge all the way inside he was entirely sheathed in your cunt. 

You noticed his stomach clench through his shirt, his weight balanced on his one good arm but it was shaking. For a moment or two he didn’t move, simply stared down at you in incomprehensible awe. 

His breathing was heavy and rapid, his chest heaving with each inhale and exhale. His eyes suddenly glossed over with tears and you felt his cock twitch deep inside of you. 

“Oh my gosh.” He spoke, his sentence punctuated with heavy pants. “I…I…” 

“It’s okay,” you cooed, reaching up to brush his damp locks out of his eyes.

“Y/N, there is not a single word that exists in any known language to accurately describe what this feels like.” He whined as he spoke. “The closest I can think of would simply be…heaven.” 

You smiled at him, hand now on his cheek. You let him take his time, grow accustomed to the feeling and gather his emotions. 

Every now and again his cock would pulse and cause you to clench which would in turn make him moan. 

For a while you just laid there listening to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the rain that continued to fall outside. The bed of hay was uncomfortable and itchy but you barely noticed. 

After a while you shifted slightly, wrapping your legs around his lithe waist and locking yourself in place at the ankles. His hips rolled in a slow and steady movement as he readjusted himself. 

“I love you,” he whispered, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I love you too.” You spoke in equally hushed tones. 

Steadying himself on his good arm, he gradually pulled his hips back until barely an inch of him was still inside of you before leisurely thrusting again until he bottomed out. 

He did this a couple of times, careful, calculated movements and each time you whimpered when his blunt head tapped against your cervix. 

He slowly started to increase his speed, delirious from the way you stretched around him each time. It didn’t take long for his hips to start working of their own accord and soon he was snapping back and forth, pounding into you harder and harder. 

You moaned with every thrust while Spencer was making grunts of appreciation. A bead of sweat gathered at his temple and your legs tightened around his waist. 

He kept his eyes on you, not looking away for even a second. You arched back off of the hay bale and he growled at the new angle, somehow managing to get even deep inside of you. 

He was heavy and thick between your legs, forcing your body to accommodate him in ways you’d never experienced before. You were bending to his whim, and it made him dizzy. 

Hips still bucking back and forth now somewhat rampantly as he chased both of your highs, he could feel you clenching around his length and his legs buckled slightly. 

He was panting so heavily you could barely hear the rain anymore. The slick sound of your arousal as he dove in and out of you echoed around the empty stable. 

He bowed his head and kissed your jaw sloppily, never letting up on his ministrations. 

“I’m, uh, embarrassingly close.” He panted against your skin. “I'm so sorry, it’s been so long.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed as he slammed inside of you again. “M-me too.” 

He lifted himself on his one good arm again so he was hovering above you. He could feel the tell tale pinching and coiling in his stomach, the tightening of his balls as his body prepared for his release. 

Suddenly your eyes rolled back into your head with a particularly hard thrust and your lips parted for a string of moans and curses to escape. 

You reached for him blindly, grabbing hold of his good arm and digging your nails into the damp fabric of his shirt. He could feel you clenching harder than before. He knew what was happening and that was confirmed when you screamed, “fuck, fuck I’m…oh god!”

The pleasure rippled through your body, causing you to convulse on the hay bale beneath you. Seeing your own orgasm flood your features was enough for Spencer to allow his own cord to snap. 

With a couple more rough thrusts he reached his peak and fell on top of you as his cock twitched inside of you as he filled you with his seed. 

His hips continued to lazily buck as he rode out his release, expelling every little drop of himself inside of your still fluttering walls. 

When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull out, instead he peppered kisses across your jaw and cheek before finding your lips. 

He kissed you messily, tongue roaming your mouth with no real precision or finesse. You returned the kiss in much the same way. 

You wet clothes clung to each other and your legs fell from their position around his waist as though you were a rag doll. He still didn’t withdraw, he was starting to slowly grow flaccid inside of you but still didn’t move. 

You could feel the combination of both of your arousals leaking down your inner thighs, pooling on the bed of hay beneath you. 

Spencer pulled back from your lips and buried his head in the crook of your neck, breath tickling your sensitive skin. 

“I just wanna stay like this forever.” He mumbled sleepily. 

“Me too.” You agreed, stroking his messy hair. “You’re okay?” 

He exhaled, slowly lifting his head so he could look at you. He had a tired smile on his lips as he nodded his head.

“I think so,” he rolled his lip between his teeth. “I feel more free than I have in a long time. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t still have a slight guilt gnawing on my chest.” 

“I imagine that it will take some time to lift completely.” You smiled a little sadly at him. “But you don’t…regret it or anything?” 

“Not in the slightest.” He was quick to reply. 

“Good.” You nodded, wiggling a little beneath him as he became soft inside of you. “You’re gonna have to move eventually.” 

“Hmm, probably.” He agreed with a small chuckle. “You just feel so fucking good.” 

You drew him close for a kiss and while his tongue was traversing the planes of your mouth he cautiously slid out. You whined against his lips as it caused more of his arousal to drip down your thighs. 

He sat back and unashamedly glanced between your body, seeing the slick coating your skin. He tucked himself away and buttoned his jeans before surprising you by dropping to his knees on the dusty floor.

He grabbed you by your ankles and tugged your body closer to the edge of the hay bale. You gasped when his tongue flattened against your inner thigh, lapping up the mess he’d left behind.

You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could get a good look at him. He glanced at you through his lashes as he moved his mouth to your other thigh and offered it the same treatment. 

You squirmed as his face ebbed closer to your core, your panties still pushed off to the side. You stared down at him, chest heaving. 

“What are you…what are you doing?” You panted. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He sat back a little, smirking at you dangerously. “I’ve gotta clean up the mess I made.”

He quickly leaned in close again and shifted your panties so they were completely out of his way before he tongue dove between your folds. You moaned so deeply the walls shook, wriggling and writhing beneath him at the feeling of his mouth on your sensitive area.

Spencer didn’t seem to notice and collected all of your combined arousal on his tongue before wrapping his lips around your swollen bud. Your legs hung next to his face, shaking at the overstimulation.

“F-fuck Spence So s-senstive.” You whined, still staring down at him in shock. 

You felt him laugh causing a vibration to tear through your whole body. His tongue was rapidly moving against your clit in desperation to bring you another orgasm. 

Before long you felt two fingers between your legs and he plunged them inside of your throbbing cunt making another rampant moan leave your chest. His fingers moved in and out of you needily, his tongue flicking back and forth over your clit. 

You were especially responsive, every tiny flicker of his tongue and thrust of his fingers causing your body to jerk and shudder. It didn’t take him long at all to bring you to orgasm for a second time, already incredibly tender from the previous one. 

He knew it was happening before it washed over you, your walls clamping around his fingers and your body thrashing on the pile of hale while you moaned under your breath, “S’too much. S’ too much.”

When you came a second time your skin blanched at the overwhelming pleasure pulsing through every nerve ending of your body. You tried to push him away when he didn’t move, but he remained stalwart, determined to clean up every last drop of your arousal. 

Eventually he relented, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at the mess he created. You had a few tears rolling down your cheeks, your face blotchy and flushed. You were breathing so heavily you looked as though you’d run a marathon.

Spencer smiled to himself as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. He got to his feet and took hold of one of your hands in his good one, pulling you to a sitting position on the hay. 

You crumpled almost immediately, your body collapsing against his chest and he was quick to wrap you in his arms. A twinge of pain spread up his left forearm as he wrapped it around you but he ignored it. 

You seemed so small and fragile at that moment. You rested against him, he was the only thing holding you upright. Your body heaved in his arms as you tried to catch your breath. 

This was without a doubt what heaven must feel like. You were the angel waiting at the pearly gates, he was sure of it. What he felt for you right then was bigger than simple love, he couldn’t put a word to it, but love wasn’t enough.

After a little while he felt your breathing start to return to something akin to normal and you forced your head up to look at him. 

“You okay?” He asked with a soft smile. 

“I t-think so.” You nodded slowly. 

“Sounds like it's stopped raining.” He nodded his head towards the door behind him. 

You inhaled, focusing your hearing and it was only then you realised that the downpour on the tin roof had ceased and all you could hear was your own breathing. 

“Maybe not a storm after all.” You mumbled sleepily.

“You think you’re going to be able to walk home?” He took half a step back, helping you up on your shaky legs.

“Hmm, I hope so.” You chuckled slightly. 

He stroked your hair back off of your face and kissed your forehead gently. 

“First thing tomorrow I am going to put the wheels in motion for us to leave Bandera.” 

“Spencer…” you chewed your lip. “I don’t want you to have to leave your ranch because of me.” 

“I meant it when I said I love you more than my ranch. And there is no way I am letting you go, not now and not ever. We’re going to have a clean break, a fresh start. Just the two of us.” 

His words wrapped you in a blanket of warmth and adoration. You knew no matter what, you would be tied to Spencer forever. And honestly nothing had ever sounded sweeter. 

***

Later that night, long after you’d fallen asleep, Spencer sat on the side of the tub in his bathroom, staring at the wall. 

He should feel relieved for finally being able to take that step with you, giving you a piece of himself he thought he could no longer part with. He was partially grateful to have finally gotten over that hurdle but at the same time he didn’t think he deserved to feel that way. 

The guilt spiral hadn’t come which was something of a miracle. Instead he was left feeling numb to it all. 

He should feel guilty, shouldn’t he? How could he let himself get close to someone in that way? He was dirty, broken, used up; it wasn’t fair for you to simply have the scraps left over from those men. 

How could he allow himself happiness, a moment to feel whole when he was fractured and scarred from their abuse? 

What was so wrong with his mind that he couldn’t just let himself revel in the euphoria a little longer? Had they broken him so badly that he could only allow himself to be consumed by the numbness? 

At the very least, it was better than how he’d reacted in your previous intimate experiences. He should be thankful he wasn’t crumbling or dissociating. 

Maybe numb was the best he could let himself feel. Perhaps he’d never be able to cling to that high after the moment passed. 

Those men had ruined him one way or another. Even if he didn’t succumb entirely to the darkness they’d stripped him of his ability to retain happiness. 

And you deserved more than this. You deserved more than he was able to give you. He loved you but he was never going to be able to give himself fully to you. 

He’d thought that once he’d moved past that final stumbling block he would be free of it all, to hand his mind, body and soul over to you. 

But he realised now with startling clarity that there would probably always be a piece of himself that he couldn’t give to you, a piece that still belonged to his three attackers. One he would never get back. 

He sat wallowing in the nothingness for some time before forcing himself back into bed. He slid beneath the sheet next to your sleeping form and watched as you breathed gently in and out. 

A whisper of light slivered its way through the blinds from the moon and cast its glow across your face. You were most certainly an angel sent from heaven but Spencer wasn’t worthy of you. 

You seemed so peaceful and he was a little envious of that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt that kind of peace. 

He couldn’t walk away from you, that much he knew for certain. No matter that you were too good for him, he couldn’t leave you if he tried. But that made him selfish. 

He should let you go, let you find someone who was more than a broken jigsaw with a missing puzzle piece. It was the right thing to do, the fair thing to do. 

But he needed you, you were the only one who was able to quell his darkness even if it didn’t seem that way. He needed you no matter how much it hurt. 

It was cruel of him. And yet he would cling to you with everything he had. Because without you there was no telling what kind of depths he would succumb to, what kind of misery awaited him. 

He stroked your hair back from your forehead and you stirred briefly but quickly stilled. His heart was entwined with yours, so deeply entrenched there was no untangling it. 

But there would always be a piece of him he couldn’t give you, a fragment of his heart which had been sorely removed by those men. Physically he’d given himself over to you, but emotionally there would always be a part of himself he couldn’t bestow upon you. 

He hoped that it would be enough, that he was enough. And perhaps one day he would finally be worthy of your love. 

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling

[sadly-never-after]

Music in the EAH Universe and who listens to them Part 5.

This is just an excuse to try to make music puns and share music I think the characters would listen to. (Some of these are even canon by the books!) I don't even like a majority of these musicians but I am fully convinced of my choices here. I marked in colours the one that are canonically part of the EAH Universe.

Since Tumblr only allows 100 inline links for a post I have to make different parts.

Part 1 (Alistair, Apple, Ashlynn, Blondie, Briar, Bunny)

Part 2 (Cupid, Cedar, Cerise, Chase Courtly, Daring)

Part 3 (Darling, Dexter, Duchess, Farrah, Faybelle, Ginger)

Part 4 (Holly, Hopper, Humphrey, Hunter, Jillian, Justine)

Part 5 (Kitty, Lizzie, Maddie, Meeshell, Melody, Nina)

Part 6 (Poppy, Ramona, Raven, Rosabella, Sparrow, Tucker)

ᓚᘏᗢ ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ Kitty Cheshire ✩° 𖦹｡⋆☽ ᗢᘏᓗ

Godmother, Godmother (Burning Pile, Oh Ana, Verbatim)

The Neverland Experience (Cult of Dionysus, Queen of White Lies, Your New Boyfriend)

Spellanie Martínez (Pity Party, Tag, You're It, Mad Hatter)

Marina & the Diamond Cards (Hermit The Frog, Rootless, The Outsider)

Tailor Hall (You, Ruler of Everything, Turn the Lights Off)

♛ 🂱༺♥️༻🂱 ♛ Lizzie Hearts ♛ 🂱༺♥️༻🂱 ♛

Katy Fairy (Dark Horse, Hot N Cold, Teenage Dream)

Marina & the Diamond Cards (Lonely Hearts Club, I Love You But I Love Me More, Rootless)

Nixie (Your Best American Girl, Goodbye my Danish Sweetheart, First Love/Late Spring)

Yes, Yes, Yeses (Heads will roll, Shame and Fortune, Dragon Queen)

Lana d'Aulnoy (Without You, Dark Paradise, Chemtrails Over the Country Club)

☕ ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🎩 Madeline Hatter 🎩★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆ ۪ ⋆ 𓈒 ׂ☕

Giantz (19-2000 - Soulchild Remix, Fire Coming out of the Monkey's Head, Pac-Man)

Plucky Tailor (Stout-Hearted Men, It Gets Better All The Time, Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing)

David Longbow (Under Pressure, Starman, Oh! You Pretty Things)

Of Wonderland (Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games, Lysergic Bliss, Peace To All Freaks)

Tailor Hall (Mucka Blucka, Banana Man, The Whole World and You)

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 Meeshell Mermaid 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

FKA Witch (Water Me, Ultraviolet, Give Up)

Florence & the Mill (Swimming, Never Let Me Go, Mermaids)

Lana D'Aulnoy (Mariner's Apartment Complex, Video Games, High by the Beach)

Nixie (Come into the water, Pearl Diver, Valentine, Texas)

Reigning Spectre (Tornadoland, Us, Samson)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆🐭⋆.˚✮ Melody Piper ✮˚.⋆🐭⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

Giantz (Dare, Every Planet We Reach Is Dead, Tomorrow Comes Today)

N-Chant (Shoulda Known, Ball & Lead, Monday)

Lil' Swain (Forever, Annihilate, Mrs. Officer)

Twenty one King's Men (Message Man, Stressed Out, Guns for Hands)

Cage the Dragon (Trouble, Cigarette Daydreams, Telescope)

Tyler the Narrator (Earfquake, Corso, New Magic Wand)

🍄🦋🌸 Nina Thumbell 🍄🦋🌸

ABBA-cadabra (Chiquitita, I Have A Dream, Waterloo)

Dolly Charmton (Coat of Many Colors, Wildflowers, Love is like a Butterfly)

Elvis Princely (Burning Love, You're the Devil in Disguise, Hound Dog)

Ever After Authors (Best Day of My Life, We Happy Don't Worry, Daisies)

Joan Bard (The Night they drove Old Dixie down, Farewell, Angelina, Love is just a four-letter word)

You are trapped on an eight-hour long road trip with these guys and you have to give one of them the aux chord.

[odinsblog]

ALICE RANDALL, on how she became a country music writer at the age of 23

Well, I decided to become a Black country songwriter and publisher. I was founding Midsummer Music because I was born in Detroit City in 1959, at the same year as Motown Records, and my father did not read books to me. He told me stories, and one of the stories he told me over and over was the founding of Anna Records that Barry Gordy's sisters had founded a year before Motown.

So he talked to me about women being song publishers and record company executives and songwriters, and I heard those stories and followed in Anna's footsteps.

On writing country melodies

I teasingly say that my melodies are so simple that when the ones I come up with, if I can sing them, the whole world can sing them, so it goes well for having hit sometimes. But I came to Nashville via Harvard in Washington, DC so I sort of took the skills that I learned analyzing the Harlem Renaissance poets and Shakespeare and Jane Austen, and I applied them to country lyrics. I love British metaphysical poetry and American metaphysical poetry, and it was alive and it was alive and hiding in country and western music, and I found it.

On race in the country music industry

The racial fault line in country is all around that theme of the past is better than the present. In much of white country, the past that is better than the present is a mythologized Dixie. In much of Black Country, the past that is better than the present, is a time in childhood where your parents were able, against all odds, to protect you, or a lost Africa before colonization that's manifest by nature.

On what makes a country song, country

Well, the equation is Celtic, that's English, Irish, Scottish ballot forms, plus African influences, plus evangelical Christianity equals country music. Don't have the Black influences, and you probably got folk music. Don't have the evangelical Christianity, and you may have blues.

It's emotional, and they're themes, the big themes of country, as far as I see it. Life is hard, God is real, the road, family, and liquor are significant compensations, and the past is better than the present.

On metaphors

Well, these lyrics, these really complicated lyrics such as, ‘Drop kick me, Jesus, through the goalpost of life,’ that's an extended metaphysical conceit. And you know what? On Beyoncé’s new album, Cowboy Carter, Bodyguard is another one of those extended, complex metaphors that we see all through country.

On Black women in country music

I feel actually a Juneteenth, which is good news at long last. Because I will be 65 May 4th, and I have been in country and western music for 41 years professionally.

When I arrived here in 1983, Charlie Pride had been to the number one spot 29 times. It was about to go up for another time. So many Black men have gotten to the number one spot.

I can't remember all their names, but literally not one Black woman performer had gotten there. There's a phrase I want to say, cultural redlining. Black women have been culturally redlined out of that.

They had not been given the economic resources to make the campaign to get there. And Beyoncé eclipsed all of that. And I can retire now with a joy that all three of the things I wanted to see, they got done.

One came in right at the last moment, wouldn't have gotten there without Queen B.

On representation and the first time she heard one of her songs performed by Adia Victoria, a Black woman

I cried. I cried. Just thinking back on it right now almost makes me cry again.

It changed the whole beginning of my book, because I knew I had to start with that moment. Over the years, I've been honored, and I tell the story. Glenn Campbell, Moe Bandy, Radney Foster, Tricia Yearwood, so many extraordinary stars had sung my songs.

But no one had ever looked like me had sung one of my songs. And more significantly, listeners thought all the heroes and sheroes in my songs were white, because the singers were white. And some of those heroes and sheroes, I had imagined them, all of them I had imagined as Black.

And I was willing and embraced people projecting their identities onto them, but I resisted the identities I had originally imagined and created being erased. And Adia Victoria added the color back to that cowboy. And 20 to 30% of all cowboys in the American West were Black and Brown, and they deserve to be remembered.

And if we don't remember them, we cannot properly encounter Cowboy Carter.

[theehorsepusssy]

I came across a song about being a gravedigger and romancing and cannibalizing the dead. But I remember absolutely jackshit about it other than it. No genre no melody no artist no words, and I'm absolutely devastated.

Im googling and just heard some god awful Dixie Chix type of audio terrorism for 20 seconds and aborted my search.

But I did find a GRAAAAVE-DIIIGGGGGERRRRRRR gif

[nayialovecat]

Can I get any more hints for the challenge? Perhaps a list of fandoms you like, or a reworded clue?

Ok, it's even a good idea to write down what things I like. Especially since lately I have been often asked to draw something or to make a cross with something that I only know it exists.

I divided the list into categories to avoid any doubts (e.g. BATIM is only in the games category, 'cause I haven't read the books and I don't plan to read them yet, and W.I.T.C.H. in comics, 'cause I hate the animated series).

Books: (here list is really long so I write only these very popular)

Discworld and others from sir Pretchett

The Lord of the Ring, Hobbit

Harry Potter

Agatha Christie's books

Jane Austen's books

Maria Rodziewiczówna's books

many old Polish authors (like Sienkiewicz)

Movies:

almost all from Disney

almost all from Pixar

Ghost Busters

almost all from DreamWorks

Beetlejuice

old Star Wars

LotR, Hobbit but not really

strange French animations

old Polish movies (like Odwrócona Góra)

Scooby Doo but not all (hate live actions especially)

Smurfs

Not all - Pokemon

Deadpool

Jurassic Park

good ol' classical movies like Terminator, Mission Impossible or Fifth Element

Animated serials:

Gravity Falls

Scooby Doo (ALL of them)

Star Butterfly

The Owl House

old Polish series (i.e. Dixie or Koziołek Matołek)

MLP (almost all generations)

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Spider-man (almost all)

Batman (not all, but Brave and Bold is my fav one)

Kipo

Rick and Morty (but last seasons were meh)

Phineas and Ferb (whole universum)

Smurfs

Duck Tales

Dead End: Paranormal Park

Steven Universe

Teen Titans (yes, Go! also)

Pokemon

Loony Tunes

Merry Melodies

Craig from the Creek

Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

other CN stuff I guess?

Comics:

Donald Duck (and others)

W.I.T.C.H.

Deadpool

Hellsing

The Bridge's Stories

many online series like Erma, Vampire's Husband etc.

Pokemon Special

Games:

Chrono Trigger (world best game - you cannot change my mind)

BATIM

The Sims

Don't Starve Together (+ Don't Starve)

The Night of the Rabbit

Pokemon (all of them I guess)

Fallout Shelter

Team Fortress 2

Planet Zoo

Timberborn

Settlers

Sid Meier's Civ

Heroes of Might & Magic (but not IV)

Terraforming Mars

Talisman

Magic the Gathering (TCG)

Death and Taxes

many point&click

Tzar

Aztec Wars

Jazz Jackrabbit 2

Worms

Inscryption

Graveyard Keeper

It's not a complete list, just the things I remember at this moment :)

[whatavery]

Wanderlust Chapter 1

The first chapter of my not-so-little fanfiction featuring the Dixie Jazz Drifters Orchestra's early days a decade before they became Lackadaisy's house band. While it plays a bit on what little we know of the band, a lot of this is also my personal head canon. I'll be posting the remaining chapters (So far) over the next few days.

---

The street outside St. Cloud station wasn’t a very busy one. It certainly put things into perspective, a stark contrast to how crowded other stations had been. It was overcast and windy as the next train pulled into the station, bringing with it metallic screeching as it came to a halt. A blanket of steam swept over the platform as passengers disembarked and new passengers got onboard. Joining the howling of the cool October breeze was the sound of smooth musical notes from two brass instruments.

Seated on their luggage, the two orange cats played on, even with the noise from the tank engine and the loud whistling from the conductor temporarily overpowering the sound of their tunes. It was a mellow, slow melody that greeted the passengers as they came around the depot from the platform. The two tomcats were dressed warmly in their coats, the trumpet player even wore fingerless gloves and a scarf. The hat sitting in front of the two was a bit of a sorry sight. In their almost full day at the station, they hadn’t managed to scrape much cash together for tickets to their next stop. Neither of them were deterred by any means. As the passengers came on by, the two cats played on. They didn’t make eye contact with any of them, just simply played as though they were machinations built to do that and nothing more.

Sy’s ears twitched ever so slightly at the sound of coins falling into the hat. He heard them clinking against what little was in there already, but he didn’t look yet.

Once the crowd dissipated, the two cats kept playing for a while longer, until they were quite a ways away. Sy was the first to lower his brass instrument from his lips. He leaned on over and picked up the hat. He scooped the coins up into his gloved hands and counted in his head, his green eyes lit up quite a bit once he finished counting. “Looks like we’ll make it to another station, Zib.”

The other cat lowered his clarinet after playing one of the simplistic early tunes he’d learned years ago. He put the clarinet on his lap and stretched each arm, making his joints pop slightly. “Good. Means we can get out’a here finally. What time is it?”

It was more of a question for himself than for Sy. Zib rose to his feet with a grunt, clarinet in hand, to stretch his legs. Neither of them carried a pocket watch with them. Their only way to measure time had been seeing the overcast sky turn gradually darker.

“Hang tight, I’ll get us some tickets,” Zib said as he reached a hand out towards Sy for the money. He then trudged towards the depot, leaving Sy by himself. Putting his trumpet back into its case, he too rose to his feet, getting a chance to stretch his legs as he put the hat back on his head, his ears laid back to accommodate it. He stuck his hands into his pockets and walked along the length of the depot, glancing towards the trees in the distance that surrounded the tracks. Many branches were completely barren, the few leaves that had held out against the changing seasons having taken on a darker, duller color by now. He remembered how green everything still was when they left Milwaukee.

It had been almost a full month on the road by now. And while Sy didn’t regret leaving with Zib, it was still a lot to get used to; not having a bed every night; not having a meal whenever they wanted it. But freedom… that they had in abundance. No one could tell them what to do out here. It was their own pace, their own schedule and their own journey.

Sy adjusted his scarf a bit and looked back towards their stuff. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They could only carry so much with them when they also had their instruments. They could both use a bath and fresh clothes, but right now, they were just aimlessly wandering, using the railroads as their only means of travel. They’d crossed over into Minnesota a while ago and it was the furthest either of them had ever been from home.

Sy wondered what would await him if he returned home. Maybe he ought to send a letter home… not that his family would have much of a chance to write back to him, considering how often they were moving to a new town or city. Unlike Zib, Sy hadn’t been leaving anything particularly bad. Sy knew Zib didn’t have the best home-life, and he knew he’d been considerably better off in that regard. But when Zib had stated his intentions to skip town as their peers prepared to move on to bigger and better things, Sy hadn’t hesitated to join him. Sy had left a letter for his family, explaining everything the day the two left together. He was sure Zib hadn’t done the same. Sy had had things lined up for him too, he was going to get into higher education, unlike Zib who had been a bit of a drifter around town for most of the time that they’d known each other…

A light chuckle escaped Sy as he remembered how a much younger Zib had to convince him that he wouldn’t die from skipping school. He remembered spending a whole day around town with Zib, constantly worried he’d look over his shoulder and see their teacher swooping down on them like a hawk.

Rustling, dry leaves blew past Sy's feet as he made his way back towards their luggage. Each had brought a suitcase’s worth of clothes and a case for their instruments. Said instruments were their only way to make money as of now. Sy had thought about taking on more traditional work whenever they hit another major city. It sounded a lot more stable and like it might actually allow them to have somewhere to stay as well, at least with any luck it might.

That said, remembering when they first started doing this also brought a smile to Sy’s face. Two little grade-school rascals on the street corner, playing for cash to buy sweets instead of going to classes. It had been Zib’s idea, of course. They weren’t much to write home about back then; their music dissonant, their much smaller lung capacities hindering them slightly. And of course, Zib hadn’t yet reached his current form where he could charm just about any woman with just his eyes and his tunes.

Zib had never been one for school. Not that he wasn’t bright at all, because he most certainly was. But institutions didn’t seem to agree with his free spirit. Though he’d never gotten as far as Sy had, according to Zib himself, he knew all he needed to know. He’d always been far more interested in his music, so he didn’t lack dedication – Sy knew that much.

Tickets in hand, Zib returned to Sy. Unlike his trumpet-playing comrade, Zib didn’t think about writing home, much less returning. He wasn’t in the mood to be talked down to about everything he did. No, he’d let his brothers enjoy the company of their dead-end parents. It wasn’t like they seemed to have much left for him besides scorn and disappointment. Hell, Zib wouldn’t be surprised if they enjoyed their disappointment in him – it had to get boring to constantly praise his brothers.

“Our train will be the next one pulling into the station. Wanna move around to sit by the platform?” Zib asked, tone not particularly enthused.

“And where are we getting off this time?” Sy asked. Though they usually stayed on the train and got off when they felt like it, this had resulted in them getting ejected from the train once, something Sy wasn’t too eager to relive. The shrug he got as a response certainly didn’t help either. Sy cracked a small smile and picked his stuff up. “Alright, you’re the boss…”

Zib returned the smile and walked with Sy and their stuff to the other side of the depot. The wind was starting to pick up and Zib wasn’t sure if it was getting late or if they were getting darker clouds overhead. Thankfully, they’d have some shelter if it did start raining, thanks to the depot’s roof.

“You want to go back to Milwaukee?” Zib asked suddenly, as if he’d been privy to Sy's private thoughts while he was gone. The clarinet playing cat reached into his pockets and while covering his work so the wind couldn’t ruin it, he rolled two cigarettes – one for each of them.

“No… Do you?” Sy asked as Zib lit his cigarette. He took the cigarette and took a drag and blew out the smoke to let it get carried away by a particularly cold gust of wind, the smoke swirling like a ghostly veil in the wind, before it dissipated completely. The two cats’ yellow-green eyes met for a moment as they stared at each other. Zib didn’t look particularly convinced, but Sy had also given up trying to read his friend’s facial expressions years ago. “Well, I just miss being home is all. I already told you I was coming with you to… find our destiny, was that what it was?”

Zib’s face broke into a smile as he reached over to pat Sy’s shoulder, even giving it a light squeeze. “Yeah, I believe ‘destiny’ was the word you used. But if you really want to go back, I wouldn’t stop you – and I wouldn’t blame you either. You could head on back and get a degree and a stable job. And a wife, probably.”

“Shut up,” Sy muttered, blushing at the mention of a potential wife. He knew Zib was teasing him as evidenced by the smile that Sy couldn’t help but return. “That sure would make ma and pa happy, though. But I want to be happy myself.”

“Ah, selfish happiness – the best kind,” Zib said dryly before bringing his cigarette back to his mouth. He glanced over towards the same trees Sy had looked at earlier. “I don’t know if we’ll even find it or where, pal. Best we can hope for is coming across some place that’s fresh out of two musicians. Maybe we should head on down to Chicago and try our luck there. It’s a big city, it’s bound to have room for two misfits.”

Chicago was quite a ways away, but Sy simply gave a non-committal nod. While they both shared the sense of wanderlust, Zib seemed to be fine with traveling without any sense of direction or any goals in mind. Sometimes it felt like a fool’s errand, going from station to station with no end in sight…

“Cheer up, Sy,” Zib said in a gentler tone. “Just think of it like that time we hitchhiked our way across town. This is just a longer trip – that’s all.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing of it. It wasn’t quite the same, they’d had a goal in mind back then. Zib knew it too, neither choosing to comment on it. “That was the time we-…”

They both fell silent, but it was a knowing silence. They both knew what had gone down that time. While they didn’t feel any shame for it, it wasn’t anything either of them wanted to discuss in public. Sy glanced over, his thicker-furred tail brushing Zib's for just a moment.

“Ah yes, the time we were introduced to Lady Liquor,” Zib said, his face cast into shadow by his hat. It wasn’t what Sy remembered that day for, but he knew Zib was simply being tactful about it out in public. The trumpet-playing cat cleared his throat slightly, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Zib’s thoughts drifted back to that fateful day, four years ago. What had started as two rascals making their way across town after school had taken a turn. Rumor around school had it a place there sold booze to anyone regardless of age. And of course, two fifteen year old rascals like them (Or rather one rascal and his trusty friend who had plenty of reservations) had to see for themselves.

To think that was one of the most useful things Zib had heard in school…

They managed to get there and indeed, they had entered a highly suspect, small building and been able to buy Whiskey. While not the highest quality, it most certainly did the trick. Huddled together in an alleyway, backs resting against trashcans, the two had gotten progressively drunk. Would Zib do such a thing now? No, he most likely wouldn’t have. Had he been able to tell his younger self no, he would have. And yet…

Looking over at Sy for a moment, Zib remembered the effect alcohol had had on him; first he started crying and rambling about his fears. The next he began to kiss Zib’s cheek. It was a strange feeling at first. Zib had kissed girls before, but… he hadn’t quite counted on his best friend wanting to do such a thing. But any pair of lips gracing his cheek was pleasant, he found.

Reaching a hand up towards his chest, Zib pretended to adjust his coat. Just thinking about it made his heart beat a little faster. It was still so hard to believe that it had happened.

But when Sy seemed to sober up a bit, he’d apologized profusely and started crying again. While it was indeed… unusual, Zib didn’t have it in him to be angry with his friend. And why would he? It wasn’t like it had caused him any harm. In that moment, he’d taken a massive swig of whiskey and planted a kiss right on Sy’s lips.

What followed was still mostly foggy to Zib, but what little he did remember would never leave him. Just looking at Sy now, he could vividly picture the scared, young boy who looked like he might die of shame for kissing him. He smiled.

“What?” Sy asked when their eyes met. “Do I have something on my face?”

Shaking his head, Zib simply reached over to playfully hit his arm, gently. “No, I just thought about… well, you know…”

Sy’s ears flattened against his head and Zib could almost imagine how red his face was under his fur. He grinned more. They’d barely made it home, helping each other along the way, especially Zib who had had to really steady Sy. Of course, that was harder said than done when they’d both gotten quite a buzz. That had been quite the night in the Zibowski household when the least-favorite son had come home clearly drunk…

By the time the next train rolled into the station, they had both finished their cigarettes and it did indeed start to rain. It was almost too dark to see now, but luckily lights had been turned on to help them see as they boarded the train. The two wandering musicians settled into their own compartment, pulling the curtain down over the glass window on the compartment door, before locking it.

“Can I sit next to you?” Sy asked after they’d stashed their luggage up above. As the train started moving, the rain appeared to be getting heavier, pelting against the window quite loudly, obscuring their view. Granted, it was so dark outside that it wasn’t a very spectacular view to begin with.

“Sure you can.” Zib had removed his big coat, sitting by in his white shirt and his pants. A tie hung from his neck, crooked and in need of being tied up properly. Zib took the seat closest to the window, facing the way the train drove, as Sy joined him on his left after removing his own coat and his hat. Sy wore a sweater underneath, something nice and soft to keep him warm.

Though they both could do with a fresh change of clothes, the smell of cigarette smoke that stuck to their clothes masked some of the more bodily smells that might otherwise make this close contact less than pleasant. Zib could feel Sy’s whiskers brushing his own as the other cat got comfortable by his side. The two of them sighed, almost in perfect unison.

Zib had always liked train rides. They were a lot faster and more pleasant than car rides. He could get up and walk around each train car, if he needed to stretch his legs. “You good, Simon?” he playfully asked the other cat whose head now rested on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good… Dorian...” Sy replied in a hushed voice right next to Zib. Zib removed his own hat and placed it on his lap instead, his ears getting a chance to stand up for once. He cleared his throat slightly. “So, before… when you were thinking about stuff…”

“The first time we kissed?” Sy flinched when Zib said it out loud, sitting up, looking towards the door, as if expecting someone to stand there and look appalled by what they heard. Zib smirked a bit and stroked the other cat’s head. “What about it, pal?”

Sy didn’t reply at first, just remaining silent as he tried to find the words. “How much of it do you remember exactly…?”

The question seemed to amuse Zib who simply chuckled and reached up to gently ruffle the fur on Sy’s head. “I remember most of it up until I kissed you on the lips. If you even remember that… you were such a lightweight back then…”

“Weren’t we both, honestly?” Sy asked, cheeks indeed warm under his fur. He cleared his throat some, looping an arm around Zib as well. “I remember your speech to be a lot more slurred than mine…”

“If you say so, bud, if you say so,” Zib said, giving Sy a small squeeze to hold him close.

It was so dark outside now that they too were left in near complete darkness, had it not been for the single candle that illuminated their compartment ever so slightly. “You don’t mind if I just… sleep here, do you?”

In truth, Zib didn’t mind, though he also knew that this wasn’t a particularly good look for either of them, should anyone come knocking on their compartment door. “Sure, you can rest a bit…” Zib said despite his better judgment. He couldn’t tell his faithful companion no.

He reached up to extinguish the small flame that kept their compartment lit up, casting them into darkness. A hand gently grasped Sy's shoulder. Rough, calloused fingers gave his shoulder a light little stroke in the darkness as the two enjoyed each other’s warmth.

“Just wake me, if you have to,” Sy said before a small smack sounded in the dark, Zib feeling his cheek warming up as it was pecked tenderly.

Though he wasn’t going to sleep just yet, Zib didn’t want to deprave Sy of any sort of comfort. Especially this kind of warmth. On the road, they had to take what they could get. Above all else, they had each other.

[dailylooneys]

The Dixie Fryer

(1960, Robert McKimson)

[jerrylewis-thekid]

This interpretation is fantastic!

[howardhawkshollywoodmusic]

60. Since You've Been Gone by Aretha Franklin debuted Mar 68 and peaked at number five, scoring 1040 points.

It was Aretha's seventh of 42 top 40 hits from Rock A Bye Your Baby with a Dixie Melody in 1961 to Willing to Forgive in 1994.

[daydreamlovesgravityfalls]

I would like to know more about Julia and the girl with dyed hair :)

Of course! You're the first person to ask me anything on here about my AU and OC's, thank you!

OKAY, SO... Julia's lore ((summary))

Julia was a demon created by Bill cipher to be a henchmaniac but she wasn't quote "good enough" so he abandoned her in the nightmare realm. She was a pink triangle with a little bow on the top of her (basically just a hot pink version of Bill himself, because she was created in his image specifically). She has all of the same powers as Bill but not even close to as extreme. When the Weirdmageddon portal opened up and any creature from the nightmare realm was free to go, she slipped out through the portal. Bill has completely forgotten about her. But the reason he didn't originally just kill her off is because he thought her suffering was amusing. She's immortal, meaning she can't actually die, which is another reason why she hates being a demon. She never asked to be created but was anyways and was abandoned for something she couldn't control.

Eclipse's lore ((summary)):

The girl with the dyed hair is Eclipse, Eclipse Lilac May. She's a normal human. She had abusive parents, so she was put into custody of her grandma when she was 3. Her grandma, Miss Dixie, lives in Gravity Falls and used to be a demon hunter in the 60's (so around 11 when she started training). Eclipse is 17, almost 18. She's a daily babysitter for anyone in town. When the Weirdmageddon apocalypse happened in 2012, She came across Julia, who broke in while exploring the human realm for the first time. Eventually, Julia and Eclipse became partners after the apocalypse, as Eclipse had an immediate crush on Julia, and Julia could read minds.

Anyways, this toddler au takes place in "next summer", 2013. Bill is currently living in the mystery shack with Stan, Ford, Soos, soos's grandma, Melody, Mabel and Dipper (who are both signed into the gravity falls highschool now) ||packed shack, I know...||. The axolotl is punishing him for everything he's done. Destroyed his own dimension with all his friends and family, Tricked and killed multiple people, tried to take over the world and possibly the universe, ECT, ECT...

[kodachromism]

10 songs from shuffle vs 5 you actually listen to

I was tagged by @chiomaus for this—thank you! These come from my 7,000 song playlist on Youtube where I save all most of the songs I find online. (P.S. click the song titles to listen to them!)

10 songs from shuffle:

Café Du Monde—Tank & The Bangas: I recently heard this on the radio's funk hour and had to write it down! Beautiful melodies and harmonies, captivating horn section, what's not to love?

All Touch—Rough Trade: A Canadian Classic! Carole Pope was one of the first openly Lesbian musicians to gain a hit song in with gay themes in Canada with "High School Confidential" a few years earlier

Fools Rush In—Jo Stafford: I was trying to find a different version of this song when I found this one—although I prefer Lesley Gore's and Bow Wow Wow's versions more, its hard to be harsh on Jo Stafford and her piercingly brilliant vocals

I'll be Alone—Barbara Redd: A hidden gem from the Northern Soul scene! My favourite moment is when she sings the lyrics "home to stay" and the record quality can't quite contain her passion

Hot in Here—Jenny Owen Youngs: The first one on this list I'm a little embarrassed by. All I can say is I thought this was a clever cover back in high school.

Amen—Sarah Slean: Another Canadian gem! This whole album is great, but this is a standout track!

All the Black (Acoustic)—Cat Clyde: I forgot about this song! A good ol' tear-jerker, to be used sparingly on rainy days and lonely nights

Bachelorette—Bjork: It's a classic for a reason—one of the first songs to finally get me into Bjork

What a Day—Carl Fenton Orchestra: Another one I don't really remember saving to this playlist, but it's a good melody

Prologue: Disasterpeace: Ending on a bit of an odd note—I want to get more into chiptune but usually it's just a background thing. This one's alright, not much to say

5 i actually listen to:

These are just a few songs that have been on rotation the past few days

Billy Toppy—Men I Trust: Another Radio find—gosh that bassline! It reminds me of Joy division and Lebanon Hanover

Chapel of Love—Holly and the Italians: I love the Dixie Cups' original dearly, but there's nothing wrong and everything right with a power-pop reinterpretation!

Odds and Ends—Dionne Warwick:—A lesser known Burt Bacharach tune, but I think one of his best—again, a real tear-jerker for me if I'm feeling melancholic

Don't Take your Time—Roger Nichols & The Small Circle of Friends: Can you tell I've been in a sunshine/bubblegum/baroque pop mood lately? What can I say, I love my orchestration lush and melodies soaring!

Mama (Martyn Young Mix)—Wolfgang Press: From the Party Girl (1995) soundtrack, a great and groovy dance track to see us out!

I tag @earnedmagic , @judelaws-hairline, @uncle-girl , and @joanofarc —I can't wait to hear whats on your playlists!