#because this story is an ode to death!! it is a love letter to death!! this story is about being in love with death im SICK

[wlwaerith]

if i think about this too hard for too long i start throwing up blood

[pollyssecretlibrary]

“The Heiress Bride”, by Madeline Hunter

I read this book from NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review RELEASE DATE - May23, 2023 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iris Barrington is a young woman who is in the trade of ancient books, manuscripts and old documents. She lives most of her time in Italy but when the story commences she’s in London trying to retrieve a very rare manuscript that the duke of Hollingworth had promised to give her. Unfortunately said duke died and now she has to deal with his heir, Nicholas, who promises to look up for it and give it to Iris once he’s sorted out his new properties. Nicholas has only inherited the title and the properties entailed to it, there is a vast amount of money that the late duke divided between three heiresses and the latest to appear is, precisely, Iris Barrington.

Nicholas now needs to take matters into hands and find a wife. He feels attracted to Iris at first sight, she’s quite intelligent, resourceful, knowledgeable and beautiful. She stands up for herself and she seems to be very humble in the way that she has no ambitions towards the will. Still, Nicholas must investigate her and keep her near, for he and his cousins are convinced that the old duke’s death wasn’t natural, someone in their sphere might have assassinated him. In the meantime, mysterious accidents are happening near Iris, does she had bad luck or is her life being threatened?

This is my first Madeline Hunter book and I was pleasantly surprised by her very fluid writing. The paragraphs are so beautifully constructed and so balanced, the dialogues, the descriptions, the plot, everything is so well integrated that in the end the reader can’t stop reading, the mysterious background engages the curiosity so we need to read more and faster to discover what hides in the shadows. If this were a mystery book it would be no doubt classified as “cosy mystery”, which is the most popular subgenre these days. I’m not a huge fan of mysteries but romantic suspense appeals to me. Give me a good investigation in Regency or Victorian eras, give me inheritance fights and family secrets and I will enjoy it so much.

I really loved Iris. She’s an independent woman and completely free compared to the situation of women in general in that day and age. She’s in trade, she travels for work, she takes pleasure when she needs it (that kind of pleasure too), one would classify her as a lowly woman if she wasn’t so smart, determined, strong and with a mind of her own. She’s very modern, avant garde one would say, completely uncommon. She’s not apologetic for who she is, but Nicholas is very openminded, very casual to be a haughty aristocrat. They match because they’re straightforward and confident the both of them. And flirty, which is fun. . Iris and Nicholas have a lot of chemistry though theirs is a slow burn romance that mirrors the way Iris is looking for her manuscript while cataloguing Nicholas’ library; every book, every look, every valuable old volume, every kiss in the garden. But what really touched my heart is how protective Nicholas is of Iris even before being romantically involved. His is not the kind of overbearing protectiveness, he’s just there, like a silent bodyguard, ready to fight for her safety and her security all the time. Independent as she is, Iris doesn’t feel Nicholas’ protection like a burden but rather like a warm blanket, she can be whatever she wants, do whatever she feels like to, feeling that he will be there for her.

This is a historical romance no doubt, but it’s not only about romantic love, it is also a love letter to books. To the treasures that they are, it’s an ode to book hoarders, book sellers, readers, it’s a beautiful defense of books of all kinds, fiction, non fiction, scholar, manuscripts, first editions, scientific books, prayer books, old and new books. The description of Nicholas’ library and of Iris’ work classifying the books that it contains is really beautiful, dreamy even. As a bookworm myself  here I found a world in which I’d love to live. Sometimes it was like watching the research scenes in an Indiana Jones movie, always my favorite parts, so that shows how much I enjoyed this book.

[harbingersofhansaswoods]

I've been getting back into writing again, and I've been thinking about my old stabs at IF. They were brief, but notable for me as a person. A lot has changed since early 2020. When I first joined the IF community, it was after rediscovering Choice of Games, which I loved as a kid. This time, as an adult and more mature writer, I wanted to join and contribute my own thoughts. HHW was initially started as a kind of ode to my own childhood, in a way. Not just to what I thought the world was like as a kid, but the things I read and how they made me feel. More than that, or because of that, it also became an ode to the town my grandparents are from. I spent many summers in that house, remember that town, remember the strange discordance between the slow death of the town and the possibilities of my own life opening up. The story of a HHW was about a small, hidden, magical town being struck by a horrific disease brought about by a curse, threatening to finish off the town after decades of slow decline. It was supposed to be a love letter to the woods I tracked dragons through for years.

Then the COVID-19 pandemic began.

Then my grandmother died of COVID-19.

I started HHW in my senior year of high school. I never really "finished" my senior year of high school. In a strange, horrible way, the story I imagined came true. COVID killed the town, my grandmother, the story. My grandmother's town, the place I spent my summers, was gone. It was a place of horrible imperfections, and a place where my own ties had been severed. I remember holding my mother as we visited the grave of my grandmother, and across the street that day there was a trump rally. The man responsible for killing my grandmother was running for re-election across the street from a graveyard that held at least one of his victims. It was a beautiful autumn day.

I do not think I will ever return to Pennsylvania.

There is a lot of grief that never healed in my life after 2020. I've changed much as a person, and gotten a few years older despite it all.

None of this is even touching on the ways the IF community, especially the CoG community, has changed. Both for better and worst. I am somewhat glad I was not someone in the limelight for that period.

I don't know if I'll ever return to HHW. It never held much impact for me in the end, or for anybody. I only ever got a few followers here, a few readers on the forum. The demo is the majority of what I wrote for the game, although my notebook has a little more in it. But it's startling to find a work of art I was currently writing right before COVID in 2020. Maybe one day, I will return to HHW. Maybe I never will. Either way, it is at rest.

[missimbalance]

I have no idea how useful my answer can be; I should probably draw a mindmap instead of writing this down, and I can only be sure of a timeline of those I bookmarked on Podchaser. But here's the approximation:

Welcome to Night Vale (I must have heard of it in a book group, that's all I remember) -> Alice isn't Dead (came for Jasika Nicole; didn't stay till the end, felt like I didn't know USA enough to fully enjoy it) -> Dreamboy (promoted on WtNV)

Supernatural Sexualities with Dr Seabrooke (another book group rec, I never pass an opportuninty for some fun lore details to use)

The Far Meridian (needed a travel story to keep me company in long journeys)

The White Vault (it was a snowy winter in the mountains) -> Dark Dice (the same creators; hoped for the same voice acting quality) -> Station to Station (also a found footage story set in icy hell)

The Magnus Archives (saw a tumblr post along the lines of: "your Fear alignment isn't your biggest phobia but the part of yourself that scares you but also makes you who you are", and decided it's my kind of horror), which leads to:

subcategory 1: trying to fill the TMA-shaped hole in my heart

The Storage Papers (a cross between sub. 1 and 2, since it was also promoted on TMA)

Delivery (also counts as a random Podchaser find - they liked my review of TMA there)

Archive 81 (pointed to me as the staple in the horror podcast genre)

Hi Nay (horror + filipino folklore = count me in!)

subcategory 2: podcasts promoted on TMA and where that led me

Rusty Quill Gaming Podcast (another one of "I like the voice actors so why not listen to them play a game")

The Orphans (I was in mood for sf and Penumbra didn't work for me -> We Fix Space Junk (the mood for sf continued, also working in construction at the time) -> The Deca Tapes

The Old Gods od Appalachia (was in a mood for creepy woods) -> How it Ends (came for creepy woods in the logo, stayed for voice acting) -> Hello from Hallowoods (quest for the perfect creepy woods continues)

The Milkman of St. Gaffs (living in a small town, I wanted a creepy story set in a small town)

Tiny Terrors (I wanted to hear Mike LeBeau again; that's it, that's my whole reason)

Malevolent (honestly went in blind, giving it a try only because Karim Kronfli read the ad; who knew that would be my next great obsession? not me for sure)

now, Malevolent opens a whole new category: creators I found through Nine to Midnight specials:

The Dead Letter Office of Somewhere, Ohio (Rat Grimes is one of the best storytellers I've heard)

WOE.BEGONE (my third favorite narration style in the mix)

Parkdale Haunt (came for ghosts, home renovations and Alex Nursall's voice)

Dice Shame ("I love listening to these people, let's hear them play a game" again)

back to random finds

Death by Dying (I think I saw it on 2020 podcast awards list and liked the title)

City of Ghosts (came for Golshifteh Farahani, ended up underwhelmed by her and hating Newyorkers)

Hotel (...I work in one)

hello err fans of podcasts :3 im doing a project for school on fiction podcasts so..

if you could reblog this with all the podcasts you listened to in order (if you want to provide commentary as to why you went from one podcast to another (for example, the magnus archives to malevolent as a popular example->the eldritch horror) that'd be really useful! thanks :)

[metvmorqhoses]

Which books or poems do you think Voldemort and Bellatrix would rather like?

Now I'm forced to bestow upon them some of my own favorites, anon. The three of us share tastes, okay?

Poetry-wise, I think they would both love Invictus by Henley, Paradise Lost by Milton, The Divine Comedy by Dante, Marlowe's Faustus, the entirety of Shakespeare (in particular Macbeth, both identifying respectively with the two protagonists, Bella openly adoring Lady Macbeth and Vold tormented in his most intimate musings, just as for Hamlet - Bella would also really like Antony and Cleopatra), most of Keat's and Byron's lyrics (especially Ode to a Grecian Urn and Cain and Lucifer in the Abyss of Space for Vold / La Belle Dame Sans Merci and Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey for Bella), Verrà la Morte e avrà i tuoi occhi by Pavese, old epics and mythology (Vold would love Homer and Euripides and I like to think he studied the myth of Dionysus' "death" and rebirth at length, since obviously JKR stole his own downfall and resurrection from there, the two facts being basically identical - while Bella would take Medea, Iphigenia in Aulis, the Amazons and The Bacchae as role models). Also I can see Bella loving Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson and Do not stand by my grave and weep by Frye.

As far as general literature is concerned, I can see both of them reading extensively war/philosophy works of any time and place (Vold introduced Bella to them when she was young) such as Il Principe by Machiavelli, The Art of War by Sun Tzu and Onassandros and Tactica by Arrian, but even general philosophy particularly strikes me as something Vold would be into. Novels-wise, I can see them both loving Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (Bella thinking she introduced him to the book, while I imagine him reading it during summer-break at the orphanage, both loving and hating it), The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley, The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas, Stories of Sherlock Holmes by Doyle, the entirety of Poe's and Lovecraft's works, The Picture of Dorian Gray and Salomè by Wilde, Goethe’s Faust, Lord of the Flies by Golding, The Letters of Aberlard and Héloïse (Bella is very fond of them), The Birth of Tragedy by Nietzsche, anything Bataille ever wrote, The Master and Margarita by Bulgakov, The Arthurian Cycle, The Ring Cycle by Wagner (yes, they both love Wagner) and Beasts, Men and Gods by Ossendowski.

[sixofpomegranates]

Rain in California - Act 1 - California

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 1 - California🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ |  🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 9.4k

A/N: The music used in this story is not owned by me (obviously) & I used it in the same style that 'Rock of ages' and 'Mamma Mia' used songs. I gave them a different meaning and context. The meaning and context are NOT representing the one that the ORIGINAL ARTIST had.

TW: ANGST, mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, stalking, death by overdose, mentions of OD, passive aggressiveness, arguing,

Songs in this Chapter: La di die – Nessa Berrett Going to Hell | My Medicine | Heaven Knows – The Pretty Reckless

“Spence?”

 Spencer looked up from his book.

Oh, so now he was allowed to talk with them about the case.

Since the briefing they hadn’t talked to him about anything. Spencer had to beg them, to let him work on this case.

He had really felt left out and why?

Because the stalking victim was a famous Rockstar with addiction issues. Spencer was hurt about his team not wanting him to be on the case because of this. Yes, he had struggled with addiction in the past, but he had been clean for over ten years now.

Was this unfair treatment…this distrust in his sobriety, ever going to stop?

It wasn’t like they had cared much about it when Emily had faked her death or when Maeve died, but this, for them, looked like a too high risk? Because there was a pretty girl involved?

He tried his best not to sound passive aggressive when responding.

 “Yeah, JJ?”, with success.

“I asked if everything´s okay.”

“Sure. Why should anything be wrong?”, the blonde shrugged a little, an apologetic look on her face.

“Well the case-“ “It´s just a stalking case. Nothing we haven’t already seen. I actually wonder why we even need to come. The stalker isn’t aggressive and hasn´t hurt anybody. Right now he´s just importunate. The police should be able to catch this unsub themselves.”, he had accidently let a little of his passive aggressiveness slip and Emily, who was sitting next to JJ, looked at him.

“The record label convinced the police to contact us. They seem worried about their artist.”

“From what I know…this girl can take care of herself.”, Luke snickered, earning himself a ‘Come on, really?’-look from Emily. “Sorry, but have you seen or listened to her music? She could probably beat Reid in a fist fight.”

“Just because she´s making rock music, doesn’t mean she´s tough. But we should talk a little about the case, Reid if you ever feel unco-“, he quickly interrupted her with a snappy tone.

“Why, because she´s an addict? I don’t care about that.”, Emily lifted her hands in a calming manner.

“Okay, jeez. Just the way you´re on edge, since the briefing, doesn’t look like you are okay.”, Spencer took a deep breath, trying to talk calmer this time, now almost pleading in tone.

“I-I know. But I´m clean since was twenty-six. I never touched anything again and I don’t feel the need to. I even regulate my alcohol intake, never drinking more than a beer, maybe two glasses of whiskey. Which means, that statistically all of you are at a higher risk, of becoming addicted, during this case, then I am. You guys need to trust me.”, the dark haired woman sighed and nodded.

“You´re right. I´m- We´re just worried. You´re our friend, Spencer.”, she handed him a file. “Just promise me you talk to one of us, if something changes.”

 He nodded opening the file. A picture of [y/n] looked at him. Dark heavy make-up, dark clothing and jet black hair with colorful streaks.

His younger self would´ve been as attracted as terrified of her.

He flipped through the pages. [y/n] [y/l/n]. Twenty-six years old. Stalker since approximately two years. Nothing extremely outstanding for a stalking case…which was kinda outstanding. No letters, no calls, no pictures, no break in, no threats…sometimes she would get random, expensive present delivered to her mansion, but that was it. Given that she was famous, this presents did not even have to be from a stalker.

 “Are we sure there´s even is a stalker?”, Spencer frowned at his own question, Emily shrugged as a response.

“According to the manager, Philip Schuyler, since the first time she played his concerns down, he gets these calls of a man asking for [y/n] and how she is doing. The label didn’t take it serious after he told them, but then the unsub stole the last finished album from [y/n]´s band ‘Shot Monarch’, before it could get released and distributed, also erasing every digitally existing copy. He then called the manager and send the owner of the record label a letter; typed on a computer, no fingerprints; stating that he wanted to be taken serious. Later [y/n] got the USB, containing all her songs, with a dozen white lilies, her favorite, back per mail with an apology letter; stating that she had done nothing wrong and didn’t need to worry, since he could never harm her or her carrier. That´s when the label pushed the police to contact us.”

“Because they are worried about the music…not the woman.”, JJ sighed, shaking her head.

“Well, that´s the industry. At least her manager is worried. Police states that he got himself a gun license after that and tries to be everywhere [y/n] is.”, Luke added.

“Something about that is off.”, Spencer whispered, rubbing his stubbles, before looking at JJ, Emily and Luke again. “There is nothing that indicates a stalker, but every time somebody doubts his existence, he does something noticeable. I know she is famous and that comes with the stigma of having crazed fans as stalkers, but most stalking in general is committed by someone known to the victim, such as an ex-partner or acquaintance. We should check that out.”, JJ nodded.

“It would also be smart if one of us stays by her site.”, Luke quickly raised his hand.

“I volunteer. I- Like- Really! If necessary I´ll sleep in the SUV.”, Emily raised an eyebrow.

“Can it be that you´re a fan? I heard you and Penelope freak out a little over the case earlier.”, a shy smirk appeared on his lips.

“‘Shot Monarch’ has really good music. Since my road trip a year ago, I love their stuff. Penelope actually tol-”, Spencer interrupted him determined.

“I´ll do it.”, Emily quickly shook her head.

“Reid, no.” “Why not?”, his voice got high, making him quickly cleared his throat. “Because-“ “Because she is taking drugs. Do you trust me that little, Emily?”, Spencer snapped at her and she leaned back into her seat. Sure the others from the team were older than him, but he was in his late thirties, and yet was treated like a child.

 “Fine. If you think you can handle it, do it. But stop being so sassy, I hate that.”, Emily looked at look in defeat. “Luke tell him what you know about [y/n] and the band.”, he nodded pulling out his phone.

“Okay so, [y/n] is the lead singer of ‘Shot Monarch’. She´s from a small town in Ohio and came to LA when she was eighteen, to become a singer after going viral. They are a band since five years, the name never really got explained by them, but it has something to do with the butterfly; at least that’s a fan theory I now from Penelope. Plus it makes sense, because [y/n] has a tattoo of one on the back of her hand.”, Luke flipped through some pictures of older man, reminding Spencer of bikers and insurance agents at the same time. Like middle-aged fathers that liked rock but still had a nine-to-five job.

“Hank, the guitarist, was a lawyer before and in a cover band with his high school friends Tom, the bassist, who worked for an insurance company, and Leroy, the drummer, who was history teacher and is also married to Hank. They met [y/n] at an open mic night and even though she´s twenty-six and they are in their late forties, early fifties, they got along so well, that they became a band. That´s ‘Going to Hell’ by the way. One of the more controversial songs.”, Luke pressed play on the video and already moved the lips to the lyrics.

  “Father did you miss me,

Been locked up a while.

I got caught for what I did but took it all in style.

Laid to rest all my confessions I gave way back when.

Now I'm versed in so much worse,

So I am back again, and he said

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I make, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  “The guitar you´re hearing is a classic Hank. That guy knows what he´s doing.”, Luke added, seemingly in his element, reminding Spencer a lot of Garcia when she was excited.

 Spencer nodded and watched the music video, the overall theme was dark and heavy. [y/n] voice was nice, a little smoky and strong, but everything just sounded so angry. Not really his style, although he preferred older, classical music in general over the ‘normal’ things ‘normal’ people liked. [y/n] wore tightfitting latex, while the men from her band mostly just wore black jeans and shirts, sometimes leather jackets. At one time, she was surrounded by snakes, only wearing white lingerie. She was really pretty, red lipstick making her look like a biting version of Snow White. Like a princess that would rather save herself, becoming the villain along the way, before letting someone else save her.

  “Father did you miss me,

Don't ask me where I've been.

You know I know, yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.

I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head.

Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!

And he said

For the lives that I fake, I'm going to hell!

For the vows that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt.

I am sitting on a throne while they're buried in the dirt.

For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  The lyrics and symbolistic in the video mocked parts of the Christian belief system. Such as the bite Eve had taken from the apple, showing [y/n] taking a bite from the forbitten fruit. The last supper and the crucifixion were shown with a dark twist too. This could be a hint of rebellion, to cope with religious trauma, or simply be a way to cause controversy.

“Please forgive me father,

I didn't mean to bother you.

The devil's in me father.

He's inside of everything I do.

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the laws that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I hate, I'm going to hell!

For the lies that I make, I'm going to hell!

For the way I condescend and never lend a hand.

My arrogance is making this head buried in the sand.

For the souls I forsake, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' married to the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

As the video ended Luke took his phone and put it back into his pocket.

“Their earlier stuff had a little more emotion to it, was about heartbreak, suffering and made you feel. This is one of the more recent ones and you can hear that it´s now mostly just stuff like sex, drugs and anger. Most people think that´s because [y/n] writes all of their music and she´s…seen better days…”, Luke sighed, trying to make it sound as polite as possible.

“Because she started taking drugs?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows, but Luke shook his head. “Oh, no. She, according to many rumors and an interview with her father, has taken drugs since she was a teen. But at this point…she just simply seems to have given up, having chosen to not go deeper with her songs anymore. I mean, they still slap. They just don’t slap your heart anymore, you know?”

“Not so nice, when your father talks to the press about your addiction. Could her father be a suspect?”, JJ asked, making Luke shrug and shake his head at the same time.

“Most likely not. He said in that interview that he wishes her the best, but doesn’t want to speak to her again.”, Emily mouthed a silent ‘ouch’, the whole talk about the rockstars private life making Spencer think.

“Maybe that´s part why she´s taking drugs? Often people use them to cope with-“, Emily interrupted him, profiling [y/n] and her substance abuse, quickly.

“Reid. We´re not going there to fix her, just the stalking situation.”, he nodded, knowing that he had a savior complex, always trying to help and save everybody.

“Exes?”, Spencer asked and Luke shook his head.

“Just one is known, Dean Lennox, singer, now married with kids. He and [y/n] were together for two years and according to him it was toxic. Like, always fighting, jealousy, distrust, fear of being left but she still didn’t want him close at the same time, lying. After their last breakup, he told a gossip magazine, he just couldn’t watch her destroy herself anymore. She never commented on it.”, JJ looked at Spencer worried.

“She seems like a handful, are you sure you can handle her alone?”, he chuckled while nodding.

“I´ve been through worse. How hard can it be to watch a twenty-six year old? When she, like Luke said, really doesn’t want anyone close, I´ll just sit on her couch and let her do her thing.”

*****

After landing in Los Angeles and checking into their hotel, the team drove to police station. There already waited a massage for them with an address. It was from the manager, he wrote that he was terribly sorry, but they needed to come to the recording studio, since the band was on a tight schedule all morning. Luke had tried his best, but Spencer could see his excitement through his tough-guy-façade. He, JJ, Luke and Emily took one of the SUV´s and drove to the address.

 The building they entered was large and with great security. Expensive, white marble flooring in the entire entrance hall. They showed their batches to the lady at the front desk and the security, she called somebody and soon a short, pudgy man, dressed in a designer suit walked out of the elevator and up to them. He smiled at them friendly and shook everyone’s hand.

 “Ah, the agents. I am so glad that you´re here. Hi. Hello. I´m Philip Schuyler, the manager of ‘Shot Monarch’.”, Emily shook his hand and pointed at the team.

“Nice to meet you. I´m unit chief SSA Prentiss, those are SSA Jareau, Alvez and that´s Dr. Spencer Reid. He will take on the job as bodyguard for Miss [y/l/n].”, the man scratched his brown hair, avoiding the bald spot on top.

“Yes, uhm, please just call her [y/n]. She really dislikes being called Miss [y/l/n]. We also already have police and security around her house, so I don’t know how important a personal bodyguard is. I really want this case solved and it would be terrible if we would hinder your work.”, Spencer lifted a finger.

“Actually, it would be better if I´m able to stay close to [y/n]. Normal police and security could probably oversee minor details about the stalker, Mr. Schuyler.”, the man waved off.

“Please, Mr. Schuyler was my father. Philip is completely fine. Everybody calls me that.”, he started walking to the elevator and the agents followed him. “Right now the band´s having a little break. After that, we need to record one more song for the ‘live in the studio’-version of their new album, that just came out. Are you familiar with their music?”, they got into the elevator and Luke already nodded.

“Yeah. Really great. Big fan.”, Emily lifted her hand, silencing Luke.

“I´m sorry. If that´s a problem we can-“, Philip laughed, interrupting her.

“Oh, no, no. [y/n] will love that. She likes meeting fans and showing off her music.”

 They got out of the elevator, walked through the little hallway and entered the large double door in front of them. There was the recording studio. A lot of technical things, Spencer didn’t know much of, and a large glass wall in front of it, showing another room.

 The recording room was large, with a black leather couch and beanbags in it and nice, warm, wooden flooring. A drum set was placed on an vintage looking, red carpet and the overall lighting was warm and inviting as well. The door to the room was open and he could hear the three men, from the band, talking and laughing inside.

 “Guys, can you come out for a bit?”, Philip asked them and they looked up, walking up to them. “Okay, uhm, guys, those are the agents from the FBI. You know? The once coming because of [y/n]´s stalker.”, the largest man, a head taller than Spencer, smiled through his long grey beard that contrasted his bald head.

“Nice to meet you then, I´m Hank. That my husband Leroy,”, they shook hands with the dark skinned, skinny man, who in contrast to his husband was cleanshaven, with short black hair and glasses, “and that´s our friend Tom.”, the chubby, white, blond waved at them friendly.

“Why would like to talk with each of you individually, later at the police station, if that is possible.”, Emily said before introducing her team again, also mentioning Spencer´s duty as bodyguard. Leroy grimaced his face.

“Uh, [y/n] will hate that. The girl does not like being babysat.” “I´m not going to babysit her.”, Spencer answered, making Leroy chuckle. “That´s not how she will see it though.”, Hank sighed and put a hand on Spencer´s shoulder.

“Our girl is going through a lot right now. So it would be nice of you, to not take everything she´s saying personally, okay?”

“Personally?”

 Spencer raised his eyebrows. He desperately hoped [y/n] wouldn’t be a bitch the entire time, since he couldn’t promise to not give her a piece of his mind, if so.

“[y/n]´s a little belligerent…Easy to get triggered and then she blows up like a bomb.”, Tom said and JJ cocked her head. “Is the stalking getting at her?”, Leroy shook his head. “Not really. But her mother died a few months ago and since then…little rough patch. She´ll get better. We all hit rock bottom once.”

“Is she going to therapy?”, Emily asked straight forward, making Tom, the chubby one chuckle. “Not since she hit the last therapist a few years ago. We paid his medical expenses and he was nice enough to not sue her. But we are here to help her, once she´s ready to let us.” “Must be exhausting, for you.”, JJ said empathetic and all the men waved off.

“Because of the drugs? No, it´s not that bad. She´ll collect herself. I have seven kids. Four of them are going through puberty right now. Phil has a toddler and Leroy and Hank have three rescue dogs and a couple of snakes. We can handle her.”, Tom laughed and the rest of the men started too.

“And that little stalker…Imma just say, I´m gonna rip him a new one, should I ever get the chance of meeting him. Counts for all of us.”, Hank added with everyone nodding in agreement.

“[y/n]´s a really nice girl and she´s been through a lot. If you´re nice to her, chances are high she´ll warm up to you and you won´t have any problems.”, Tom said to Spencer making him nod.

“And if she doesn’t?”, the tall doctor didn’t get an answer and just witnessed the rockers share a look.

 Nice girl. Drug issues not so bad. Be nice and maybe she´s nice to you. For Spencer all of that sounded like he would have to walk around on eggshells, while she would blast through walls like a wrecking ball. The manager, Philip, checked his watch and looked around.

 “So, where´s [y/n]? One more song and we´re done. Would be great not to hold up the investigation for too long.”

“She went to the toilet thirty minutes ago. We just ate our sandwiches. She said she wasn’t hungry.”, Leroy answered and at the same moment [y/n] walked in.

 Spencer looked at her and for a moment forgot how to breathe. Short, high waisted, leather skirt, low cut, tank top and biker boots, all black, rounded off with fishnet stockings.  [y/n] looked like she had climbed out of a teenagers wet dream. The perfect, little goth-girlfriend. She stretched a little and Philip looked at her.

 “Bonjour, Philly.”, she said with a sassy undertone, while walking up to him and leaning on his shoulder. He was the same high as her, which wasn’t really tall, about 5,4, if Spencer had to guess.

“Hey, where were you?”, the pudgy man asked her.

“Took a nap in my car.”, she booped his nose and gave him a sheepish little smile. Spencer knew she was high. In fact the whole room knew it.

“You drove here?”, Tom asked shocked and [y/n] grinned sarcastically.

“I guess so, else somebody explain to me why my car´s here.”, Phillip patted her shoulder, looking worried as she took four pills out of an orange pillbox from her bag. He gave her a glass of water and she swallowed them. The men from her band looked at her concerned, making her give them a pearly white smile.

“Headache.”, she explained and they only nodded. Spencer couldn’t help but think, that she wasn’t having a headache and even if she had, it was probably a withdrawal symptom.

“You know that I don’t want you to drive when you´re…”, her manager looked at the agents and stopped talking, making her look at them as well.

“What? Why´d you stop talking? That the fun police?”, she started giggling at her own joke, making the band chuckle, since she clearly didn’t know how accurate she was with her joke.

“That´s the FBI, Princess.”, Hank told her and she made a fake shocked face and then laughed again.

“Officer- No wait, agents, right? I swear I did nothing wrong. Weed´s legal in Cali.”

 The team shared some looks and Spencer couldn’t help but roll his eyes. [y/n] was not just on weed. Most definitely not just on weed.

 “They are here because of your stalker.”, Philip explained and she shrugged almost disappointed.

“Oh, that guy. Well, then hello. Nice to meet you. I´m [y/n].”

 She shook hands with JJ and Emily as they introduced themselves. Luke couldn’t help but breathe in sharply, as he shook her hand and almost choked on his own spit as an aftereffect. She started patting his back with wide opened eyes.

 “Shit, you okay? Asthma?”, [y/n] reached into her black, designer handbag and gave him a bottle with clear liquid. Luke took a sip, quickly grimaced his face and began coughing harder.

“Vodka.”, he stated through his coughing. [y/n] quickly took the bottle from him and took a sip too, without flinching. She then started cracking up at her mistake.

“Whoops. Mixed up the bottles, the other´s probably in my car. Philly, can you bring him…?”, Philip nodded and gave Luke a fresh water bottle from the mini fridge.

 Wow. Vodka hidden in a water bottle. Spencer licked his lips, taking in the view of her bandmates looking at each other. ‘Not that bad’ looked different. ‘Not that bad’ would not have her sleeping in her car, midday, with a bottle of ‘water’ and coming back high as a kite. Luke, by now, had stopped coughing and [y/n] stepped away from him again.

 “You good?”, she asked him, watching him wipe away his tears.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry.”, the black haired girl waved him off.

“Nah, don’t worry. I had asthma till I was twelve.”, he shook his head.

“I- I- No asthma. Just a really big fan.”, she started laughing again and although the light was dimmed, Reid could clearly see Luke´s cheeks turning red.

“Oh, that´s cute. But ‘Take My Breath Away’ is by Berlin.”, that sentence actually made the whole room laugh except for Spencer, who didn’t understand the reference. “What´s your name?”

“Luke Alvez.”, she shook his hand again, this time he didn’t almost choke.

“Well, nice to meet you, Luke. What´s your favorite song of ours?”

“25, no doubt. Really amazing. Like a James Bond song.”, the bandmates chuckled.

“We said that too.”, Leroy snickered, patting Luke´s shoulder and [y/n] nodded.

“It´s also my favorite. Excited to hear one of the new songs?”, Luke nodded excited and she turned her head to Spencer. “We both don’t know each other yet. Hi, I´m [y/n] and you are?”

 She sounded quite collected. Clearly high, but able to think straight if necessary. [y/n] must´ve been doing this for a while now, seeming to have figured out, how much she could handle while working. Spencer had been at that point too once. You wanted to do your work and be good at it, but needed to be high, to make it through the day. So you just tried over a period of time, bit by bit, how much you were able to take before doing a shitty job. ‘Not that bad’ didn’t make you figuring out a system to be high all the time.

 “Dr. Spencer Reid.”, he shook her hand.

“Dr. Reid will be your bodyguard, [y/n].”, Philip explained and quickly earned an angry look, as she let go of Spencer´s hand instantly.

“What? I don’t need a bodyguard, we talked about this.”, she hissed at her manager, but then started laughing after looking Spencer up and down. “And then that guy?”, Philip nodded as she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Do not take it personally’, Spencer told himself.

“I am more than capable of protecting you.”, he stated as friendly as possible, making her giggle.

“From what? A difficult math question?”

 [y/n] mocking tone started to piss him off, but as Spencer felt Emily´s look on him, he played it cool. After all, he had to proof himself able to handle her.

 “Your stalker.”, he corrected her and she licked her lips, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, looking at Luke.

“Since you don’t have asthma, would you mind if I…?”, Luke shook his head and she smiled. “Nice.”, she looked back at Spencer, at his gun. “Philip has a gun too.” “But Philip isn’t an FBI agent.”, Hank told her, making her shake her head in protest, like a little child.

“That´s ridiculous. And all of that just because a stranger sends me stuff, people send me stuff all the time.”

“You should be more worried about this guy.”, Leroy said and Tom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what if he´s dangerous?”

“What´s the worst that could happen, like honestly, Doctor?”, she cocked her head at Spencer, looking up at him with an almost flirty smile.

“He could kill you.”, he gave back objectively, making the rockers obviously worried. “Geez. You make that sound like it´s a bad thing.”, she snickered and looked over to Luke. “Luke, wanna hear some music?”, he nodded.

“It would be an honor.”, his sentence made her giggle as she walked past him.

“You´re really cute.”

 [y/n] walked into the recording room, Tom, Leroy and Hank following her. She put on her headphones and lit a cigarette, putting the package on the little table next to her mic. Philip closed the door and started pushing some buttons on the sound mixer in front of him. JJ whistled impressed.

 “You do the technical stuff too?”, he nodded, chuckling.

“Since the stalking started, I try having as little people near [y/n] as possible. Thought it might just be a little crush from a weirdo and when he doesn’t get to see her, he gets over it.” “We need a list of the people that worked here though.”, Emily told him and he nodded.

“Of course.”, then he pushed a button and started talking into his microphone. “You guys, ready? Last song. ‘My Medicine’, then we can go home.”

 They all approved of his words and started to playing. [y/n] relighting her cigarette and clearing her throat. Spencer couldn’t tell if that was her simply not caring or doing it for the feeling of the song. However, it seemed to fit the style.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

“I love this already.”, Luke whispered and JJ chuckled.

“You haven’t even heard anything yet.”, she snickered.

“Doesn’t matter, the feeling is there.”, he lifted his arms, showing her his goosebumps.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

And somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

Spencer watched [y/n] starting to move to the rhythm, swaying her hips and tapping her left foot to the beat, then looked to Philip pressing some buttons.

 “She´s gonna be happy with that one.”, he whispered almost to himself and the next time Spencer looked at the band again, it almost felt like she was attentionally singing in his direction.

“Well I drink what you leak and I smoke what you sigh

See you cross the room with that look in your eye

Got a man to his left and a girl to his right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

She started moving her head in a way that made her long black hair fall in her face, framing her features almost delicately. While Spencer starred and earned some grins from [y/n], he could hear Luke whisper with Emily, who actually seemed to like the music too.

“There's a tiger in the room and a baby in the closet”

The room laughed and Spencer looked confused, having JJ tell him, that it was a movie reference. Sometime he felt like an alien, having such simple references fly over his head. Star Trek or Book references would´ve been easier for him…although he still didn’t know what that ‘Twilight’ book was Penelope and JJ talked about a couple of times. Or that other book all the women had talked about in their break….what was it called, ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’? They had told him it was a romance novel, so he just assumed it was like ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.

“Pour another drink mom I don't even want it

Then I turn around and think I see someone that looks like you”

Philip pressed some buttons again, [y/n] now harmonizing with herself.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again again

And somebody mixed my medicine

Again, again, again

Again, again, again

Again, again, again”

The music started to slow down again, just like [y/n] movements, making Luke whisper words in awe.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

Philip and the team applauded as [y/n] took her headphones off and the men put their instruments away.

 “I´m happy with that.”, she said looking at Philip. “You, Philly?”

“Sounded great to me.”, he gave back, happy to answer.

“What about my new favorite fan. Luke?”, Luke quickly pushed Spencer aside to get to the microphone.

“Loved every second of it! Like- Amazing! Really!”, she giggled, throwing her head back and came through the door.

“What about my new guard dog?”, Spencer pointed at himself, not knowing if she was talking about him. “Of course you. So, what do you think, Doctor?”

“I- I don’t really know.”, she raised her eyebrows at his answer.

“Okay? Was it the drugs or just the music in general?”, he felt himself go pale. “Ah, okay. You´re prude, get it. I mean you already have that whole tutor-thing about you, so…Bach or Chopin?”

“Pardon?” “Which one? Or is it Mozart, or the deaf bitch, Beethoven?”, she grinned snarky.

 [y/n] had a mocking tone in her voice, making Spencer feel embarrassed and like he was in school again, when the other kids in high school were making fun of him for not being cool enough. But he was too old to be bullied by a little junkie, who thought she was better than him.

 “I´m surprised somebody like you would even know them.”, her smile vanished.

“Little bitch.”, she snapped at him, stepping closer as he cocked his eyebrows at her. Philip quickly walked between the two of them and smiled.

“So, what are we doing next? The albums done. Taken care of. [y/n] have you eaten something today? You wanna go out for dinner?”

“No, I haven’t and no, I don’t want to, when THAT is around.”, with ‘that’ she clearly meant Spencer.

“Now don’t be grumpy, Princess. You started it.”, Hank told her and she started to pout, shoulders relaxing.

“Wasn’t worth my time anyways.”, she murmured and Spencer felt himself getting proud. This was the first person, trying to bully him, he had stand a chance against.

“So, we´re gonna need you at the police station, if that´s okay?”, Emily asked Leroy, Hank and Tom, who nodded. “And Spencer, you should take [y/n] home and check out her house.” “Mansion.”, [y/n] corrected Emily. “I have a mansion. Worked too hard to have it being called a house.”, Emily only nodded, not letting herself get bothered by her words. Philip nodded, completely ignoring his clients snappiness too.

“I follow you in my car.”, he told Spencer. “[y/n] give Dr. Reid your keys, please.”, she shook her head indignant.

“No. That guy is not driving my car. I´ll drive.”, the whole band now started saying no.

“[y/n], you´re not driving.”, Tom ordered and Leroy nodded. “You´ll get an DUI so quick, it´s not even funny.”, Spencer lifted his hand, waiting for the key. “Oh, come on.”, she groaned, looking at her bandmates like her childish behavior would change their mind.

 A nice sound. An annoying person, not getting what they want. Almost as beautiful as her [y/e/c] eyes, that actually were rather bloodshot, when Spencer thought about it.

 “Should the police pull you over and see that you´re high, they´ll look through your car and I don’t think you want be taking in custody for drug possession, right?”, she handed him her keys and Spencer couldn’t help it and whispered “Thank you”, in the most mocking tone he was able to.

“Fucking cunt.”, she whispered back at him and he just chuckled.

“I´ve been called worse. So your little words don’t hurt me…sorry.”, she then grinned.

“Things like Spencer?”, [y/n] asked him, spitting his name like poison.

 Spencer took a deep breath and watched her go out the door, telling himself to not answer her.

 “Hey, kid.”, Spencer looked at Hank and he just lifted his thumb.

“You held yourself better than we thought you would.”, Leroy added, Emily looking at Spencer concerned.

“You sure you can handle her?”

 He nodded, walking out the door and to the elevator which doors [y/n] was holding open for him.

 “Hurry up, bitch boy! I wanna go home.”

 *****

 Of course the rich, spoiled brat drove an imported sportscar. When Spencer got in, he firstly had to push back the seat, not having enough room for his legs and then tried getting [y/n] to tell him where she lived.

 “Try google, smart ass.”, was her answer and he sighed.

 [y/n] then rolled down her window and grabbed a joint from her glove compartment. Spencer quickly leaned over and snatched it from her hand, making her whine as she tried getting it back.

 “You´re such a bitch. Give me-“, he interrupted her whining.

“No. First tell me you´re address.”, she sat back into her seat.

“Fine. I´ll lead you there.”, [y/n] said, making grabbing motions with her hand and he handed her the joint back. She lit it and smoked out of the window.

 Spencer knew he should have questioned why she gave up and let him win so easily. After ten minutes they weren’t at her mansion, they were at a McDonald´s.

 “You´re fucking kidding me, right?”, he snapped at her and she began to giggle.

“You´re kina hot when you´re angry.”, her flirty grin and the way she bit her lip made him furious, because it was hot.

“What is wrong with you?”, Spencer almost yelled and she leaned back and pointed somewhere. “I´m hungry. Drive-Through. Over there.”

“No.” “Come on. Don’t be a bitch, dog.”, she snickered, resting her feet on the dashboard.

 He looked at her, for a second thinking about simply getting out of the car and leaving, before he could hurt her. Maybe she was really too much for him to handle, the drugs were manageable, but it was her personality that drove him mad, yet he wasn’t someone to give up easily. Cars started to honk behind them.

 “You´re holding up the traffic. I just wanted something to eat.”, [y/n] said, now almost annoyed because she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Spencer took a deep breath.

“Okay.”, she looked at him confused.

“Okay?”, he nodded, pulling into the Drive-Through. He was above this. ‘Give her what she wants, so she´s at least quiet.’

“You win.”

 She started clapping and hugged him, smelling like marijuana and something he couldn’t quite make out. When they came up to the microphone box, [y/n] crawled over Spencer´s lap, forcing him to look and think respectfully. She ordering a bunch of stuff and then looked at him.

 “What do you want? I only have booze at home, so…”, he looked at her a little startled. Was she trying to be nice to him?

“You wanna buy me something?”, she nodded like this behavior was normal to her. “Sure.”

“Surprise me. I never eat fast food, I don’t know what´s good.”

 She nodded and then told the voice from the box to double her order. Sitting back into her seat, [y/n] took out a hundred dollar bill from her purse, handing it to Spencer. When they pulled up by the window, taking their things, the woman in the window nearly lost it when she saw the rockstar, starting to cry. [y/n] was really nice to her and asked her if she wanted to take a photo in the parking lot. Of course the woman said yes and after paying, where [y/n] had left almost fifty bucks as a tip, Spencer had to park and wait till they had made the photo and given an autograph.

 “Okay, now drive before it goes viral. I wanna eat that stuff before it gets cold.”, she told him, taking a sip of one of the milkshakes.

“That was nice.”, she shrugged and then told him her address, telling him she´d scream when they reached it.

 *****

 Lo and behold, no twenty minutes later they parked in front of [y/n] mansion, next to another, more run down car, belonging to Philip. The mansion would´ve made Rossi´s mansion cry. At least twice as big and the property was enormous. In contrast to [y/n], it was very light and minimalistic from the outside and the inside.

 “Most rooms are empty. Too big.”, she explained walking straight into the open living area, that had a large terrace with pool and a view over the Hollywood hills. She put the paper bags filled with food on the large kitchen island and sat on a barstool.

“You could sell it and buy a smaller one.”, [y/n] shrugged and took out a burger, starting to eat it.

“Philip says I´m gonna grow into it.”, she answered, mocking the tone of voice her manager had probably had.

 Spencer watched her type something on her phone and a minute later Philip came into the room.

 “Hey, where were you? I got worried.”, he asked them and [y/n] handed him a salad.

“It´s the one you always have.”, he smiled at her.

“Thank you. You´re so nice.”, she shrugged at his words, not really caring.

“Yours is in here too, dog.”, she now told spencer.

 Ah, yes. She was being bitchy again. Spencer had only waited for it to happen. He said nothing, but walked up to the white kitchen isle and took the bag she pointed at.

 “Milkshake, burger, fries. Fast food essentials.”, she stated, finishing her small cheeseburger and getting up to her fridge, taking out a beer. She held it to Spencer who declined and then to Philip who did the same. “Lame asses.”, she chuckled, opening it and standing at the counter, watching Spencer eat. “So you´re here for…?”

“Technically it would be the easiest for all of us, if I just stayed.”, she raised her brows.

“Staying like, in my house staying?”, he nodded and she shook her head. “No chance. I enjoy my solitude.”

“[y/n]. If it´s easier for the agent and better for you…”, she sighed, opening a drawer and taking out some pills, swallowing them with her beer. “Fucking hell. But don´t expect me to be considerate of you.”, the rockstar told him.

“Should you consume them with alcohol?”, Spencer asked, taking a bite of his burger and she shrugged.

“I´m going to sleep…you guys…do what you want, I don’t care…”

“Do you need me to do your laundry?”, Philip asked and [y/n] shrugged again, it seemed to be her favorite motion. As she walked down the hallways and Phillip yelled after her. “Don’t forget that you have a gig tonight, [y/n]!”

“THAT`S WHY I`M GOING TO SLEEP NOW, DUMB ASS! WAKE ME UP WHEN WE NEED TO GO!”, she yelled back, followed by the smashing of a door.

 “She´s a nice girl.”, Philip said in the middle of the silence, as Spencer took place on one of the barstools.

“Like a car crash.”, the man in his fifties chuckled.

“I know she´s difficult, but in here she´s good.”, he pointed at his heart. “She has suffered a lot of losses in her life.”

“Then, just as a random thought, you should get into therapy before she OD´s.”, Spencer answered sassy.

“I know what you mean. But as long as she doesn’t want help or overdoes it…she has a system.”, Spencer let his head fall back and groaned.

“You know about that fucking thing?” “You too?”, Philip asked back in surprise. “Profiler. Took me no longer than the nap in her car, to figure that out.”

 Yes, a small lie from Spencer, but it sounded better then: Oh yes, I was addicted to dilaudid once. I had a system too!

 “Tell me, how does that train wreck of a system work?”, Philip leaned back from his salad.

“Well, she takes her painkillers in the morning and smokes some cannabis to get out of bed. When we´re touring or she has to be at shootings, interviews or anything else that needs her to focus, she only smokes and takes the pills all day, alcohol in water bottles is a new one though.”, Spencer sighed and thought if he even wanted to know more.

“And when she´s alone or not busy?” “Then she does the harder stuff.” “Harder stuff like cocaine, LSD…?”, Philip nodded. “Nothing with needles though…she´s scared of them.”

“She will not always be, if she continues like that.” “I know. That´s why I do my best to keep her busy. She even has her own recording studio here, knows how to handle everything herself. I thought it might make her spend more time making music than getting high. I also go out with her a lot, to a point where my wife starts to get jealous.”, he laughed bittersweetly. “Have you ever been to Disney World, agent?”, Spencer shook his head. “I take [y/n] there once a week, because she likes it there. I spend more time with her there then with my own daughter.”, [y/n] was famous, no chance people wouldn’t notice her.

“Does she even get to do anything there?”

“Not often. She mostly meets her fans there, but she loves that a lot. She is really sweet to them too, they mean everything to her.”

 That was the first time Philip had said something that was true about [y/n]. She had, not once been mean to a fan. The complete opposite actually. She had been nice and thoughtful, going out of her way to make the woman at the Drive-Through happy and was nice to Luke.

 “I know she was a little mean to you today, but she also bought us food, seeing it as a matter of course. There are two sides to every person, like a coin.”, Like a coin, just that [y/n] sides flipped as quickly like one too. Philip sighed and got up from his barstool. “I´ll show you around a little, if you want to.”

 Spencer nodded, getting up, following the short man around the house.

 *****

 [y/n] had been right.

It was way too big and many of the rooms were empty. When Spencer asked Philip about the necessity of such a big mansion, he told him, that he had hoped to motivate [y/n] to have a family one day. But now the only rooms in use were her bedroom, one of the five guest bedrooms, which Spencer got to stay in, the open living area with kitchen and living room, the recording studio and a little library. The latter made Spencer a little jealous. In the middle of the room even stood a white piano with notes on it. [y/n] also had a lot of books, all dusty, because she never read anymore. He would´ve killed to have his own library…she probably didn’t even value what she had.

 When they returned into the living area, Philip gave Spencer some spare keys, beginning to clean up a little and putting the food in the fridge. [y/n] didn’t lie, when she said, she only had alcohol at home. JJ came over and brought Spencer his go bag, asking him how it was going. Of course he said he was doing great, but couldn’t help but rant to her about [y/n]´s behavior.

 “Well, she is an addict, Spence. You know how erratic some drugs can make you.”, he nodded.

“Yeah, but she really tries pushing me and then, one second to the other, she´s nice and polite. Have you talked to her bandmates?”, JJ laughed.

“Way too long. We had interviews with them and then Luke just couldn’t stop talking to them, he has also taken about a million pictures with them and facetimed Penelope so she could meet them too.”, Spencer chuckled.

“Sounds like they had a good time. Anything else happened? Found out something?”

“[y/n]´s mother was an addict and left the family when she was younger. When she found out her daughter was famous, she got back in touch with her, to borrow money. [y/n] didn’t care and even got her to live with her, in one of the guest bedrooms. She overdosed a few months ago, since then [y/n]´s addiction got worse.”, Spencer´s eyes got wide.

“She didn’t die in the guest bedroom though, right?”

 Just as JJ wanted to answer, [y/n] walked in. Philip walking behind her with a duffle bag.

 “She died in the bathroom and she didn’t overdose perse, she drowned after falling unconscious in the bathtub, while being high.”, she answered cold, seeming to have overheard their conversation. [y/n] grabbed a beer from the fridge and continued calmly while taking some colorful pills. “I found her. The bathroom that it happened in is always locked. Don´t worry.”, Philip fidgeted a little with his hands, looking for his keys.

“Uh-Uhm. Agents? We need to go. The concert…”

“You coming too?”, [y/n] asked, looking at JJ and she shrugged. “We could also invite the cute one…Luke. It´s about 20.000 people so two more won´t hurt…right Philly?”, Phillip nodded.

“You´re all invited. SSA Prentiss as well.”, he said and JJ smiled at them.

“Thank you. That´s very nice, but I´ll have to talk to them first.”, [y/n] shrugged at that and drank her beer.

“You have my number, just call when you know. We start half past eight.”, Philip then took the empty beer bottle from [y/n] and threw it away. “Show time.”

 *****

 Half an hour into the concert Luke had shown up, completely hyped.

 “What did I miss? We had some ex-staff members to talk to. Did they already play ‘Going to Hell’?”, Spencer nodded. “Argh, dammit. Doesn’t matter, that song´s amazing too.”

 During the whole concert Spencer watched [y/n]. The music wasn’t that bad, a little harsh, but it was mix of hard and alternative rock after all. At least that´s what Penelope said, when Luke started facetiming her. After the last costume change, Spencer pulled [y/n] aside. He asked her to not be so ‘touchy’ with her fans. Since she would kneel down and hold their hands. He tried telling her about the risks of having the unsub in the audience, but she only laughed.

 “I´ll be as touchy as I want, bitch.”, he started to frown.

“At least don’t stagedive. Luke says you always do that and the risk of the unsub use-“, she interrupted him, wanting to go on stage.

“Fuck off, dog.”, he held her arm, trying to reason with her.

“Can you ple-“, she tried pulling away, like an angry child.

“No.” “Stop being so fuck-“, [y/n] interrupted him again.

“Stop trying to fucking babysit me.”

“I just want to hel-“, she ripped her arm away. “Yeah, fuck you too.”, the rockstar answered, not letting him finish and walked back on stage.

 Philip walked up to Spencer, having seem the ordeal of him trying to talk to [y/n] and him now  driving the heel of his palm into his eyes. This girl gave him migraines.

 “What happened?”, Philip asked and Luke answered for Spencer.

“He told her not to stagedive.”, Philip laughed a little and shook his head.

“Oh yeah. Never tell her what to do. She hates that and then does it out of spite.”

“You don’t say?”, Spencer answered sarcastically.

 On stage [y/n] took her microphone, saying something to her bandmates and then smiling sweetly, while talking to her fans.

 “This next song is for my lovely new babysitter, who thinks he can tell me what to do.”, the crowd started booing and she laughed. “I know, I know. But it looks like he doesn’t know how things work around here…So I think we have to help him out a little.”

 The music started to play and Luke patted Spencer´s arm.

“She dedicates ‘Heaven Knows’ to you! Penny have you heard? She sings ‘Heaven Knows’ for Reid!”

“NO! SHUT UP!”, the blonde on the phone squeaked.

 He and Garcia started to freak out while Spencer watched [y/n] clapping her thigh and stomping to the beat.

“Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close, you can hear him cry

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Sing it!”

She lifted the mic to her audience she started to sing for her.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below, way down below, way down below

“Judy's in the front seat picking up trash

Livin' on the dole, gotta make that cash

Won't be pretty, won't be sweet

She's just sittin' here on her feet singin'

Oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Go!”

Again her fans obeyed her, Luke and Penelope freaking out next to Spencer. If it wouldn’t have been a moment, were he had to fear which move she had planned next to unnerve him, he might have even enjoyed this song and the involvement of her fans in it.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

“Sing, oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below”

She now looked at him for a moment, while her audience sang. Before, again, walking around the stage, touching her fans hands.

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've had better days, man, I've seen better days

I've had better ways, man, I know better ways

One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door

Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie

Show your life with your head held high

Now you're on your knees with a head on low

Big man tells you where to go

Tell them it's good, tell 'em ok

Don't do a goddamn thing they say”

Spencer was surprised how well her fans knew her lyrics. She would just have to point at them or lift her mic and they would instantly sing were she stopped. Not missing a beat.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've seen better ways, and I know better ways

I've seen better days, man, I've got better days”

[y/n] now stood at the edge of the stage, back turned to her audience. She smiled directly at Spencer, fingers held like a gun to her head.

“Gina's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close you can hear the cryin'”

At the last word she mimicked shooting herself and let herself fall back into the crowd. Her fans got wild and continued her song, while Spencer certainly not in a long time, if ever, felt so much spite and frustration against a woman, other than Cat Adams.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Singin' oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh, Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

The crown placed [y/n] back on her stage, where she walked up to her bandmates again, waving at Spencer and Luke with the sweetest smile.

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

 *****

 After the concert and the encores she and the band got behind stage, where Spencer for the least thirty minutes had waited to give her a piece of his mind. As [y/n] giggled and walked up to him and Luke. He grabbed her arm, a little harsher than planned.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”, she blinked at his yelling, answering with her innocent eyes blinking and a mocking tone.

“What´s the prob, dog?”

“What´s- Do you really care so little for your own safety?”, Hank came up to them, having seen Spencer´s grip on the girls arm.

“Hey! What´s going on here? [y/n], are you okay?”, Spencer quickly let go of her.

“Yeah, the dog is just pissing himself because I stage dived.”, he quickly took a deep breath.

“I´m not pissing myself, [y/n], but I told you not to do it. What would you have done when your stalker would´ve been in the crowd and lost it? Nobody would´ve been able to get to you fast enough and help!”, Hank looked at her in disappointed shock.

“Is that true, [y/n]?”, the black haired girl ignored her friend and just continued arguing with Spencer.

“Well, maybe I don’t want anybody’s help!”, she hissed at Spencer.

“Then why are we even here?”, Spencer hissed back. “BECAUSE I BRING MONEY! Else the label would let me rot in a fucking corner! GOD! You are ruining my after-show-high. I hate you!”, [y/n] yelled and Spencer tried not to yell back, tried to be the bigger person, only hissing back at her.

“Oh, trust me. That feeling is mutual.”, she swallowed hard and then turned around, stomping away.

 *****

After half an hour waiting, Spencer got a call from Philip, telling him that [y/n] refused to see him again and would be sleeping at his house tonight. He told him, that he should just let himself into the mansion and eat what´s in the fridge. It wasn’t from use, to try talking to [y/n], when she was that angry. Tomorrow Philip would call him and bring her back into Spencer´s care.

Spencer did as told, Luke driving him to the mansion, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. He then got into the large, empty mansion and grabbed himself a well-deserved beer. Being alone in this big house was depressing. After his third beer he stopped, walking into his room.

He pulled his blue and gold sobriety token, he had gotten for being clean ten years, out of his bag. Thumb rubbing over the golden X in the middle of it. He actually had deserved a twelve year token by now, but since prison didn’t actively attended the meetings anymore, having grown past it. Yet, he still kept the tokens he had, close to him.

They reminded him of his achievement, reminded him to be proud at himself.

Spencer never wanted to fall back into the dark hole he was in, when he was addicted, and even when [y/n] would throw tantrum after childish tantrum, she wouldn’t cause him to relapse. He was stronger than this. Stronger than her.

To be continued...

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Give me your feedback [also anonymous!]

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Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

[ceasarslegion]

You know I’m in 11th grade and we don’t have a dare program anymore. Like I haven’t heard about dare since I was in like elementary school. Like 3rd maybe 5th grade was the last time? Cause they used to give us pencils and crap with the red letters I remember that, but in school we haven’t spoken about dare in years. I don’t know what happened. Why would would have that in elementary school, and not middle school, or especially not in high school, I don’t really get.

Damn, school kids these days don't even have to deal with the dare program anymore??? Wack

It was weird back then, too. Every thursday for my entire 6th grade year, they pulled us out of class to talk about drugs and alcohol. Except it wasn't really "education," it was mostly just the same cop coming to our school every week to yell at us about how drugs and alcohol are so bad and evil that even looking at them would kill us, and all addicts are the devil incarnate. It was super fucked up in hindsight, especially with the heavy demonization of addicts, and really reeked of the gym teacher from Mean Girls teaching health class.

And the thing is, it did more harm than good for the same reason that abstinence-only sex ed ends in MORE unwanted pregnancies: they just yelled at us to never touch it and implied that everyone who did was a hopeless basket case who was too worthless to deserve any help. So what did they expect would happen once we grew up and experimented with the light stuff, like alcohol and weed, and found out that it wasn't some unholy demon that would ruin our lives and kill us instantly? When kids grow up and find out you lied about the little, mostly inconsequential ones, they're gonna think you lied about the harmful ones, too. That's why the dare program can be tied back to more heavy drug use in people around my age group, it's really fucked up.

And the thing is, I'm actually not opposed at all to drug and alcohol education in schools. I'm for it, as long as it's done correctly. By that, I mean instead of just yelling at children to never touch it and making up scary stories to fearmonger them out of it which doesn't work anyway, teach them harm reduction instead. You can't ever stop someone from doing something, but you can give them the tools to do it safely. A good drug education program would be honest about it IMO, teach kids how to spot their limits with alcohol, how to dose correctly with weed, etc. And yeah, I'm gonna sound pretty radical here, but they should also teach age-appropriate kids how things like needle exchange programs and safe injection sites work. As well as how narcan works, where to get it, and how to administer it if someone's ODing.

And for the love of god, I would toss the hardcore demonization of addicts I got out the window altogether. I'd replace it with like... stories from real addicts and teach compassion instead of hatred. Because yeah, statistically speaking at least a few kids in those classes WILL grow up to become addicts themselves regardless of their education, but that's WHY we need to overhaul it altogether. Those kids deserve to know that it's not a death sentence, they're not evil or worthless or hopeless, and something as simple as knowing how to inject with clean needles while someone with narcan is around might save their life.

[giftofshewbread]

Life in 6 Letters =1 Word

What is the GOSPEL Journey message?

The word gospel means “good news” and is explained by the following six key truths of the GOSPEL Journey.

God created us to be with Him. (Genesis 1-2)

In these two chapters God creates all of the universe and everything in it (Genesis 1:1), including the first man and woman, Adam and Eve. God created Adam and Eve with purpose. He called them to “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28) and fill the earth with their offspring. He gave them the mission of taking care of the earth and tending the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2:15.)

God made them to be in complete fellowship with Him and with each other. Their nakedness (Genesis 2:25) represented the fact that they had no sin, therefore no shame, therefore nothing to hide before God or each other. They regularly communed with God in the garden and had sheer bliss, pure happiness and unadulterated joy. It was during this time that they were living everyday as God intended, in right relationship with each other, God and His creation. The only command God gave to them was not to eat from the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

In the same way God made us to be in fellowship with Him. His original plan was that you and I were in absolute and perfect relationship with Him and with each other in total unity. God created us to be in harmony with all of heaven and all of earth. But that plan was disrupted by one evil act thousands and thousands of years ago.

Our sins separate us from God. (Genesis 3)

When Adam and Eve were tempted by Satan and ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Genesis 3:6), and thereby sinned, they immediately became aware of their “error.” They sewed fig leaves together to cover their shame and hid in the garden from God (Genesis 3:7,8). Now they were hiding from the one that they used to fellowship with regularly. Men and women have been hiding from God ever since, covering their sin and shame with the fig leaves of religion or philosophy.

God confronted them face to face. As a result of their sin there were immediate and future consequences. The immediate consequences were being banished from the garden (Genesis 3:23,24), having difficulty in childbirth (Genesis 3:16) and our work turning from a joy that we love to a job that we hate (Genesis 3:17-19).

The future consequence for Adam and Eve was physical death. God had promised in Genesis 2:17 that the day he sinned by eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil that he would “surely die.” Spiritually Adam and Eve died the day they sinned in the garden. Their souls became immediately polluted by sin and selfishness. As a result all of their offspring (and that includes you and me) were born sinful and selfish. Through Adam every person ever born is born deprived and depraved, deprived of God’s fellowship and depraved to the core (Romans 5:12-14).

When confronted by God the blame game begins. Adam blames Eve (Genesis 3:12) and Eve blames the snake (Genesis 3:13). Humanity has been playing the blame game ever since. What began as paradise unraveled with a single choice to disobey God and listen to Satan instead. Every war, famine, argument, sin and tragedy can be traced back to the garden of Eden where Adam and Eve chose to turn their backs on God for a taste of fruit.

Sins cannot be removed by good deeds. (Genesis 4 – Malachi 4)

From the beginning humanity has attempted to remove the stain of sin by good deeds. When Cain offered God vegetables as an appeasement for his sin God rejected it (Genesis 4:1-4). Cain was infuriated and killed his brother Abel.

In Exodus, the second book of the Bible, God gave the Israelites the 10 Commandments (Exodus 20:1-17), not to save them from their sin, but to show them that they couldn’t live up to his perfect standards on their own (Galatians 3:23-24). Instead of looking to Him in faith many of the Jews looked to themselves and thought they could please God in their own strength. But God saw their “righteous” deeds like filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6). Even the best of their good deeds were corrupted by selfish motives.

In Leviticus, the third book of the Bible, God gave the Israelites the sacrificial system. Every time a Jew sinned he or she was to sacrifice a goat without any blemishes (Leviticus 4:27-31). Think about that. If you were a Jew in the Old Testament and had to make a sacrifice every time you lied, lusted, gossiped, complained or argued you would soon run out of goats. Other offerings included offerings of bulls and sheep.

The sacrificial system was meant to point inward, upward and forward. It pointed inward to convince you of your sinfulness. If you were honest before God then you would soon realize that you could never make enough sacrifices for your sin. It pointed upward to make you trust in God for your salvation instead of sacrifices that you could make (Psalm 51:16,17). It pointed forward to the ultimate sacrifice of the lamb of God, Jesus Christ, who would someday come to take away the sin of the world (John 1:29).

The rest of the Old Testament tells the story of the Jewish people, some of whom realized they were sinners and needed God to save them (Psalm 51:1,2) and most of whom trusted in their own goodness instead of the mercy and grace of God (Isaiah 64:6).

Paying the price for sin, Jesus died and rose again. (Matthew – Luke)

When Jesus came to the earth he came as the fulfillment of the law (Matthew 5:17) and the ultimate sacrifice (Luke 24:46). He lived the perfect life that we could not live and died in our place, for our sin. When he died upon the cross he screamed the words “It is finished” (John 19:30). What he meant by these three words was that the price for our sins was paid completely. He was fully God and entirely man. As a perfect human he could die for other humans. As the true and living God his payment for sin was infinite.

Jesus rose from the dead three days after he was murdered on the cross (Mark 16:6). He was seen by over 500 witnesses (I Corinthians 15:6) on at least 12 separate occasions over the course of forty days (Acts 1:3). Because he died our sins are paid for entirely. Because he rose from the dead we know that Jesus was who he claimed to be, God in the flesh.

Everyone who trusts in Him alone has eternal life. (John)

The amazing thing about eternal life is that it is a free gift given to us by God through faith alone and not by any of our good deeds (Ephesians 2:8,9). Jesus paid the price for our sins when he died on the cross and all we must do is receive the gift of forgiveness through faith. When we believe that Jesus died for our sins and trust in Him alone we receive eternal life, are passed out of death into life and are guaranteed a home in heaven (John 5:24).

Eternal life is not achieved by good deeds but received through faith. It’s not a matter of trying but trusting. When we believe we receive the forgiveness of sins and the gift of eternal life. Almost the entire New Testament is dedicated to talking about this eternal life and the implications of it in our everyday lives. From John through Jude the disciples of Jesus show us how to live like Jesus intended, serving each other in love. This is the heart of eternal life!

Life with Jesus starts now and lasts forever. (Acts – Revelation)

Because Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead we will be with Jesus forever in heaven. When we trust in Jesus we enter into a personal, permanent relationship with God called “eternal life.”

Part of the reality of eternal life is that it doesn’t start after you die but as soon as you believe (John 10:10). This life is the joy of a real, exciting relationship with Jesus every single day through prayer, worship and living in the strength that God provides through his Holy Spirit (Ephesians 5:18).

The other part of the reality of eternal life is that all who have it will be with Jesus forever and ever in heaven someday. Once we receive it is ours forever and we are his forever!

The last chapter of the last book of the Bible makes it clear that we will “rule and reign forever” with Jesus (Revelation 22:5). In essence the last chapter in the story of the Bible concludes by saying, “and they lived happily ever after.”

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 9

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

Too close to the sun (239): A reference to the myth of Icarus; his father built him wings so that they could escape from a tower they were trapped in. Upon gaining his freedom for the first time in years, Icarus celebrated by flying as high as he could. The sun melted the wax on his wings, and they fell apart, leaving him to plummet to his death.

Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens (239): Alexander Hamilton was an American politician, and John Laurens was a revolutionary fighter and abolitionist. Every biography of either of them is like “yeah wow they sure were GOOD FRIENDS” or “They had a ROMANTIC FRIENDSHIP” (an actual phrase I just read). 

Chernow’s biography (240): The most popular biography of Alexander Hamilton; the one that the 2016 musical Hamilton is based on. He concludes that “at the very least, we can say that Hamilton developed something like an adolescent crush on his friend”.

King George III (242): The king against whom the American colonies revolted.

Eliza (243): Eliza Schuyler Hamilton was Alexander Hamilton’s wife. The pair absolutely adored each other, and according to at least one of Hamilton’s letters to Laurens, she was conscious of and completely alright with their relationship (and also maybe down for a three-way).

Allen Ginsberg to a Peter Orlovsky (245): Allen Ginsberg was an American poet of the Beat movement, which was characterized by a dissatisfaction with 1950s America. Peter Orlovsky was an actor and took up poetry after beginning his open relationship with Ginsberg. The pair continued this relationship until Ginsberg’s death in 1997.

Henry James to Hendrix C. Andersen* (247): Henry James was an American/British writer whose works often explore the contrast and overlap between those two cultures. Hendrix C. Andersen a sculptor (known for a sculpture of Jacob, um... “wrestling” an angel). The two met in Rome in 1899, and James immediately bought a bust sculpted by Andersen, which he placed above his mantle, declaring “I shall have him constantly before me as a loved companion and friend”. (more, including a deeply gay love letter)

“Loco in Acapulco” (248): A 1988 song by the Four Tops about partying in Acapulco, a Mexican beach city. (listen here)

Chambray (249): Chambray is a fabric native to South France, it is lightweight and made of a weave of light colored and white threads.

“Here You Come Again” (249): A 1977 country/pop song recorded/performed by Dolly Parton, about a lover coming back into her life. (listen here)

“Summertime” (249): A DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince hip-hop song from 1991 about how summer is a break from the hectic rest of the world. (listen here)

45 (249): Texas State Highway 45 runs in a loop around Austin.

Mexican Coke (250): Coca-Cola made in Mexico is typically made with cane sugar rather than high fructose corn syrup, and many believe that gives it a more natural taste.

Lake LBJ (250): The history behind this lake is pretty well covered in the book, but it is popular for boating and water skiing because of its normally constant water level (meaning it is not significantly impacted by things like rainfall or other weather issues). 

“Jumbo”** (250): LBJ apparently had a sizeable “little” friend. He tried to have the White House shower altered so to have a stream shooting directly onto it. He would show it to people all the time. He asked to have his pants tailored to accommodate it.  

Henry VIII*** (250): Henry VIII is a British king best known for taking six wives, most of whom he either killed or divorced after they failed to give birth to sons. He invented the Church of England so that he could legally divorce his first wife and it went downhill from there. 

Strawberry daiquiris (250): A strawberry daiquiri is a mix of rum, sugar, and citrus. They are often frozen and are a popular summer drink.

Hacienda school of home decor (251): “Hacienda” is the Spanish word for an estate; this style is typically defined by high ceilings, open, arched doorways, and sprawling floor plans. “Hacienda” homes are associated with Mexico and the Southwest United States, and are generally designed as cozy outdoor/indoor spaces.

Pemberton Heights (252): One of Austin’s wealthiest and most historic neighborhoods.

Chente (252): Vincente ”Chente” Fernández Gómez is a Mexican actor and musician known as “El Rey de la Música Ranchera" (The King of Ranchera Music). He started his career playing for tips on the street, but has since risen to stardom. (listen here and here)

Cotija and crema (253): Cotija is a Mexican cheese, and Mexican crema is a thickened cream often used as a topping for Mexican foods. 

Elotes (253): Elote, or Mexican street corn, is a popular summer dish made with sweet corn covered in crema, cotija, chili powder, and a variety of other toppings.

Candy-ass (254): A wimp or person who’s not especially tough.

“Not bad for a European” (254): The general stereotype in the US is that European folks, especially English folks, are generally smart, but not very tough.

Santa Maria (256): Saint Mary, the mother of Jesus and greatest of all Catholic saints.

Tamales with salsa verde (256): Tamales are a Mexican dish made of a corn dough wrapped and steamed in corn husks, and salsa verde is a tomatillo-based salsa. Tamales are often made with help from an assembly line of family members. 

Frijoles charros (256): Frijoles charros, or “cowboy beans”, are a Mexican dish made of pinto beans stewed with onions, garlic, bacon, and other elements such as meat, peppers, tomatoes, and cilantro.

Sangria (256): An alcoholic beverage from Spain made of red wine mixed with fruit.

Johnny Cash (256): An American musician who began his career as a country singer, but branched out into rock and gospel as well. He was known for his humility and his free prison concerts, and for context within the book, June is named after his wife. (listen here and here)

Selena (256): Selena Quintanilla-Pérez was a Mexican-American singer/ songwriter/ model/ spokesperson who is known for catapulting Tejano or Tex-Mex music into the mainstream. (listen here and here)

Fleetwood Mac (256): Fleetwood Mac is a British-American pop rock band formed in 1967. (listen here and here)

“Annie’s Song” (256): A John Denver song written as an ode to his wife; she described it as “a love song [that] became a bit of a prayer”. (listen here)

Chile de árbol (257): A small, potent chili native to Mexico.

Jazz brunch (258): A brunch with a jazz trio playing in the background. They’re typically associated with older folks on vacation.

Migas (262): Mexican migas is a traditional breakfast dish made of a crispy tortilla with scrambled eggs on top. The Tex-Mex variation includes extra ingredients like onions, peppers, tomatoes, cheese, or salsa.

The heir and the spare (263): This refers to the idea that a king should have at least two sons: one to be the heir to his throne, and a backup “spare” to keep the kingdom from a succession war in case that first died. 

------

*Fun fact; Hendrik Andersen is related to Hans Christian Andersen (the fairy tale author), who was also queer!

** I now know... far too much about this.

*** The musical Six gives each wife a stage to voice their side of the story, and it’s very good.

----

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–-

Chapter 1 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 10 

[blametheeditor]

April Fools, Hunter

THE CHARACTERS SETO AND MARK BELONG SOLELY TO PARACOSMIC-GT

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death, mentions of murder, threatening to kill someone, being an assassin, mentions of consuming someone though it’s never described nor completed, SLIGHT gore.

We do not mean to be insensitive nor take anything lightly. There are themes in this story not fit for everyone and has dark ideas.

Run Down: The outcome of having your pranksters gain a new partner in crime, and a way to shrink down a giant for some good old fashioned payback.

Meet the Hunter!

Disclaimer: Also, please meet my wonderful friend @paracosmic-gt, who I have had the absolute pleasure of getting to know, and become one of my best friends. As stated at the very top in big, bold, all-caps letters, there are two characters named Seto and Mark who belong solely to her. That I claim no rights of. I did ask permission to post works that I have written, with her characters, so this is what I’ve marked as an ode to Cosmic.

                    Again, while this is my writing, the two characters are hers, and if you enjoy them, are interested, and want to see more, I highly suggest checking out her blog for a few writings and constant g/t content, and her wonderful setoandjewel blog where most of her writings are.

Honestly, the best way to make the debut of one of my favorite characters with the first story I ever threw at Cosmic because I was in love with her characters.

Thank you so much for reading!

__________________________

"EMPLOYEE E50! 

“MARK! 

”YOU ARE GETTING KILLED TODAY!” 

“LEFT!” 

Mark doesn’t question the odd shout made right after an extremely serious threat, instead immediately diving in the direction called out. A breeze ruffles his hair slightly as he barely manages to miss the lunge that would’ve ended him. 

Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

He admits, having Hunter human is always entertaining. After that first time things have died down considerably reaction-wise. Instead of Seto getting angry at them pulling such a trick on their new-found puppy, his friend has sort of ‘accepted’ the fact there might be a shrunken assassin racing around at any given time. The giant turned human’s actions after getting reduced in size haven’t changed, though. 

It’s only murder on his mind. 

“RAAA!” 

The assassin rolls to his feet after missing his rightful kill, a solid hundred feet away from where the Jamaican is barely standing up. 

“HEY HELL SPAWN OF MR. ASSHOLE!” 

Eggs allows a girlish scream as he then barely escapes the path of death, Hunter’s thoroughly pissed off form leaping at him. 

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL MY FATHER SUCH NAMES!” is roared from behind, followed by quick footsteps the blonde man attempts to sprint away from. “AND DON’T YOU EVER ENCOURAGE MIKE’S RIDICULOUS NICKNAMES!” 

“MARK, HURRY!” 

Shit, this is going both exactly as he’s wanted it to, and nothing like he’s wanted it to. Hunter chasing them without thinking of consequences is not only the reaction they need, a reaction they constantly get, too. It’s how Mark was able to lead him into a cobweb and locked him inside the cupboard. Now it’s how they’re trying to pull another prank. 

Problem is he thinks the assassin got faster since the last time they snuck a shrinking potion in the toaster waffles. Mark agrees as he starts yelling directions. 

“Eggs, go right! Right, right, right, STOP!” 

A growl sends shivers up the two true human’s spines before the mechanic then proceeds to sprint toward a glass overturned after avoiding him yet again, the opening facing the sprinting figures. 

Shit, shit, SHIT! 

Hunter’s hand reaches out to snag Eggs’ shirt and finally- 

“NO, NO-!” 

Mark shoves the glass cup to try and make sure it actually stands up, glad the momentum of the assassin sprinting managed to get the heavy object in a standing position. Immediately Eggs is by his side and forcing the prison to land upright with a solid thunk!. 

They pant before yelling as Hunter lunges at them, nearly tipping the glass over and freeing him. “I AM KILLING BOTH OF YOU FOR THIS!” 

The Jamaican looks at their angry friend accessing the space. “That'll hold him, right?” 

“It should.” 

Determined blue eyes say otherwise. The giant turned human slowly backs up, glancing over the thin glass that can easily be knocked back over. And once he’s out, nothing can save the little traitors from getting out of their small intestines getting ripped out-! 

A yell escapes as a shadow descends on the glass, fingerprints nearly as big as his head grabbing his prison and rising into the air, vertigo leaving Hunter’s heart thumping erratically. Just as he demands the giant who thinks it’s funny to pick him up without warning like that, water suddenly drenches his hair, soaking him completely before filling the glass. 

“HEY!” 

Seto sighs as he lifts his drink away to quickly splash water onto his face. The faucet stays on a steady stream in an attempt to soothe the migraine currently pounding away in his head. Bile attempts to escape his stomach as well, a clear sign he did something wrong and allowed a virus to attack him. The water clearly won’t do anything, but at least it should help the pain he’s feeling now. 

Hunter sputters as his world swirls, ramming into the glass as he’s taken for a ride he did not want to be in. As the water than tilts and becomes more level, a glare finds the looming face of Seto- 

...no. No, no, NO! 

It’s a split second before the assassin leaps out of his prison, grabbing Seto’s hair and shaking in fear as he leans against the sorcerer’s forehead. 

For the giant’s part, he jerks back at something lunging at his face and staying there, choking on his water before forcing it down his throat. A moment to compose himself and he realizes the thing has a distinct human-like presence. And it’s wet. 

Why? 

“Hunter?” 

The figure shifts slightly and a tiny shoe kicks the reaching fingers with a panicked yet angry growl. “Don’t grab me! You almost swallowed me!” 

“I highly doubt I wouldn’t have noticed you,” is softly defended. Seto glances down on the counter to set the glass down without accidentally hurting anyone. His suspicion of a prank having gone a bit too far is confirmed at the sight of Eggs and Mark looking a bit petrified. 

He sees the hidden smiles, however. It must be a bit amusing to watch the murderous force to be reckoned with dangling over the giant’s face. And maybe he agrees it might be. 

“I said don’t grab me!” 

“Come on, Hunter, don’t be ridiculous,” Seto berates, both of his hands now surrounding the assassin. He can feel the untrusting glare but his left fingers are able to pinch the lock of hair just above the human’s grasp. “I need to get you down, I’m not in the mood for you to be stubborn for no reason, and you can’t hate me when you try to actively hold humans in your mouth.” 

“I don’t swallow, though! Ever! And you were going to!” 

Hunter does not want to allow himself to be picked up. Not when he could’ve gotten hurt again. Being shrunk only comes with promises being broken and he hates it! Everyone abuses the fact he’s vulnerable and rubs it in his face! 

Surprisingly however he doesn’t attempt to stop Seto again as the giant’s right hand pinches his chest. Retreating from his precarious position the assassin kicks unhappily as he’s carefully cupped in a hand and held close to the mountain of a chest looming behind him. But he still allows it. Allows himself to be carried to the couch. 

“I am going to make them pay.” 

“Later,” the rumbling voice yawns. The sorcerer slowly lays down as to not jostle his apparent charge, hand lying over Hunter in a statement he’s staying there. From then sleep starts to pull him under. 

One last kick to his palm and the human curls into a slightly shivering ball, passing out just before Seto does. 

[sebthesnipe]

Bibliophile

February Prompts 2/21

Prompt List

First // Previously // Next

The February Collection on AO3

My Dearest Procyon

Other works by me

Prompt: Quit / Quick

Ship: Prinxiety and logicality

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

Virgil breathed deeply, the earthy smell of old books filling his lungs. Tension seemed to fall from his shoulders as he released the breath. There was nothing quite as comforting as being hidden behind shelves and shelves of books. Libraries and bookshops, like this one, had always been his haven against the horrific truths of the world. He allowed his fingers to dance across the spines that lined the shelf in front of him, enjoying the  rough cloth or stitched leather that covered them before finally making his selection.

The thick book slid from its spot with ease, leaving a small line in the dust where it had been sitting. It was obviously not a popular selection, not that Virgil minded. It had a generous amount of weight to it as Virgil caressed the block and gold cover reading the engraved words ‘Collection From The Crypt’. It was an apt name for a collection of poetry revolving around death, and one that Virgil had read many times. In fact, it was one of his favorites, he would be lying if he claimed not to have wished for a copy on their travels. 

His lips turned up in his excitement as he gently opened the book, flipping through the pages slowly to take in the titles of each page. 

“What are you reading?” Roman asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and causing Virgil to start snapping the book shut.

“What?” the witch replied a bit too hastily not to be suspicious. 

Roman moved closer, stepping around the bookshelf he had suddenly appeared from behind. “What are you reading?” he asked again, bending to try and get a glimpse of the title. 

In a quick jerk of his hands, Virgil brought the book up to his chest, hiding the cover. He was unsure as to why he felt so embarrassed about his passion for poetry but it was certainly a driving force at the moment.

“Nothing you would be interested in,” Virgil insisted, hoping beyond hope that Roman would accept that as an answer and leave it be. Naturally, he was wrong.

Despite Virgil’s valiant efforts, Roman had managed to catch sight of the gold lettering against the black leather. He couldn’t help but give a knowing smile as he met the witch’s gaze. 

“Oh?” he asked curiously, arching a brow. “Why is that?”

“I dunno,” the smaller man mumbled with a shrug, obviously unsure of himself, “Its probably not… princely enough for you.” Roman’s smile faltered slightly, though Virgil wasn’t quite sure he was meant to see it. 

Roman took a moment to gather his thoughts. Was that really how Virgil saw him? Was he nothing but some snobbish prince that was only as good as his title? Well, that stung a bit more than the prince had expected it to. 

He gave a nod, pursing his lips as he turned away, moving to the small chair at the end of the row of books and sat down. He seemed a bit out of place among the dusty tomes around him, but Virgil was just thankful he had allowed him some space as he turned back to his book.

“God lay dead in heaven;” Roman’s voice came softly, causing the witch to tense. “Angels sang the hymn of the end” his voice was gentle as he paced the words slowly, allowing them to creep towards the smaller man, causing the hair on his arms to stand on end. “Purple winds went moaning, their wings drip-dripping with blood that fell upon the earth.”

Virgil’s head lifted in surprise as he finally recognized why he knew the words. His wide gaze met the prince’s as he continued to recite  the poem from one of Virgil’s favorite collections. 

Roman’s voice remained low, despite the dark tones of the words. He spoke them as if every utterance was a prayer; like an ode to a love lost. It was heartbreaking and inspiring at the same time. Virgil wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. 

“It, groaning thing, turned black and sank. Then from the far caverns of dead sins came monsters, livid with desire,” Roman continued, his hazel gaze meeting Virgil's glamoured one almost flatly. “They fought, wrangled over the world, a morsel.”

“But of all sadness this was sad-” Virgil interrupted, seizing his chance, “A woman’s arms tried to shield the head of a sleeping man from the jaws of the final beast.” 

Silence fell between them for only a moment before Virgil finally averted his gaze, face flushing with a mix of emotions. 

“Not one of my favorites, but I’m a little surprised that you know it,” he admitted softly, toying with the corner of the book still in his hands.

“Why? Because poetry isn’t ‘princely’?” Roman asked, using the man’s own words against him. 

Virgil knew he kind of deserved that. “I wouldn’t say that it’s poetry in general,” he offered, trying to placate the obvious offense Roman had taken, “it is more due to the fact that the end of the world in that poem seems a bit dark for your… well, you-ness.” 

“My ‘you-ness’?” the prince asked, earning a vague shrug from the witch. Roman gave a small sigh, shaking his head slightly before replying. “I would argue that the meaning of the poem isn’t dark.” 

“What?” the smaller man scoffered, hugging the book to his chest once more. “It’s about death and destruction devouring the entirety of the world!” 

“Is it though?” Roman asked with an arch of his brow. 

“What else could it possibly be about?!” Virgil demanded.

“It is a beautiful tale of a brave heroine!” Roman replied, fervently tossing his hands up, it seemed to be a custom when the man grew excited, Virgil noticed. 

“You have got to be joking,” the darker of the two huffed in response. 

“I never joke about poetry,” the seriousness in Roman’s tone had Virgil pausing, a shiver running down his spine.

“Alright, Your Royal Pain, how so?” He had to admit, he was curious as to where Roman was going with this. It wasn’t often he had a chance to discuss his interests outside of Logan, and even then the fellow witch was a bit dry. 

“Well, as you pointed out the other day, even though we live in the same society, I experience a world that is vastly different from your own,” Roman pointed out.

“Yeah. So?” 

“So,” the prince sighed, causing the too tight shirt that covered his chest to squeeze him just a bit more, drawing the witch’s gaze. Virgil really needed to quit staring. He forced his mismatched eyes up, trying his best to focus on what Roman was actually saying rather than the way he was dressed.

“What if ‘the world’ that the poem speaks of isn’t the land around us at all? Perhaps it is the woman’s own experience within the world,just as you and I live in two different worlds,” he explained, waving a hand between himself and the smaller man standing before him to reinforce his point. “We see how she has lost her faith in God. The Angels weep for her as the darkness of the world she lives in claws at her very being.” 

Virgil stared at the other man, his heart beginning to beat a bit fast as Roman continued. He wasn’t quite sure how the prince did not see his explanation as ‘dark’, but he was far too interested in discovering where he was being led to bother asking. 

“However, despite the dark and twisted world she sees, despite the horrific evil that surrounds her, wanting to rip her apart, she does not think of herself,” Roman sighed, a soft almost awed smile playing on his lips. “No, her thoughts are with the man that is with her. She thinks not of herself as she uses her own body to shield his. She thinks not of herself as she feeds herself to the beast in the hopes of delaying the man’s suffering. In the end, she knows the creatures will reach him. She knows he will live the same fate as she…” his voice cracked slightly, pulling Virgil from the spell he had seemed to be under. 

As the witch focused on the man before him, he noticed the slight gleam in Roman’s eyes. He appeared to be on the verge of tears as he continued his tale, although Virgil was unsure if it was from being moved by the poem or his own recent trauma. 

“Still, she is willing to give everything to provide him with just a brief moment of security. A moment in which he may be able to feel relief from the horrors, a moment where there may live just a little bit of joy in his dark existence. Because in the end, she is not willing to live in a world where he has no joy.”

Silence fell between the two men as Virgil couldn’t help but stare down at the prince, awestruck and a bit concerned. The tears had broken free of the green-brown gaze and began to streak across Roman’s cheeks quietly. A lump formed in Virgil’s throat at the sight, fighting back his own wave of emotion. 

Roman always seemed playful and teasing when the two of them were together, it was difficult to remember everything he had gone through during the last few days. Virgil couldn’t imagine the pain he must be feeling and yet, somehow he managed to hide it from the rest of them. No doubt, the dark poem was a vivid reminder of all that he had lost.

“Hey… Listen,” Virgil managed after a long moment, the word coming as a whisper. Despite its barely audible utterance, the sound seemed to pull Roman from his thoughts. The glaze that seemed to have covered his hazel eyes cleared slowly as he blinked slowly. He glanced up at Virgil before ducking his head to quickly wipe away the tears, obviously ashamed of them. 

“I’m sorry about your home.” Damn! Virgil was pretty sure that was too blunt. He wasn’t that good at the whole comfort thing. “I’m sure when you finally get back you’ll be able to rebuild. I know it won’t be the same, but at least it's something, right?” Virgil offered. 

Roman gave a small snort, still trying to rub the redness from his face. “You’re really bad at this,” he teased lightly, shooting a sly grin up towards the smaller man, though the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Virgil knew what the prince was doing. He deflected far too often not to be aware when someone else did the same. Still, he could appreciate Roman’s efforts to make him feel a bit more comfortable in the situation, despite that he felt bad for not knowing what to say. 

“Thanks, but…” Roman took a shaky breath before pushing to his feet. “I don’t even know how I’m going to get back, much less what I will do when I get there. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I’m still hanging around you losers,” he teased lightly, shooting another one of those award-winning grins. 

“Only one?” Virgil shot back, arching a brow as he offered his own amused grin. 

The silence that fell between them this time was nowhere near as melancholy. Instead, the two stood facing one another, only a few feet apart, Virgil’s head tilted up slightly to compensate for Roman’s slight height advantage, the scent of old books working its own form of magic around them. 

Despite his inner turmoil, Roman couldn’t help but feel a warmth curling in the pit of his stomach as he met the other man’s gaze. Virgil had a way of making him feel more at ease than anyone the prince had ever met. It was infuriating and interesting, reassuring and stressful; he wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to get anything productive done when he felt like this all the time. 

Virgil was the first to break eye contact, as usual, clearing his throat as he suddenly found the floor to be the most interesting thing on the planet. 

Roman couldn’t help but give a huff of amusement at the response before collecting his cloak from where he had draped it on the counter when they had first walked in. Virgil had the books he had come there for, which meant they should probably be getting on their way. 

“You never actually told me where are we headed anyways?”

To be continued...

Taglist:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

[cafedisco3]

BOY’S CRY

Before sharing his story with the world and becoming one of the most important artists of our time, Frank Ocean was a high school graduate in New Orleans scouring for jobs to pay for studio time to record his potential projects. In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc across the region, provoking Ocean’s move from New Orleans to Los Angeles, California. It was in California that Frank eventually found his opening into the music industry. Landing a songwriting deal, he began ghostwriting for many of the biggest artists we know today: Justin Bieber (“Bigger”, 2008) and Beyoncé (“I Miss You”, 2009). In 2009, he started working with Odd Future, specifically Tyler, the Creator - one of his best friends, who played a pivotal role in encouraging him to continue writing songs, but for himself. Through Odd Future, Frank was able to meet Producer, Tricky Stewart who eventually introduced him to an American Record Label: Def Jam Recordings. Though this deal was meant to serve as his platform for releasing music, out of frustration he released his first mixtape, nostalgia, ULTRA, for free download on Tumblr. Frank explained that he was frustrated with the label for not being supportive of his efforts after signing. Regardless of the heightened tension in Frank’s relationship with the label, this mixtape ignited the spark of his fame to follow. Frank’s pilot success with this mixtape allowed his standing to grow tremendously, eliciting feature requests from A-listers such as Jay-Z and Kanye West, but for the most part, Frank remained highly selective with his craft and unwaveringly loyal to Tyler and Odd Future. 

This origin story is only the tip of the elusive iceberg that is Frank Ocean. Since before the days of nostalgia, ULTRA, Frank has been selective with his public interactions. Once a ghostwriter for pop stars and then a secret weapon among Odd Future’s large roster, playing the background seemed to come naturally to him. However, the star within him proved too bright to contain. Still, since his rise in stature, rather than outwardly embracing the fame that was guaranteed, he chose instead to remain guarded with his art and protective of his image. Over time, this has allowed him to meticulously reveal himself on his own terms, using his art as a way to give insight into his identity. It was only when speculations about his sexuality began to circle through the hip-hop and pop community prior to the release of his debut studio album, channel ORANGE, that the once-guarded artist decided to become candid in a way he never previously attempted; on his Tumblr, through an open letter to his fans titled Thank You, Frank went on to reveal his bisexaulity:  

Credit: http://frankocean.tumblr.com/post/26473798723

I don’t think I’m exaggerating in the slightest when I say that this letter was a beautiful, poetic exemplification of love. In typical Frank fashion, it wasn’t an overt admission of anything, because there isn’t anything to admit. We are who we are, and according to Frank, that is “human beings spinning on blackness”. According to Frank we are a lot more alike than we are different, regardless of our race, cultures or sexual identity. He chose to focus on what makes us all similar as humans, and if he revealed or confirmed something about himself that wasn’t clear to you in the process, then so be it. His sexuality wasn’t the point of the letter. The letter was about empathy and love. The letter was about being human. In an era were child-suicide rates were increasingly linked to homophobia and transphobia, especially in black and latino communities, Frank used his story to humanize those who had been historically demonized. 

This letter birthed a chapter for Frank’s influence. When channel ORANGE arrived that following summer, these feelings of self-discovery through heartache and unrequited love reverberated all throughout the tracklist. The album itself was named after the summer detailed in his letter, the summer during which he first fell in love with another man. Frank dropping this album and his Thank You letter was powerful, valiant move. He cut through the lingering homophobia of the time and crafted a tale of perseverance and acceptance. This album allowed me, someone with completely different experiences, to appreciate his journey. He successfully detached himself from the increasingly materialistic world of the music industry and turned his art into statements that effectively captured the current state of the human condition.

There are two songs off of channel ORANGE that I believe are worth highlighting. The first is “Bad Religion”: 

Taxi driver Be my shrink for the hour Leave the meter running It's rush hour So take the streets if you wanna Just outrun the demons, could you He said "Allahu akbar", I told him don't curse me “Bo Bo, you need prayer,” I guess it couldn't hurt me If it brings me to my knees It's a bad religion This unrequited love To me it's nothing but a one-man cult And cyanide in my Styrofoam cup I can never make him love me Never make him love me Love It's a bad religion To be in love with someone Who could never love you I know Only bad religion Could have me feeling the way I do

This is a story of longing, of internal conflict and crippling self-doubt. With no one to turn to, Frank resigns to confessing his deepest, most closely guarded truths in the backseat of a taxi, and his thoughts betray the confidence that many of his fans may have prematurely branded him with. These confessional thoughts instead show him in his most fragile state, one in which he seems internalize years of homophobic rhetoric. The stigma that homosexaulity or sexual fluidity is a sin, is amoral, and requires prayer and absolution is so deeply ingrained in society that Frank doesn’t even flinch when the taxi driver basically tells him to pray away his desires. Instead, he chooses grasp onto the suggestion, wondering if maybe he should find a way to detach himself from the unrequited love that has brought him so much pain - whether through religion or drugs. This song is a heart-wrenching discussion of the internal struggle felt by Frank throughout the journey detailed in his letter. Frank’s lyrics expertly navigate self-hate and heartbreak, and his execution features a stunning vocal performance that evokes a deep, soulful pain that feels universally applicable to all humans. 

The second song of importance would be “Forrest Gump”: 

I wanna see your pom poms from the stands Come on, come on My fingertips, and my lips, they burn From the cigarettes Forrest Gump you run my mind boy Running on my mind boy Forrest Gump I know you Forrest I know you wouldn't hurt a beetle But you're so buff, and so strong I'm nervous Forrest Forrest Gump My fingertips, and my lips, they burn From the cigarettes Forrest Gump you run my mind boy Running on my mind boy Forrest Gump I saw ya game, Forrest I was screamin' run 44 But you kept runnin' past the end zone Oh where'd you go Forrest Forrest Gump

If “Bad Religion” - and “Thinkin’ Bout You” before it - were subtle allusions to his bisexuality, “Forrest Gump”, the penultimate track on channel ORANGE, would be the unabashed coming out party. In this song, Frank beautifully covers the timeless love story from the film, Forrest Gump, but through Jenny’s perspective - one that he clearly relates to on a visceral level. In the movie, Jenny and Forrest don’t end up together - but neither did Frank and his love at 19 years of age. In a very literal sense, Forrest Gump is used as a metaphor for a man running away from Frank - referring to the different paths taken by him and the man he fell in love - and this story is another example of unrequited love. But it’s uptempo nature and Frank’s equally light singing paints it in a much different light than “Bad Religion”. Here, there is no self-doubt and he seems to believe the experience of the fling was worth it. It’s the bright result of having grappeld with his emotions throughout the album’s more dark spots. This is essentially Frank fully submerging into his new lifestyle that he explains in his letter as being “a free man”. Similar to his letter, Frank is grateful for the man he fell in love with, regardless of the outcome. 

Despite this album being such a bold statement on his part, highlighting him as an artist that will stand the test of time, I’ve always felt as if its slow and melancholic vibes represent a shyer, younger Frank Ocean. Since releasing his letter and reinventing himself as a free man, the outward projection of his confidence has considerably escalated. Four years after channel ORANGE the fans were finally given a second and third album, simultaneously: Endless and Blonde. I personally cherished these albums, not expecting any new music for yet another few years, but just as I was getting used to the idea of no new Frank music, he released a single on his Beats 1 radio show, Blonded Radio: Chanel. Chanel was released in March 2017, and I can’t think of any way to describe the start of the song, besides epic:

My guy pretty like a girl And he got fight stories to tell I see both sides like Chanel

See on both sides like Chanel

 The Undefeated’s online music review of this song describes these first few lyrics in the following manner: “The boastful first few bars of Ocean’s new song might be the coldest, gayest, and most securely masculine flex in the history of rap. Elegant and mellow, the song’s lyrics read as a deliberate ode to duality and non-heteronormative binaries - an ambition, that since the death of Prince Rogers Nelson, is sorely missed in black music”. Whether I’ve convinced you or not, I truly believe Frank Ocean is an icon. He has made tremendous strides through his music and personal life and his consistently made choices that have positively influenced millions. As a visionary and genius, he’s stood out not only as a singer, but as a writer, a visual artist, and an activist. 

Credit: https://www.gq.com/story/frank-ocean-is-peerless

[aion-rsa]

Hamilton: Ranking Every Song from the Soundtrack

https://ift.tt/2YTCryx

Imagine the experience of being one of the first individuals to see Lin-Manuel Miranda’s now-classic Hamilton: An American Musical live. 

The first thing you notice is the spartan, largely empty stage. Then as Leslie Odom Jr. takes the stage as Aaron Burr followed by Miranda’s Hamilton, you realize that this production about America’s founding fathers is made up almost exclusively of People of Color. That’s a lot to take in from the start. At a certain point, however, you’re bound to realize that the play is about 40 minutes in and The. Music. Has. Not. Stopped. 

In addition to its many ingenious quirks and hooks, Hamilton is truly a musical musical. Miranda’s book and lyrics about one of the country’s most colorful and impressive founders has a lot of ground to cover. And it does so at a musical sprint with almost no expository time-wasting in-between.

As such, the Hamilton soundtrack is a staggeringly impressive piece of recent culture. At 46 tracks spread out over nearly two and a half hours, this album closely replicates the experience of a show most could never get a ticket to live. A passionate, thriving Hamilton fandom rose up out of that soundtrack and it continues through to this day.

Now, with Hamilton about to be more accessible than ever by joining Disney+, we decided to rank all 46 of those tracks.

46. Hurricane

The hurricane that ravaged Alexander Hamilton’s Caribbean island home of St. Croix was a crucial part of his life and led to him securing passage to the United States. But the song “Hurricane” uses the storm late in the play as a tortured metaphor for his turbulent public life. It’s undoubtedly the least energetic and weakest full song on the Hamilton soundtrack.

45. Farmer Refuted

“Farmer Refuted” does well to capture a young Hamilton’s rhetorical brilliance early on in the play but doesn’t hold up well against other, more fully crafted tunes. Hercules Mulligan mumbling “tear this dude apart” is certainly a soundtrack highlight though. 

44. The Story of Tonight (Reprise)

What would any Broadway musical soundtrack be without a reprise or two? “The Story of Tonight (Reprise)” is certainly fun. But, ultimately, tales of Hamilton’s legendary horniness would have been better suited with a full song. 

43. Schuyler Defeated

Just about every line of dialogue in Hamilton is sung… including heavily expository moments like Burr defeating Hamilton’s father-in-law in a local election. The subject matter and lack of true musical gusto makes “Schuyler Defeated” one of the least essential tracks in the show.

42. We Know

It’s a testament to how strong the Hamilton soundtrack is that a song like “We Know” could appear this low on the list. This account of Jefferson and company informing Hamilton of what they know is quite good; it just pales in comparison to the song in which they uncover Hamilton’s misdeeds. 

41. It’s Quiet Uptown

This is sure to be a controversial spot on the list for this much-loved ballad. “It’s Quiet Uptown” is indeed composed quite beautifully. It also features lyrics that seem to be almost impatient in nature – as though the song is trying to rush the Hamiltons through the grieving process to get back on with the show. 

40. Take a Break

Part of the miracle of Hamilton is how the soundtrack is able to turn rather mundane concepts and events in Hamilton’s life into rousing, larger-than-life musical numbers. “Take a Break” is charged with dramatizing the notion that Hamilton simply works too much with a sweetly melancholic melody. It does quite a good job in this regard but naturally can’t compete with some of the more bombastic songs on the list. 

39. Stay Alive

Set in the brutal dredge of the Revolutionary War, “Stay Alive” is a song about desperation. And between its urgent piano rhythm and panicky Miranda vocals, it does quite a good job of capturing the appropriate mood. It also feels like one long middle with no compelling introduction or conclusion. 

38. Best of Wives and Best of Women

Talk about “the calm before the storm.” “Best of Wives and Best of Women” captures one last quiet moment between Alexander and Eliza before Aaron Burr canonizes his one-time friend to the $10 bill. It’s brief, lovely, and effective. 

37. The Adams Administration

Hamilton wisely surmises that the best way to introduce audiences to new eras of its title character’s life story is through the narration of the man who killed him in Aaron Burr (Leslie Odom Jr.). Odom Jr.’s real flare for showmanship turns what could be throw-away intros into truly excellent material. It also features a hilarious nod to Sherman Edwards’ 1776 musical when Hamilton says, “Sit down, John” and then adds a colorful, “you fat motherf***er!”

36. A Winter’s Ball

Again: Burr’s monologues are always a welcome presence in these tracks. And in “A Winter’s Ball,” he does some of his best work by setting up Burr and Hamilton’s prowess… “with the ladiessssss!”

35. Meet Me Inside

Despite a brief running time, “Meet Me Inside” is able to establish George Washington’s general bona fides and Hamilton’s daddy issues in equal measure. 

34. Your Obedient Servant

“Your Obedient Servant” is Hamilton’s loving ode to passive aggression. In just two minutes and thirty seconds, you’ll believe that two grown men could somehow neg themselves into a duel via letter-writing. 

33. The Reynolds Pamphlet

You know that old adage of “he could read out of a phonebook and it would be interesting?” Well Hamilton basically does that with “The Reynolds Pamphlet.” The ominous music injects real import into the simple act of writing that would upend the Hamilton family’s lives. 

32. That Would Be Enough

Eliza’s refrain of “look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now” recurs at the beginning of “That Would Be Enough” in a truly touching way. This song is a real tonal whiplash from the revolutionary battles and duels that precede it, but it is ultimately strong enough to bring the focus back to Alexander and Eliza and not just the hectic world they inhabit. 

31. The Story of Tonight

“The Story of Tonight” is both a clever drinking song among bros and a subtle setup for the show’s larger theme of one’s story being told after they’re gone. The song is both affecting and effective, just a little too short to stand out and make big waves on our list. 

30. Blow Us All Away

“Blow Us All Away” is a fun, jaunty little ditty from Anthony Ramos’ Philip Hamilton. It rather ingeniously incorporates the young Philip’s own musical motif before ending in tragedy. 

29. Stay Alive (Reprise)

It’s hard for any song to emotionally contend with the death of a child in under two minutes but “Stay Alive (Reprise)” does a shockingly good job. There’s a real sense of urgency to the music before it settles in for poor Philip to say his final words. 

28. Burn

Musically, “Burn” is not one of the better ballads in Hamilton. Lyrically, however, its power is hard to deny. Phillipa Soo does a remarkable job communicating Eliza’s pain at her husband’s betrayal. More impressive is how she communicates the only way to work through that pain, which is through burning all of his personal correspondences and writings to her. 

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27. The Election of 1800

Hamilton is the rare musical where one character can sing “can we get back to politics please?” and the audience’s response is “hell yeah!”. The show is uncommonly good at dramatizing boring political processes, and “The Election of 1800” is no exception. The song builds up to a pseudo-reprisal of “Washington on Your Side” in a shockingly effective and cathartic way. 

26. History Has Its Eyes on You

“History Has Its Eyes on You” is a powerful recurring phrase through the entirety of Hamilton. Each and every time the concept comes up in a song, it truly stands out. Strangely though, the song that bears its name is only in the middle of the pack in terms of the show’s numbers. Perhaps it’s because it occurs near the middle of the first act, before we can properly appreciate its heady themes? 

25. Aaron Burr, Sir

One of Hamilton’s most charming traits is how readily it acknowledges what an annoying pain in the ass its lead character can be at times. “Aaron Burr, Sir” is literally the second song of the entire musical and helps establish its playful tone as much as the bombastic opening number establishes a deadly serious one. 

24. Guns and Ships

Ballads are nice. “I want” songs are nice. Recurring motifs are nice. But sometimes you need a song that just goes hard. Thanks to “America’s favorite fighting Frenchman” that’s what “Guns and Ships” delivers. Lafayette actor Daveed Diggs faces an enormous challenge in Act One by filling out the character’s growth in bits and pieces. “Guns and Ships” is the reward, where a fully unleashed (and English-fluent) Lafayette makes it very clear what hell he has in store for the British army. 

23. Washington on Your Side

Thomas Jefferson is such a dynamo of a presence in Hamilton that one could be forgiven for forgetting how infrequently he turns up. Jefferson (and Daveed Diggs) is operating at an absurdly high capacity in “Washington on Your Side.” Meanwhile the music has a ball keeping up with the increasingly incensed backroom scheming of Jefferson and his “Southern motherfucking Democratic-Republicans!”

22. Right Hand Man

Thirty-two thousand troops in New York Harbor. That’s uh… that’s a lot. While the second act of Hamilton has to work a little harder to capture the drama of the inner-workings of a fledgling government, the first act is able to absolutely breeze through some truly epic and exciting songs covering the Revolutionary War. “Right Hand Man” is one such ditty that really captures the frenetic urgency of a bunch of up-jumped wannabe philosophers trying to topple the world’s most powerful empire. 

21. The Schuyler Sisters

Honestly, “The Schuyler Sisters” deserve better than its placement on this list. It’s just that everything that comes after is such a banger, that it’s hard to justify moving up the dynamic introduction of Angelicaaaa, Elizzzaaaaa… and Peggy.

20. Ten Duel Commandments

Imagine how insane you would sound in circa 1998 explaining that there would one day be a musical about the founding fathers that uses the framework of Notorious B.I.G.’s “Ten Crack Commandments” to describe the duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton. Then imagine how insane you would sound when explaining that it was great. “Ten Duel Commandments” doesn’t cover the “big” duel of Hamilton. It’s a teaser for what’s to come. Thankfully it’s a hell of a good teaser. 

19. Cabinet Battle #2

Hamilton’s two cabinet battles run the risk of being the cringiest part of the show. Every concept has its stylistic limit, and a rap battle between Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson should absolutely fly past that limit. Somehow, however, the novelty works and the creativity of Miranda’s writing shines through. 

18. Cabinet Battle #1

The two Cabinet Battles are pretty interchangeable on the list. #1 gets the nod because of “we know who’s really doing the planting.”

17. What Comes Next

The trilogy of King George III songs is some of the most purely joyful songwriting on the Hamilton soundtrack. We can dive into the specifics of what really works about the songs in a later entry. For now, know that “What Comes Next” falls the lowest on our list due to featuring only one round of “da-da-da’s.”

16. I Know Him

“I Know Him” also features only one burst of “da-da-da’s.” But it still gets the nod over “What Comes Next” for King George III calling John Adams “that little guy who spoke to me.” 

15. Dear Theodosia

Perhaps more so than any other character in Hamilton, Aaron Burr works best on his own. The character (and the man he was based on) plays things close to the vest by design. It’s only through his musical soliloquies that we get a real sense of the guy. That’s what makes “Dear Theodosia” so powerful in particular. Burr wants the same thing for his daughter that Hamilton wants for his son: “Some day you’ll blow us all away.”

14. One Last Time

George Washington owned slaves. Yeah yeah, you can bandy around the usual “bUt He ReLeAsEd ThEm AlL lAtEr In LiFe” all you want. At the end of the day, it’s an inescapable fact for the country to confront. It’s a hard thing for Hamilton, however,  a show realistic about America’s flaws but still reverential to its founding story, to deal with. Hamilton presents the George Washington of American mythos for the most part and he strikes an undeniably impressive and imposing figure. To that end, “One Last Time” is one of the most unexpectedly moving songs in the show. Washington is committing one of the most important and selfless acts in American history by stepping aside. Yet there’s a real sense of sadness as the cast chants “George Washington’s going hooo-ooo-ooome.”

13. Non-Stop

“Non-Stop” is an extremely atypical choice for an Act-ender. Hamilton could have just as easily chosen to wrap up Act One with the rebels’ victory over Great Britain. Instead it takes a moment to process that then deftly sets up the rest of its story with “Non-Stop,” which is simply a song about Hamilton’s insane work ethic. The key to the track’s success is how relentless it is, as if it were trying to keep up with and mimic the title character’s pace. Then there are all the usual exciting Act-ending reprisals and recurring motifs to boot. 

12. Say No To This

Just as was the case in Hamilton’s life, Maria Reynolds has only a brief role in the show, but her influence casts quite a long shadow. “Say No To This” is a real showcase for both Miranda and Maria actress Jasmine Cephas Jones. This is a devastatingly catchy jazzy number about marital infidelity…. as all songs about marital infidelity should be. 

11. Alexander Hamilton

“How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore / And a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot / In the Caribbean by providence impoverished / In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?” our narrator Aaron Burr asks in Hamilton’s superb opening number. A play with so many moving parts, and such a high-concept needs an indelible opening track to convince audiences that the madness that is about to follow is worth waiting for. “Alexander Hamilton” is more than up to the task. This is an exhilarating starter that introduces its audience to all the important characters, themes, and sounds of the show. It also has its lead character spell out his full name in a rap, which somehow ends up being awesome and endearing rather than corny. 

10. Wait for It

Just like the rest of us, Burr is the main character of his own story. And the show allows him to tell that story in songs like “Wait For It.” “Wait For It” is an exciting, downright explosive bit of songwriting. It’s every bit the “I want” song for Burr that “My Shot” is to Hamilton. And just like Burr and Hamilton are two sides of the same coin, so too are these two songs. Burr is alone once again in this powerful number. And he uses that privacy as an excuse to loudly… LOUDLY exclaim his modus operandi. He comes from a similar background as Hamilton and he wants mostly the same things as Hamilton. The difference between the two of them is that Burr is willing to wait for it all.

9.  The Room Where it Happens

Bless this musical for having a song as brilliant  as “The Room Where it Happens” only just being able to crack the top 10. There are hundreds of musicals in which “The Room Where it Happens” would be far and away the standout number. For Hamilton, it’s ninth. “The Room Where It Happens” is another example of the show taking a seemingly bland topic (backroom deal-making) and turning it into something transcendently entertaining for its audience and something transcendently illustrative for its characters. This is the song where the borders between Aaron Burr: Narrator and Aaron Burr: Vengeance-Seeker come down.  Burr starts off as a patient observer of what kind of nefarious negotiations go into the building of a country before his frustration slowly builds into the recognition that he needs to be in the room where it happens. 

8. Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Truly there is no more fitting ending to Hamilton than “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story.” At its core, this is a play not only about legacy but about the fungible nature of legacy. Alexander Hamilton is gone and we know his story lives on. But who will tell that story? Like any good closing number, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” knows the importance of bringing back many of the play’s core concepts and characters. And none of those are more important than Eliza’s assertion that she is ready “to write herself back into the narrative.” In the end, it’s not the revolutions or the pamphlets but the love. And that’s how one finds oneself in the absurd position of crying over the guy on the $10 bill.

7. What’d I Miss?

Lin-Manuel Miranda has described Thomas Jefferson as the show’s Bugs Bunny. Nowhere is that more apparent than in the ludicrously jaunty track that opens up Hamilton’s Act Two. There might not be a more joyful or outright hilarious three minutes in any of the soundtrack’s 46 songs. After several years spent living it up in France, Daveed Diggs’s TJ returns to the United States. The rest of his fellow revolutionaries have moved on to R&B and rap, but Jefferson is still stuck in full on jazz mode. “What’d I Miss” serves as the perfect introduction to a crucial character and the themes of the show’s second half. 

6. The World Was Wide Enough

If “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” is designed to make the audience cry, then “The World Was Wide Enough” exists to make them gasp. This penultimate song is a truly stunning piece of work. This is a sprawling performance that brings back “The 10 Duel Commandments” in expected yet still emotional fashion. Then at the play’s climactic moment, it cuts out the music entirely to make room for Hamilton’s internal monologue – his one last ride through all the pages he won’t write. Finally it covers the grim aftermath of Burr and Hamilton’s duel as the survivor grapples with what he has done. There is a lot packed into these five minutes of song and each moment is more compelling than the last. 

5. You’ll Be Back

If absolutely nothing else in Hamilton worked – if the characterizations were off, if the costumes were too simple, if the “Founding Fathers rapping” concept couldn’t be executed – the play’s two and a half hours all still would have been worth it for this one, tremendously goofy song. King George III (portrayed by Jonathan Groff in the original Broadway production) pops up three times throughout the show to deliver pointed little reminders to the American colonists about how good they used to have it. The first time around is by far the best, in large part because it’s so charmingly unexpected and weird. By the time King George III gets to the “da-da-da” section of his breakup song with America, it’s hard to imagine anyone resisting the song… or the show’s charms. 

4. My Shot

While “You’ll Be Back” may go down as the most enduring karaoke song from Hamilton, “My Shot” is almost certainly the play’s most recognizable and iconic tune. Every musical needs an “I want” song in which its lead articulates what they want out of this whole endeavor. Rarely are those “I wants” as passionate and thrilling as “My Shot.” This was reportedly the song that Miranda took the longest to write and it’s clear now to see why. Not only is “My Shot” lyrically and musically intricate, but it does the majority of play’s heavy lifting in establishing Hamilton as a character. Just about everything we need to know about Alexander Hamilton and what drives him is introduced here. And the work put into “My Shot” makes all of its recurring themes and concepts hit so much harder in the songs to come. 

3. Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)

In many ways, “Yorktown” benefits from the precedent that earlier songs like “My Shot” established. This is a song that puts energetic renditions of previous lines like “I’m not throwing away my shot” and “I imagine death so much it feels like a memory” to grand use. But for as much as “Yorktown” deftly invokes Hamilton’s past, what makes this song truly special is how solely focused it is on the present. To put it quite simply: “Yorktown” goes hard. It is fast, harsh, chaotic, and thrilling. This is the song that captures the moment that American troops defeated the British empire and “the world turned upside down.” It’s to the song’s immense credit that the music and lyrics capture the enormity of the moment. Also, there’s “stealing the show” and then there’s what Hercules Mulligan (Okieriete Onaodowan) does here in “Yorktown.” We’re in the shit now, and Hercules is loving it. 

2. Helpless

“Helpless” might be pound for pound the best musical moment in all of Hamilton. It’s a simple, seemingly effortless love song that, even removed from the context of the show, would sound beautiful coming out of anyone’s car radio on a lovely summer day. Within the context of the show, it’s even better. It acts as a rare moment of celebration for all the characters involved before the Revolutionary War really gets churning and before a young America needs capable young Americans to guide it. What makes “Helpless” truly great, however, is the song that follows it…

1. Satisfied

Wait, wait… why is Angelica saying “rewind?” Why do we need to rewind? We had such a lovely night! The transition between “Helpless” and “Satisfied” is Hamilton’s greatest magic trick. The former presents a night of unambiguous love and celebration. Then the latter arrives to teach us that there is no such thing as “unambiguous” in Hamilton. In a truly remarkable performance, Angelica Schuyler (Renée Elise Goldsberry) teaches us what really happened the night Hamilton met the Schuyler sisters. Angelica will never be satisfied, and it’s because she’s “a girl in a world in which (her) only job is to marry rich.” Hamilton and Eliza’s story is a love story. But it’s also a story of Angelica’s loss. “Satisfied” imbues the musical with a sense of subtle melancholy that it never quite shakes through to the very end. “Satisfied” is the emotional lynchpin of Hamilton, and as such also its very best song. 

The post Hamilton: Ranking Every Song from the Soundtrack appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[stillcomethenight]

Queenie holds Emily Dickinson's works dearly.

Ok, hear me out.

Emily Dickinson poetry? Yes, it has Queenie's energy. It has Queenie all over it. And you know what happens when you read something and recognize yourself in it? Yes, you get attached to it. Queenie sees the bluntly obvious softness of Dickinson's works and she adores it.

For reference though:

Exibit A:

"I wish you a kinder sea"

One of my favourite Dickinson quotes, a part of a letter she wrote. Meaning she wishes the addressee that their life only gets easier. One of the most thoughtful and softest wishes, isn't it?

It's what Queenie wants for people. She's always wanted people to be okay. She's always wanted to enter the mind of someone she loves and see nothing but peace and happiness. She never quite managed to put that desire of hers into words until she read that quote when she was a teenager. She loved it right away. Yes, that's exactly what she wishes for people. A kinder sea, a peaceful life.

Exibit B:

Quite obviously this is just an ode to hope. It's an overall beautiful piece to begin with. Again, something I resonate with.

It's something she resonates with too. Queenie is a cheerful, lively person, always smiling. Some might see her as careless but to understand her one must realise that the ability to slip into people's minds is a really overwhelming thing. She cannon control it and "People are easiest to read when they're hurt" and so Queenie has heard many, many things she wishes she had not. She's heard the inexplicable pain of strangers countless times and each time it broke her heart a little because she's so good and so caring and she openly, bravely wishes happiness for everyone. It's even more heartbreaking to read the sadness of those she loves. And yet she always sounds positive.

This poem is a reminder that hope can settle in one's brain should one let it in and that it's a beautiful, powerful thing. It's a golden string which holds her together, holds her sane. It's always such a delight to read about something so beautiful, isn't it? There's someone out there, a poet, who wrote a work meant to remind people that hope is wonderful. While Queenie will often cheer people up, not many can tell when she's upset. And so to read something like that is quite as if Dickinson is reaching out for her. A reminder that the hope she always gives to people belongs to her too.

Exhibit C:

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain

I think it's one is a little bit obvious. This is close if not the same as Queenie's philosophy. Once again it's something she read and immediately recognized herself in. Loud and clear. In fact, quite more obviously than the other two. It's a bold poem because it uses barely any metaphors. It's just Dickinson talking about exactly, precisely what Queenie has always thought. Her love for people as a whole has been something she's felt and known from an early age. (Need I mention that she took her parents' death so harshly?.. Need I say she was only so young when her parents were suddenly gone from her life and when she could control even less of her power. When she could clearly hear every tortured thought of Tina's and saw her pain even if her sister would always act brave for the two of them.)

It was this poem which helped her embrace her own empathic nature. Because she was told by her sister that she needn't let people so close, that she should keep her heart safe. Yet she felt every stranger's pain and yet she would walk the streets of New York with her sister and exitedly say "Oh, Teenie, that man over there just got promoted! He's about to go home and tell his wife! Isn't that so lovely? 0h, he loves her so much, oh that's sweet".

Getting sorted into Pukwudgie was the first time she felt her empathy was being recognized as something good. However, before that, it was Dickinson's works who served as a very personal and important reminder that someone out there really truly embraces her big heart, despite her tendency to feel so strongly got strangers and despite her constant invasion in people's minds (which people were rarely okay with, if ever).

Additional thoughts:

For Queenie the fascination of reading isn't only the story itself. It's the fact that she cannot get inside the characters' heads and she can only work with that she has, she has to make her own conclusions. It's an adventure. It's a reminder that she can be 'normal' after all.

Even more than that, she cannot read the mind of the author (quite obviously because the author might de deceased or simply because they're a stranger who lives elsewhere and while her powers are extraordinarily strong she cannot reach that far.)

And so reading the works of someone who she could not read the thoughts of has always been a delight. A break from her own reality. Peace.

She can only guess what Dickinson was like. And so Queenie chooses to imagine Dickinson as a beautiful, brave, altruistic person who always feels just as strongly as she does. Dickinson is clear proof that someone as loving and as easily hurt as Queenie can truly do what she's always wanted to do and that is to make something beautiful out of herself and to make people happy. Just like Dickinson makes her happy.

An unnecessary personal detail:

As a shamelessly altruistic person myself, I believe Queenie is for me what Dickinson might've been for Queenie. To be exact I think all of my conclusions from above come from comparing Queenie's relationship with Dickinson's work to my relationship with Queenie's character. I figured I should mention that as to make it clear why this essay so to call it was written

[ajapablog]

The Death of the Writer

First the question arises: were you ever a writer to begin with? The answer to that is: yes. When you made a choice at some point that a major portion of your life will be spent contemplating and stringing together words, you became a writer. But there were really only some key points in life when you were in earnest a writer: 1. When you were 18 and heartbroken and decided to write a blog post a day to soothe ourself over the course of 5 months (some weird poetry emerged out of that). 2. When you wrote your undergraduate thesis 3. When you wrote your MA thesis and 4. Last year when you spent everyday, either writing a research paper or a grant proposal. The bottom line is if you feel that there is a hole in your soul because you feel the desperate need to tell stories about yourself and the world, you are a writer. Do not kid yourself. If you do, it is YOU, in all your glory and your brokenness, that is at stake. Let them read. They’ll see you for who you are. If they get tired (which of course they will), they will fuck off. You, obviously, do not have control. Your need for control makes you play mind games with your therapist. She says you do not “resonate”. What she really means is, you are too crazy or not honest enough for her to deal with. This is, by the way, true. You try to lie and manipulate her. The only person you really open up to is a man you met on the internet. He’s massively entertained but he isn’t your therapist, he’s not even your boyfriend. He has no function but to listen and get entertained. You have no idea why you are so brutally true to him. So you turn it around and make it so that you think he’s playing mind games with you. You just wanted an audience and you found one. When the stage lights dim, everyone goes home. You need to go home too. You do not have control. At all. When you write, you will feel better. This is how it has always been. You survived “coming of age” by writing odes to your pre-pubescent body. You wrote nasty letters to ex-lovers. You wrote crafty emails to your supervisors. You make your parents laugh, every single day. You have always carried yourself on the back of words. Your words turned you into a migratory bird, you read the weather and moved. It was with words that you touched places. If asked to describe a feeling, you would use metaphors of geography to map your emotions. Like how right now, you’re thinking of the last day you ventured across the city to see your friend. You walked on the grey pavement as the wind blew away your umbrella and you tried to shield yourself from the rain but failed. You waited 20 minutes for a bus to take you and your insecurities and inferiority complexes to the university that was beyond your reach— not because you couldn’t but you wouldn’t give up the comfort of laziness. As you travelled through a city that was temporarily your home, like all cities are, you contemplated on everything you missed out on. The city plays games on your mind. You know exactly how. If asked to describe people, you would describe the texture and the smell of meals. You have words, you are fine. Bare your soul, to your self. Who else is more beautiful than that slightly greying mad woman bent over the pond raptured by her own reflection? Who else is there, any way?

So let us for our purposes of writing everyday, create a fictitious audience. Let’s say this is just one person drawn from all kinds of pieces of your self: idealized, mocked, discarded, affirmed. This person is also the hundreds of people you have encountered, because, after all, as you like to say “every encounter is shaped by thousands of encounters that came before.” Let us call this person — because it is only fitting that the person’s initials mirror yours—A. A is a mildly amused, mildly skeptical, mildly cynical, but in truth a wildly optimistic adult human. A is an encounter. A likes word play, likes high art, is derisive of anything not intelligent. A is scared of dying from Coronavirus. A is also critical of run of the mill liberals but is themself a liberal. A believes in the dictum “everything contains within itself, it’s opposite.” They throw that dictum on new lovers to enamor them. A likes John Gray, Slavoj Zizek and Nicholas Taleb. A reads everything under the sun and watches all kinds of videos on YouTube.  A believes in social security, welfare and Marxism as well. They will never tell you that they love Marx because they have never read a masterpiece like the footnotes to Das Capital. A is critical of neoliberalism and insists that if you must be a feminist, be one from the radical variety: liberal feminists are misogynists in women’s disguise: this is their joke. A enjoys some high theory once in a while, looks down on laziness and does not appreciate whining. A is indifferent to passion but is highly passionate themselves. In other words, they appreciate passion but only in themselves. A believes in the protocols of social interaction. So you must stick to them. A also believes in a Palaeolithic diet and makes arguments against sugar consumption on the logic that produced by slave labour, sugar fuelled the industrial revolution and its consumption is therefore as great a threat to human existence as fossil fuels, namely coal and by extension world travel. A thinks that the connection they built between sugar and coal (based on their contemporaneity) and the end of the world because of peak oil and of instagram travel blogs a smart one not because it is really not smart (because oil prices are down the dumps right now) but because they know you are stupid enough to think that it is smart. This is how A functions, by testing you, by assuming you are not smart unless you buy into their bullshit. After all, A spent years acquiring an expensive degree that says they majored in Bulshitting 101 with high honors in manipulative argumentation through selective data. You sometimes exploit the cluelessness that A exhibits. You are constantly playing games with A, hoping every single time that you do not lose. This makes A abusive but massively entertaining. A wants to know about your mother and your father. They want to know about your friends and the man you met last week, the lovers you dumped so that they can try and make sense of it all. But really, they are highly impatient. They really don’t care. Your world is a movie with characters in it. They want to consume you like a Netflix series and move on to the next. 

[dontyoudarejudgemesworld]

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far Chapter Four: The Girdle Rule

Alright, so first off this one maybe a bit on the rough side as far as editing goes. My back up beta flaked on me and there was a whole slue of issues with even getting this to be able to post it (say it with me computer problems suck). Anyways this is a very Billie-centric chapter giving a bit more insight to her as a person and why she is the way she is. It's also 6.643 words about 85% of which is rather angsty. And while there arent any real graphic descriptions there are underlying themes of drug use, OD, death, grief, childhood trauma, abandonment issues, and violence. So you know be aware of that.

Also as a heads up the next chapter will land in the series bringing Dipper and Mable into play and really taking the first step toward the real meat of the story. So that's something to look forward too. Other then that if you read this likes comments are always appreciated.

As always this is posted on AO3 and you can read it there by clicking here. 

And with that I scream yet another chapter into the void

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

January 2011

Billie sighed as she walked through the mall, it was almost deserted, the snow that fell lazily outside enough to deter all but the most determined of shoppers and teenagers. Pulling her phone out of her pocket she looked at the screen for the millionth time, even though she knew it was useless; Stan didn’t own a cell so when he got the messages she’d left on the answering machine he would call her. Still, she was restless, she didn’t even know what she was doing here. She’s just been up a few weeks ago to throw Stan’s Christmas gift at him and spend a few days getting a crash course on Hanukkah since it turned out the Pines were Jewish. It had been nice to spend an actual holiday with someone, but after she’d left to head down to California for a job everything had gone to hell.

She'd met with the client and decided  to pass on the job. While she wasn't one to pass up a job simply because the employer was obviously less than upstanding, she was one who listened to her gut. And her gut had screamed danger in big red letters with flashing lights and sirens. So she'd politely declined and the soft-spoken man who'd offered her the job had been less than pleased. After trying to throw more money at her only for her to insist she wasn't interested, he'd changed tactics to one of intimidation.  Four hours later after being roughed up a bit by his 'bodyguard' they'd parted ways with the understanding that she'd never met him and would forget his face, and he'd return the favor. It wasn't the first time that sort of thing had happened, but that didn't make her ribs any less sore. After that, she'd decided that it might be better to head out the next town to find another job. And then...

"God damn it, Stan, it's the off-season what could you possibly be doing?" she growled her finger hovering over the screen as she considered calling him again, before shoving the device back into her pocket. She'd already left four messages telling him that she was suddenly in town and asking if she could crash at the Shack,  if she left another he might start worrying. And he didn't need to worry, there was nothing wrong, she'd just decided to come up this way.

In fact, it was stupid she'd even bothered him, she should just call him back and tell him never mind. It wasn’t like she really needed to see him, or she wanted the strange comfort his presence gave her. No, it wasn’t that she wanted someone to tell her that it was all going to be okay. Or that she needed someone to tell her she was wanted. She really should just keep moving. Seattle was close and she had a few repeat clients there she could check in with. Yeah, she would do that.

"... said move on creep. We aren't interested," came a familiar voice sharp with anger and a hint of fear. Her head snapping up her eyes found a group of three men in their twenties crowded around someone besides a hallway over which the word 'Restrooms' was stenciled. They looked a bit rough, and even though she didn't claim to know everyone in the town she could tell they weren't locals. Glancing past them, she found the voice she had recognized; Wendy stood in front of her goth friend defiantly glaring daggers at the men.

"Oh come on. We just want to have some fun. Why don’t you show us around? You two would love to do that, right," the biggest one pressed in a friendly tone as he took a step towards the girls causing Wendy's face to waver as her friend shrink back in an effort to hide behind the redhead. He looked like he just walked out of a James Dean look-alike shoot and just radiated sleaze.

"Yeah, we're new in town. Show us around," one of the others chimed in with a predatory grin.

"We said beat it," Wendy growled, though a slight crack in her voice took some of the venom out and seemed to encourage the men who took a step towards them.

"Hey, fuck face the girl said beat it,"  Billie snapped as she traveled the distance between them in a dozen steps to place herself in front of the two girls much to the surprise of everyone, "So you best be movin' on,"  she snarled her shoulders squaring and fists clenching. While she would never have hesitated to step into such a situation no matter who it was, the fact that the assholes had picked Wendy pissed her off to no end.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them demanded a scowl on his face as he took half a step forward in an effort to intimidate her. Behind her she felt Wendy and the other girl shift as they pressed into her to hide. Letting out a soft growl she leveled her gaze on the one who'd spoken her features unreadable and eye cold as ice.  

"You feelin' froggy, boy?" she asked calmly, "Go ahead, I'll tan your hides gladly," she said with a slight laugh that just screamed unstable. The men hesitated as they looked at each other, before the leader smiled at her, raising his hands in surrender.

"It's cool," he assured her, "Come on guys," he said as he turned and walked away. The other two hesitated before they followed him and Billie glared at them as they headed out the nearest exit. Shame, she really wanted to hit someone today. Rolling her shoulders, she turned to Wendy and her friend, Tammy she thought, flashing them a smile.

"Y'all alright?" she asked and Wendy smiled as she let out a breath she'd been holding.

"Yeah, thanks man," the teenager said as she stepped back, her friend nodding from behind her phone. The older woman nodded and the two stood in silence for a minute as Billie looked her over. Despite the girl's easy going tone and relaxed posture it didn't take a genius to see she was a little shaken up, making Billie wonder just how strong those assholes had come on.

"Alright, but for my own piece ah' mind, let me get y'all home," she said, choosing to pretend she didn't see relief flash across the redhead's face.

"My Dad's picking us up in like a half an hour, but if you need to hang around, that's cool," Wendy told her, "I didn't know you were back in town again. Soos normally texts me when you show up."

"Yeah, not stayin' though. Just passing through to Seattle. Needed a new pair of gloves," she lied smoothly, "Was just picking them up 'fore heading out. Good thing I did."

"Wait, you aren't gonna go see Stan?" Wendy asked in surprise.

"Naw, he hasn't called me back, and I don't wanna just drop in unannounced. Lord knows what Stan's doing. Probably sitting around watching those historical dramas he pretends he don't, but you never know," Billie replied, rolling her shoulders as she looked around. Wendy's face pulled into a confused look. She like Billie, sure she was a bit rough around the edges, but she was cool. Aside from the fact that she was more than willing to help her skip out early sometimes, she had almost the same kind of salty charm Stan did. Though Stan was charming in a gruff kind of way where as Billie had a sarcastic kind of charm... she was pretty sure it was the southern accent that sold it. But there was something off about the woman today.

"You okay?" she asked, earning another charming smile.

"Finer than a frog hair split four ways, darlin'," she assured the girl, "It's been a long drive. Sometimes the glamorous lifestyle of a PI gets tiring," she said with a soft laugh. Wendy stared at her for a moment with her eyes slitted, that was bullshit and they both knew it. But before Wendy could call her on it her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to look at.

"Dad's here Tambry," she said and the goth girl nodded, "Thanks again Billie."

"I'll walk with you, darlin'. I was on my way out anyway," she said smoothly as she turned to lead the way out. Wendy just shrugged, knowing it was better than protesting. Soon enough, they were outside Dan's truck idling right by the doors.

"See yuh Billie," Wendy said as she pulled open the door, letting Tambry climb in first which she managed without ever looking up from her phone.

"Have a good evenin' girls. Stay out of trouble," the older woman  replied, glancing past her to Dan, whose brows were furrowed in confusion at her presence. Flashing him a smile she lifted her hand flashing him a six fingered wave, "Hey Dan," she said as she kept walking heading out to the parking lot and her bike.

"Billie," he rasped automatically in greeting as his daughter climbed in closing the door behind her, "What was that about?" he asked.

"Oh some creeps were hassling us and Billie scared them off," she told him calmly. Dan's eyes narrowed slightly at her words over protective feelings surging at the idea of someone messing with his daughter.

"Creeps?" he repeated, "Who?"

"Dad be cool, it's fine. I could have handled it, and besides Bille took care of it," the teenager sighed settling back in her seat. He considered pushing the issue but decided against it. Instead, he made a mental note to ask Billie about it when he saw her at the bar next.

"Seat belts," he boomed and Wendy rolled her eyes as she buckled up Tambry affirming she already had.

~*~

Billie slouched against the bar moodily working on her fifth beer. She’d been planning on just going out to Seattle. After all, if she kept moving she didn't have to think about anything besides keeping her bike on the road and away from cars. The snow storm, however, had different plans, in town it was a steady drifting fall but once she hit the base of the mountain it had turned into a full blown white out. And as self destructive as she could be she wasn't insane. So she'd landed at the Skull Fracture drinking away the last month. It was a quiet night no one but a few regulars; Bats and Cat (so named for his tattoos) were playing pool in the corner growling threats loudly at each other. Chin lounged at the table beside the door to check IDs if someone happened to venture in, and rowdy laughter drifted over from a few of the Scacr-O-Dacyles who sat BSing in the corner. She'd been invited to join Bats and Cat but had declined. For all the buzz about the place in town she actually liked it. While it could certainly get rowdy and fights were a dime a dozen on Saturday nights the regulars were good guys. She'd  brawled with most of them at some point or another in the last year and a half but after they always wound up laughing and drinking together. Good guys if a bit rough.

Still tonight was quiet which didn't do her much good. Billie had hoped to take her mind off her trip back to Georgia, but only managed to dwell on it. Groaning she shoved a hand through her hair as she took another drink.

"Ugh, how the hell did I get stuck with you?" she growled at her glass her mind drifting to the urn in her saddle bag, "An' what the hell am I supose ta do with yuh now?" she muttered. The call had come in when she'd been on her way to LA; Mary's parole office had found her with a needle in her arm. Billie had wished she was shocked at the news, but she wasn't. Her mother had been an addict in the truest sense, sure she got clean here and there but she always went back. The last time Billie had talked to her was a few years ago when she'd been 'born again', for the third time by Billie’s count. Billie had given her a chance though, told Mary if she stayed clean for six months she'd come visit. That visit hadn't happened. God had lost his appeal four months later. Two months longer then when she'd regained custody of Billie when she'd been 12 and four months sooner then when she'd invited Billie to see her baptized when she was twenty.

Still, Billie had been her listed next of kin, which meant her death had come a whole heap of problems. The woman's older children didn't even speak to her so all the debts, apartment, and arrangements had been left to her youngest. And while Billie had considered telling them to donate her to science and give away all her shit, she couldn't do that to her. As angry as she was there was still a small part of her that remembered eating ice cream at midnight and making blanket forts with her Mom when she was between benders. So for the first time in eight years Billie had gone back, and now she wished she hadn't.

She hadn't had a service or anything instead choosing to have her mother cremated, and after looking through the sad little apartment her mother had for anything of value she'd donated what she could and had a service come clean up the rest. The landlord had been a man so sleazy her skin had crawled and it took every ounce of self restraint she had not to punch him in his face when he'd demanded next months rent and the costs of repairs over the security deposit. Credit cards, pay day loans, and a court fees had run her a pretty penny but she'd made sure they were all taken care of.

And that had been the easy part. She'd also taken the time to call all five of her siblings to let them know; Vernon and Ivy hadn't even picked up, Emma May had hung up on her, and Jesse had laughed over the sounds of his girlfriend demanding to know who 'the bitch on the phone' was. Only her eldest brother Bo had shown any kind of feeling, he’d sighed sadly and asked if she needed help, though she knew his heart wasn't in it. He'd asked out of obligation, he was 11 years older then her and the first born so she knew he felt like he should be the one taking care of it. She'd assured him that she had handled everything, asked the obligatory 'how's the family's, answered his standard 'still doing the gypsy detective thing', and given the standard staying in touch niceties. Bo was a good guy, and honestly they were the only ones that ever spoke with each other even if it was only once every five years or so. Honestly, none of them had anything in common beside having been brought into the world by Mary. And after being separated in the system they had gone on to live their lives trying their best to find some sort of normality.

"Hey!" came a raspy voice pulling her from her internal brooding causing her to blink as she looked over to find Dan towering over her. Blinking again she flashed a smile up at him as she straightened up swiveling the bar stool to face him.

"Oh evenin' Dan," she drawled lazily as she glanced around him finding his perpetual shadow behind him, "Tyler you're in actual jeans...it must really be cold," she told the smaller man with a grin.

"Billie Jean! I didn't expect to see you again so soon. You finally deciding to move here?" he asked cheerfully causing her to laugh. She really liked the flamboyant little man, when he'd first met her he'd squealed in delight asking excitedly if her middle name was Jean. When she'd confirmed that it actually was she had thought he might explode with excitement insisting on calling her Billie Jean, something she hadn't been called since high school.

"Naw sug. Though if I ever decide to settle down this place is in the top contenders," she assured him finishing her beer, "What are you buys up to tonight?" she asked and Tyler laughed happily.

"I should hope so. It's a great place. I convinced Dan to play some pool. Wanna join?" he asked eagerly.

"Naw, I'm beat. Maybe next time," she told him and he nodded before bouncing off to call the table next and eagerly cheer both Bats and Cat on. Chuckling she stretched running her fingers through her hair again as she realized she was feeling the beers more then she'd thought, before looking up at Dan who still loomed over her. Raising a brow she cocked her head looking up at him. She liked Dan as much as Tyler, though he came off as a meat head with too much testosterone and shoulder hair he was actually a lot brighter then most people gave him credit for.

Sure he absolutely fit the name Manly to a tee, and took shit from no one, but shed had more then a few intelligent conversations with him. From the value of reforesting in the logging industry to him telling her that the weird rattle she kept hearing was the Hide Behind, she'd found him rather engaging even if he did deliver his points in a booming raspy voice that could blow out your ear drums. Plus, it was pretty endearing the way he watched out for Tyler.

Apparently, they'd been best friends since elementary school, and Dan really loved the enthusiasm enthusiast. She'd even seen him play wing man for his fabulous friend which had been priceless. She’d sat by and watch Dan distract a middle aged woman who had been all but begging him to take her home so Tyler could chat up her friend, a cute red headed bear of a man...obviously he had type. But what she liked best was he seemed like he was a good Dad; hanging out at the bar was something he did when all the kids were off somewhere safe and sound, and even then he never seemed to get good and drunk just in case he needed to switch into Dad mode. Something she could appreciate, and she guessed that had something to with him towering over her at the moment.

"I wasn't corrupting your daughter. Scout's honor,"  she told him raising two fingers.

"I know, she told me," he growled and she smiled wondering what it was then, "She said some guys were hassling them. Who?" he demanded and she chuckled. There it was, he wanted to know who he was hunting down.

"I dunno I didn't recognize them. Some James Dean wanna bes in leather jackets. They'd cornered them and were trying to get them to ‘show them around town’," she told him as she signaled for another beer, "She was holding her ground but she had...Tammy?" she hesitated trying to remember the goth girl's name.

"Tambry," he supplied and she nodded.

"Tambry hidin' behind her. They were pretty easy to scare off though. Still, I insisted on hanging around until you got 'em," she finished with a shrug as she caught the glass the bar tender sent sliding down to her, "If I see them again I'll let yuh know."

"Thanks," he said after a second, "For keeping an eye on Wendy that is. I know she can handle herself but...," he trailer off a bit awkwardly and she gave him an understanding  smile.

"'Course Dan," she said as Tyler shouted that they were up.

"Sure you don't wanna join?" he asked and she smiled shaking her head. Nodding, he turned and headed over to his friend. She watched him go out the corner of her eye. While she enjoyed Dan as a person she also enjoyed him as the world's biggest piece of eye candy too.  

Settling back against the bar she glared at her drink. It occurred to her that trying to drink away the feeling in her hadn't been the beat idea. While she wasn't drunk, she was certainly feeling it, and booze tended to make her short to begin with. But she had been out of pot for awhile and needed to do something. She knew that the mix of anger and sorrow was normal for grief, and she was self aware enough to know that she'd spent years repressing the complex emotions she had about Mary and that her death was trying to drag it all up again. But still she didn't want to deal with them now. She wanted to stuff them all deep inside and leave them there.

She didn’t want to wonder if she had forgiven her mother and spent more time with her if Mary would have cleaned up a bit. The question ‘Am I going to end up dead alone in some crappy apartment too?’ wasn’t one she wanted to ask herself. Facing the deep seated insecurity of not being a good enough daughter making Mary choose partying over her wasn’t a thing she wanted to do. Every time she’d angrily wished her mother dead, and all the nights she’d spent wondering if she was broken since even her own mother didn’t love her swirled around inside her. If only she had some kind of magic memory ray to erase it all...to delete everything to start fresh tomorrow with out all the damage she carried. Taking a drink she caught someone leaning against the bar next to her as well as movement behind her.

"Hey, you're the one who ruined our fun earlier," came a smooth voice. Setting her drink down she turned to find the James Dean wanna be staring down at her, and realized his two friends were now flanking her. Calmly she glanced at the other two before turning back to the leader who was looking down at her with a predatory grin.

"But I'll tell you what. Since we're such forgiving guys you can make it up to us. How about we have a few drinks and then you and us can see where the evening goes. Maybe find a way to keep us all warm," he leered and she realized he was staring down her shirt. Cocking a brow she wondered if this guy was for real, if he seriously thought she was going to take this. Looking him up and down as he leaned casually against the bar and looked like he owned the place it hit her. She was the only woman in a bar full of bikers and roughnecks, he and his friends assumed they were alphas in the situation. That because she was sitting alone in a room full of men who all oozed testosterone no one would object to them objectifying her. But man had they read the place wrong, while the regulars were certainly less then civilized by most standards none of them were animals when it came to women. Letting out a low chuckle she sat up cracking her neck as she stretched. Glancing at the two that flanked her she returned her gaze to James Dean and smirked.

"Yuh actually think that's gonna work on me?" she asked taking a drink, "Listen son, even if I wasn't already in a piss poor mood I wouldn't keep you or yur flunkies warm if we was six feet deep. Anyone who tries to scare girls into goin' with 'em ain't worth the shit on the bottom ah my shoe," she told them cause the men to shift angrily around her but she just smirked as she stood rolling her shoulders. Displeased with her dismissal of him the scumbag pressed forward almost touching her as the other ones crowded around her. He was using his height to force her to look up at him but she just smiled catching movement behind him, glancing past him she saw Chin has stood from his stool beside the door very aware of the situation. Raising her hand slightly she signaled she had this and he stilled not sitting down but trusting her for the moment.

"You got a smart mouth bitch. Maybe we should teach you how to use it," he threatened and she let out a bark of laughter in his face which only served to piss him off more. Good, she needed to blow off some steam.

"Oh bless yur heart, huh really don't realize how fucked you are do you?" she asked her tone dripping with southern condescending, "Maybe if you weren't so busy trying to intimidate women into yur bed y'all'd've realized you picked the wrong bar to do that in. In fact, y'all picked the wrong town, an' y'all certainty picked the wrong girl," she chuckled.

"Oh really?" he asked glancing sarcastically around, "Because there's three of us and you don't seem to have any friends. So why don't you think this through. We can have some fun and make nice," he offered and she laughed again causing his face to contort in frustration. It was clear he was use to women submitting to them...scumbag.

"Oh honey I got plenty a friends here. But no, I meant at the mall," she informed him raising her fingers to her lips and letting out a loud whistle causing the whole bar to fall silent. The dawning realization that they'd fucked up that was creeping into his face was priceless as she looked over her shoulder to Dan and Tyler who stood beside the pool table staring at her. The look on his face told her that he was already piecing together what was going on and she grinned.

"Hey Dan these are the assholes that were hassling Wendy," she called and the snap of the pool cue as his fist clenched around it sounded like a gun shot in the silence. All at once every pair of eyes turned to the men who surrounded her the hate tangible, before they all looked over to Dan. Well, actually they all turned to the little man beside Dan. Raising a brow Billie looked at Tyler who’s eyes narrowed in anger as he stared at the men around her.

“Get ‘em,” he said softly rendering his verdict to everyone. With those words what was going to happen became clear. Turning back to the scumbag towering over her she felt the acid grin splitting her face.

"Thanks hun. I've been lookin' ta hit something all day," she told him before snapping her hand up to the side of his head and slamming it viciously into the bar. And with that all hell broke loose.

Twenty minutes later Billie panted slightly as she watched the three assholes get rolled out the door. Blood dripped from a split on her forehead and she could feel her left eye swelling already. In the split second after she'd slammed James' head into the bar his two friends had jumped her landing solid hits to her face and chest and the world had gone red. After that it was a blur of fury and pain as she and Dan had beat the living hell out of them. She had taken out every ounce of rage she'd built up over the last month on the poor bastards until finally Dan had dragged her off them, probably so she wouldn't beat them to death. Looking down at his arm that was wrapped around her waist she pushed gently on it.

"Uhh Dan you can put me down now," she told him and he looked down at her skeptically, "I'm not rabid I won't attack," she assured him. Grunting he set her down on her feet and he frowned as she stretched.

"Uhhhh you okay?" he asked raising a brow at her and she sighed nodding. It was obvious that he wasn't just talking about physically. While Billie was always up for a fight she was never out of control. But tonight she had gone insane, and now she was just exhausted. All of her anger had been channeled into her hits leaving her feeling nothing but a strange kind of hollow sadness. Still she put on a charming smile and shrugged.

"Yeah, rough week," she told his dismissively. He opened his mouth to say something but her phone began blasting an air raid siren from under a bar stool. Thanking God for the excuse to avoid any further explanation  she dove for it flipping it open.

"'Ello," she chirped wiping at the blood seeping down into her eye.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" Stan thundered causing her to pull the phone away from her ear, "I'VE CALLED YOU FIVE TIMES. YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH! YOU SAY YOU'RE IN TOWN BUT NEVER SHOW UP?!" he raged, "IT’S A GOD DAMN BLIZZARD OUTSIDE!"

"You never called me back to say I could crash with you," she snapped and the silence on the other end was slightly threatening.

"I told you last time to just come in," he told her, "Now get your ass over here before you get snowed in," he barked before he hung up the phone. Looking down at the cell phone she snapped it shut and shook her head. Well, guess it was time to start walking cause she sure as hell wasn’t in any shape to drive.

~*~

Stan sat glaring at some late night documentary on the manufacturing of mud flaps played on the screen. It was almost midnight and Billie still hadn’t showed up, he’d called her 45 minutes ago. It wasn’t that he was worried about her or anything he was just cranky that the woman was keeping him up. He’d spent the last two days down in the basement with that damn portal and unsurprisingly gotten no where. So when he’d come up to find the answering machine blinking he’d been glad for the distraction, if a bit surprised to hear she was back so soon. But after listening to the messages he had gotten a bit concerned, the last few times she’d come for a visit she hadn’t asked if she could stay, she’d just told him she would be there. And he’d told her that she was always welcome. But suddenly she was acting like he might turn her away. Had he done something last visit to make her feel like she was no longer welcome? He didn’t think so.

But then when he tried to call her she hadn't picked up, which was weird, the woman was attached to that damned cell phone like if she missed a call she might die.  Seriously, it was like the thing shocked her every time it rang. When she’d finally picked up he was pretty sure that he’d heard the sounds of the Skull Fracture in the background. And the bar was only about ten minutes away so what was taking her so long? Looking outside he could see the snow was falling more heavily then it had been an hour ago. The plows wouldn’t be out until the morning either which only served to make him even more agitated.

She only ever rode that bike of hers and if she had skidded off the road she had no shelter. She could have been hurt or worse. He trusted her to know her limits, and he knew that she never really got hammered. She had a few beers at most and had walked back the few times she had felt she wasn’t able to be safe, but the snow was a different story. Even seasoned drivers could get in trouble in it.

“Damn it Stanley you should have gone and got her,” he growled to himself, “You idiot. What were you thinking? You know she doesn’t have a car,” he berated his anger manifesting in self loathing, “Stupid worthless old man.”

As he stood to go get dressed so he could go out looking for her a knock came on the front door sending him charging towards it like a bat out of hell. Relief washed over him as he wrenched the door open ready to demand to know what the hell was wrong with her, but the sight before him left him speechless.

Billie stood on the porch snow clinging to the messy black braid of her hair and the shoulders of her fur lined parka. Her jeans were soaked through to the knees where she’d obviously trudged through the snow. Still sticky blood coated one side of her face from a large gash on her forehead, her left eye was half swollen shut and blackening quickly, and her bottom lip split and seeping blood. Her skin was even paler then normal from cold or blood loss and her jaw was bruised and angry looking. Staring at her he felt his heart stop in his chest, he should have gone and got her. She’d obviously crashed on her way over and had to walk here, he needed to get her to the hospital. There was no telling how badly she was hurt, she could be bleeding internally, or have broken bones and only be standing because of shock. She could be dying and it was all hi fault. Stupid worthless old man, he should have gone and gotten her.

“Holy Moses, are you okay? What happened?” he finally managed to bark as he reached a hand towards  her pulling her into the house. She was freezing, he could see her shivering and her lips were tinted blue. Good god he need to get the keys to take her to the hospital. “Stay there I’ll get my keys. We have to…,” he began but she cut him off.

“No,” she said her voice thick with pain as she caught his hand with hers. Her skin was like ice, and he noticed her knuckles were bruised and bloody, “No,” she repeated and he stopped looking down at her. Something was wrong, the Billie he’d come to know always had a cocky manner, head held up defiant to the world, sharp eyed and ready to take on the world. But now…she didn’t look like the hell cat that was his daughter. Instead she looked…like a lost little girl. Her shoulders slumped, one arm hugging herself, and big green eyes watery with unshed tears. He looked like he’d felt so many times in his life; lost, alone, and broken. Now, utterly confused he stood looking at her and wondering what the hell he was suppose to do. For a second she stood motionless before shaking her head and moving like she was going to leave. Catching her hand he stopped her, he couldn’t let her go back out there in her current state.

“Billie…what happened?’ he asked again unable to think of anything else to say, “Hey. It’s okay. I’ve been around the world. Whatever it is I’ll understand,” he said echoing the words he’d said so many years ago. He didn’t know what was wrong but this time he wasn’t going to fuck it up again. He refused to loose his daughter like he’d lost his brother, “Come on kid, you’re freaking me out.”

“I…I…Mary died and I had to go back to Georgia. And none of the others seemed to care. And I…I tried to just forget, but it didn’t work. An’ I came here because…I dunno. And I went to the bar but then I beat up James Dean and….and,” she spewed as tears began pouring from her eyes before she lunged forward and hugged him so tightly it almost hurt as she buried her face in his chest. Blinking Stan stood for a second staring down at her as she sobbed quietly into his chest, “I don’t wanna die alone Stanford,” she whimpered into his chest and something in him broke a little as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I know kid, but it’ll all be okay I promise,” he told her his own voice a bit choked. What else could he say? He’d never been good with word or feeling so he just decided to let her cry it out. After all he couldn’t do anything else for her besides be a caring ‘uncle’.

For a while they just stood there; Billie crying softly into his chest as she let out all the grief she’d been holding in and Stan letting her. Finally, she took a step back scrubbing at her eyes and staring at his feet embarrassment washing over her. She must look like an idiot, showing up on his door step crying like a little kid. Sniffing she rolled her shoulders the beating from earlier staring to set in as her body ached along with her heart. Her eyes were puffy and itchy from all the crying and her throat sore from the walk in the snow. She realized she was exhausted in every possible way and looked up at him to find him staring at her hesitantly.

“Feel better?” he asked finally and she gave a jerky nod.

“Yeah…thanks Stan,” she said shoving her hands in her pockets, “So…I’m gonna invoke the girdle rule here.”

“The what?” he asked his face contorting in confusion.

“The fact that you wear a girdle. You know it’s a thing. I know it’s a thing. But we don’t talk about it and pretend it never happened,” she told him and he couldn’t help but let out a huff of laughter.

“Alright, alright I get it,” he told her and she gave a weak smile, “Now not to sound too bossy or anything but you should go get cleaned up and take some aspirin. Probably wanna ice that eye too. Cause it looks like James Dean beat you up not the other way around,” he told her and she let out her own laugh. Nodding he turned to head into the kitchen for the first aid kit and a glass of water for her. She was going to need it.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said as she dragged herself towards the stairs only to pause on the first step, “Really, thanks Stan,” she said not looking at him.

“Sure thing kid. That’s what family is for,” he said not turning from his path to the kitchen. Smiling she nodded as she headed up stairs.