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fuckzachariah · 11 months ago

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Zach had half a mind to run up on Eden and cover her mouth himself; eyes turned curiously to them, latching securely when they spotted Zach Winthrop at the mercy of the outburst. Though everyone might not know Alex now, they would soon, and they’d certainly know who she belonged to. Then again, now that an excuse had been made to Kylie and Andrew as to why they all might be associated, what did he have to hide from? Haunts from his past, sure. But he could shut Luke, Aubrey and the like up relatively easily if his hand was forced. His mind whirred with possibilities. Lola was a flight risk; if she caught wind Zach was hanging out with his ex-flame whilst two years deep into his new relationship, she wouldn’t hesitate to drop a bomb on Kylie just to see what her disembodied parts looked like launching through the air. Zach rubbed the back of his neck, staring at Eden in caution as she went on. He closed in on her, attempting to muffle her tangent from prying ears. Alex attempted to soothe her, and Zach’s gaze cut across bodies to find her doll-like profile. The best of it.

He smirked and dropped his head, keeping his response private. His mind was fogged with the best of it. He wondered, exactly, what ‘the best of it’ would surmount to. Eden protested still, and Zach laughed incredulously, finding her combative gaze with his amused one. “Yeah, we are.” He grinned antagonistically. “Shouldn’t be that hard. It’s the truth, no?” Ryan came up behind her as though on a snapped band, his bejeweled hands snaking up her tight torso to her chest. “Play nice, gorgeous. Us all being together again is making me so…” he trailed off, lips buried under her hair and into her ear as he whispered something that made her squeak, attempting to shove him off. Zach looked at Alex pointedly. “You see why our living arrangement post-rehab didn’t work out. This was constant.” Eden threw her clutch at him, which he caught against his chest, courtesy of quick reflexes after years of lingerie being tossed onstage. “Shut your mouth. Like you two would’ve been any better.” Zach raised his eyebrows. She had always been a little bolder with her mouth when affronted. Eden culled Ryan by the neck, ceasing the assault of his greedy mouth behind her ear, and made puppy eyes at Zach. “Wait, is that really why you moved out so fast?”

Zach shrugged, making a face he knew she hated. Before it could all be fun and games, though, they needed to lay some ground rules. He urged the group over to a plush leather seating area behind Ryan. While he was confident in maneuvering Eden, his hand hesitated before landing upon Alex’s bare shoulder, hovering just above the skin as though compelling her by will alone. He wasn’t certain where his reservation was derived; perhaps, somewhere packed tight in his core, he knew that touching her at all seemed too mania-inducing not to leave him craving more. And he had never been too skilled at managing cravings. Still, his wrist burned from where she had hauled him into the study hours ago, as though if he looked down he would see a delicate ring singed into the olive ink.

The four of them sat, and now they were all together again after so long, a moment passed in which the unreality was awash in the silence; it leapt and trembled in time with the bass, sweated under the brightly colored lights. “Damn. I love you guys. I wanna take my clothes off,” Ryan broke. Zach’s eyes darted to him, smirking. “Shut up. Look, all you both need to know is; Alex and I talked,” his golden-flecked gaze passed to hers, deep and unforgiving, addicted to the sensation that struck a match in him whenever they lingered there, “and I’m going for the Dupree deal. Catch is, Ky and Drew don’t know… well, fucking anything, really. They know Ale and E used to work together, so that gets you guys off the hook, but nothing about the rest of it. So I’m asking you. Or I guess we’re asking you.” He looked at her again. It felt odd, but good to refer to them as a unit. “To be on best behavior and not say shit to them that might fuck us over.”

Kylie’s compliment reached her ears and Alex’s eyebrow arched in response. The mention of their uniforms triggered a cascade of memories, dredging up the bittersweet recollection of her time at Luxe. Under Mo’s questionable management, the girls were clad in garments that left little to the imagination —tight, short, and scandalously skimpy, carefully skirting the line between chic lounge attire and the semblance of a strip club. She recalled the leering gazes of the affluent male patrons, their hands reaching out in brazen attempts to cop a feel any chance they could. Zach Winthrop had been just one of many patrons she had been forced to put in their place, retaliating with a deftly spilled overpriced drink aimed squarely at their arrogance. Mo’s admonitions about her attitude echoed inside of her mind, a constant reminder to toe the line of respectability, to cater to the whims of Luxe’s clientele. Yet, for Alex, compliance was a challenge she struggled to embrace, her rebellious spirit refusing to be tamed by Mo’s directives.

Unlike the other girls who relied on the job for financial stability, Alex had never been bound by the need for money or employment. Luxe was nothing more than a diversion, a playground for socializing and indulging in the carefree frivolity of youth. She felt no obligation to conform to the expectations thrust upon her by Mo or anyone else at Luxe. She saw herself as their equal and didn’t owe them anything. There was, however, one exception to this. Mo had been adamant that she serve Zach’s table that night, a decision that would alter the course of her life forever. The mere thought of Andrew replacing Zach in her life’s story felt inconceivable. It was no secret that Andrew had enjoyed his fair share of Hollywood’s starlets before recently deciding to embrace a more settled existence. He lived of a life of relative ease, basking in the glow of his father’s success and wealth. With little responsibility to weigh him down, he had reveled in the freedoms afforded by his family’s stature.

Undoubtedly, Alex would have regarded Andrew with the same disdain she held for Zach — arrogant, irritating, and entitled. It was difficult to imagine that the former version of Andrew could have ever captured her interest. She entertained the possibility that he possessed hidden depths, perhaps a few seductive maneuvers up his sleeve that she hadn’t yet witnessed. She wondered how it might have altered the course of her relationship with Zach. Would they have never crossed paths at all, or would fate have eventually brought them together at a different time in their lives, when both had matured and grown? While she was certain that she wouldn’t find herself working at Luxe in this hypothetical scenario, she allowed herself to indulge in the idea of a chance encounter, some sort of serendipitous meeting that would ultimately lead to their happily ever after. She smiled wistfully at the thought of what could have been. A different beginning, but with the same promise of love and possibility.

As Ryan clumsily made another remark, Alex detected the subtle undertone directed at Zach, teasing him about his apparent desperation for her attention. Her laughter bubbled forth, a natural response to Ryan’s offbeat humor. He seemed to catch himself, realizing he was dangerously close to revealing more than intended, potentially jeopardizing their carefully laid plans. Andrew nodded his head, seemingly filled with pride to learn that she had been desirable even back then. Alex had never seen him jealous before. Despite the occasional advances or unsavory remarks from other men, Andrew had always remained steadfastly composed. But then again, Alex had never entertained the notion of anyone else but him. What reason was there for him to feel insecure or threatened? Until Zach entered the picture. Alex was still unsure if the comments Andrew made about him were in jest or if there were kernels of truth hidden within. If he harbored any sense of being challenged by Zach’s presence, he kept it well concealed.

Surprise flickered across Alex’s features as Andrew granted permission for them to whisk her away, her gaze darting between him and Zach. She was curious about Zach’s motives, but refrained from voicing her questions, choosing instead to accept the fleeting moment of normalcy it promised. For a brief moment, she could immerse herself in the illusion that this was her life, her friends, her world once more. Her eyes sought out Andrew’s, searching for any hint of reluctance or reservation in his expression. “Are you sure?” she asked, a note of uncertainty lacing her words. Andrew only laughed in response, giving her a playful pat on her backside to urge her to seize the moment and indulge in some much-needed fun with people her own age. “Yes, go on! You don’t want to sit here and be bored to death with anymore old men, do you? Go before I change my mind,” he teased. Zach’s enthusiasm was clear, already leading the way as they ventured away from the bar in search of Eden.

Alex trailed behind Ryan, weaving through the crowded space. It seemed as though the room had shrunk in size, or perhaps the guest list had ballooned since their arrival, the atmosphere thick with the heady mix of revelry and excess. They skirted around couples lost in their own world, dancing seductively or taking it a step further by rather aggressively locking lips for all to see. As Alex scanned the throng of partygoers, her gaze lingered on Kylie, who seemed to be straying from the group, disappearing into the swirling mass of bodies. She realized that Zach made no move to follow Kylie, nor did he inquire about her whereabouts. Puzzled by his lack of concern, Alex turned her attention forward once more, only to be jolted by the sound of a familiar screech cutting through the din of the crowd. Before she could react, a petite blonde with ample cleavage came charging toward her, her presence commanding attention amidst the chaos of the celebration.

A winsome smile graced Alex’s lips as she was reunited with her best friend. However, Eden’s expression quickly shifted, her brows furrowing in confusion as she noticed Zach peeking from behind Alex. Before Alex could offer an explanation, Eden interjected with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. Alex attempted to offer an explanation, but her words faltered as she struggled to articulate the complexity of their situation. “You can’t be too surprised, E,” she began tentatively, her head bobbing as she searched for the right words. “We’re kind of stuck together now. I think we're trying to... make the best of it?” Eden’s arms opened defensively as she absorbed Alex’s words, her eyes widening. “The best of it?” she echoed incredulously. “This is a mess, you two. You’re going to kill me! So, what? Are we supposed to pretend we’re one big happy family now? Me, Ryan, you, Zach, Drew, and Kylie?” Her dissatisfaction with the explanation was evident as she rolled her eyes.

#para

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rakurairagnarok · 4 years ago

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Genieus Barber

Andrew sighed. He had just been rejected by the 5th girl he tried to get with this month. "I don't get it. I'm cute, boyish. I thought the girls liked that." He sighed again as he pushed his glasses up and pulled on the elastic band that kept his braces together. He might not realise it, but Andrew is the pinnacle of nerds; Short, skinny, spectacled and a gleaming set of braces. As he scratched his dark brown hair patches of dandruff swirled to the ground. He turned the corner and his eyes lit up. There it was. The barbershop he heard so much about. "Genieus Barber." Andrew shook his head. That was either the worst typo ever or the lamest pun ever. The name plate was adorned with a man holding a comb and scissors, and his legs were made out of smoke that swirled into a lamp. "It’s probably a stupid play on words." Andrew mumbled to himself. He had looked online for tips to get the ladies and found that a fresh haircut was the way to go. As he was searching online, he had found this barbershop. It had only a handful of reviews, but they were exceptionally positive. One of the reviews stated how cheap it was and Andrews student loan debt hurt wallet liked the sound of that.

Andrew took a deep breath and walked into the shop. A pleasant herbal scent drifted into his nose and he couldn't help but inhale deeply.

"Ah you must be Andrew” a smooth voice said. Andrew looked for the source and found a tall man walk up from behind the counter. He had his brown hair tied in a small bun. His slender hands stroked through a short beard, groomed to perfection. A set of silver rings adorned his fingers. Following the arm down Andrew noticed the man had a dark leather bracelet around his wrist. Looking back up at the man’s face he found his vision drawn to the man’s eyes. His amber coloured eyes gleamed in the sunlight. Andrew found himself staring at them with his mouth slightly agape.

"O-oh yes that’s me" Andrew stuttered.

"That’s great. I'm glad you made your appointment, I'm new in town and business is quite slow." The man chuckled. "The name is Trent" He holds out his hand and Andrew carefully shake it.

"Andrew" He replies. Trent smiled broadly. "Very well! You're here for a fresh cut if I'm correct, so let’s get to it." The barber, who is still holding Andrews hand, leads him to the washing station. "I will just wash your hair for a bit, don’t worry, its free" He chuckles as he sets Andrew down in the chair. Andrew frowns and lets his head down into the bowl. Trent slathers is hands in a peculiar smelling shampoo and starts to massage Andrews scalp. A wave of pleasure washes over Andrews whole body. He can't help but let out a soft groan. "Feels good doesn’t it, people have always said I have magic hands" He says with another chuckle.

"It's amazing." Andrew says slurred. Weird, his words came out so slow. Andrew revels in the feeling. Suddenly a weird thought entered his head. Wonder what it would feel like around my di-. Andrew shook his head. What the hell... I ain't gay. Andrew shook it off as it just feeling that good. But as Trent continued and Andrew looked at the man, he couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked. "You have very pretty eyes" Andrew said, still a bit slurred.

"Why thank you." Trent says with a warm smile. "And that’s that" Trent shuts off the water and grabs a small fluffy towel and begins to dry off Andrews hair. Andrew pushes his head into Trent’s hands. "You look like a puppy" Trent snickers.

"I-I’m uhh sorry" The hell is wrong with me; Andrew thinks to himself. Trent squeezes Andrews shoulder and smiles

"Don't you worry about a thing, just relax" As those words enter Andrews head he calms down. He nods and walks along with Trent as he leads him to the barber chair. Trent throws a cloak over Andrew and ties it behind his neck. "So, what will it be Drew?"

"Uh... Its Andrew... But... I'd like something that makes people want to date me." In his head Andrew knows this is way too vague of a request, but before he can clarify Trent says:

"That's a good one! Oh, I love it. Very well! Any other requests?" Andrew looks surprised at Trent. "You don't need more details?"

"I'm very good at what I do, if I do say so myself" He chuckles again.

"Well... Then no... No more requests" Andrew says with a smile. Trent nods grabs his belt.

"Could you take off your glasses and the rubber bands around your braces?" Andrew nods and obliges. Trent first grabs a trimmer and starts to cut of heaps of Andrews hair. As the locks of hair fall down Andrews mouth starts to drop as well. His mind is emptying, for every lock that falls his IQ seems to drop an extra point.

"Uhhh..." Andrew tries to speak but Trent softly squeezes his shoulder.

"Don’t you worry about a thing, just relax and let me work my magic" Andrew nods and sinks back into the chair. After his IQ has dropped a good 30 points Trent puts down the trimmer and grabs little pot.

"Was that..." Andrew asks. Trent smiles

"It’s a product that will make your hair shine" Andrew nods and watches as a blurry Trent coats his hands in the paste and runs it through his shorter hair. He pulls a bit on Andrews hair and he stretches out. The skinny jeans he was wearing suddenly come up to knees and the T-shirt he was wearing looks more akin to a crop top. Andrew groans as his limbs lengthen. His feet tingle as the confines of his shoes tighten around the growing appendages. Andrew looks down and tries to kick off his shoes, but his long limbs are still foreign to him, so he has difficulty controlling them. "Don't worry about those things, they will be gone in a minute" Trent says in his ear. Andrew looks back up and is surprised to see a sharp Trent.

"Uhh... When did I put on my glasses" He mumbles.

"Glasses? You never had any silly. " Trent smiles and runs his fingers through Andrews hair. "How do you like it so far?" Andrew turns to the mirror and finds his hair is now a dirty blonde.

Wha..."

"You're looking very handsome; you must tell me how you take such good care of your teeth by the way man. They are looking pristine!" Andrew opens his mouth and sees that his braces seem to have vanished.

"Wh-where are uhhh my braces"

"Oh, you had braces? That explains a lot, your teeth are perfect!" Trent smiles and grabs his scissors and a comb. "I will cut it a bit more for a good form and I think we're done after."

Andrew nods, still confused by what is happening. He was supposed to need both glasses and braces right...?

Trent’s first cut sends a shudder through Andrew. The second sends a wave of heat though his body. And from the third onward his body seems to be pulsating. Another groan escapes Andrews lips, but it sounds off, deeper somehow. Trent flashes a smile as he seemingly speeds up. Andrews groans turn into soft moans as his body finally starts to change. All around his body grows ever so slightly with each pulse. His muscles tense and increase in size. The tight skinny jeans are the first to go. A loud rip echoes through the shop as Andrew feels his calves burst through the fabric. His quads quickly follow next as they almost triple in size. His glutes fill up with a generous amount of fat and muscle, lifting him up higher.

His waist broadens slightly and immediately crunches down to give way to a tight sixpack. The t-shirt is tearing at the seams already. A wave of pleasure fills Andrews chest as they start to plump. His pectorals quickly gain in size and jiggle with each pulse of growth. His nipples push down and out, forcing another groan from Andrews lips as the sensitive skin brushes against the fabric. Andrews T-shirt bursts open, and his massive pecs bounce underneath the cloak.

Andrews arms begin to tingle as the sleeves start to cut into his arms. His biceps start to fill the sleeves to the point that they are tearing at the seams. As the triceps start to grow the sleeves burst open. The growth slowly moves down. His lower arms begin to thicken as his hands grow, fingers cracking as they lengthen and thicken. Small calluses form to hint towards his new life.

Andrew crooks his neck as it thickens, to make way for his much thicker voice box. Clenching his jaw, it tightens and sharpens. His nose gets slightly bigger, his brow thickens. Andrew looks up at the mirror and finds his eyes a bright blue. "Wha... I... Uhh" Andrew looks confused at Trent. "I know I know; I’m not yet finished." Trent says as he grabs a little pot of product. He sticks his fingers in it and runs it through Andrews hair, styling it.

As Trent runs his slender fingers through the blond hair Andrews head completely empties. Not his IQ but his memories flood away, giving room for the new ones. His nerdy lifestyle giving way for a fit way of life, showcased by his amazing body. Drew looks up and watches Trent put the finishing touches to his hair. One look at his gleaming amber eyes send a warm rush to his groin. Drew bites his lower lip as he feels his dick harden. And harden. It keeps getting harder and longer, longer than it should have ever been. His balls churn as they grow and hang lower. Drew pushes his legs apart as his balls would be crushed between his massive thighs. Trent unties the cloak and throws it to the side.

"How are you feeling baby?" Trent smiles gently.

"Baby... Oh..." Memories of his life with his boyfriend fill his mind. His handsome man his..."Teddy! It looks fucking amazing!" Drew flexes his arm and smile. "Fuck... I burst out of my clothes ehhe" He says in his deep, slow voice.

"I have some shorts in the back, get dressed and help me out, I have some more appointments today." Drew nods and jumps up. He quickly walks to the back and finds a pile of clothes. A pair of white briefs and a pair of jean shorts with a belt. He quickly puts them on and looks at himself in the mirror. He smirks as he reaches for the phone, he found next to the clothes. He looks up and snaps a pic. "That’s one for the gram"

"D? Are you coming? Our next customer is here!"

"I'm coming Teddy!" he says as he walks into the store, ready for his new life.

#male muscle growth #nerd to jock #barber #rakurai

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groovesnjams · 3 years ago

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GROOVES n jamsS.O.T.Y. 2021 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 20 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

“Unison” by Gang of Youths

DV:

This is not the year’s quintessential Gang of Youths song, which would be the one that lets Dave Le'aupepe repeat the same phrase the most times (”The Angel of 8th Ave.”) But it is their best, the one that leans into the band’s greatest established strengths and pushes into new places at the same time. Le'aupepe has the ability to turn a single lyric over and over in his mouth, finding new meaning in each repetition and in the fact of repetition itself, as if transforming the words into prayer with each syllable. In “Unison”, Le'aupepe scatters these phrases over the song like glitter, locating prayers in the verses as well as the chorus. The cumulative effect is overwhelming. It’s matched by production that seems just as driven to continually outdo itself, a slow build that also makes thrilling leaps - climaxing with the year’s greatest drum fill, which hits somewhere between an explosion and trashcans in an alleyway. “Unison” is the song where Gang of Youths sound like the biggest rock band in the world.

MG:

And it’s hard to imagine that Gang of Youths can spend much more time toiling in obscurity. Dave Le’aupepe’s voice is so beautiful, deep and resonant, the kind of voice that could read you the menu at Chili’s and it’s somehow both a small, unassuming song and an incredibly effective seduction. If daddy the National is mostly making Taylor Swift albums with Bon Iver (or, specific to Matt Berninger, allowing Andrew Bird way too much production estate as he thinks of words that rhyme with flower, or whatever) and grandaddy Leonard Cohen is, ahem, really dead, isn’t it time for baby to rise? Pardon the Easter metaphor as we approach Christmas, but the point stands: when Le’aupepe is singing you don’t even need chords for context. He goes almost a full minute of “Unison” without significant accompaniment. It’s a testament to Gang of Youths that they tastefully fill in the spaces where Le’aupepe takes a breath (and not to Blondie this band, they are accomplished, too, but like, you know how when you run your thumb down a plastic comb it makes that weird humming sound? Le’aupepe can make that sound whenever he sings a vowel. The band will have a great time with the middle third of Olivia Rodrigo’s catalog though, I’m sure!) Please, please, anyone, if you have a little bit of political power, please get this band a light show and a really long microphone cord.

#gnjsoty2k21 #gang of youths #unison #music

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eppysboys · 4 years ago

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Why does Pauline Sutcliffe hate Paul? I know you’ve read her book so obviously you would know better than anyone else.

Hi anon! Yep, I definitely combed through her book for every morsel of Stuart information I could get my little hands on. Her memories of him are gems, I appreciate them a lot. Her bias does get in the way at times, and makes it a frustrating to read.

As for why she's not Paul's biggest fan... I can only give my own take on the matter, and it seems to be a combination of things:

Obviously, Paul wasn't particularly nice to her brother. She clearly is baffled by ALL the beatles' treatment of her brother (barring Ringo, of course), but because of the clear closeness and deeper friendship John + Stuart shared and plus the fact he was no longer around, her judgement slightly eases on John, so that when she brings attention to how both Paul and George made jabs at Stu at various points in history, it does seem a bit harsher.

She saw The Beatles at a particular point in history where John seemed the most dominant and tough (because he was trying very hard to be that way) and Paul as a little on the outside. That's certainly coloured her perception of the dynamics in the band and has fed into a 'sidekick Paul' kind of storytelling. George was always very nice to her mother and got along well with the family at the start of things, whereas Paul seemed quite cold and didn't interact with them. He would sit at their piano or read a magazine without talking to them, whereas John and George did make effort to be more friendl with the family.

Business + Legacy: This is probably the most sore point for Pauline, at least from what I gathered. When your brilliant brother who was destined for great things dies suddenly and tragically and the friends (who were not always good friends to him) become cultural icon megastars, it obviously would bring up mixed feelings. (See: Stuart being one of Paolozzi's best students and years later going to Paul McCartney's office to see Paolozzi artwork he now owns on display). Furthermore, when those stars develop a giant brand and tell their story a particular way that involves trashing your brother's skills as a musician and undermines his closeness with the boys and not exactly pay tribute to the numerous ways he influenced the band and contributed to their image...that'd be a little grating.

The Sutcliffe's were close with the Epstein's who also had their beloved son die tragically young and have his image and legacy torn to shreds with seemingly no effort from the band to salvage it or at least pay proper tribute to the guy that would have done anything for them and played a huge role in their success. In the late 90s when Paul appeared in a Brian Epstein documentary that focused primarily on the tragic side of Brian's story, rather than the triumphs or literally any of the positives, and informed the audience that the beatles didn't pay mind to Brian's sexuality when we know they could be quite cruel about it quite often (amongst other things)....well, that's something that could leave a bad taste in your mouth (as Andrew put it so eloquently here). Basically, The Beatles have closets full of skeletons and people they've left behind who weren't treated the best. It's an unfortunate reality of big business. Pauline was good friends with Cynthia as well. So obviously Pauline has seen some shit, and knows exactly what it's like to be left behind and discarded by The Beatles' brand.

An example of how Business has soured Pauline's perception of The Beatles, and ultimately Paul, is the anthology credits. Stuart was credited on the anthology album as playing bass in the background, but lawyers informed Pauline the Stuart Sutcliffe estate would not recieve royalties because they couldn't techinically prove Stuart was actually on the tracks. But obviously Stuart's name added value, so they chose to still list it. Essentially = more money for The Beatles because they don't have to pay roaylities to the estate, just a one off 'fee'. Pauline didn't have the money and resources to go up against Beatle Lawyers to pursue engineers that could prove Stuart was playing bass, and she was warned that she would definitely lose to Beatle Lawyers, and so that was that. She's also had troubles with Yoko's lawyers over work John and Stuart had done collaboratively.

Pauline has obviously been an unreliable source, incredibly biased and has outright lied in print to draw negative attention to John in particular. I don't read her book for insights into Lennon/McCartney, I read her book for insights into Stuart, and what he was like growing up and so on. I think it's unfair and awful that she told her brother's story in some of the ways that she did, and how she handled his estate itself. I think her views on Astrid in particular are quite unfairly bitter. I don't appreciate the way she twists some of the story when it comes to that. And I don't appreciate her publishing information about Astrid clearly without her permission or without proper sources. I still value bits and pieces of her perspective, but I do keep in mind that clearly there's hurt feelings and bitterness, and though she does give Paul credit for lots of things (including his kindness), I can't imagine that her dealings with The Beatles have left her feeling that positively about them at all, and by 2001 Paul and Yoko were the only ones to answer for those things.

I don't think she even hated Paul, tbh, my read of it is that she had a particular view of each Beatle she developed as a teenager + negative experiences with the business side of things.

#asks #Pauline Sutcliffe #The Beatles #hope that helps anon

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andynked · 1 year ago

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Strung along from Kitchen, across the stage, and stumbling after Hyacinthe was an new and welcomed experience. Normally the front of the line, Andrew was more than willing to fall after Cin- her legs being longer, and strides being wider than Andy's.

In no time, the two of them were in the privacy of the dressing room, and while Andy was eager to start in on Cin, he couldn't deny himself the chance to look. Curiosity drew his eyes from wig to wig, from heel to heel, lipstick to eyeshadow, taking in all the glitz and glam he was not use to. Compact cases of things that he was not sure the name of, but he knew the women wore it- he just wasn't sure how.

He was in awe, such dazzling accessories just placed messily ( and at some point, organized ) everywhere, in each corner. He couldn't bring himself to look away until Cin had spoke.

Cleaning his face, he let drift a small laugh, canting his head sideways so she could clean him much easier. Within moment's, their lips were locked once more and the kisses were just as eager and messily placed as before. He pinched the condom between his fingers and used his hand to direct her back against a nearby vanity, leading to the fall of multiple tubes of lipsticks.

Kisses were peppered down her neck, soft bites placed at every other one. He was moving fast, but not so fast that he would neglect her.

Two fingers slipped down under her waist band, and due to the loose fit, they were easy to slide off her hip. He pulled from Hyacinthe then, locking eyes with her, winking before dropping down on his knees.

God, I'm too old for this shit. But fuck it.

Lips locked to her hip, and with each kiss, the pants were tugged lower until she was completely exposed. Outter thigh to the inner thigh, a string of kisses and love bites scattered on her thighs. Slowly, one of her legs was propped on his shoulder, and he licked his lips. His heart had begun to race, it had been so long- too damn long since being this intimate with someone. But there was not one regret in his mind as he peered upward with hot brown eyes and took a deep breath. "Go easy on me, 'kay?"

═════════════════════════════════════════

He found himself flushed with a small amount of embarrassment, as he thought a half hour wasn't enough. He hoped for more, but now he was just hoping the foreplay made up for it. Fake it 'till you make it.

Faux confidence washed over him as he used his thumb, mopping up what spilled on to the table- from Andy or Cin, he was not sure.- and pressed his thumb to his tongue, tasting whichever had ended up there. Face reddening, knowing he looked ridiculous, Andrew began to button up his jeans and adjust his shirt. From tousled hair to sweating eyes, swolen lips, he was a walking, talking flag. He may as well had been wearing a sign-

Hey Everyone! I had SEX!

Moments passed where he was silent, every so often averting his eyes from Cin, but simultaneously wanting to see her face. Was she satisfied? Was she disappointed? Did she regret it? He couldn't tell, nor was he sure he wanted to know. But if this was to continue, he needed to know how to improve- if there was anything he could do different, more areas to keep in mind. Maybe Cin didn't like something he did- who was to know.

His clothes were adjusted and his hair was combed back, roughly- at this point he just needed to fidget. Needing something to do with his hands. When there was nothing left to fix, a sigh left him and he finally spoke,

"So how...how was it?"

Hearing this validation of his consent coming directly from his lips, despite them being buried in her neck and sending chills throughout her whole body, sent her heart into a mad rush and her lips looking for his to meet them halfway in a hungry kiss. Her hands did not know what to grab anymore, too eager to touch him, but finally settled to wrap around his large shoulders and pull him closer until their hips pressed against one another and she could feel the desire he had towards her - and was deprived of this feeling just as quickly.

Long lashes vibrated as her eyes blinked open and raised to him only for her lips to form an "o" as she understood what he meant. And suddenly, she smiled. This smile was calm, happy, confident. Hands went to cup his cheeks and caress his stubble gently. "It's okay." Her heart could have bursted at how considerate and sweet he was. It was the first time anyone showed this much respect towards her, towards her body. If he was only in for the sex, he would not be this tender, this careful. She took her time to pull him closer into a long, passionate kiss before pushing Andy away and getting up.

Their hands laced so she could pull him along with her, leaving the kitchen, crossing the entire theater, even the stage, to the changing room where she knew there was a box of condoms buried under makeup and unkempt wigs. She also took this opportunity to grab a makeup removing wipe at the same time before turning to Andy with a playful smile. "You have lipstick all over," she chuckled and proceeded to remove all traces of lipstick from his features and from her lips. All the way through, she was completely unable to take her eyes off him to the point that, the second the wipe was thrown in the trash, her arms wrapped around his shoulders again, fingers still holding the condom wrap, and lips crashed together.

"Happy birthday," she whispered between hot kisses, hips finally free to meet, holding him closer, always.

#usfw

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hannahpeaslee · 4 years ago

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Let’s talk about Neil Josten’s hair, because I can’t help myself (some of this may seem a bit ooc, that’s because this was written in the context of one of my andreil fics that never saw the light of day)

• How it sticks, sweat-slick, to the nape of his neck after long morning runs

• How the curls were long enough to tickle his eyelashes and get in the way, but he never got around to cutting it until Andrew pushed him into a chair in front of Allison one day and told her to “fix his stupid fucking rat’s nest.”

• How there’s a small bald spot hidden underneath the red mop from where his mother had yanked so hard she’d pulled out strands. The hair never grew back. Sometimes Neil wakes up and feels the phantom pain of a fist in his hair, and he has to sit and wait for the memories to fade before he can bear Andrew’s hands on his skin.

• How it takes a while for him to be okay with letting Andrew slip a calloused hand into his hair, rubbing soothingly against his tender scalp, careful not to get his fingers caught in knots and keeping his tugs light or nonexistent. Andrew prefers to drag his hands through the strands, maybe twist the curls around his fingers idly because he likes feeling Neil physically relax under the touch.

• How he keeps brushing the same wayward curl behind his ear when his hands get twitchy.

• How Andrew gets mad because Neil never combs his hair and it makes it way too difficult for him to run his fingers through it, so after Neil takes a shower Andrew orders him to sit at the foot of the couch while Andrew sits on the cushions, legs straddling Neil’s body, and meticulously combs through the strands until he’s satisfied.

• (Neil lets out a few dramatic sighs when it takes forever, but he doesn’t actually mind it.)

• How it turns a fiery color when illuminated by the sun, a halo of fire framing Neil’s face.

• How when he bends forward the strands hang around his face like the leaves of a weeping willow.

• How he continues to make fruitless attempts at tying it back in a ponytail.

• (It never works. The rubber band always ends up lost on the floor and his hair ends up flying back into his face because Neil refuses to tie it back tighter.)

#the foxhole court #tfc #aftg #all for the game #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #bullet point fic

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fics-not-tragedies · 5 years ago

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In a Week: Chapter 4 🌲

I’m gonna keep posting even though I’d be doing it only for myself, because I’m too proud of it to stop doing so.

Words: 3270; Warnings: none, unless we count nudity; Summary: Andrew challenge Flo for an adventure in the woods.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight; @angelpeachamber; @sgt-morgan; @julessbrown;

Monday, 12:20am

“You’ve got to be joking…” Flo replied breathlessly, trailing behind him down the muddy trail, the need to kick her heeled boots off right there, right now absolutely unbearable.

“Absolutely not!”

She bit her lip when he kept moving in silence, a few steps ahead of her at all times, navigating through the woods like he spend here his entire life. She shook her head as he turned another left and ran a hand through his hair which was falling into his face. It made no sense to her, knowing that she could quite easily refuse him, go to her room and get a much-needed early night’s sleep - but she was following him anyway, on to the next stupid adventure. Despite all the uncertainty, she trusted him, trusted him in a way she shouldn’t have trusted a man she’d known for all of an hour. Her heart continued to pound.

“Why this?” She asked, catching up to him at last after stepping out of her shoes and moving on barefoot, carrying the boots in her hands. He was fun and she was typically not, but this, this crazy idea, was surely pushing the boundaries for both of them.

“Well…” he drawled, looking at her for the first time since they left the building, his eyes heavy with liquor, sleeplessness and something else, “There’s not much I haven’t done… em… but I’ve never been skinny dipping in the woods. Since you already asked.”

Without any further elaboration, Andrew pushed apart the thick bushes that led to a wide creek running in the middle of the woods with an outstretched palm, delighted to find no one there. He grinned widely at the revelation, pushing them further apart, encouraging her to move onto the patch of green grass covered in small flowers and more shrubs, his eyebrow raised expectantly. Flo rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but passed under his long arm quickly, her bare feet sinking into the damp grass. She shuffled forward awkwardly as he moved behind her, the thick branches moving back to their places after he let go of them.

The pouring rain finally stopped and even though they were in the middle of the woods in the dead of the night she felt hot, her cheeks burning. Flo couldn’t tell if it was the sudden change of environment or the company, but she felt the blush that crept onto her face. The water was surprisingly tranquil and if she squinted hard enough she could make out the edges of the creek. The only light came from the windows of the hotel which was in far distance now, desperately trying to get through the thickness of the greenery and the moon who was right above them, still full and bright and mesmerizing. She caught Andrew staring at it with childish amazement, his lips parted, his nose reflecting the ethereal glow. He smiled, like he knew something that he wasn’t ready to share yet.

Andrew was feeling light-headed, giddy on the alcohol coursing through him, still tasting nicotine on his lips and utterly obsessed with the way Flo was looking at him as she set down her boots onto the grass near the smaller shrubs. She tiptoed closer to him, just a couple of steps, but he turned to face her quickly, her eyes green with hope. It was like he just found a four leaved clover.

“This is such a bad idea!” she giggled at once, burying her head in her hands.

“Why?”

“Well… we’re not supposed to be in here. It’s a damned forest. What if we get eaten by a bear?”

“Stop worrying woman. Live a little!”

“I’ve never done anything like this!”

“This is my scary moment of the night, Flo…” he chuckled, already taking off his shoes and popping them next to hers, his fingers raking his hair back again, “Remember, you just had yours…” he brushed all of his hair back, taming them with a hair band he had wrapped around his wrist, “Em… people usually scream when I do that on stage in the middle of a gig” he giggled a little, trying to catch all of the loose hair that were flying around his face.

“Should I scream too?” She asked, her eyes glued to the swift and well thought movements of his hands.

“Do you want to?”

When she didn’t answer, Andrew began to fiddle with his shirt, the fabric straining against his arms as he moved, his fingers fumbling with the hem of it. He tried desperately to keep his composure. His stomach wasn’t completely flat and muscular like it had been in his youth and Andrew liked to blame it on the drinking but it had been a while since he felt this exposed in front of someone else. Now she was watching him, nothing else to distract them in the woods, and it made him suddenly nervous.

“So why do I have to join you?” She asked, swallowing, trying to tear her eyes from his body as he finally took his shirt over his head and threw it onto his boots. His chest was raised and his abs were there, not ridiculously defined, but definitely visible in the flattering moon light. His skin looked soft but there was a firmness too - the slope of his nose, his collarbone, the straightness of his neck, his incredible biceps. Flo had almost forgot what she’s been saying and she focused on keeping her eye contact now, afraid to look anywhere else, “You didn’t sing with me so why do I have to do this?!”

Andrew shrugged, a devilish smirk twitching in his lips, “You don’t have to… em… but you should. Unless you want to get eaten by bears” she tapped her foot and crossed her arms in response, rolling her eyes away from him, then sighed deeply, her own chest drawing his attention for a moment as she did, “I promise that I won’t look, Flo, honey… em… I can barely see anything in here.”

“But we got here somehow” she raised her eyebrows at him.

“I’m em… a man of the woods. Emm… some people even say I’m a fae” he laughed a little, his mouth forming into a wide grin. He cocked his head, loose strands of hair falling into his eyes over his sweaty forehead and gave her that genuine smile, another offer. Flo couldn’t quite understand. Never had a man shaken her quite like this, had her constantly begging for more when she simply couldn’t handle it.

“Are you a fae then?” She asked him, standing completely still for a moment, her brain still trying to process the situation. What was she doing?

Okay. Fine.

She squeezed her eyes closed tightly, squeaked and squirmed and then she was wiggling out of his flannel, then moving forward to take of her black dress, shaking her hair down over her shoulders and Andrew knew he just won. Just being here, looking at her, he won. He clapped appreciatively, silently admiring the lace of the bra she was wearing. Before she could change her mind, Flo reached around for the zip at the back of her dress. Her drunken fingers shook and she wobbled on the spot, clearly more tipsy than she realized.

Andrew watched and found her concentration face adorable as the material crawled further up her thighs, each attempt at entirely the wrong angle, “I uh… I can’t get this… bloody zip…”

“I can help…” Andrew announced before he even had time to think about his words, striding towards her through the dark as soon as she nodded in approval.

Flo turned her back for him and inhaled sharply as his body came close to hers. She felt the heat rising from his chest, her legs already threatening to give in as he pressed one of his large palms to the bottom of her spine to keep her from wobbling.

Andrew took note of the dark freckles spread all over her back, like a constellations too beautiful for only him to be seeing and he took a mental note to appreciate it fully, if he ever get the chance. Her hair smelt heavenly and the heat of her body only accented it.

Flo closed her eyes, each brush of his fingers threatening to send her spiraling. It was so hot and he was so hot, and she knew her entire body was trembling. She felt how he leaned closer to her, his lips hovering dangerously close to her neck for a moment as he shifted and she sighed in frustration, begging herself to hold it together.

Hurry up. Hurry up.

Andrew’s fingers itched to touch more of her so he tried to focus his mind elsewhere, the attraction growing agonizingly as every second passed. As much as he planned to be slick and smooth with this, he was drunk too and struggled to inch the zip down as well, the sight of her pale body under the moon glow pushing him further into complete intoxication. It was like he never been this close to a woman before.

A moment later, he finally got it right, dragging the zip down in one swift movement and Flo shimmied it quickly down her legs, glad to be free. Gathering courage again she turned to face him, her cheeks flushed but eyebrows raised in a challenge. His turn.

Finally able to step back and admire her, Andrew nearly lost his mind at the way her underwear hugged her body. He blinked repetitively, licked his lips and tried to think of something to say. Andrew he could fathom was how gorgeously sculpted her thighs were as they crossed, how full and inviting her lips looked when she smacked them together in the silence, how badly he wanted to have her.

“I’m keeping my underwear on” she announced, combing her fingers through her hair nonchalantly.

“And I’m telling you that em… putting your clothes on on wet underwear isn’t em… the best idea” he replied, focused now on hurrying out of his trousers. Flo rolled her eyes so far to the back of her head, Andrew was worried he’d never see them again, “I’m just trying to help!”

Finally undressed to his boxers, Andrew discarded the trousers with reckless abandon, covering his crotch out of decency. They could barely see each other, squinting so hard through the dark, but they were still focused on learning as much as they could.

“Fine!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air, accepting that he was annoyingly right. She began inching the straps of her bra down her arms, “But… please turn around and put your hands over your eyes.”

Andrew chuckled to himself and turned. Though the need to watch her undress was simply destroying him, he didn’t want to disrespect her in any way so kept his hands firmly covering his eyes, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this…” she groaned. Flo unclasped her bra and shook it free, using one arm to cover as much as she could of her exposed breasts and the other to unhook her panties, tossing both aside. She tried to use her free hand to cover herself, but knew there was no real danger of him seeing her right now. And besides, she trusted that he wouldn’t peek.

“Andrew?”

“Flo?”

“I’m- I’m gonna get in now… wait for me to - to get in first… don’t move until I say…” she stuttered, her voice echoing as she inched further towards the creek.

“Yes, honey, take your time” he mumbled. Flo approached the water’s edge and slipped into the cold water as graceful as she possibly could. Being in the water was an instant relief. Not only did Flo feel no need to hide her body anymore, she felt strangely calm. She splashed around a little and bobbed in the water, dipping her head back to wet her hair, her eyes locked once again on a barely dressed Andrew with his back still turned and she admired his bubbly ass.

“Okay, I’m good” she decided, her fingers rippling on the top of the water as her legs kicked underneath her, the creek was surprisingly deep and she could deep her whole body in it, “I’m gonna turn around now.”

Andrew laughed, eager to join her, having not seen her face for longer than he was comfortable with now. He checked that she adjusted her gaze then hopped quickly out of his underwear. He could just see the edge of the creek, stepping carefully towards it, then dipping in the water, the coldness of it immediately covering his skin in goosebumps.

“What do we do now?” Flo asked quietly when she felt his presence right next to her, dipping her head and smoothing her straw hair back again, accepting that her makeup was too smudged to salvage.

They came to a halt when she was covered up to her neck and Flo squatted a little to cover her breasts, Andrew’s eyes reflecting the rippling water before he closed them.

“We can do whatever we want.”

They were each quiet for a moment, taking time to enjoy the stillness, the quiet, the company. Andrew was tired, he had been touring for so long. But part of him wished he could stay here forever, in the water with her, knowing the sound of her giggle could soothe him like no bed could.

Flo was strangely unemotional. How could she be sad when he was here, looking this way, being this wonderful? Now she felt a different happiness, like she’d been set free somehow. There was one thing she knew for sure, the old Flo was gone.

“Didn’t took long to em… take you wet tonight…” Andrew mumbled, closer to her than she realized he was, his words making her blush darker.

“Andrew!”

“I’m just joking!” He chuckled, but moved closer to her again, his tongue brushing over his bottom lip. She tilted her head to take him in, her wet hair heavy. They were inches apart now, their bodies mildly confused about what they wanted.

Andrew could hear her breathing, knew if he reached out even slightly that he’d be able to touch her and he ached to do so, but he wasn’t going to give in yet, because he wanted to know her better before he could lay his hands on her body. He loved the way he helped her this far, even though he didn’t knew what was the reason behind her coming to that hotel, charmed by her carefree nature when only an hour ago she was uneasy and cold instead.

Flo watched his shoulders dip in and out of the surface, the beads of moisture balancing on his collarbone. Her mind was dazed when she realized how badly she wanted his tall and tough body pressed against her, the heat and the intensity of his stare coaxing her even closer to giving in. Flo knew it was crazy, knew she was crazy, but she had this gut feeling that he was in fact crazy too.

Andrew thought of her like a siren, practically forcing him to kiss, touch, adore her. He was obsessed with even the stupidest of details - the curve of her shoulder, her long eyelashes, the smudge of her lipstick, the colour of her cheeks, all rosy and flushed. He groaned internally.

Her hands hovered over his chest for a moment, the softness of his smile almost breaking her, she played with the dark hair on his chest, curling them on her fingertips. She breathed him in, the cologne he was wearing all night hitting her hard. She tried to blink away the thought of his mouth on hers, tried to imagine anything but how bad she needed him tonight. But she couldn’t help herself, placing her hands slowly on the sides of his red, veiny neck, moving onto her tiptoes and he swallowed hard over and over, his lip between his teeth, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently. He was losing it.

She could smell the liquor they were drinking, could barely breathe as he sunk into her touch, as his leg brushed against hers ever so slightly. He hummed gently, his face relaxed, her hands on his neck weakening him more than he ever realized was possible. Andrew nose brushing against her forehead, his large hand toying with a strand or two of her wet hair to bring her closer.

It had to be her choice. She had to make the first move. But if she didn’t do it soon, he was going to explode, the need to feel her melt underneath him unbearable. His fingertips brushed her collarbone, feeling her soft skin. She trembled, her lips parting.

“Andrew…”

“Flo…”

She was gone, her fingers curling into his hair, her lips just about to brush his to end their honorable battle and then… something jumped out of the shrubs on the other side of the forest.

Flo jumped out of his touch violently, almost pushing him away out of fear that they been caught and they both blinked repeatedly, trying to see what scared them. They could hear something getting closer to them. It was far too sobering for Andrew, his throat dry, his head pounding. But neither of them had time to process the absence of each other fully. Instead, Andrew scrambled to the side of the creek, crawling out of it, sliding his pants onto his long legs. When he realized that she hadn’t moved, he began to laugh.

“Get out! I’m not looking!” He said, the laughter in his voice vibrating off the walls as he scrambled into his pants, quickly zipping them up.

“I don’t want you to see me!” She called back, bobbing to the edge of the creek ungracefully. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of her statement, considering the position they’d just been in.

“Catch!” He called, throwing her dress over his shoulder as she got to the edge, now able to climb out and quickly cover herself with it.

A wild creature roared from the opposite side of the creek, striding towards them. Flo’s fingers shook around the zipper and before she could think about moving, she found Andrew’s hand pulling her away, his laughter and the warmth of his touch giving her such comfort.

Monday, 12:45am

“I didn’t had the chance to grab your shoes, em… nor your underwear” Andrew purred quietly, holding her by the hand as they ran into the hotel through the back door, “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay…” she giggled, her fingers un-knotting her damp hair with ease, “we’ll go back for them tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Andrew asked, looking up sharply and meeting her eyes.

“Well I’ll still be here…” she nodded, trying to reassure him of something that she didn’t quite understand herself.

“Yeah, em… so will I…”

“So we’ll go back for them tomorrow, I doubt bears fancy lacy underwear” Flo giggled, too excited with the idea of another adventure with him to say goodbye already. Andrew smiled, his hair finally started to dry off and he smoothed it back, trying to remain calm in her presence which was getting more difficult with every longing stare she sent him.

“What’s next?” Flo asked curiously, her eyebrow arched. They stepped out into the corridor fearlessly with bare feet, wearing only half of their clothes and drunken smiles. Andrew skipped forward a little then turned back to her, replying in a thick drawl…

“I, em… I promised you I’d play you the piano, yes?”

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enfpguy · 5 years ago

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BioShock Infinite MBTI and Enneagram — Elizabeth Anna DeWitt or better known as Elizabeth is the secondary Protagonist of BioShock Infinite and the Main Protagonist of BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea. Due to Elizabeth being part of three multi-verses, we’ll be segmenting her analysis into 3 parts. They’ll be listed as titles under their associated functions. BioShock Infinite: The Main Story. Brainwashed Old Elizabeth: Alternate universe where Comstock successfully captures and indoctrinates Elizabeth. Burial at Sea Elizabeth: This takes place after the events of Bioshock Infinite and concludes Elizabeth’s story.

Dominant Function: Extroverted Intuition

BioShock Infinite: Elizabeth is a prominent example of someone who uses Extroverted Intuition as her first function, she’s obsessed with gaining vast amounts of information on many subjects intending to improve herself and to stave off boredom. Some of these subjects are physics to better understand her abilities, lock picking, history and medicine. Elizabeth is also always seeking novel ways to gain more mental and physical stimulation. This causes her to be very impulsive with her actions and decision making, such as coming up with conclusions too quickly with limited information. Here are a few examples of her impulsive nature: At Soldier’s Field Elizabeth and Booker run into a problem they need a vigor called “Shock Jockey” to power up the gondola to escape Columbia, Elizabeth proposes going to the Hall of Heroes because she sees an ad suggesting they have stock there. She ends up being wrong since revolutionaries ransacked the Hall of Heroes of all Shock Jockey vigors. The second example occurs when the elevator they’re taking to the Hall of Heroes gets jammed. Booker offers a practical solution, while Elizabeth impulsively opens a “tear” because there’s a bee in the elevator, which almost gets her and Booker killed by the Songbird. Speaking of “tears” Elizabeth constantly opens up new ones into alternate versions of Columbia without considering the consequences. This is because she wants to escape the floating city and go visit “Paris”. This plan ultimately backfires and causes her and Booker additional problems. Like that one time when they entered a multiverse where Booker died for the Vox populi and never made the deal with Daisy Fitzroy for the First Lady airship. Thus eliminating their only means of leaving Columbia and making an enemy of the Vox populi. This problem would haunt them for the rest of the game. Our last examples of Elizabeth’s impulsive nature occur when she’s left idle. She’ll investigate random items such as arcade machines, stuffed animals, people and will pick up ammo or health packs when she sees that Booker requires aid. But wait… There’s more! We can observe more indicators of Extroverted Intuition in her aptitude for brainstorming, thinking outside the box and finding patterns within ideas and actions. For brainstorming, she’ll offer alternate suggestions to aid Booker in their adventure, such as searching for more information by going off the beaten path via locked doors and sneaking around enemies to avoid them altogether. As for thinking outside the box, we have a funny example.. This occurs when Elizabeth is running away from Booker because she found out he was planning on selling her. During this chase she opens up four “tears” the first one has over 30 over-sized party balloons, the second one is a marching band, the third is a train that cuts off Booker and the fourth has her entering a “tear” through a wall into an open space where she ironically gets captured by two guards. As for finding patterns, we often witness Elizabeth analyzing her surroundings and questioning them to find hidden meanings within them. The diorama of Soldier’s Field is an exceptional example. After staring at it for a few seconds Elizabeth suggests they created it to acquaint children to the military for the purpose of instilling “Columbian” values within them making them loyal to Comstock's regime for life. As you can see Elizabeth relies heavily on her Ne function. Even her end game ability to see all potential outcomes of all situations is an exaggerated God version of NE. However, the traumatic events she experienced throughout the game have caused her to become mentally unhealthy, and a consequence of that is frequent reliance on lower functions This effect on her psyche can be best seen in the DLC Burial at Sea. Burial at Sea Elizabeth: Just like in the base game, Elizabeth uses Ne as her dominant function, but she will often enter NE-TE loops with the occasional SI grip. This is because at the end of the base game Elizabeth creates a paradox by killing Booker DeWitt before he could become Comstock, thus stopping her birth. This caused the memories, thoughts and emotions of all the other Elizabeths to collapse into her according to the BioShock Wiki page. With that being said, we’ll be mostly focusing on examples of her use of Extroverted Intuition. Other than her damaged psyche, Elizabeth remains as inquisitive as always. To acquaint herself quickly into Rapture’s society, she stole the first dress she saw and then spent over 2 months reading as many books as possible on Rapture’s society and ideologies. However, because Ne doms are pattern and idea driven, they don’t strive often in new settings and we can observe this by all the questions Elizabeth asks Booker. Such as what are Little Sisters and Splicers. This causes him to become suspicious and question what her intentions are and where she’s from. Luckily for Elizabeth, she’s a fast and creative thinker and can make up stories on the fly to which she does to dampens Booker's suspicions about her. Another indicator of NE usage can be seen in how Elizabeth thinks outside the box while in combative situations Such as suggesting to use Big Daddies to her advantage and hiding within vents to either stealthy knockout enemies or avoid them. Fun fact! In 1999 mode Elizabeth can’t use lethal ways to take out enemies, I can only assume it’s because of her moral code of not hurting anyone. This style of game play differs completely from Booker's Se type game play where he just runs and guns. Another indicator of her NE function is Elizabeth’s ability to react and read situations quickly. During the quest to find Sally, Booker and Elizabeth run into a problem they require, a plasmid called Old Man Winter she then opens up a “tear” to retrieve it and lies to a very suspicious Booker claiming it’s a new plasmid that she can’t tell him about. Our last 3 examples of the Ne function will be a negative trait, and that’s assuming things too quickly with little information. Elizabeth is notorious at doing this. Elizabeth assumed that the Songbird, and her were imprinted just by looking at one piece of information to which she ends up being incorrect according to Fink’s research. The second false assumption occurs twice by the same person. It first occurs after she repairs Lutece Device and then enters the “tear” to retrieve Lutece Particle and on her way back to the “tear” Suchong stops her and tells her she can’t go back unless she brings him the hair sample he wants. It secondly occurs when she retrieves the hair, places it in a bin and then gets betrayed again and turned over to Andrew Ryan. Our final example is a correct assumption, Elizabeth knew Atlas would not honour his deal even though he tried convincing her. Auxiliary Function: Introverted Feeling

BioShock Infinite timeline: One thing is for certain Elizabeth is an emotional individual, she often wears her heart on her sleeve and acts in the best interest for others. This makes seem as if she uses Extroverted Feeling function instead, but that just isn’t true. Extroverted Feeling relies on the outside world to gain information and then tries to harmonize with it. Elizabeth shows some use of it, such as feeling bad for the people affected by Fink’s abusive neglect and empathizing with Mrs Lin after losing her husband. However, there are more examples for FI usage than against it, and we’re about to explore them. These are best seen within the interactions between Booker and Elizabeth. The first example occurs after they survive escaping the tower Elizabeth imprisoned in by falling from the sky into the beach water, and instead of taking care of Booker she decided dancing would be a better choice. During their multi dimensional adventures Elizabeth loses interest in Paris for a temporary period of time. Instead she wants to join the Vox populi revolution on account of Daisy Fitzroy having a convincing argument for it while Booker didn’t want to be there but was strung along by Elizabeth. As the game progresses, Elizabeth becomes more confrontational against Booker and forces him to either help her or get out of her way because she wants to kill Comstock. She also threatens killing Booker with a tornado because he wanted to leave Columbia instead of fight, but after seeing the tornado he decided he’d kill Comstock for her. To make matters worse, Booker’s death was because Elizabeth decided she wanted to end the existence of Comstock and that meant killing her father Booker DeWitt because they’re both the same person. So much for harmony, eh? We can identify the final FI indicator in how she refuses to follow the societal standards of both Columbia and Rapture, instead she tries to force both of them to change to match her own personal views and values. For Columbia that means going against its Theocratic and Racist government system, and for Rapture that means Saving the Little Sisters. This because she believes everyone should be equal and little girls deserve the right to live free lives and not be used as Adam factories. An FE user would harmonize with that societal system or avoid conflict so they may achieve their goals, while an FI user like Elizabeth would stay true to their beliefs and be confrontational against the system. Burial at Sea Elizabeth: All the events of Burial at Sea occur because of Elizabeth’s FI function. Her strong morals and ideals demonstrate a clear example of how the FI function acts in these situations. It’s a story about her revenge plot against the last remaining Zachery Hale Comstock who took over Booker DeWitt’s identity. She wants to force him to face his own lies and make him realize he’s a monster before she kills him. During her time with “Booker” Elizabeth would constantly criticize Rapture’s society, mainly the treatment of the Little Sisters and Rapture’s dog eat dog society for not reflecting with her views. Once Elizabeth succeeds at her mission of eliminating Comstock, she’s overtaken by grief since she realizes she used Sally to get to Comstock and then left her behind to an uncertain fate. This prompts her to leave her imaginary NE-FI influenced version of Paris where everyone is an artist who sings and dances and return to a Rapture where she died to save Sally. By doing this she sacrifices her quantum-superposition, which reverts her back to a normal human being who has no powers or knowledge of the unknown. This means Elizabeth literally sacrifices being an all knowing being because she felt bad for leaving Sally because that went against her core values.

Tertiary Function: Extroverted Thinking BioShock Infinite: Elizabeth prefers and trusts external sources of information to understand the world around her. She often does this by reading books and putting her newly gained knowledge to practical uses. She loves mentioning “facts” about the world. Such as the beach in Battleship Bay being created in 6 months, “history” about Comstock in the battles of Wounded Knee and the Boxer Rebellion even though Cornelius Slate keeps telling her the history is incorrect and false information about Daisy Fitzroy and how she wants to tear apart Columbia. Elizabeth also seems to prefer inductive reasoning over deductive reasoning and a fine example of this is when she observes the damage Fitzroy causes and then concludes Fitzroy and Comstock must be the same, even though we learn that is not the truth. We can spot more indicators of Extroverted Thinking when Elizabeth becomes stressed and enters NE-TE loops. A good example would be when she wanted to use her dead mother’s hand to access Comstock’s house to kill him. Booker disagreed with her approach but Elizabeth was more concerned with efficiency, this ends up backfiring. Burial at Sea Elizabeth: At start the Burial at Sea we can see Elizabeth within an NE-TE loop. She acts hostile and is direct with “Booker” and has completely changed her friendly and curious attitude to a more serious, confrontational and opinionated one. This often causes her to butt heads with “Booker”. She often criticizes and cuts him off every time he has a question about her with comments such as “If I wanted to share my life’s story Mr. DeWitt, I would write my memoirs” or refusing to call him Booker when he asks her nicely, referring him as Mr. DeWitt. Other than her attitude being different, her methods have somewhat changed. Elizabeth still remains creative and relies on external information but will use it in immoral ways to achieve her goals. Such as the time she distracted 3 store clerks so “Booker” could steal a mask so they may enter Sander Cohen’s artistic event or she closed the vents and turned up the heat within them to burn Sally alive in order lure her out. This is when Elizabeth would confront Comstock, who was trying to save Sally. Elizabeth then forced Comstock into realizing who he was and made him face his past. After Elizabeth succeeded at breaking the man, she had him killed by distracting him as the Big Daddy impaled him with a large drill. She finally breaks out of her NE-TE loop but then discovers she also died. From this point on she returns to a healthier mindset and her Te function acts more as a passive function that she uses to figure out problems. Speaking of problems, she often relies on documentation or information on the subjects to figure them out. Such as using coded papers to figure out that Fontaine is Atlas or figuring out Fontaine’s office was the best place to put the Lutece Particle so they can cause the submerged city to raise from the depths of the ocean. Fun fact! Suchong’s codes are inspired by the periodic table and the Vigenère cipher which is similar to the Caesar shift cipher but with a keyword which is based on Suchong’s name... Oh, and the password to exit his impromptu lab at the Silver Fin is his birthday. Never underestimate the fallibility of an egomaniac…

Inferior Function: Introverted Sensing

BioShock Infinite: Elizabeth mainly uses Introverted Sensing for recalling past information and their patterns to explain or understand situations. Such as her feelings for the Songbird. She simultaneously likes and dislikes him at the same time. In the past it was the Songbird who feed her and gave her books, but as she grew older, she disliked him because she realized he was the warden of her prison. Her dislike of the Songbird was so strong she drowned him at the end of the title, even though she knew how to control him she still decided killing him was better. She also fears her past so much that she would rather die than go back to the tower. She asks Booker to promise that he will not let the Songbird take her back, sadly he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise because Elizabeth sacrifices herself to the Songbird to save Booker’s life which leads to her to being captured and tortured by Comstock which leads to our second version of Elizabeth. Brainwashed Old Elizabeth: This is where we notice Elizabeth’s SI function enter a grip. She faults Booker for abandoning her for his selfish desires and blames them for helping the Vox populi with their civil war by turning Eden, aka “Columbia” to Sodom. She uses both these reasons to drive her pursuit in destroying New York, a city she perceives as full of sinners who don’t deserve salvation. She also connects stories from the bible such as Adam & Eve and explains that humanity always betray God and how her and God both have something in common disappointment. She does eventually break out of the SI grip and brings Booker 69 years into the future where she gives him instructions on how to stop her from becoming her future self. Also a minor side note. She wears the same dress she had on when the Songbird took her to Comstock when she reunites with Booker. This is a huge indicator of nostalgia. Burial at Sea Elizabeth: In Burial as Sea we can spot a huge development within Elizabeth’s SI function. She heavily relies on it to recall past information and connects it to the present and this is best seen within her ability to remember how to read encrypted code. This talent is used to figure out how to repair the Lutece Device, accidentally discover how to pair Big Daddies and Little Sisters together and decrypting the Ace In the Hole. These actions made Elizabeth responsible for the destruction of Rapture and setting the path for Jack to save the Little Sisters. Speaking of connecting past information to the future, Elizabeth recognizes the Sky-hook and Shock Jockey within the Rapture universe and uses that knowledge to help “Booker” This doesn’t go unnoticed and causes him to become more suspicious about her, luckily she also remembers how “Booker’s” personality functions and suppresses his suspicions by using Sally against him. The irony of the situation is that the real Booker DeWitt is her father, and she learned how to be tough from him. We’ll be wrapping up this MBTI analysis with the most convincing SI indicator. Elizabeth committed the same atrocity as her father. By selling Sally to lure and kill Zachery Hale Comstock. In the past Booker sold Elizabeth to pay off a debt and now Elizabeth sold Sally to pay off a debt to Booker. This decision ultimately emotionally destroys Elizabeth and causes her to return to Rapture cementing her fate. In the end Elizabeth paid off her debt by sacrificing herself to save Sally and the Little Sisters. The vicious circle of blood has been broken. https://youtu.be/8-QpeLAfMpI

#Elizabeth BioShock #Elizabeth #BioShock #BioShock Infinite #Elizabeth Bioshock MBTI #ENFP 7w6 #782 #782 enneagram #free spirit #complex character #hero #in-depth #anaysis #enneagram 7 #strong female character #best companion

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dustedmagazine · 5 years ago

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Dust Volume 6, Number 7

Stars Like Fleas

The summer rolls on in a very peculiar way, with masks and zoom calls and brief, furtive trips to the grocery and the growing realization that normal is months, if not years, away. Even so, the music remains excellent. Thank god it’s downloadable and accessible even in these strange days we inhabit. Here writers including Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers, Justin Cober-Lake and Ray Garraty consider improvised drone, precocious alt.country, experimental banjo tunes, rap metal and jazz. Enjoy.

75 Dollar Bill — Live at Café Oto (75 Dollar Bill’s Social Music series)

Live at Cafe OTO by 75 Dollar Bill

Before 75 Dollar Bill put out those widely revered LPs for Thin Wrist records, Che Chen and Rick Brown made a series of tapes. You could pick them up at shows, packaged in a clamshell case with a business card advertising their services. 2020 is a plague year, so it’s going to be a while before anyone hires them for another party or a parade, but this download-only release fulfills similar functions. It captures the band at a particular moment in time, and it gives you a chance to throw a few bucks their way. Do so and you probably won’t be sorry, because the late 2019 tour documented by Live at Café Oto was unique in 75 Dollar Bill’s history. Chen and Brown did the whole run of shows with double bassist Andrew Lafkas, but they also did nearly all of them without essential gear. It wasn’t until near the end, when they played in England, that Brown was reunited with the big wooden box that is his main percussive instrument. Spread across three sets, this three-hour long album shows how swell they sound when they’ve got a committed agent of swing adding his subtle shift to their Bo Diddley meets Mauritanian wedding music groove. If you know I Was Real, you’ll recognize many of these tunes, and you’ll likely appreciate the differences that 75 Dollar Bill works and reworks upon them.

Bill Meyer

Bandgang Lonnie Bands \ Bandgang Javar – The Scamily (TF Entertainment \ Empire)

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After Bandgang broke up, Lonnie Bands made a successful solo career. His only misfortune, apart from a murder rap prosecutors tried to stick him with, was that he picked up a no-talent partner Javar. Here, surrounded by aggressive but undistinguished artists Mascoe and Paid Will, Lonnie hasn’t learned lesson. Thankfully, Javar makes his presence on The Scamily scarce, and the second half is basically Lonnie’s solo effort with some guests. As usual, Lonnie makes himself busy in illegal activities: drugs, scams, pimping, firearms. He neatly sums up his bad deeds on “Me Too”: “You on that bullshit? Me too.” The Scamily is not that focused as last year’s KOD but Lonnie, with his slick rhyming and catchy hooks, always reinvents a bad man’s lexicon.

Ray Garraty

Sammy Brue — Crash Test Kid (New West)

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Sammy Brue is no longer quite the wunderkind he was when he released his first full-length at 15, but he is still quite impressive here on the follow-up, hitching the spit and fire and wordy angst of, say, Ezra Furman, to the downhome pyrotechnics of Bob Log III. “Teenage Mayhem” explodes with teenage aggression, building out a twitchy blues riff into a monumental rock chorus, while “Crash Test Kid,” is softer sonically, but just as unflinching in its narrative. “Skatepark Doomsday Blues” is epic and grandiose but carries it off, infusing an old man’s blues progressions with the eruptive feelings of young manhood. All the signs point towards Brue growing into his art. He’s already channeling raw emotion into sharp song structures and lyrics without sacrificing their force. It’s a drag getting old, but it doesn’t have to be a step back.

Jennifer Kelly

John Butcher — On Being Observed (Weight of Wax)

On Being Observed by John Butcher

English saxophonist John Butcher has a deep and diverse discography, much of it on CD. Since the standard of his playing is so high, and the settings and accompanists he selects so diverse, they’ve never been merely about documentation; you’d have to look hard to find a dud on the shelves. But as format preferences, economic shifts, and that damned virus turn everything upside down, Butcher has, like everyone else, found himself suddenly with plenty of time to comb through the hard drives and reassess the music stored there. And since CD manufacturing and distribution has been snarled up worldwide, what better time to transfer some of it straight to yours? On Being Observed comprises six solo performances recorded between 2000 and 2006, and you could not ask for a better introduction to what he does on his own. It features him in the studio, at a jazz festival, and in some unusual acoustic environments which afford a number of ways to understand what it means to read the room. Whether he’s playing to an audience or a 20 second delay in a dis-used gas storage facility, acoustically or amplified, using a soprano or tenor sax, Butcher’s tone is unmistakable, and his sense of how long to develop ideas and how to develop them is peerless.

Bill Meyer.

Carling & Will — Soon Comes Night (self-released)

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Carling & Will (banjo player Carling Berkhout and multi-instrumentalist William Seeders Mosheim) have spent the last few years working out new twists on old-time music. Their debut album Soon Comes Night takes another a step forward from their previous, more traditional sound. Much of the album relies on the interplay of banjo and electric guitar. The pair don't go for outre sounds, but Mosheim provides textures for Berkhout's banjo playing. “Lillie's Lullaby” offers a highlight, not only in its prettiness, but in its revelation of Berkhout's idiosyncracies as she shifts in and out of more typical patterns. The album in itself makes for a lovely collection of songs, but it has both the ups and downs of an act starting to find itself. Carling & Will have a distinct voice, and the more they work to develop that (probably by letting Berkhout get odder and Mosheim explore his voicings a little), the more impressive they'll become. If the pair decides to just focus on smaller updates to mountain music, they've already shown a worthy artistry in that.

Justin Cober-Lake

Cloud Rat — “Faster” (Self-released)

Faster by Cloud Rat

Like a lot of us, the folks in Cloud Rat have been cooped up behind walls, watching the world burn. But that hasn’t stopped them from making some terrific music. This new track, “Faster,” has been posted to Bandcamp as a benefit for Black Lives Matter-aligned organizations. The song is somewhat in the mode of their most recent EP, Do Not Let Me off the Cliff (2019). That record traded in the band’s characteristic grindpunk intensities for some weirdo experiments in dreampop, noise and gauzy gothic nightmare soundtracks. “Faster” isn’t quite as far out there, and longtime listeners of the band will recognize some of the textures of tracks like “Moksha,” “Raccoon” and “Luminescent Cellar.” The song starts and ends with some lovely acoustic finger-picking by guest musician Andy Gibbs of Thou. In between, there are clean vocals by Madison Marshall that border on the ethereal, and electric riffs that build and build toward majestic heights. Good cause, great tune.

Jonathan Shaw

Drakeo the Ruler – Thank You for Using GTL (Stinc Team)

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Recorded through a phone line from prison, with beats later provided by JoogSZN, Thank You For Using GTL right after its release was named best prison album since Penitentiary Chances, by now classic joint effort by C-Murder (still incarcerated) and Boosie Badazz (now free). It was too strong a claim to be true. On that duo’s album you can hear a sense of doom hanging over them. When all hope is lost, there is only a prayer, and even that can get lost on its way to God. There was no tomorrow. Drakeo the Ruler, on the other hand, raps like there is tomorrow. Even rough sound of voice recording and “This call is being recorded” tags are more like a necessary sound effect and a gimmick rather than an effect of reality (he couldn’t do it any other way). Strip this tape of all these effects, and you end up with an ordinary rap album, exactly like others released by dozens every week. Maybe there is no reason to thank GTL. It did us a disservice.

Ray Garraty

Holy Hive — Float Back to You (Big Crown)

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These super laid back funk soul cuts stay well inside the pocket, except when they veer unexpectedly into indie-folk. The funk parts come from one-time Dap King Homer Steinweiss, whose loose but transcendent way with a groove can be best heard on “Hypnosis.” Paul Spring, the singer, brings in the psychedelic falsetto, more Justin Vernon than Curtis Mayfield, but still radiant and chilling. The title track plays like a lost 78 soul classic, Spring’s mournful melody wafting skyward as big loopy bass notes and splayed jazz guitar chords drop into a slink and strut of snare drum. That’s maybe what you’d expect from Steinweiss’ Brooklyn soul revivalist resume, but elsewhere, there are surprises. “Red Is the Rose” sounds like Tunng, all space-bopped folk magic and electro-pinging drums, and “Be Thou By My Side” is lattice-picked folk without the slightest hint of syncopation. Both sides of Holy Hive have their sweetness, but only the funk stuff buries a stinger.

Jennifer Kelly

Dustin Laurenzi’s Snaketime — Behold (Astral Spirits)

Behold by Dustin Laurenzi

Here’s an irony for you. Composer Louis Hardin, whose habit of dressing up like a Viking and hawking his wares on the streets of mid-20th century NYC turned him into a bona fide attraction, may have conversed with jazz musicians, and shared a record label or two with them. But he didn’t really like jazz. Nonetheless, jazz musicians liked his music back, and they still do. The melodies are graceful, but malleable, and the Bach-meets-powwow rhythms have plenty of productive implications for a percussionist willing to work between the lines. After years of study Chicago-based tenor saxophonist Dustin Laurenzi formed Snaketime, a project named after one of the composer’s rhythmic notions, that turned seven of his compatriots loose upon the Moondog book. Maybe loose isn’t quite the right word, since Laurenzi’s arrangements show deep respect for the original melodies and their exotic vibe. But there’s not a lot of music that can’t be made a bit better when you ask bass clarinetist Jason Stein to improvise from its foundations. This half-hour long tape adds four tunes to the seven on last year’s excellent LP Snaketime: The Music of Moondog, and any one of them could have made the cut if Laurenzi had been given enough rope to make a it a double album in the first place.

Bill Meyer

MachineGum — Conduit (Frenchkiss)

Like its Pepto-Bismol-pink cover, these songs seem a bit over-sweet and undernourishing at first, but damned if their synth and disco and art-rock grooves didn’t start to catch on after a few listens. The project, launched in New York City with the mysterious appearance of pink gum machines, is not what you’d expect from a Strokes offshoot, but give Fabrizio Moretti credit for branching out. Here tight, “O Please”’s sleek, wah-wah’d guitars and fat-fingered bass throws off a funk shimmy, but soft, dream-y choruses add an element of electro-pop introspection. “Act of Contrition,” by contrast, swells and swirls with gothy new wave drama, but also vibrates with indie earnestness; it’s like the National playing a New Order cover. If you’d told me a month ago, that I’d be enjoying a super clean, super precise synth-dance album by a member of the Strokes, I’d have laughed, but here we are.

Jennifer Kelly

Phosphene — Lotus Eaters (Self-Release)

Lotus Eaters by Phosphene

Portland’s Phosphene drifts and drones in a satisfying vintage 4AD-ish way, the serene vocals of Rachel Frankel wafting out over intricate tangles of shoe-gazey guitars as Matthew Hemmerich pounds out motorik rhythms on the kit. This album, the band’s second, was written in the turbulent aftermath of the 2016 election, but it exudes a murky calm. In “Carousel,” for example, Frankel sings about how “everyone gets lost in their own power,” but the temperature remains cool, dream-like, lit by arcs of guitar sound and undergirded by a thudding mantra of bass (Kevin Kaw). The two singles run closest to pop. Bright, upbeat “Cocoon” is spiked with Spoon-ish piano chords, while “The Wave” damn near bubbles with girl pop exuberance. I can see why they’re leaning on those cuts, but I like the cloudy radiance of “Seven Ways,” the morose moods of “The Body” better.

Jennifer Kelly

Sara Schoenbeck / Wayne Horvitz — Cell Walk (Songlines)

Cell Walk by Wayne Horvitz/Sara Schoenbeck

Bassoonist Sara Schoenbeck and pianist Wayne Horvitz built to their first duo release slowly. They've been playing together since the previous decade in Horvitz's Gravitas Quartet, working together in various styles. The bassoon doesn't necessarily lend itself to jazz, but Schoenbeck's experience with artists like Roscoe Mitchell and Anthony Braxton — as well as in various orchestras and symphonies — has revealed her fluency in different languages. Horvitz and Schoenbeck develop that approach on Cell Walk, mixing composed and improvised tracks, moving from jazz to classical and back again, happily residing in a new music space. The pair's chamber background comes to the fore more than anything else, but the artists' experimental ideas and Horvitz's occasional electronics keep the duo moving forward. The album mostly stays cool, although a few tempo shifts and Schoenbeck's varied tone create unexpected energy any time the disc starts to settle. Schoenbeck and Horvitz fill an unlikely niche, but they also make a good case for expanding it.

Justin Cober-Lake

R.E. Seraphin — Tiny Shapes (Paisley Shirt)

Tiny Shapes by R.E. Seraphin

Ray Seraphin makes sweet, sharp songs out of guitar jangle and whispers that seem to nestle right in your ear. His first cassette under his own name after a stint in the slightly more abrasive Talkies kicks up a power pop dust and haze a la Luna or, more recently, Plates of Cake. Like these bands, however, he envelops smart, coiling melodies and wild spiralling guitar hijinks in daydreaming inchoate jangles. In “Streetlight,” Seraphin vamps and caroms in spike-y mid-temperature anthemry, crooning “And I won’t feel a thing,” and indeed there’s a misty, nostalgic remove around most of this album’s emotional content. Yet there’s also a classic pop shape that can’t quite be obscured by muttered, offhand delivery. “Fortuna” is the best bit, to my ears, a summer radio megahit heard from several rooms away, bittersweet and slipping away even as it plays.

Jennifer Kelly

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO (Amsterdam) (self released)

DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO (Amsterdam) by Stars Like Fleas

New York collective Stars Like Fleas are still gone, but the tracers and streamers left in the air by their passing continue to be entrancing. Whatever collapsed in the wake of their work on the follow up to their epochal LP The Ken Burns Effect can perhaps be glimpsed a little in the bulk of this first (and hopefully not last) release from what they describe as “a huge archive of live and session material.” As the title indicates, six of the 11 tracks here come from a radio session they did during their final tour (coming apart and leaving the final album unfinished upon their return to America). Along with a couple of Ken Burns highlights that session is all new material and it is as rich as anything they released during their lifetime. The collection is rounded out with some brief improvisations and another track intended for the final album, the 7” single “End Times”, and a wonderful performance of “Falstaff” from a Toronto show. Perversely and beautifully enough, the result is not only a must listen for fans of the group, it makes an excellent introduction for anyone who missed them the first time. Bring on the archives!

Ian Mathers

Thecodontion — Supercontinent (I, Voidhanger)

Supercontinent by Thecodontion

A death metal band entirely devoted to songs about ancient, paleolithic lifeforms and geological history? It’s not the most harebrained musical concept you may have heard — it even makes a sort of sense. What better musical genre to address such massive, atavistic and lumbering forms? Supercontinent is the Italian duo’s first LP, following 2019’s Jurassic EP. As its title suggests, this new Thecodontion record goes way, way back, to primal landforms, before continental drift assembled the earthball’s map into its current shape. Appropriately, the longest track on Supercontinent is “Pangaea,” named for the unimaginably huge late Paleozoic landmass. Thecodontion’s featured instrument is Giuseppe D’Adiutorio’s bass, which he variously thrums, hammers and shreds. He gets some pretty amazing sounds out of it, sometimes producing the soaring, moaning, keening sounds that Greg Lake coaxed out of his bass on the early King Crimson recordings. The proggy reference is pointed; Thecodontion’s high concept project smacks of prog’s grandiosity. But where prog shoots for the heavens, Thecodontion goes bone hunting. It’s interesting work.

Jonathan Shaw

Various Artists — Building A Better Reality: A Benefit Compilation (JMY)

Building A Better Reality : A Benefit Compilation by Various Artists

As Bandcamp’s choice to waive its portion of transaction proceeds in favor or certain needs and causes has evolved from an occasional to a monthly event, releases have started to appear which take advantage of both the event and the rapidity of production when no physical objects are being produced. George Floyd died under a policeman’s knee on May 25; this compilation was released just 24 days later, on Juneteenth. Brent Gutzeit of TV Pow secured 106 contributions from friends, friends of friends, and customers of friends — and that’s just the parties that this writer recognizes. They range in length from Kendraplex’s 58 seconds of metallic shredding to Joshua Abrams’ half hour of mournful clarinet and cathartic double bass. You’ll find acoustic protest music, swinging jazz, harsh noise, hip-hop, and a sound collage that includes sounds of protest and mourning. The participants include Simon Joyner, Jsun Borne, I Kong Kult, Jesse Goin, Chris Brokaw, AZITA, Keith Fullerton Whitman, and the Jeb Bishop Trio, along with many, many more. Have I listened to them all yet? Of course not! But the thing with a set like this is that you don’t need to. Put it into your shuffle play and it’ll yield surprises for years to come. Income goes to Black Lives Matter, NAACP Legal Defense Fund. and the Greater Chicago Food Depository.

Bill Meyer

Michael Vincent Waller — A Song (Longform Editions)

A Song by Michael Vincent Waller

At first listen, you might not guess that composer Michael Vincent Waller’s new EP/song A Song is an improvised piece, and as the surrounding material on Bandcamp makes clear, that’s kind of part of the point. Composition vs. improvisation is the kind of duality where both sides are never really distinct, and Waller is both interested in the history of composers improvising and (possibly naturally) improvises in a way that’s not a million miles away from his compositions. Which also means that just on that first listen the 21 minutes of solo piano found here are frequently beautiful, whether patiently probing a set of arpeggios or momentarily going somewhere a bit darker and deeper near the end. Whether considered as work done around or between more composed ones or in its own right, A Song makes for both a fine follow up to Waller’s 2019 collection Moments and a brief thesis on the always permeable boundary between two methods of creation.

Ian Mathers

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jemej3m · 6 years ago

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minyard’s monster

where andrew falls in love with a ghost and dedicates himself to bringing him back (please note that this is not the real plot of mary shelley’s frankenstein, and victor frankenstein is a malicious prick)

Andrew deigned himself as beyond the company of those deemed as family, so he stood, took his pipe, and made for the archway that would lead upstairs.

“Cousin,” Nicky inquired. “Will you return for supper?”

Andrew was overly fond of sweets, but his oddly insatiable irritability overrided his affections for delicacies. He ignored his cousin in favour of marching up the stairs. He heard Mr. Kevin Day murmuring to Aaron, his brother, most likely to spite Andrew. Andrew did not care. Affiliations with others were beyond his realm.

His room was comfortable, with an eccentrically heavy lock upon the door and a bay window: He would peer over the edge just to satisfy the thrill of a potential fall.

The cushioned seat was taken by a flickering mirage. Andrew huffed, placing his pipe on top of the dresser and fumbling with the buttons of his dress shirt. He addressed the spirit, refusing to gaze upon it as he spoke. “What have you deemed as so necessary that you must needle me this evening?”

“I was curious.” Mr. Josten claimed. “Days go, by and by, but you do not visit as often. Was it something I said?”

Andrew loosened his cuffs. “Perhaps others will grow suspicious of my lingering by your grave. I have no reason to be affiliated with a Nathaniel Wesninski.”

The ghost’s presence always inspired chills, but his tone took on an iciness unlike any other. “I am Neil Josten.”

Andrew looked at him. The man’s curls floated gently in a non-existent breeze, his eyes glittering. His monochrome valour had Andrew curious. What was the pallor of his skin, the exact shade of his lips?

The thoughts incited disgust within himself. Perhaps his cousin was devoted to a man, but it was done so in secret: Not even Andrew’s twin was aware. Andrew himself had sworn against affections: When he realised he had no desire for female company, and when his church minister took his innocence against his will, nothing made him shudder more thoroughly than the thought of sharing intimacy with someone else.

Neil was not someone else. Neil was a ghost. Perhaps a figment of Andrew’s insanity. Perhaps a mere trick of the light.

“I know.” Andrew said. This settled something within the spirit’s expression. He tucked his knees to his chest: He wore expensive breeches and linen, worthiness exacerbated by a glittering pin at his lapel.

The tale of Neil Josten was tragic: Murdered by his father, his body was preserved in various pieces, forcing his soul to be suspended here on the earthly plane until he was rightfully buried, not under the false headstone inscribed with Nathaniel Wesninski, but instead, in a new grave, beside his mother on a Cornish beach with Neil Josten above his head.

Andrew, who had never thought to commit himself to such an endeavour, found himself reading natural philosophy. Here was a spirit, a perfect specimen for reanimation, as Aaron’s colleagues had once entertained.

Neil hadn’t an inkling of Andrew’s plans.

“I cannot withstand such cold, dreary nights, Andrew.” Neil murmured. “Tell me, are you close to letting me rest?”

Andrew almost smiled. “Every day brings us closer. You do not have to return to your unhallowed grave, Josten. Stay by the fire and keep yourself warm.”

Even dead, Neil’s eyes glittered.

“Why should I consider you for a course of such rigour?” Sir David Wymack protested. “And your band of merry-men, nevertheless?”

“I have a study of such utmost importance for you to peruse.” Andrew alleged. “I have heard of your work with anatomy through my brother, who would remain as a diligent student. He is wasted at his current occupation. As for Nicholas, I cannot acclaim he has any particular talents barring persistence.”

“Scoundrel!” Nicholas cursed at him, but he was grinning. Andrew’s sudden fervour to attend Oxford had the others quivering with excitement. They were ready to indulge in a new place, with new faces and new opportunities.

“It is most true, sir.” Aaron claimed. “Andrew has refused to disclose his studies with his family. It must be of such a caliber for such omissive practises.”

“I, too, will disclose the practises of Moriyama work.” Kevin agreed. “Should you allow us to study under your guidance.”

Wymack was unperturbed by their bribery. Instead, he considered their appearances, rankled by the days of chaotic travel, the browned complexion of Nicky and Kevin, juxtaposed with the fairness of the twins.

Wymack would have the laboratory equipment necessary for Andrew’s toils. Oxford was in close enough jurisdiction to London, where Wesninski’s townhouse and Neil’s remains prevailed. It would all work so finely, should Wymack accept.

With a gentle sigh, Wymack allowed them within the lecture hall’s heavy doors. Neil glittered in a far-away corner. Andrew’s fingers brushed over the words of idle philosophers with skewed ideologies and incompetent skillsets, wondering of the possibilities.

“You’re meaning to convince me,” Wymack tried. “That there is a spirit haunting you, and you mean to put it to rest?”

“Quite.” Andrew agreed. “Neil, won’t you show yourself?”

Neil looked at him uneasily, but agreed by pulling out a chair at Wymack’s desk and sitting down. Wymack looked at the inanimate object with dulled horror.

“Thank you.” Andrew insisted. “Take yourself elsewhere.”

“But,” Neil tried.

“Go.” Andrew insisted. The ghost vanished with a mere frown.

Wymack looked at Andrew with abject disgust.

“Incredulous, I am aware.” Andrew clasped his fingers together. “What I have not disclosed is that I will attempt to reanimate his body. He is young. I believe it may be possible, if it is true that his remains have remained preserved. I have studied alchemy fervently.”

“You do not have a mother, sister, wife or lover you would rather conjure instead?” Wymack demanded. “You are happy to simply allow the return of a strange man?”

“I believe I know him quite well.” Andrew objected. “Will you aid me, Sir Wymack? My endeavours are most perplexing, are they not?”

“Have never considered something quite like it, though it is the culmination of an alchemist’s work.” Wymack agreed. “We will ride into town tomorrow evening and greet this Wesninski.”

Andrew sat back and lit his pipe, pleased.

“Oh, I do so dislike this place.” Neil murmured, as Andrew crept into the basement. Upstairs, Wymack was engaging the Wesninski man in conversation over tea. It was chilly, Andrew agreed. The walls wept condensation and grime, and there was a distinct stench of decomposition that Andrew was all too familiar with, after working with Wymack on reanimation and anatomy studies for the past few weeks. Neil pointed to chains strung across the wall. “He chained me there for days until I could not stand. He is the most horrid man.”

“Quite.” Andrew agreed.

Neil Josten’s remains floated in formalin, so grotesquely but perfectly kept that Andrew could not help but gag. Neil’s colouring was distorted in the liquid, but Andrew could see the various wounds. His body was dismembered, his hips from his waist, one calf from the knee, and the head from his neck. Andrew would have to reassemble the man.

It was quite the task, carting the tanks up stairs without disturbing the servant quarters or the head of house. Andrew managed only through sheer determination. When the masked tanks were loaded onto the tray of the carriage, he returned, washing his hands and removing Wesninki’s apron, blotting himself free of sweat.

“We must escort Wymack out.” Andrew told Neil.

Neil shook his head. “I cannot see him again. I am too afraid.”

“You are already dead: What more can he do?”

Uneasily, Neil accompanied Andrew to the parlour room. Andrew was acting as Wymack’s chauffeur, and he rapped carefully on the archway entrance to Wesninski’s sitting room.

“Sir,” He declared, hating the formality of it all. “We must retire. You have many occasions tomorrow and you mustn’t catch a cold in the evening chill.”

“Quite right,” Wymack agreed, gathering onto his feet and clasping Wesninski’s hand. Neil made a gentle noise of distress at Andrew’s shoulder. “We shall discuss these matters further, Mr. Nathan.”

Nathan Wesninski had blood-red hair, and blue eyes to match the chillingly evil curve to his smile. “Of course.”

Wymack and Andrew retired to the carriage, Neil vanishing into nothingness the instant Wesninski had moved to escort Wymack to the door.

“All according to plan?” Wymack inquired.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Andrew remembered the grotesque mutilations across Neil’s body. “Should this work, Neil must make quick work of Wesninski. He is a cruel, cruel man.”

Wymack nodded.

“What are you doing?” Neil pondered aloud as Andrew made quick work of the arteries and veins, rejoining the dismembered state of Neil’s body before the organic material would begin disintergrate.

“There is no need for this,” Neil objected, as Andrew carefully reconnected the brain to the spine, wiping sweat off his brow. He had worked tirelessly for nights on end.

“Is this necessary?” Neil questioned curiously as Andrew gently bathed and clothed his body, combing his hair and polishing his teeth.

“Andrew,” Neil insisted, mildly panicked, as Andrew rolled out Wymack’s machinery. “What is happening?”

Andrew gazed upon the ghostly figure, glittering and flickering where he stood opposite Andrew. His body laid between them, the gross mutilations left by his father and Andrew’s reattachment hidden beneath soft cloth.

“Don’t hate me.” Andrew murmured.

Lightning struck. Neil screamed.

Slowly, Neil Josten’s eyes peeled open. There was a disoriented glossiness that glazed his eyes, but the bright blue was that of Nathan Wesninski’s, simply, without the cruelness.

Andrew hovered impatiently, fingers twitching with impatience. “Neil? Can you hear me?”

He muttered and groaned, muscles twitching with the electricity that had rejuvenated his heart and soul and was still dissipating through the metal table.

“Cold,” Neil whispered. “Where am I?”

Andrew’s heart fluttered, gazing at the rosiness of Neil’s lips and cheeks. “You were found, hurt in your father’s basement. I am your - doctor.”

“Oh,” Neil said gently, lifting his arms off the table to gaze at his hands. “Well, thank you.”

Andrew said nothing, made uneasy by someone’s gratitude. “How do you feel?”

“Very well.” Neil admitted as he sat up. “Was I truly hurt? I cannot feel any remnants of such pain, and I am well acquainted with my father’s cruelness.”

“You slept deeply.” Andrew lied. “You have healed completely. It has been a long while.”

“Well, what is the day?”

“Friday, October thirteenth. 1837.”

“Many a month, then.” Neil whispered. “Thank you, kind sir. What is your name? I wish to know the identity of my saviour.”

Andrew swallowed. “You may call me Andrew. Would you like to attend me upstairs?”

“I mustn’t stay,” Neil urged. “I am not safe -”

“But only for a minute, Ne - Mr Josten.” Andrew coughed, before offering his arm to help Neil off the table. “You must be famished.”

“Quite.” Neil agreed. “Alright. But only for a minute.”

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

wymack is professor waldman, and that’s the only correlation that makes sense. otherwise neil would be???? andrew’s mother???? and that is not okay lmao

#andrew minyard #frankenstein au #but barely #aftg #andreil #neil josten #1800s au #tfc #all for the game #jem writes

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outweek30 · 5 years ago

Photo

OutWeek crossword by Phil Greco, edited by Gabriel Rotello, OutWeek Magazine No. 8, August 14, 1989, p. 80.

Solution to be posted next week!

Clues:

ACROSS

1. Porn star Grant 7. Gay actor's first name 11. Porn star Tom 14. Once in ______ (2 wds.) 15. Modern Siamese 16. Comb. form with Asian 17. La Cage star 19. Sugary suffix 20. Fuss 21. Exams 23. Carnaby streeters 27. Place 29. Cafe au ____ 30. Tenor solos 32. Actor Marshall's inits. 33. Cautions 34. He played gay opposite Sophia 36. ____ job 37. Eland 38. Mothers 39. Negative prefix 40. Zipper 43. Raised 45. Half of an Andrews' part 47. Sing 49. Legs Diamond review 50. Purloin 51. Symbol 52. Consumer 54. Pericles, Prince of ____ 55. Stony or a rock star 57. Inches on Stryker 59. La ___ 60. La Cage composer 66. Aril 67. Friend, to Albin 68. Protozoan 69. Compass dir. 70. Suggestive 71. Gr/p &/or Fr/a

DOWN

1. Joke 2. Be in debt 3. Greek letter 4. Supvr. 5. __ San Juan 6. As Long As He _____ Me 7. Rd. 8. Scarlett, et. al. 9. Took an interest 10. Porn star Jon 11. Boys In The Band actor 12. Texas city 13. Wrings 18. Inns 22. Gusto 23. Other work by 60 across 24. ____ fixation 25. Death In Venice star 26. Scrotum 28. Self 31. Bodily fluid 33. Desires 35. Boy 36. Ad 39. Next year 41. Billy ____ 42. CT school 44. Giovanni's ____ 45. Tun 46. Mel ___ 47. Braces 48. Cowboy events 49. Actor Knowles 52. Fetish item for some 53. Restoration 56. Open 58. Nautilus captain 61. Actor Alejandro 62. Decay 63. Faced 64. Austral native 65. Slang for recent war locale

#outweek #issue 8 #crossword #gabriel rotello #phil greco

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nekojitachan · 6 years ago

Text

Ghost in You ch2 preview

Ok, unless work blows up on me, I’m hoping to have a new chapter of The Ghost in You up... eee, soonish? I’m out of town next weekend (NYC! Hanging w/ my bestie!) so we’ll see how much time I have for writing and posting. Until then, here’s two scenes - I may post more during the week.

Uhm... think the only triggers are for Mary and vague references to Neil and Andrew’s pasts, past reference to drug use and tending to mild injuries.

*******

“It wasn’t like that,” Neil argued with his mother as he held gauze against the cut on his forehead to staunch the blood. “He was just grateful, it didn’t mean anything more than that.”

The blinds on the small window in the bathroom rattled against the glass as Mary whirled about, her mostly transparent body partially fractured into pieces due to her agitation until she resembled a figure in a badly-jointed, washed-out stained glass window. /That’s not any better, Abram. Gratitude can lead to affection and more./ For a moment her body splintered into thousands of tiny pieces before she reassembled next to him; he fought not to shiver from her nearness, to not flinch when he felt her fingers card through his tangled hair. /Don’t repeat my mistakes, don’t ever repeat my mistakes./ There was a slight tug on the strands for a moment, then she resumed combing through them again.

“I know, Mum, and I won’t,” he promised her with a sad smile. “You’ll never let me.”

/No, I won’t,/ she swore in return before something icy pressed against his forehead, near the gauze, and a mix of love/worry/determination/fear/possessiveness poured into him for a moment. /Tend to that so you can start packing, we need to leave./

He sighed and removed the gauze so he could clean the wound, and focused on tending to it (not bad enough to require stitches, thankfully) and the other scratches, to clean and bandage them so they didn’t get infected. It was something he was used to doing by then, the small injuries inflicted upon him by his mother nothing like the cuts and bullet wounds and fractures he’d suffered from his father or the man’s people before he’d gone to live with Uncle Stuart, and it gave him time to gather his thoughts and come up with an argument against his mother’s latest demand to leave Columbia.

The worst of the scratches tended to, he was debating on if the ones along his left ribs needed band-aids or not when someone rang the doorbell. Mindful of gun in the bedroom, Neil grabbed the sheathed knife he kept stashed on the shelf near the shower holding towels and went to investigate who was at the door – he wasn’t expecting a visitor.

He had to stand on his toes to look out the peephole, and shoved the knife down the back waistband of his pants upon seeing that it was a FedEx deliveryman wearing what appeared to be an authentic uniform. Mary hovered near the side of the door, ready to intervene if needed, as he opened it.

“Neil Josten?” the middle-aged man asked with a friendly smile once he opened the door a slight bit. “I’ve a package for you.” It was on the large size but didn’t look too heavy. “Please sign for it.”

Mary watched as Neil accepted the box, which made the man shiver and complain about the cold, but Neil was reassured when he noticed that the package was from the UK; as soon as he touched it, he could filter through the various layers of people who’d handled it to ‘feel’ Aunt Miriam’s affection and concern. Once it was set inside of the apartment, he entered his name on the electronic device (the sleeves of his sweater extended over his fingers so he didn’t have to endure anymore strange emotions), and nodded as the delivery man wished him a good night before walking away.

/Abram? What is it? Why did you accept it?/

“It’s from Aunt Miriam,” he explained as he picked up the package, wincing a little from the various emotions tied to the box (the people unhappy with their jobs) as well as the tug on various scratches and his sore knees. “Let’s see what she sent, all right?”

/You should be packing,/ Mary reminded him, but without as much force as before, a clear sign that she was curious as well about the box’s contents.

He used the knife to cut the tape on the box, mindful of its contents, and drew in a slow breath when he unfolded the lids and packing paper to reveal a beautiful, pale blue and cream blanket knitted from soft wool in a thick cable stitch pattern bearing the scent of lavender.

/That’s one of your gram’s,/ Mary told him, her face soft with reminiscing. /She made dozens of them, they were all over the house in East London./

“It’s beautiful,” Neil said as he carefully set it on the nearby chair, and revealed carefully wrapped items which turned out to be various knickknacks such as an intricately carved walnut box perfect for holding small items and candlestick holders, a couple of tins of tea, and another blanket of his grandmother’s, that time a grey one with a basket-weave pattern. There was also a note from Aunt Miriam about her wanting to send him a few items to help make his apartment ‘more of a home’.

It would be late in London, so he sent her a text to let her know that everything had arrived safely and to say ‘thank you’, and was surprised when she called back a couple of minutes later as he was carrying the grey blanket to his bed. “You’re still up?”

“We just returned home. How are you doing, Abram?” Miriam sounded a little tired but the affection was clear in her voice; Neil remembered his aunt’s warm hands and bright amber eyes, the way she made him feel comfortable from the start with her gentle smiles and the way she showed concern without being overbearing.

“I’m well, thank you. The new job is challenging but I enjoy helping out the children.”

“I thought that would be a good fit for you.”

“Thank you for the blankets and everything. It’s not quite as cold here in Columbia as London,” at least, not outside, “but they’ll definitely help to brighten up the place and make it more comfortable.”

“That’s good, I was hoping to help you become more settled,” Miriam told him. “You deserve a home at last, there’s no reason to keep running. It’s not right for a young man like you to be so restless, it’s time for you to set down some roots. We’re worried about you and want you to be happy.”

Neil noticed how Mary had gone ‘still’ during the conversation, how she hung in the air like a projection of some kind, so close to him to raise goosebumps on his skin and his breath to condense when he breathed out. “Again, thank you. I don’t want to keep you up so maybe we can talk more tomorrow?”

“You’re always such a thoughtful child, I wish Ally took after you a bit more,” Miriam said with obvious affection and a bit of chagrin. “Do you need a roommate, perchance?”

“Hmm, perhaps I should be moving on….”

His aunt laughed and insisted that she was just teasing, and wished him a good night after promising to call in a day or two. As soon as she hung up, he held the phone against his chest and gazed at his mother. “They’ll wonder if I move on so soon,” he warned; he wasn’t 100% certain that Mary’s brothers could sense ghosts, too, that it was indeed a Hatford trait… but he felt his suspicions firm up when she slowly drifted away instead of insist that he pack the duffel bag so they could leave.

/Brew us some tea, Abram,/ she said instead, /and I’ll tell you a story about your gram./

He smiled as he hurried to obey, content that he’d won a reprieve for the time being.

*******

Abby confirmed what Andrew had suspected, that he had a couple of bruised ribs, which was such a banner way to end the work week, wasn’t it? Then she wrote him a script for some lovely pain pills and muscle relaxers, which made him hate the puzzle that was Neil Josten a little less (a little), cleaned up his scraped palms (he shouldn’t be bothered with such trivial things after everything he’d endured in the past, which meant he was growing soft and so was unacceptable), and walked him to his car. “I don’t see any rough spots where you tripped,” she said as she searched the parking lot. “You must be working too hard, I’m going to tell David to give you the day off on Monday.”

Part of Andrew rebelled at the idea, of him not being there for the kids, but each time he drew in a breath there was a stab of pain along the left side of his chest, which he knew would be there for at least a couple of weeks at best. As much as he hated the feeling of letting the kids down, it made sense to rest up over the weekend and Monday rather than having things drag things out too long. “Those meds better be good,” he gritted out past the pain.

There was a flash of offense in Abby’s brown eyes before she shook her head. “I don’t tell you how to do your job, do I?” She helped him to the GS and even into the driver’s seat before she spoke again. “You need to heal before you can work again, all right? I know you worry about the kids, but listen to me and take it easy for a few days. David will make sure that everything is covered here.” She looked as if she wanted to lean in and give him a kiss on the forehead or a hug before she reconsidered. “Call me if you need anything. Anything.”

He managed a curt salute, and only because he knew she was sincere about that ‘anything’ before he closed the door and started the car; he wanted to go to the nearest pharmacy, get the prescriptions filled, then go home and collapse into his bed for the entire weekend as soon as possible.

Well, he did need to fire off an email to Renee at some point, but first, pain meds.

At least it didn’t take long to get the damn prescriptions filled, during which he hobbled around the store and grabbed a few things to tide him over for the weekend (heating pad, lots of ice cream and chocolate, hot patches for his ribs, so on and so forth) while the pharmacy worked its magic. He had Uber Eats prepare an order for him on the way home, so a few minutes after he reached his apartment, the food was delivered (enough take-out to last him the next three days), and after eating some cheese and jalapeño pizza, he grabbed a pint of ice cream while he typed out an email to Renee asking her what the fuck was going on at work – with the new guy, especially.

Then he took some meds and went to bed.

For once Abby had done some good, because despite the pain and discomfort, he slept through the night and into the morning, spared any disquieting dreams for once, and got up to relieve his bladder then stand beneath the hot water long enough for some of the stiffness to fade away before he had enough coffee, muscle relaxers and breakfast burritos that he felt semi-human to look at his phone to see what he’d missed during the last ten hours or so spent unconscious.

Nicky had called him, which wasn’t much of a surprise, as had Kevin and Roland… and Renee. Only the last caused a flicker of annoyance, since he’d hoped to talk to her about what the hell her cryptic emails meant and if she had any idea what was going on with a certain Neil Josten, how he could have made Andrew’s ribs become bruised without even touching him.

Even worse? She merely left a voicemail about how she was sorry to miss him and would arrange something for him until she could speak to him again, and hoped that he was well. He had a few dark thoughts about her untimely sabbatical as he deleted the message while he slurped his sugary caffeine concoction while he debated on if he wanted to stretch out on his bed or the couch.

The couch won out (closer to the coffee maker and one bathroom), where he spent several hours drifting in and out of a comfortable haze from the pain pills and muscle relaxers while the television played on in the background until a loud knocking noise interrupted his semi-doze.

He pulled the microfleece blanket which Nicky had given him for Christmas last year up to his nose and was determined to ignore the knocking at first, lulled into a comfortable drug haze and unwilling to move… except the sound kept going on and on and on. His annoyance growing as the pounding continued, he wondered if he could explain him repeatedly stabbing whoever was on the other side of the door as an effect of the drugs while he forced himself onto his feet and stumbled forward to stop the awful noise.

It turned out to be Allison Reynolds banging on his door. Oh, wonderful, the justifiable homicide case just became that much stronger.

As if reading his thoughts, Allison held up her hands in a defensive position while giving him a sour look. “Put away the knives and let me in, Renee sent me here,” she declared. “She’s the only reason I’m dealing with your homicidal ass on a weekend.”

His right hand hovering over his left armband while he wavered on his feet, Andrew considered those words for a couple of seconds before he clicked his tongue. “She better have a good reason for this or else I’ll slit your throat after all.”

“Such a fucking asshole,” Allison muttered as she entered the apartment, dressed as if she expected there to be cameras for some type of photo shoot inside; she wore six inch high heels with red linings on the soles, a black suede mini skirt and an ivory silk blouse with a oxblood suede cropped jacket over it with her blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, her makeup ‘subtle’ enough to mean it probably had taken half an hour to perfect.

Andrew went into the kitchen and made himself another mug of coffee, which he didn’t offer to his ‘guest’; she narrowed her blue eyes and pressed her glossed lips into a thin line but sat down at the table with her small purse set in front of her. “Again, Renee sent me here or else I’d be having a nice champagne brunch with Matt and Dan, which is preferable than dealing with you.”

“I can always end your suffering,” Andrew offered as he slumped over his coffee mug after he sat down, the ache in his ribs a dull throb.

“So generous,” Allison sneered as she fished through her purse for something. “Anyway, this is what Renee wanted you to have,” she said as she set a cloth-wrapped item down on the table. “And no, all I know is that she called me last night and told me to give it to you, that you had to have it. She was rather insistent about that and that you accept it, and was upset that she couldn’t talk to you. So you take it, you monster, just so I can tell her that you did and it’s one less thing for her to worry about, and answer your damn phone next time.”

She didn’t wait for any explanation from Andrew (not that he’d give her one), or questions from him, either (he didn’t have any, not when it was clear that she had no clue what the hell was going on, not when Renee was being just as cryptic with her girlfriend as she was with him). Andrew sat there and sipped his coffee while Allison left with her signature flounce, and didn’t even flinch when the door slammed shut a few seconds later (except to remind himself to go lock it in a minute or two).

He had about half of his drink before he pulled the wrapped bundle to him to examine its contents (to see what Renee had sent him), undoing the red string around it and flipping open the unbleached linen to expose what turned out to be an ornately carved cross (no figure on it at least) of some unknown wood with a note wrapped around it.

How disappointing.

Renee’s writing was as neat and tiny as always: Andrew, if you’ve received this, it means that something has happened which requires you to wear it. I know that you don’t possess proper faith, but sometimes a leap is required, or at least belief in the person asking you to trust them. That is the time now, and I am asking – put on the cross and trust me, will you? I believe that you will be safer for it, and I want you to be safe. There are things in the world which can’t be easily seen and defended against with simple steel, and I wish we’d had enough time to talk about what lies in the shadows and beyond before I left. Until we can, all I can ask is that you have faith in me, at least, and what I ask of you. I promise, I will explain when I return – Renee.

He stared at the words for several minutes, until the remaining coffee went cold and the letters wavered before his eyes, until he clicked his tongue and decided to put the awful thing around his neck after all. He swore that it felt warm as it settled against his breastbone, which he put down to his imagination and the meds, before he forced himself to stand up (moving was going to be unpleasant for the next few weeks) so he could lock the front door then resettle on the couch.

He used his phone to send a new email to Renee, one where he asked her once again what the hell was going on and why she thought him wearing a bit of religious flash was a good idea. Also? He didn’t appreciate the cryptic comments and expected a straight answer very soon – there was voice mail for a reason, dammit.

Did she know about Neil Josten? She did hang out a lot with Moreau, so did Frenchie say something about the new guy to her?

Why did Andrew feel annoyed about the thought of Josten and Moreau being all buddy-buddy? About there perhaps being something more between the two young men?

He took more meds and curled up with the heating pad and slept as much as possible, the usual nightmares held at bay for once, and ignored his phone since Renee didn’t seem to be answering his questions.

On Tuesday, he slapped the medicated wraps around his bruised ribs and took some over the counter pain pills before he shuffled off to work, and dealt with a frantic Nicky as well as an assessing Aaron in the break room. “Bruised ribs, eh? It’s gonna suck to be you for a while,” his oh-so understanding brother said in-between sips of coffee.

“Oh my god, why didn’t you say something? I could have brought over food! Eric made this amazing stew on Saturday, we had plenty of leftovers!” Nicky exclaimed. “You could have told us!” Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re wearing a necklace? I thought you didn’t go for stuff like that.”

Andrew flipped him off before he accepted the cream-filled donut which Robin offered. “I have work to do, unlike some people. Leave me the hell alone.” He gave Nicky a warning stare before he turned around to head to his office, and ignored the shouted offers of help his cousin gave as he left.

Once settled at his desk (with his door locked), he made sure to better hide the metal chain of the cross necklace beneath his shirt before he went through the emails from Monday.

Bee and Dan had helped to cover for much of his cases while he’d been off, so he didn’t feel as if he’d lost a lot of ground, especially with Peter Minkin. Still, there was something he wanted to do, so he forced himself onto his feet (seriously, bruised ribs did suck) and went off to the one hallway leading to the south courtyard which was closed off that time of year because of the cooler weather. When he heard the sound of hushed voices in the usually deserted corridor, he slowed his steps and ducked into a doorway to wait until one of Nicky’s cases, Ariel Toya, walked past while shoving something down the front of her clingy, bright blue top, then stepped out when Seth Gordon came by a few seconds later.

“Fuck!” Seth took a hasty step back with his clenched hands raised as if to fend off Andrew, probably a hold-over from the days when he’d been a strung-out kid doing whatever it took to survive long enough for his next hit. “What the hell are you doing here, Minyard?”

“I thought that was my question.” Andrew leaned against the door frame, his arms folded lightly over his chest in a familiar gesture which normally put his hands near his knives – if Wymack allowed him to show up to work armed. “So what is it? Pot? It better not be anything stronger than that.” The man was on thin enough ice as it was, if he was selling dope to kids; Wymack might have helped Seth to get clean and to earn an IT degree, but he wouldn’t forgive him for selling drugs at the Foxhole.

As it was, the only thing keeping Andrew still, bruised ribs or not, lack of knives or not, was the fact that the old man had a good grasp of what went down in the Foxhole, and so probably had an idea of what Seth was doing.

“What? Hell no,” Seth snapped as he shook his head. “There’s no way I’d do that! Not to these kids.” When Andrew scoffed, Seth’s dark brown eyes blazed with an anger that appeared more righteous than guilty. “It’s just cigarettes, okay? I don’t even charge the kids anything, I just let them know that they can come to me and I’ll sneak ‘em a few, help ‘em out with their cravings and keep ‘em from doing something stupid like try to steal any or go after something worse.” His anger faded as he let out a steady breath and rubbed at his inner left forearm, which bore similar scars to Matt’s. “Turn me in to Wymack if you don’t believe me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Andrew drawled. “And why should any of us believe you?” So far the story and Seth’s reaction seemed believable, which was the only reason why Wymack wasn’t becoming involved.

“Because I’m not going to fuck this up, okay?” Seth took to glaring again as he jabbed a finger in Andrew’s direction, the flush back on his light brown cheeks yet he knew better than to touch him. “I know what you think about me, you and your family, but I do more than just play on a computer all day and I’m taking classes at night so I can help out these kids, too. Little more than a year and I can be an addiction counselor.”

How impressive. “That’s if you don’t get in trouble for handing out tobacco to minors,” Andrew reminded him.

“Fucking asshole,” Seth muttered as his hands clenched into fists once more. “What do you want? If you were going to get me in trouble, you’d be halfway to Wymack’s office already.”

Seth Gordon wasn’t a complete moron. “Neil Josten’s personnel files by the end of the day,” Andrew told him with a curt nod. “And if I find out you’re giving cigarettes to kids who aren’t already addicted or ‘charging’ them? It’s not Wymack you need to be worried about.” It was one thing to help wean the kids who already were addicted slowly off their habit, but another thing entirely to prey on any of them.

“I’m not going to harm these kids, you asshole,” Seth called out as Andrew walked away.

No, he wouldn’t, Andrew would make certain of it; he wouldn’t tell Wymack about what Seth was doing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pass it on to Renee in an upcoming email as ‘interesting’ work gossip. At the least, she’d let Allison know, who might want to give her ex-boyfriend an earful for his dubious life choices.

Andrew had time for another cup of coffee before his appointment with Peter and Josten; he told himself that he wasn’t eager to see the young man, to gage his reaction after what had happened in the parking lot on Friday.

To find out why Renee had insisted that Andrew wear some stupid cross when he didn’t believe in such things.

Despite leaving for the one play room a little early, Andrew wasn’t the first to arrive, what a surprise. No, Josten was already there, dressed in his usual wardrobe of worn jeans and overlarge sweater, with the thick strands of his dark brown hair mostly hiding the bandaged cut on his forehead.

The younger man gave him a cautious stare as he once more stood off to the side by one of the bookshelves, mindful to remain out of reach, and Andrew thought he caught a flash of guilt over the way that he moved slowly to his usual chair at the table in the middle of the room, a flash that was quickly smothered.

Now what did Josten have to be guilty about, hmm? Andrew gazed at his colleague while he tapped his fingers against the table, possessed by a sudden urge for a cigarette, and shivered as there was a blast of cold for a couple of seconds. He thought that Josten frowned a moment later for some reason, but was distracted by Abby arriving with Peter.

“Mr. Minyard!” Peter broke into a wide smile and waved to him while he greeted him in Russian, then followed it by managing a mostly understandable ‘I hope you’re all right,’ in English which made Abby beam and even drew a slight smile from Josten.

“He worked on that yesterday,” Josten murmured before he shifted forward a little so he could begin translating.

They spent a few minutes with Peter asking Andrew about his weekend and if he really was okay, which Andrew assured him that he was fine (oh, was there a slight twitch from Josten at that?); it was worth the deviation from Peter’s routine to build a better sense of trust with the boy, to allow him a sense of curiosity and put any fears he had to rest. Andrew wouldn’t be in the child’s life forever, not when the goal was to help him get better and find him a safe home with people who’d care for him… but Andrew never cut himself off from any of his ‘kids’ and checked up on them as much as he could.

Once Peter had settled down, Andrew asked him some more questions about his mother and father, about the fights they had and how the woman would do her best to protect Peter; he was slowly building the case against Peter’s abusive father, to show that the woman wouldn’t have abandoned her son, as the asshole claimed. Josten assisted in keeping Peter calm, and by the end of the hour there was a little more information to hand over to the police, a few more blocks added to the wall that would lock away Peter’s father a long, long time come.

Josten made to leave as soon as Abby took Peter away, but Andrew threw out his right arm to stop the man, the motion alone enough to divert his flight. “What about Peter’s English assessment?”

Andrew was given a sour look for the question. “I sent it to you via email last week, and as you can see, he’s started English classes this week,” Josten informed him as he settled back against the bookshelf, the sleeves of his dark grey sweater tugged over his hands and gaze wary beneath the strands of his bangs.

“With you? Are you handling his English lessons?”

“No, that’ll be someone who’s certified to teach, I only handle translations and can help him with phrases here and there.” Josten cast a longing glance to the door before he focused on Andrew once more. “So unless it’s about what happens in our sessions or an evaluation, we’ve nothing to talk about.”

Oh, someone was a hopeful fool, weren’t they? “There’s something off about you. You don’t add up,” Andrew informed the liar as he slowly, carefully, stood to his feet.

Josten was quiet for a couple of seconds while Andrew swore he felt a quick blast of chill again, off to the far left. “I’m not a math equation.”

“No, but I’m going to solve you none the less,” Andrew promised as he tapped his right fingers against the top of the table in quick succession. “I won’t allow anything to endanger these kids.”

“Neither will I.” Josten’s sharp jaw (so much of the man was sharp, was defined angles and slopes and jutting bones poking through thick layers of cloth, were invitations for hands to stroke along and cup and- and Andrew hated himself for that treasonous thought) clenched in obvious anger while his eyes flashed with the emotion before he managed to get a hold on himself. “I’d never bring harm down on a child.”

Hmm, he sounded so sincere… but how often had Andrew heard adults say that they had a child’s best interest at heart, had watch them smile and promise to look after him, only to turn around and lay hands on him (and worse) once they were alone?

“I’m watching you,” Andrew said as he rocked back on his heels. “And I’ll figure you out, too, whatever it is you’re hiding.”

“Fuck you.” Josten glared for a couple of seconds before he stalked out of the room. As he left, several items from the bookshelf tumbled to the floor, including a few heavy ones such as books and wooden toys that fell perilously close to Andrew.

He frowned as he went over to see if the shelf had fallen free from its fastenings somehow – and almost ended on his face as he tripped at a ripple in the carpet, saved only by catching on to the back of the chair. Muttered curses slipped past his clenched teeth for about half a minute as pain washed through him from his jostled ribs, and when he finally could stand upright again, he left the room (and the mess it contained) for the next occupants to deal with so he could have another cup of coffee and a pain pill.

Seth better come through with Josten’s files sooner rather than later, because Andrew was going to be in a full body cast if he had to deal with the enigma much longer.

Renee should have sent him a damn four-leaf clover.

*******

Obviously I don’t recommend what Seth’s doing here (giving teenagers cigarettes, even if with the best of intentions), but he means well.

#nekojitachanfics #ghost in you fic #neil josten #andrew minyard #mary hatford #the foxes #all for the game #aftg #ghosts

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