#her set up literally included an led stage

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

One afternoon, around the time Charlie was midway through the toddler stage, Lucifer had found himself spending the better part of one of her play dates in the shape of a mouse.

Charlie had been such an easy baby. She rarely cried or got upset. Most of the time when she did cry, it was for the usual things: she was hungry. She wanted to be held. Her diaper needed to be changed. She largely spoiled her parents as much as they spoiled her.

All of this wasn't to say that she didn't have her bad days.

The discovery had largely been an act of desperation. Lilith was away dealing with a matter involving Mammon that required the firm handling of a member of the ruling family. Lucifer had assured her he could look after Charlie for the day. They would be fine. It has seemed like it would be, too.

Then Charlie had started to cry. Started to cry and she wouldn't stop. Nothing he had tried had helped. Out of sheer desperation, he had shapeshifted into the form of the first animal he could think of.

At first, Charlie had stopped crying mostly out of confusion. She hiccupped, confused as to where her father had gone and what this new addition was. She had never seen any Earth animals and wouldn't have known that her father had turned himself into a duck. Because she was a curious thing, she had reached out one of her little hands to snag this new thing she'd discovered. Whatever had ailed her promptly forgotten. Lucifer had allowed himself to be squished and prodded for a few hours and in exchange, Charlie returned to being a happy baby.

So began the act of taking on the forms of Earth animals, both as a distraction and as a teaching tool.

For a while, it was her favorite pass time. Living in Hell as they were, it was hard to expose Charlie to positive things the majority of Earth children took for granted. Most of her experience with animals were the forms sinners took upon arriving, something that could give her a warped impression of what animals were supposed to look like. His favorite form was indeed the duck, but he was more than willing to take on other forms, such as cats, dogs, horses, and other common animals. He sometimes had difficulty with his snake form in the beginning, attached to some traumatic memories as it was, but he had endured the form for educational purposes.

The play date had been Lilith's idea. She had been keeping up ties with the Ars Goetia and had thought it would be good idea for Charlie to play with some other children her own age. Lucifer had thought the idea of being around a gaggle of hyperactive, screaming children had sounded exhausting, but had gone along with it. One thing led to another, and Charlie had strong armed him into showing the other children what a 'mouse' looked like. Mostly by repeating the word 'mouse' until he'd given in and transformed into one.

The other adults, Lilith being the exception, had been hesitant with the idea of the children treating him like a plaything. Lucifer may have been pulling away from his duties for centuries at this point, but he was still the literal King of Hell. What if one of the children did something to upset him and he decided there needed to be some sort of retribution?

Lucifer had thought they were making too big of a deal out of it. They were children. They were going to act like children. He understood that. They understood that. He wasn't going to harm the children for acting like children. He was a bit insulted they thought he was ruthless enough to hurt them for it.

Charlie - dear, sweet Charlie - had brought the whole debate to a resounding close when she had dropped his little mouse form into the hands of one of Paimon's random children. This set off the other children to want a turn and that had been that.

Another side effect of being born and growing up in Hell was that none of the children, Charlie included, understood that small Earth animals were breakable. This wasn't an issue, as Lucifer was still the strongest being in Hell regardless of his form, but he did protest to being stuffed into one of the children's pockets after the third time it happened. The play date had quickly morphed into a mini lesson in teaching the children to be gentle when handling 'fragile' things.

He let Charlie do it because she was his daughter, but what parent didnt give their children special privileges, right?

All of this was to say that Lucifer's current predicament wasn't an altogether new experience, he just couldn't quite understand how he had come to be in snake form, curled up around Alastor's arm and wrist and just barely hidden by his coat sleeve as they made their way through Pentagram City.

He would have liked to blame it on Alastor. To say it was his own fault and that he could suffer a little as a result, thank you very much. As much as he hated it, that wouldn't have been the full truth.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

The events that led up to his current predicament could be traced more immediately back to that morning. It had been determined that the time had come to tell Rosie and Carmilla about the upcoming broadcast. After days of planning and ironing out the finer details of the broadcast itself, it had felt good to finally be moving forward. They had gotten lucky there had been no additional attacks on the hotel during this time, but there was never any way to know how long their luck would hold out.

"Carmilla won't thank you for telling her," Vaggie pointed out from where she was lounging on the couch. "She could care less as long as it's not Heaven on her doorstep."

Charlie, who was sitting up against her side, had a different opinion on the matter. "Aw, I think it's nice! It feels like we have real allies now!"

"Exactly," Alastor chimed in, smug that Charlie agreed with his assessment and more than happy to rub it in. Vaggie glared at him. The only reason she wasn't breathing fire was because she was literally incapable of doing so. Fed by her reaction, Alastor added, "Telling our allies about our plans builds trust and makes them feel included. We wouldn't want them to think we're accusing them of anything, now would we?"

Charlie shook her head vigorously. Vaggie had refused to give any further input out of spite.

Lucifer, taking pity on her, redirected the conversation. "Yes, which is why we should get going." He pointed to the front door with the apple tip of his cane. "Soon."

Charlie had perked up at the 'we.' Since the catastrophe that was the aftermath of Alastor and Lucifer striking their second deal, she had doubled down on trust building exercises. It was debatable if they had made things any better or worse. "You're going together?"

Lucifer opened his mouth to give an affirmative, only to be interrupted by Alastor interjecting with, "Hm. About that."

The blonde crossed his arms, instantly suspicious. "Excuse you?" They had talked about this. He was going.

Alastor circled the little king, coming to stand just out of arms reach. He waved his microphone to encompass all of Lucifer's person. "Just think about it, your Majesty!" His tone was that of an adult talking to a small child. "You're such a rare sight to be seen around the city, people are bound to notice you immediately! Why, they're likely to guess something is afoot from the get-go." Ignoring the glare Lucifer was giving him, Alastor tutted at him. "No, no, it would be much better if I went on my own."

Lucifer didn't buy that for a moment. It was more likely Alastor wanted to control the narrative and the less of that the better. Meeting him grin for grin, he countered, "If we're so keen on building trust, wouldn't it be better if their king showed up in person to thank them?"

Inching closer in his irritation, Alastor stared down his nose at him. "Will they? After all, you've been absentee so long: does your opinion matter anymore?"

Charlie sighed, cutting their momentum short like the bursting of a balloon. Lucifer's eye twitched, remembering that he had indeed promised to work with Alastor, but he was making it so hard to do so! And he knew it, too! The king was tempted to yank on Alastor's chain, literally, even if neither of them had done anything to violate the terms of it. Alastor had agreed to stand with Lucifer during the broadcast, but nothing said he had to cooperate at any other time. It wouldn't have accomplished anything other than making Lucifer feel better in that moment. He only didn't do it was because Alastor was going to have his teeth in him at some point in the future and Lucifer didn't want to encourage any ideas of taking revenge during a vulnerable moment.

In a move that should have been a warning, Charlie gasped, a single finger going up in the air as a preverbal light bulb went off over her head. "Oh! I know just the thing!"

Lucifer softened his grin into a supportive smile as he turned to her. "What have you got for us, sweetie?"

Oblivious to the choas she was about to unleash, Charlie suggested, "What if dad shapeshifted into a mouse or something? Then he could just hide in your pocket and no one would see him!" She smiled at them, clearly believing this to be a good idea.

Lucifer's smile became frozen on his face. He had never regretted using his abilities to help educate her on Earth animals. He still didn't. He just kind of wanted to. All he could imagine was himself in the form of a tiny white mouse and Alastor towering over him as he prepared to stomp on him. He shuddered at the mental image. Oh, that really wouldn't do. Nope.

Alastor's face went through a range of emotions. He didn't shudder himself, but it was clear that he had wanted to, as he shot that one down without holding back. "Ha! Absolutely not!"

Vaggie, ever spiteful, was never one to miss an opening when she spotted one, and boy, was she spotting one. "What's the matter? Don't like mice?"

Alastor, however, had already recovered and if there was ever a master of taking advantage of opportunities, it was him. "Oh, but don't you know? Everyone knows mice and rats are known for carrying diseases. Who would want to carry such a vermin around?"

Charlie wasn't ready to let go of the idea just yet. "What about something around the wrist then? Like a snake?"

The redheaded sinner looked just as thrilled with this idea as the last, possibly even less so. Normally, Lucifer would have been sympathetic about his distaste for being touched, but his patience was running dry. Feeling malicious, he drawled, "Hmmm, I think that might work."

Alastor slowly turned his head around to face him, the rest of his body not following. Head tilting at an alarming angle, his voice deceptively calm, he asked, "Come again?"

Lucifer crossed the short distance between them, Alastor's head turning to follow him as he approached. With every inch he came closer, the redhead's smile grew a little wider, somehow going past what should be humanly possible for his face. Lucifer stopped when they were nearly chest to chest. He stared up at Alastor through his eyelashes, smile anything but innocent. "What's the matter? Is the big, bad Radio Demon scared of little ol' me?"

Alastor's pupils transformed into radio dials; eyes and smile lit up and bordering on manic. His fingers tightened around his microphone, as if imagining wrapping them around something else entirely. Calling his bluff, the redhead held out a wrist, snarling through gritted teeth, "Dear me, who am I to complain about wearing the King of Hell as jewelry?"

Lucifer nearly laughed in his face, thinking it adorable that Alastor seemed to believe that the worst thing he'd ever wrapped himself around was someone's wrist. Not waiting for the sinner to change his mind, the blonde shifted into the shape of a snake, his little top hat and bow the only thing giving him away as anything other than the real thing. He was quick to slither up Alastor's wrist, slipping under the sleeve until he was completely covered. He wriggled up the arm, trying to get comfortable. He paused when a hand wrapped tightly around him, the tightening of the grip threatening to become crushing.

He couldn't see anything but the red of Alastor's coat sleeve, so he couldn't judge his expression, but it was clear from his tone it was taking every ounce of his not inconsiderable self-restraint not to rip Lucifer off and fling him around the room. "I would appreciate it if you didn't go any higher than my gloves."

Lucifer was just at the edge of the glove in question. Just to be contrary, he flicked a tongue out, just enough to disturb the fur of Alastor's bare arm. Static screeched through the air and the hand around him tightened, compulsively, the sharp points of the redhead's claws held back only by the fabric of a coat tailored to withstand the typical violence one would expect in Hell. Not necessarily taking pity on the sinner, but deciding to uphold the illusion of peace, the fallen angel pointed out, voice not even showing a hint of strain, "I can't move back down unless you lighten up there, buddy."

The pressure around him increased, briefly, before very, very slowly decreasing. When he was free to move again, Lucifer slithered his way back down away from the top of the gloves, finally settling near the wrist, but not down far enough to be seen. His head settled against the inside of the wrist, the vibrations of Alastor's pulse a soft melody in his ears.

"Dad, are you alright?" Charlie's voice sounded a little closer. Had she gotten up off the couch?

"All set when Alastor's set." Lucifer gave a light, full body squeeze to show he was ready.

There was a pause, Alastor tense as a board. Slowly, he forced himself to relax until the only one who could likely tell he was still a potential live wire was Lucifer and that was only because he was literally clinging to him. "Yes, I do think it's time to leave. Don't want to keep Rosie waiting."

Charlie's voice was closer still and Lucifer could see her pant legs and shoes appear in his limited vision. "Are you sure you're okay, Alastor? If this is too much--."

Alastor was quick to cut her off, always allergic to showing any kind of weakness. "Don't worry, my dear, it's only for a short period. Nothing I can't handle." He must have tried to wave off the concern, because Lucifer suddenly felt a rocking sensation that nearly turned his stomach. He had never experienced motion sickness before, but was fairly certain this is what it must have felt like. Could snakes be sick? Oooooh, they were going to find out if Alastor kept this up.

Thankfully for all of them, the redhead seemed to remember his passenger and stopped. The landscape outside the sleeve changed as he headed for the door and the blonde closed his eyes in an effort to block out the dizzying effect of it. With a, "Don't wait up for us," they were off.

Which was how Lucifer came to find himself clinging to Alastor's wrist, lulled into a partial doze by the warmth of his hiding place and the general sounds of the city.

It was strange to listen to the city like this: present, but muffled. The rhythm of Alastor's gait soothed his stomach. Lucifer could hear the general hustle and bustle that made up the active and ongoing crime wave that never seemed to end, just move from block to block. The crash of breaking glass. The sounds of explosions in the distance. The escalating shouts of a fight that hadn't yet come to blows. The gift of free will, taken to it's worst heights.

The Devil's kingdom in all it's glory.

Hah. What a joke.

Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts by the jingling of a bell over head. He dared to peak open an eye to the sight of tiled floor. Were they there already?

Alastor answered that question, while raising several others. "Smithson, good chap, I've come to place an order."

An order? Where were they?

The ringing of metal hitting wood sounded through the air. A nervous, masculine voice followed. "A-Alastor!" An audible gulp. "Wh-What are ya lookin' for?"

The redhead came to a stop. Lucifer made the mistake of scenting the air, looking for more clues to their current where abouts. He instantly regretted it as the heavy smell of raw meat, so fresh the scent of blood hung in the air, hit him like a ton of bricks. Coupled with the sounds he heard earlier, the blonde concluded they must have stopped in a butcher's shop. He was never so glad as he was in that moment that he didn't actually need to breathe as he held his breath to avoid the smell.

"I'm looking to pick up a gift for a friend of mine." A pause, broken by a considering hum. "You don't happen to have anything similar to what I picked up two weeks ago, do you? She absolutely loved it!"

A shuffle from the direction of the person - Smithson? - tending the shop. "Uh, no. Pickin's from 3rd street dried up." Another shuffle, this time uneasy.

Alastor made another considering noise. "A shame. Very well, then something fresh. Perhaps some ribs? We're not picky about the bones."

Lucifer full-bodied shuddered. Knowing the redhead and his friend's tastes, he had the horrible sinking feeling he knew what kind of meat was sold in this place. Even if he hadn't been a vegetarian, he was certain he'd be more than a bit sickened.

Something heavy hit the counter. "I just got this in today!" Smithson sounded rushed, almost nervous. "Nice and fresh, just like you wanted."

A rustle of clothing and what could be seen of the counter got closer. A faint sniff followed. Lucifer felt Alastor stiffen. "Smithson," a dangerous undertone crept into the redhead's otherwise pleasant voice. "You wouldn't be trying to pull a fast one on me, now would you?"

Lucifer could see a blurry figure through the glass counter shift from foot to foot. "No. No of course not--"

The air around them grew heavy with static, reality warping harshly. Lucifer hissed as the vibrations pierced his skull with all the kindness of a hammer to an ice pick. It made him want to sink his teeth into the vulnerable flesh of the Radio Demon's wrist and bite and bite until Alastor stopped because it hurt.

"Because if you are, I will eat your limbs joint by joint until you beg for mercy," Alastor continued, not liking the response. With every word, the filter over his voice got more distorted. "And I have none."

Smithson whimpered. Lucifer squeezed the redhead's arm, hoping to bring him back.

As abruptly as it started, reality returned to normal. Lucifer tentatively loosened his hold. His head throbbed.

There was a long pause. Lucifer could smell the distinct aroma of pee, suggesting Smithson had pissed himself. A second sound of something hitting the counter eventually followed a bit of shuffling around behind the counter.

Alastor sounded much more pleased after inspecting it. "Much better, my good man. Now, what do I owe you?"

"N-nothing. I-it's on the house."

Alastor took up the package, the paper crinkling as he did so. "Very good! Always a pleasure doing business with you, Smithson!"

The whimper from the butcher indicated he would very much like to never do business with Alastor again.

The redhead murmured a jaunty tune to himself as he left the shop, taking another whiff of his prize as they set on their way again. The raised arms allowed Lucifer to peak out of his sleeve to give him a judgmental look. "Was that really necessary?"

"Of course!" Alastor responded, as if his overreaction was totally normal. "I'd say I did him a favor. Poor customer service is bad for business." He freed one hand to bop Lucifer on the nose, causing the snake to recoil and hiss at him. "Now, hush, sire. Everyone knows I'm insane, but I don't want everyone to think I talk to myself."

Lucifer wanted to comment that it was a perfectly normal thing to talk to yourself, but didn't want to risk a talk about the part where it tended to happen the longer one was alone. He didn't particularly want to open that can of worms.

The rest of the walk was uneventful, blessedly, giving time for Lucifer's headache to abate and disappear. No one approached Alastor as he passed, and there appeared to be no more detours.

The first indication that they were near their destination came with the general change in ambient noise. The sounds of violence tapered off, giving way to calm, friendly conversations and the laughter of children. Lucifer could swear he even heard music being played from somewhere.

Unable to resist, Lucifer peaked out of Alastor's sleeve. The town - Cannibal Town, a sign nearby proclaimed - was a tribute to an era gone by. Lucifer's grasp on what counted as "modern" on Earth was dodgy at best, but even he could tell that the fashion and look of the town was "old-fashioned." He couldn't pin down the exact time period the dresses and suits were from, although he could tell they appeared to be from an older time period then Alastor's own sense of fashion.

A child, eyes black and face almost inhuman, turned at just the right time to make eye contact with him. Lucifer grinned and winked at their confusion, before the child was quickly distracted by the game their friends were playing.

Alastor paid little attention to the people around him, headed for a single building at the center of the town that read, "Rosie's Emporium." Guessing from the name, Lucifer found it safe to assume that this was their destination. Not wanting to be spotted by anyone else, he withdrew back into his hiding place, content to wait until his cue to show himself.

Alastor soon came to a halt, roughly the correct amount of time having passed to have come to the emporium. Lucifer heard what sounded like knocking on a wooden door. They did not have long to wait, with almost no time at all having passed before the door opened.

"Alastor! Come in, come in!" A woman's voice, cheerful and upbeat. Rosie, perhaps? He could see the black and red hem of a dress swishing into view as Alastor was ushered into what appeared to be a brightly lit room. There was the sound of crinkling paper passing from one of them to the next, as Alastor presumably handed over his gift. "With all this secrecy," the voice went on around the sound of a package being set down, "I would have thought we were expecting the king!"

Lucifer refused to feel bad about crashing their little dinner party. He did give props to Alastor for emphasizing the importance of keeping this information on the down low.

Without seemingly pausing to breathe - did Rosie need to breathe? You could never tell with some Sinners - she noted, "And your cane! Now you really must tell me everything!"

Patient on a level Lucifer usually only saw him reserve for Charlie, Alastor placed his cane, tip down on the floor, folding his hands over the top of it in what the blonde was coming to recognize as his default position. "I believe most of your questions can be summed up by first meeting our guest."

"Oh?" Hard to tell from a single word, but her tone suggested she was curious rather than annoyed at the unexpected curve ball.

The redhead moved the arm with Lucifer clinging to it until it was held out to his side, palm up and lazily pointed at the ground. Able to catch the hint and recognize his cue, Lucifer slithered down and off, his reptilian brain protesting leaving his nice warm perch. Grin in place, he let himself fall, twisting in place as he did. Once he was an acceptable distance from the floor, a simple shift and a poof of smoke, and BAM! Instant King of Hell.

The perks of the little poof also allowed him to settle down into his own default stance. 'Socially Awkward' may have been his middle name of late, but he hadn't completely lost the ability to make a decent first impression. Eyes adjusting to the light, Lucifer got his first look at the Overlord known simply as Rosie.

A tall woman stood before him, similar in height to the Radio Demon off to his left. Large, black eyes gave her away as a cannibal like the residents of the town. Her smile, partially hidden by deceptively dainty hand, was full of teeth sharp enough rip through through the toughest flesh and bone. Her dress and hat were perfectly coordinated, that same old-fashioned look as the town outside.

Lucifer wondered if she was responsible for the theme.

"Oh my stars," she said, not missing a beat. It seemed it would take much more than a surprise royal visit to ruffle her feathers. "Alastor, you've certainly peaked my curiosity."

Alastor's ear twitched, the only sign of his irritation. Voice full of genuine warmth, he said a touch grandly, "Your Majesty, may I introduce my dear friend and fellow Overlord, Rosie."

Rosie, in response, dipped into what Lucifer identified as a curtsy. Human gestures of respect were an ever changing thing. He'd received anything from people throwing themselves, full bodied at the floor at his feet (unnecessary and a little cringe unless he was pissed) to something as simple as a bow (way more acceptable). Curtsying was fairly new in his experience, only from the last several hundred years and something he had only seen a handful of times. From what little experience he did have, he could tell it had been a perfectly executed curtsy, the motion fluid and practiced. It gave the impression she was used to entertaining people of high social status.

Alastor, voice notably less full of respect (and what was there was so far from genuine it was outright insulting), said, "Rosie, may I introduce our King, Lucifer Morningstar."

No embellishments, but no insults. Lucifer supposed this was an improvement from the person who'd insulted his height within minutes of meeting him.

He crossed the short number of steps separating them, reaching out to take Rosie's hand in his own. Smile sly and his voice dropping, he offered, "It's always a pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady." Following up the compliment, he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand.

"Oh, aren't you the charming one," Rosie near coo'ed, her grin widening. Her eyelids dropped to half mast, her expression suggesting she'd eat him alive if he gave her half the chance. Which, considering how she made her way to Hell in the first place, wasn't an empty threat. "I can see where Miss Charlotte gets her moxie from."

Lucifer barked out a laugh, releasing her hand as he stepped back. "Oh, I assure you, Charlotte is a force unto herself with no help from me." Unless one counted the bare minimum of donating their genes.

Behind him, Alastor grunted in disgust, the action barely more than a heavy exhale. Lucifer winked as Rosie's eyes crinkled with her amusement. "If you are done assaulting the dear lady," the redhead said with a sharp tap of his cane on the floor. "I believe you came here for a reason." Voice dripping with annoyance, Alastor added, "You were quite insistent about it."

Lucifer rolled his eyes and pointed a finger over his shoulder, as if to ask, 'can you believe this guy'?

Rosie was the very picture of neutrality, taking no sides in the way only a true friend could. It was obvious she found watching them bicker to be entertaining.

Ignoring the glare he could feel practically burning a hole in the back of his head, Lucifer said, "Charlie and Alastor told me that you were instrumental in getting the army together to defend the Hotel. You have my gratitude for protecting my daughter when I could not." He pulled his hat from his head, pressing it to his chest as he bowed deeply before this sinner who had likely only helped his daughter for her own reasons, but who had helped, nonetheless. "I owe you a debt."

Hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders, pressing against them and urging him to rise. "None of that, your Majesty," Rosie murmured, kindly. "Miss Charlotte convinced that stubborn group to join her with little help on our end." She took his hat from him with little resistance, before placing it back on his head. He could feel the pat she gave the top of it. She gave him a short inspection, before nodding to herself. She shot a look in Alastor's direction over his head. "You certainly know how to surprise a girl, Alastor. First a princess and now a king." Her tone was teasing as she said, "If I didn't know you were drawing all aces, I'd think you were going for a Royal Flush."

Lucifer could only imagine whatever look the redhead was giving her in return. He was given little time to ponder her comment, let alone boggle at someone teasing the Radio Demon and getting away with it, before she was spinning him around towards the interior of the shop. "Uh," he managed, only mildly indignant when she all but handed him off to Alastor, whose expression appeared tolerant in the brief second he managed to catch a glimpse of it. The redhead, in perfect tandem with his friend, curled his hands around the blonde's shoulders and began to push him along. "You play cards?"

Rosie laughed, finding the question adorable, waving her hand dismissively as she led the way over to a table with a pair of chairs around it. "Oh, Heaven's no! The only gambling I do is on my husbands, and I always play with an exit strategy when I do."

Lucifer had the distinct impression that 'an exit strategy' was just a roundabout way of saying that she had no shortage of ways to dispose of any husband she no longer needed.

Yikes.

Between them, they ushered him further into the shop, leaving little time for protest. Any irritation was washed away under his fascination as he observed the way they moved in sync with each other. He was so used to the idea of Alastor being a force unto his own, the lone puppeteer pulling all the strings, it was a little intimidating to see him working as a team with someone he clearly trusted to take the lead. It made something twist in his chest, a feeling of peaking behind the curtain at something he wasn't supposed to have seen.

It made him look... human seeing him like this.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Alastor deftly maneuvered him into one of the two seats, half shoving him down into it as opposed to seating him in it. Reminded there was a reason he personally disliked the redhead, Lucifer flipped him off with a glare after he righted himself while their host wasn't looking.

The redhead placed a hand to his chest, mock affronted. "Come now, sire. Didn't anyone tell you such vulgar gestures are impolite in front of a lady?"

Rosie had undoubtedly seen and done much worse things before and after her arrival in Hell, as evidenced by the way she took her seat with little more than a titter in response to the spectacle they were making. Lucifer blinked as it sunk in that there were only two seats and there were three of them. That damned swell of guilt tried to rise up, even as he tried to shove it back down. It wasn't his fault any more than it had been Rosie's that Alastor had tried to exclude him from his own meeting. He shifted in his seat, also suddenly hyper aware that the current arrangement left Alastor standing just behind and to the right of his chair.

How deeply had he gotten under Lucifer's skin that even though Alastor couldn't do jack shit to him, the fallen angel was uncomfortable with him at his back?

"Um," he asked, trying to hide his awkwardness and aware that he was only making it more obvious. "Should we get a chair for...?"

Alastor leaned against the chair in a blatant disregard for personal space. "Oh, no, sire, don't mind me. I'm perfectly fine where I am." Everything about his body language said that he could see all the ways he was making the little king uncomfortable and was loving every moment of it. He tapped the top of the microphone to the top of Lucifer's hat. "Please, do the honors of explaining the reason for our little visit."

Lucifer's glare promised retribution, the moment he could figure out a way to do it without upsetting Charlie.

The chink of a cup being placed in front of him reminded him they weren't alone. Rosie had poured tea for him while he wasn't paying attention. He tried to eye it without being rude with his suspicions. He didn't outright think that even their tea potentially contained bodily fluids in them, one just couldn't be to careful about these things.

Astute, Rosie seemed to pick up on the issue. "Oh, don't look so worried, your Majesty. I promise it's only tea." If she was insulted by his mistrust, she didn't show it.

Deciding to take the plunge, he picked up the cup. The liquid inside was still steaming, an indication that it was still hot even before he took a sip. He blinked as a fruity, florally taste blossomed across his tongue. "Darjeeling?" He was fairly certain that was the name of it, anyway.

Alastor leaned over to take a sniff of the tea. His eyes danced with laughter as Lucifer snatched the cup away, the latter waving a hand at him to shoo him off and telling him, "Get your own tea!"

"Rosie has been introducing me to new teas," he said by way of explanation. He tapped a finger to his bottom lip thoughtfully as he withdrew back to his former position.

Rosie nodded in agreement. "It's always useful to have an assortment of drinks for any occasion. You never know who you might be entertaining." She set her own drink, half empty, back on the table. Back straight, the perfect picture of a lady host, she placed both of her hands in her lap. "Now, why don't you tell me what all this cloak and dagger is about? I must admit, I'm dying to hear the explanation."

Lucifer eyed Alastor, making certain he wasn't going to do something else, like straight up steal his drink. When the redhead failed to do anything besides smile that eye twitch inducing smile at him, Lucifer properly regained his seat. He held on to the cup, folding both hands around it to feel the heat seep into his hands. He turned his full attention to his host. "I take it Alastor has told you about the attacks on the hotel?"

Cannibals didn't have discernable pupils so it was impossible to tell if Rosie shared a glance with Alastor. Lucifer allowed his neutral expression to confer that he didn't mind if any information had been shared, as no effort had ever been made to hide it.

Her response still caught him off guard. "Everyone knows about the attacks, sire. It's all over the news."

Without thinking, Lucifer turned to Alastor, gaging his response. Alastor's expression had tightened with distain. Voice dripping with scorn, in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer, he asked, "Vox?"

Her tone wasn't as scornful, but it was clear there was no love lost between them, as Rosie confirmed, "Vox."

Not for the first time, Lucifer was almost sorry he hadn't kept up with the inner intricacies of the alliances between the people that more or less ran his city. So many sinners had risen and fallen over the millennia, even before he let it all fall to the wayside, it was difficult to keep track of them, let alone care. He was only mustering up the energy to care in this case because it was affecting his daughter and this upstart sinners were already threatening to give him a headache.

He pondered if it mattered if the attacks were known by the public or not. It was his understanding that Charlie never said anything about the Hotel other than attempts to advertise it. She never commented on previous attacks on the hotel, save to comment that she was glad that they didn't have to rebuild that one wall everyone used to destroy all the time. Between his neglect of Hell and Charlie's lack of negativity, he doubted anyone was expecting anyone to say anything about it in the end.

He nodded in acceptance. The plan should still be fine. "The working theory is that someone is worried about souls being redeemed and potentially losing their contracts." He leaned back in his chair as he crossed his legs, spine flush with the back rest. "I'm going to go on television to deliver a little warning to everyone in Hell about messing with my daughter's little project." Head tilting to the side, nothing nice about his smile, he added, "I'm also going to break an Overlord's contract on air."

Rosie's eyes widened. "Oh, my, that will cause a stir." She leaned forward, considering. "But that's not all, is it?"

Sharp one, this one. He'd have to keep an eye on her, especially since she was Alastor's friend. Playing ignorant, he asked, "Does there have to be more? Alastor tells me that its courteous," these words he said as if they were foul tasting in his mouth, "To include potential allies in future plans."

But the Victorian Overlord wasn't fooled, her expression saying as such. "Come now, as sweet as all this comradery is, there wouldn't be all this fuss over a little broadcast."

There was the soft rustle of cloth from where Lucifer had last seen the redhead, but when he checked, Alastor didn't appear to have moved so much as an inch. Confused, but suspicious the deer demon was the one who'd made a fuss, Lucifer decided there was no harm in including Alastor's role in what was to come. There had been no agreement, after all, to exclude it. To Rosie, Lucifer explained, "Alastor will be joining me during the broadcast, as a sign of solidarity."

Rosie went still. Although her head had not moved at all, Lucifer had the impression she only had eyes for her friend. He glanced at Alastor, who was equally as still. There was nothing out of the ordinary to suggest he might be bothered by the idea of appearing on tv. Perhaps she could see something he could not, because Rosie's brows drew together in what looked like concern.

Alastor's blank expression smoothed over into an easy one. "Oh, don't look at me like that, my dear." Something Lucifer couldn't read passed between them. "I'm more than pleased with the results of our little deal," Alastor went on, running his claws lightly down the stem of his cane to draw attention to it. An explanation to her earlier observation of its reappearance. He tapped those same claws one by one on it, eyes half lidded and smile pleased, as he said, "And there are still pleasant things to come from it."

Rosie's hand came up to cover her mouth, the sway of the feather in her hat in moving with her head as she looked back and forth between them. A knowing smile crossed her lips. "I see," she said. She settled, her expression was still as sweet as ever, but Lucifer could pick up the hint of a threat in her body language. "I'm sure you'll take good care of our dear Alastor, won't you, your Majesty?"

She was no more a threat to him than Alastor was. She didn't have a prayer of taking him in a fair fight. He could take her out before she even thought about moving. Yet, here she was, willing to threaten the most powerful being in all of Hell for her friend.

Lucifer felt that pang in chest return, this time accompanied by longing. How long had it been, since he had last shared this kind of easy rapport with someone? Before he withdrew from everything and his marriage fell apart? Before Eden and his fall? He'd had siblings and his father, once, then he'd had a wife and a daughter.

Had he ever just had a friend, though?

Lucifer swallowed, distracted and feeling like he'd been missed a step while going down a flight of stairs. "Um. Yes?"

Wait, what?

What she'd asked and what he'd agreed to caught up to him in a rush. He set his now lukewarm cup down, indignant. Why did he have to look after Alastor? Alastor was not only more than capable of looking after himself, but he seemed to have most of the cards in his favor! Lucifer couldn't even harm a hair on his furry little head as long as his daughter was attached to him!

He didn't dare look in Alastor's direction. He could all but feel the smugness radiating off him.

Rosie reached across the table, patting his hand sympathetically. "Now that the serious business is out of the way," she proclaimed. "How about some lunch? Alastor was so good as to provide us with the perfect meal!"

"Um." Lucifer felt his stomach drop as he remembered little side trip. He hadn't seen the package during or after it's procurement, but it wasn't hard to guess from what he'd over heard what it was going to be. His suspicions were confirmed, when Rosie retrieved the package and opened it up to reveal a whole chest and torso, head and limbs removed. Old enough for the wounds to have stopped leaking blood, but not so old as for the skin to have begun turning green with putrefaction.

Lucifer covered his mouth with one hand and clutched the arm of the chair with the other, trying not to gag. "Sorry, I'm a vegetarian," he managed as he sat back as far as he could sit in the chair.

Rosie blinked, looking around her shop with a thoughtful eye. A closer look around revealed it was full of various other body parts. This was not the place for someone of his tastes. "Well, that might be a challenge."

Alastor hummed in agreement, utterly unhelpful.

Lucifer could already tell his long day was only going to get longer.

tbc

Part 12

[operafantomet]

Just saw phantom live at west end and wow! The sets were big! Now I wonder if other replicas had bigger sets.

For a second I read that as "West End Live", AKA the annual concert thingie with led screens... And I was like HUH?

Then I understood what you meant. Heh.

First and foremost, I am so happy you had a good time at POTO. It is a beautiful show. I am a huge fan of Maria Bjørnson's set and costume design, and still today - some 30 years after I became a fan - I can be utterly floored by certain scenes.

As far as set size goes West End is actually one of the smaller. Not SMALL, but smaller. Some of the biggest to date include (in no particular order):

The Las Vegas production 2006-2012, with its especially-built theatre with gigantic stage, dome, and "chandelier in pieces". Huge production, larger-than-life details.

The original Hamburg production 1990-2001. Another theatre built to house Phantom (and today one of the top musical theatre buildings in Germany). Extremely wide stage, to the point where Maria Bjørnson was not entirely happy with the proscenium layout. It didn't blend as well as elsewhere. In some scenes it also felt like the cast literally had to run across stage to get into position in time. Oh Hamburg. Needless to say, they narrowed the stage for the revival 2013-2015.

The Stuttgart production 2002-2004 also featured a big stage. I can't tell if it was bigger than Neue Flora in Hamburg or not, but it was in the same vein.

Oh! But also the original Los Angeles production (1989-1993). Massive proscenium and stage. And yet I don't have a single good photo showing the proscenium or its scale. Hmpf.

I would also mention the World Tour, which has toured in at times huge arenas. It didn't necessarily make the proscenium bigger, but they sometimes did the extended side sculpture look, where there is a drape structure under the sculptures. This was the case when I saw the show in the fairly brand new Zorlu Theatre in Istanbul 2015:

This could even be considered one of the smaller World Tour stages. In other cases they've been in huge operas or also arenas. Again, it doesn't necessarily mean the set-up on stage is bigger, but it does something with the overall scale. Here's Hong Kong 2014:

Compared to these Her Majesty's Theatre is way more intimate, both in Maria Bjørnson's original proscenium design and chandelier:

And the new wider and angel-less design for the revival:

Just to continue showing the range of set-ups... I suspect one of the smallest stages they've performed the show has been in Copenhagen. The stage is tall, but narrow, and quite cramped backstage. They were originally told no when they wanted to do the show, due to the backstage and understage space. But they came up with lots of methods to make sets foldable, collapable or deconstructable, and hoisting furniture and set pieces up in the air. And they made it work. Very well! But this production didn't feature any side sculptures, just like the riginal Stockholm production where they got the sets from, to not obstruct side view of the already narrow stage.

Now compare those proportions (and especially the Golden Angel, which I don't think differ a lot in size between productions) to the Las Vegas stage... quite the difference, both with and without the side boxes in the auditorium.

...and that has been today's proscenium and stage nerding... Hah!

[krispyweiss]

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at Nationwide Arena, Columbus, Ohio, April 21, 2024

As he led the E Street Band through “Twist and Shout,” Bruce Springsteen betrayed a roached voice much as John Lennon had when the Beatles cut their version 60 years earlier.

But, like Lennon’s, Springsteen’s voice benefitted from its battered state - conveying joy and conviction, not exhaustion.

The house lights were on and the heart-stoppin’, pants-droppin’, hard-rockin’, Earth-quakin’, booty-shakin’, love-makin’, Viagra-takin’, history-makin’ - legendary - E Street Band had already been on stage for three hours April 21 as it played its twice-postponed-in-2023 gig inside Columbus, Ohio’s, Nationwide Arena to close the U.S. leg of its 2024 spring tour. Springsteen, who at 74 retains the energy and voice - acrobatic with guttural growls and falsetto cries - of a much-younger man, was sweat-soaked, his tie tucked into his blue shirt, his vest now removed, returned alone to close the show with an acoustic version of “I’ll See You in My Dreams.”

Death is not the end, he sang, while proving the life-affirming nature of live music.

Though the band could’ve phoned it in, the expanded 18-piece - augmented with four-voice choir and five-piece horn section - instead brought a loud hailer, opening the 30-song, 185-minute set with a grimy version of “Youngstown,” the first of a handful of tour debuts that included “Streets of Fire” and “I’m Goin’ Down.” That some songs were slowed by a quarter-step seems to have been the only acknowledgement of age.

So, if these guys are actually taking Viagra, it isn’t because of on-stage impotence. The band is so hot that even relatively weak songs like “Bobby Jean” and “Dancing in the Dark” are splendid in the moment.

A few scattered empty seats did nothing to temper the raucous atmosphere inside the hockey arena. Fans hoisted signs - “I’m Mary, thanks for all the songs” was among the best - and Springsteen sung a line of “Thunder Road” to a woman who’d been dancing furiously in front of the stage all evening, causing her to light up like a strobe. Though there was no crowd surfing during “Hungry Heart” - dude is 74, remember - Springsteen did go into the audience during “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” as images of late E Streeters Clarence Clemons and Danny Federici shone on the house video screens.

Back on stage, the living celebrated being alive. Steven Van Zandt played a guitar emblazoned with the Ukraine flag during “No Surrender.” Fellow guitarist Nils Lofgren spun like the Tasmanian Devil as he unspooled his “Because the Night” solo. And Jake Clemons served as Springsteen’s saxophone-blowing foil and conjured Uncle Clarence’s spirit throughout the night, thus garnering some of the crowd’s loudest adulation.

One of those moments came during a religious-experience rendering of “Spirit in the Night,” when Clemons sat on the stage and Springsteen literally leaned on his bandmate. The music temporally settled before exploding like a supernova and the climax. This was the greatest E Street moment Sound Bites has witnessed since the Band reunited for the 1995 Concert for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

“Last Man Standing,” with Springsteen on acoustic accompanied by trombone, was a nod to his earliest bandmates, all gone now. “Trapped” was a singalong on the choruses. “She’s the One” borrowed the Bo Diddley beat. “Wrecking Ball” transformed the arena into the charismatic church of E Street. “Rosalita (Come out Tonight)” found the group mugging and celebrating with the faithful on a small chunk of stage that jutted into the general-admission pit. And the vaunted “Detroit Medley” once again demonstrated that if you have rock ’n’ roll in your life, your life has the potential to be heaven at any given moment.

Grade card: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at Nationwide Arena - 4/21/24 - A

See more photos on Sound Bites’ Facebook page.

4/22/24

[wackymaci]

Maci Wiki Snips - the entire backstory - part one

(eta; part two!) (part three!)

bc who tf knows if I’ll ever really finish wiki and, well, this is all written sooo💓

akaaaa

Pre-canon events & backstories: This section contains information about Maci from before the canon Elysium’verse began - events that have taken place essentially “offscreen,” but are still canonical, and even crucial, to Maci’s history. Presented as a short biography... into narrative story.

copypasted<3 so, this is all very lawng. this is basically one half of an entire novel. so I am obv putting behind a cut and splitting into multiple parts (I think just two??) so, I’ve included some of this even verbatim in that one essay about Hades and Maci a few weeks ago but this is THE WHOLE SHEBANG….. or well. Up until age 17.

CW: everything ; Hades & Thanatos and all that that means in the early stages of your standard Maci background - emotional abuse/child abuse, physical abuse, grooming, etc,

so. ahemm. maci.

Early life & childhood, ages 0 to 10

Macaria is the only child of Hades and Persephone (“Seph”), King and Queen of the Underworld. Though initially reluctant to have a child, Hades conceded at Seph’s insistence, and Maci was born in the fall, about a century after they had first been married. Arrangements were made with Demeter to allow a temporary exception to the Pomegranate Agreement that dictated Seph’s seasonal location, permitting her to remain with baby Maci and Hades in the Underworld until Maci’s 5th birthday. For 5 years, the three of them were a close-knit family, and the little Princess was showered with unbridled love and attention from her parents and their subjects. She was a hyperactive and bubbly toddler fast accustomed to having everything she ever wanted, with everyone wrapped around her fingers all the time.

When Maci was 5 and this arrangement ended, she began to travel with her mother each spring-summer season to stay with her and Demeter during the traditional six-month span. Persephone and Demeter’s springtime cottage was very different than what Maci was used to – for one thing, each of the nymphs, led by the obnoxious crusade of Demeter herself, tried their hardest to convert Maci into the Olympian light. Already upset at having to leave her regular life and her father behind, Maci did not take kindly to this. This first spring-summer was a six-month battle between a loud and moody 5-year-old Underworld Princess and her intensely condescending Olympian-bred grandmother.

For the next five years, Maci continued to travel with her mother seasonally, and each season was spent in increasing hostility: Demeter’s typical nonsense coming up against Maci’s short-tempered predisposition. Armed with the rage of a spoiled princess and actual literal pyrokinetic superpowers, Maci reacted to her grandmother’s mistreatment and judgment of the Olympians around her by acting out a reign of terror: picking fights, fighting back, and setting things on fire. Meanwhile, autumn-winter back home was enjoyed as a life of luxury, doted upon by her reunited parents, and spending time with her closest and only friends, twins Hypnos and Thanatos. When Maci was 10 years old, Seph petitioned Demeter to allow Maci to make an active decision on whether she would prefer to continue traveling seasonally or stay fulltime in the Underworld. By then, Demeter had long since given up on ever taking her in as an Olympian, and was beyond relieved to be rid of the little brat when Maci obviously chose to remain home where her perfect Princess life and friends were.

Adolescence, ages 10 to 17

By the age of 10, Maci had never actually known her father without her mother at his side. The version of Hades who existed when Seph was home in the fall was Maci’s hero; though always stiff in nature, he held a soft spot for his little daughter next to the spot reserved for his wife. Hades had also, of course, never been responsible for taking care of Maci without Seph there with him. It was easy to bounce Maci’s high-maintenance hyperactivity against Persephone, who was usually mellow, cool, and unshakeable. The disposition of Hades - easily irritable and short-tempered himself - was less equipped to handle Maci’s whims and moods without Seph there.

During the first spring that she spent home, Maci was confused to suddenly discover that the springtime version of her father was shut down completely, and he had not chosen to invite her in. Rather than bonding to cope with the absence of Persephone together, Hades instead decided to ice Maci out, and retracted himself from her both emotionally and in presence. Daily, Maci found herself mostly alone within the halls of their palace, and her interactions with her father were short and cold. Reeling from this abandonment, Maci found comfort in the arms of Hypnos and Thanatos, who by this point had been her best friends for the past four years of her life...

✧*̥˚A brief interlude: Maci & the twins*̥˚✧

Hypnos and Thanatos, inseparable twin sons of Nyx and Erebus, had met Maci when she, age 6, had found them, age 11, bickering in the Fields of Asphodel. She had broken up their fight by physically forcing herself between them and exploding. Immediately fascinated by both (and enamored with Thanatos especially), Maci had clung to them afterwards, and they all had remained friends ever since.

Maci knew them the way everyone did: Hypnos, God of Sleep, a gentle, sweet kid prone to bouts of narcolepsy; and Thanatos, God of Gentle Death, very cool, suave, and charming even with a teenage sneer. But Maci, just like everyone, was oblivious to the truth of the twins’ dynamic: that beneath his carefully charming smile, Thanatos lacked empathy. His only goals were violence and power, and his darkest secrets were stained with blood and ichor even by this young age. Armed with a scythe and relentless cruelty since early in their childhood, Thanatos had already tamed Hypnos to cower behind him in fear, and for these past years while Maci fawned in what she thought was mutual friendship, he envisioned a future in which he could tear her down as well. Thanatos had quickly learned how to blend in by acting perfectly normal, even likeable, and Maci had no way of knowing who her best friend and childhood crush really was on the inside. And so...

✧*̥˚Anyway*̥˚✧

With Hades pulling away during this first year, Maci pushed closer to Thanatos and Hypnos, spending even more time than usual with them at the House of Nyx. Hades grumbled disapproval that Maci would interact even tangentially with Nyx’s ridiculous tangle of offspring – but he allowed her to do as she wished without any real interference, perhaps grateful to have her out of the way. His aloofness frustrated Maci to no end, and even more so when Seph returned that autumn like nothing was wrong. Unwilling to “ruin” the somewhat normalcy that had finally come back with her parents reunited, Maci didn’t mention the past six months.

When her mother left again the next year and Hades withdrew once more, Maci’s frustrations skyrocketed and turned into rage. She quickly realized that Hades noticed her again only when she was acting out, and Thanatos, who had been observing the fracture forming since last spring and sensed an opportunity to make it worse, encouraged Maci to continue picking fights with her father to get the attention she craved. Hades was temperamental to begin with and was growing more irritated with Maci's behavior... personality, and presence, day by day. He fell for the bait she laid each time when she instigated arguments, and by the age of 11, Maci had decided that the best and only way to interact with her father was by provoking him into yelling at her, for otherwise he refused to give her the time of day. Once again, when Persephone returned in the fall, the toxic environment Hades and Maci were constructing together snapped back to the illusion of peace. A silent decision was made to play nicely together in Seph's presence, but still Maci became a little louder, a little cockier, a little meaner, knowing that Hades would never engage while his wife was home. By the time Seph left again and Maci was 12, the situation continued to worsen. Maci made it a point to be as difficult as possible while interacting with her father, and Hades never questioned why, only bickered immaturely back.

In the background of Maci's life by this time, she was heartbroken to discover that Thanatos was formally dating his first girlfriend, a timid goddess called Amechania, “Amey.” Unbeknownst to Maci, their relationship behind the scenes was a nightmare, but Maci was oblivious, and only concerned with how her friendship with Thanatos would be affected. In between causing a ruckus in the palace with Hades, she vented constantly to a beleaguered Hypnos about her jealousy. Hypnos knew about Maci’s crush on Thanatos - he also knew what Thanatos was really like – and as well, he suspected that Thanatos and Amey’s relationship was not as perfect as it seemed. But Hypnos was a victim of Thanatos’ abuse behind his own scenes and was terrified to intervene beyond trying to gently nudge Maci away from him, a hint that she refused to pick up on. When Amey suddenly disappeared within the next year, Maci (now 13) was only relieved that perhaps Thanatos would notice her.

Thanatos, by now 18, was in fact noticing her, just not in the way that she was hoping. He was biding his time until she was older and taking the opportunity in the meantime to continue to groom and manipulate her over her head. Maci and Hades’ relationship continued to worsen. Thanatos and Maci (and Hypnos, third-wheeling in helpless rising horror, usually quietly nursing hidden scythe-wounds) spent more time together as Maci began to avoid being near Hades in the palace. Thanatos agreed wholeheartedly when she stressed that her parents did not care about her, and encouraged her to keep rebelling against them, reminding her that at the end of the day, her real family was found right here – in him, her best friend. While Maci was 13, Thanatos introduced her to his second girlfriend, another shy goddess named Sophrosyne, “Sophie,” who was actually one of Thanatos' own distant sisters from Nyx's endless brood. Maci, jealous of another potential wedge between her and Thanatos, made it a point not to get along with her. Maci was building quite a reputation for herself within the Underworld as a temperamental terror wielding all the power of a royal title, and Sophie mostly avoided her, cowering strangely at Thanatos’ side instead.

Months later, Maci was irritated to be privately pulled aside by Sophie. She was babbling insanity, something weird about being in danger, and Maci being in danger – nonsense about how Thanatos was not what he seemed, and that both of them needed to get away before it was too late. But Thanatos only seemed confused when Maci told him what Sophie had said, and she was smugly delighted when Thanatos agreed that his relationship with Sophie had probably run its course.

Maci never saw her again. He was dating another girl by the next year, Hesychia, “Hess,” the mute Goddess of Silence, and soon took residence with her in one of the cave constructed homes of Tartarus. Maci resumed anguishing jealously in the background, made all the harder by the fact that she was spending nearly every waking moment with Thanatos and Hypnos (and now Hess, always silent, looking more haunted by the day). Maci, now age 14, could not stand to be in the same room as Hades. The palace shared by just the two of them sat with uncomfortably tense silence, only ever broken by screaming arguments that usually ended in Hades throwing her out of the palace, or Maci storming out of her own accord, either way ending up with the twins in Nyx's house or at Thanatos’ cave.

She would slink back days later and repeat, even moodier from Thanatos’ continued relationship with Hess. The following year, with Maci now 15, Seph came home and for the first time, the simmering tension between her husband and daughter was too great to hide. She was overall disturbed and stunned by this shattered relationship coming out of “nowhere,” though she felt Maci’s outrageous attitude was blatant even to her (and in Seph’s eyes, Hades could do no wrong, despite clearly being in the wrong). Trying to mediate between both sides without picking a side, Seph orchestrated an offering of peace on hers and Hades’ behalf, authorizing construction on a palace of Maci’s own in the subsection of the Underworld that belonged to Maci herself, the Elysian Fields, land of the blessed dead. It had been long proven that giving Maci presents usually kept her satisfied.

The Elysium palace was completed by Maci’s 16th birthday and presented as a gift to her with Hades’ name on it. It stood tall in the depths of Elysium, a natural safe haven due to the magical barrier surrounding Elysium’s outskirts, installed by the Olympians long ago and eternally enchanted to keep out anything evil. But Thanatos (who could not cross the barrier and could not let anyone find this out) pointed out to Maci what a slap in the face this gift was, a clear message that her parents wanted her out of their sight. Maci was incensed. She refused to set foot in the palace, lashing out with accusations of the theories Thanatos had placed in her head. Instead of doing anything to reassure her, Hades was instead furious at this most egregious display of disrespect, a last straw among last straws. The fight that followed, and the cruel words that were exchanged, was their worst to date.

By now, something inside Maci was cracking, or it already had. She was living in active hostility with a father who despised her openly when he wasn't pretending she didn't exist, a mother who was somehow choosing to stay neutral between them – this life now was an echo of the turmoil her grandmother had put her through when she was a little kid. Part of her yearned to viciously lean into the perception of her created by her own family, and she did this when she traipsed the kingdom clutching her title of Princess like an obnoxious shield. But there was a part of her inside that was beginning to claw in desperation with a frantic, anxious need to be loved, really loved, and actually seen by someone, anyone. This feeling continued to simmer under her skin. She could not bring herself to enter the Elysium palace even once the dust settled from hers and Hades’ fight, as the thought of its halls suddenly felt too utterly empty for her to bear being alone inside it. Maci began to fear that Hypnos and Thanatos, particularly Thanatos, who she adored more than anyone, would only ever see her as a child tagging after them. When Thanatos and Hess broke up (a relationship longer than his normally were, though she too disappeared after their split) and Maci’s friendship with him only continued the same as ever, her anxieties increased.

She knew she was pretty, and noticed every time she was noticed - she had never dated anyone, but she suspected that the personality she put on within the Underworld was probably what caused most people to recoil from her. But Thanatos knew her like no one else did, and she had always tried to be her most true self around him. If even her true self was unlovable, what then? Hypnos tried to talk sense into her - she was too young, now only just shy of 17 years old, he reminded her, and besides, it was for the best that she stay as far away from Thanatos as possible. Maci only insisted that Thanatos certainly seemed to reciprocate her feelings - and there was no one else that seemed to like her, even platonically. Fueled by anxiety and almost 17 years of emotional betrayal, it dawned on her the circumstances that she felt she'd created for herself. The desperate, frantic feeling inside began to overwhelm her.

TO BE CONTINUED - AND IT ONLY GETS SO MUCH WORSE FROM HERE - part two! • &part three!

questions & comments are appreciated esp if u somehow made it all the way to the bottom 🙃 I’ll post the next part later tonight or tomorrow!!,

[troutlawyer]

The Chucky series is so fucking insane and camp and bizarre

The set design is based around what looks cool instead of what is realistic so all these middle school kids’ bedrooms are basically fucking Sears catalogues

This design choice extends to living rooms, classrooms, and outdoor locations too so the whole neighborhood just looks like one of those fake FBI practice towns

The fucking bubble universe synthwave hospital where the nurses wear outdated uniforms and doctors perform emergency surgery by the glow of LED strip lights

Said synthwave hospital staff just lets people go wherever the fuck they want and lets them stay there even long after they’ve recovered enough to go home

Lexy just mysterious escaping unscathed from a room that literally blew up and meanwhile Junior ended up dealing with weeks of lung damage from simple smoke inhalation and it’s NEVER explained

Guy who gets stabbed with needles 15 minutes ago apparently just, keeps bleeding rapidly

Middle school students being expected to dissect frogs alive in biology class

“Heads Will Roll” playing as someone’s decapitated head rolls onto a stage

Fiona Dourif crossdressing as a character her real-life father plays and also said real-life father dubbing her voice over in post

Actress who plays young Tiffany speaking with her normal voice until she kills someone for the first time and then she is subsequently dubbed over by Jennifer Tilly

Keeping the insane canon presented in Bride and Seed of Chucky up to and including Jennifer Tilly, the actress, existing in-universe

The cop just immediately assuming Jake had something to do with the fire at Lexi’s house even though he HAD A LEGITIMATE ALIBI just because his fucking doll was found on the premises

“Gendah-fluid”

I will add more as I continue watching. I am spoiled for many plot points but the little details are always a fun surprise lmao

[perpetual-canon]

Perpetual Canon Chapter 1. Light in The End of The Rabbit Hole

before / 2. “we go way back” II - 2/2 / next where it started / navigation / about the story

Russ turned to Noodle.

“So that's your friend?”  

“Yeah,” she said. “‘Ts ma bestie. Great guy.” 

Russ raised his eyebrows.

“We go way back,” she added defensively.

Ace blinked. Alrighty then.

(ABOUT) THREE WEEKS AGO

To be honest, no person in their right mind would go to the club to listen to a solo bass performance.

Ace tried to master acoustic guitar back when he was a kid, but apart from bringing some skills and some change on the streets, it made him bored outta his mind. Besides, Ace couldn’t even mask his mediocre skills with singing. He was no Ed Sheeran, that much he knew.

But bass was another story. Ace was leaning mainly on intuition while learning to play, and all jokes about bass players aside, it proved to be possible to reach a somewhat decent level just by lots and lots of improvising, and some solid pointers from Grubber.

So one thing led to another, and Ace landed this part-time gig downtown. He was hired by a fairly successful local cover band for a set of services, which included:

1. Playing before said band in bars, to make up for them being constantly late due to various “mystical coincidences”. (Ace suspected the lead guitarist's drug addiction. It was quite mystical how she fell from the stage a couple times already in the past week Ace has been working with them.)

2. Watching over the band and being their designated driver in case something goes wrong. (Things did go wrong for them pretty often.)

Unfortunately, considering the quality of bars the band was performing in, unless you were Jaco Pastorius, there was always a slight risk of being shot on stage. So Ace’s act usually was brief and involved a lot of guitar-slapping.

Apart from that, it was nothing special – worse than it could’ve been, but better than the jobless void Ace was stewing in for a whole year. To be honest, it was hard. When he and the boys were living in a leaking bus on a literal dump, Ace was a proper leader, capable and (allegedly) even fearless. Now, when they finally were able to afford renting a flat, everybody proved to be more capable than him. Everyone managed to find decent jobs, and they even started a fund for Lil Arturo’s college. Sure, for now it was just a jar in a closet. But a big, promising jar. Full of wonders yet to come, as Big Billy used to say.

And then there was Ace. 20-something, good for nothing. He has been doing odd jobs, but couldn’t settle anywhere for long. Maybe he looked too much like a street rat to catch the eye of proper employers. And, in all honesty, he was one, no avoiding it. Wasn’t looking good in a resume tho.

So no, Ace was not complaining about the gig. He was just observing, making notes. Wasn’t his fault notes came out to be sorta greasy.

--

After Ace finished his routine, he sat down at the bar.

He watched the band perform, and let the familiar numbness blur the uncomfortable pangs in his chest. As a cover band, they accepted requests. Sometimes they were hilariously bad. Right now someone ordered Nickelback and it was a jab at the vocalist’s pride, so instead of singing properly, he was hissing like bacon on fire.

Ace swirled on a bar stool and heaved a deep sigh in hopes that the bartender would take pity on him. The bartender wasn’t impressed, but rewarded him with a glass of water.

The night was still young and people just started to gather, so the bar was not very busy.

Ace was wearing his dark shades again, and so could stare at people busying around without drawing attention. Some might say that only douchebags wear shades in the building, but Ace was ready to accept any label as long as it came handy.   

Aside from a couple of obvious regulars, there was also a tiny woman in a sickeningly bright hoodie. She looked quite out of place, like a teen who wandered in to take home her drunken father.

She sipped whiskey on rocks.

Maybe she was the drunken father.

Even with the hood covering her bangs, Ace couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about her. He vaguely hoped that it wasn’t because she was Asian and he had sight problems. He didn’t want to be That Guy.

In the meantime the band had finally finished torturing people with their take on Nickelback and got to another request.

“Somebody is feeling nostalgic!” the vocalist yelled in the mike. “Here is “Feel Good Inc”! Without the rap part tho, sorry”.

Ace felt a tingle of warmth rise up from under the dull blanket of boredom. To be honest, that was him who left this request. He figured that if he is going to sit here at the bar with only water in his system, he might as well try to enjoy it. And he knew for sure that this was the only Gorillaz song the band was capable of playing.

Humming under his breath, Ace glanced at the girl again.

She looked sorta tense now. She finished her whiskey in one gulp and called the bartender.

From the corner of the eye Ace saw her showing something to him. It looked like some piece of paper. Whatever it was, the bartender shook his head with a blank expression.

The girl was visibly disappointed by that and slided down from the stool, clearly about to leave. But then she looked up – straight at Ace.

He quickly darted his eyes back to the stage, burning with sudden embarrassment. The girl’s look was pretty intense.

By the time the vocalist reached the second windmill, she was already gone.

Only way later, when Ace was driving drunken band members home at night, it suddenly hit him. The reason why she seemed so familiar.

But it couldn’t be true. His vision must’ve been playing tricks on him.

It couldn't have been muthafuckin’ Noodle from muthafuckin’ Gorillaz.

--

The club was way more sleazy than the one they played at before. Ace half-expected that someone would throw a bottle at his head at some point during the performance. The band climbing on the stage was still hungover and slightly high, so for them the possibility was still on the table. Ace was already bracing himself for driving them all to the hospital instead of their houses.

Unfortunately it meant that, once again, he couldn’t get even a fucking Margarita.

Ace quickly slided between people and furniture, trying to find the least grease stained place for himself and his bass. He was pretty sure at least three couples were already fucking in darker corners of the bar.

That’s when he saw her again.

Same hoodie, same complexion. It was the girl.

She was diving through the crowd like a little koi fish, with a joint in her fingers and a hood on her head. Heart-shaped glasses sparkled dully under the dim lights.

Now Ace could say that he was quite intrigued.

Hypothetically, yes, it could’ve been Noodle. He was aware that The Band was staying in Detroit. But what could’ve prompted her to visit such smelly places? Aren’t stars supposed to club at the tops of skyscrapers with Snoop Dogg and Martha Stewart making brownies, of something?

How dangerous exactly was it to get mixed in this?

--

So far things have been pretty intense. The guitarist ended up in ER two times in the last week, and the drummer caught some STD that didn’t allow him to sit properly.

But all this meant nothing to Ace. His thoughts were completely occupied by the hoodie girl.

For the last five clubs and bars they’ve been playing in, she was always there. She usually arrived well after the band started to play and there was a decent crowd in the venue already. She was always covered up in some way, took something to drink and chatted with the bartender. Then she disappeared.

By this point Ace was pretty sure that she was, in fact, the Noodle from Gorillaz herself. He’s made a point to google paparazzi photos just to compare how she would have looked without makeup and photoshop, and it was a match.

This time Ace was expecting her. The curiosity was bothering him like fleas (And he knew the feeling, the metaphor was quite literal here).

Would he get a chance to talk to her, to learn about why she keeps visiting all these places? Would it be better to ask her directly? Wasn’t she a direct person? What were the odds she’d hit him directly in the face?

As always, Ace sat down at the bar. Watching the drummer suffer on stage was quite entertaining, but he couldn’t stop looking around, waiting for a glimpse of the pink hoodie.

“Hey,” the bartender snapped his fingers, to get Ace’s attention. “You can’t sit here”.

Ace stared at him blankly, trying to remember if he did something to piss the guy off in the past. He appeared quite generic.

“Unless you buy a drink, you can’t take up the space. I don’t make the rules”.

Ace looked at the plaque behind the bartender. It said “My Bar – My Rules”. Right.

“Sorry chef. Ain’t got no money tonight. But you see, I need to watch those fuckas on stage. I’m, how do you put it… their nanny”.

“I don’t care, mate. Unless ya skinny ass ‘bout to order somethin’, Imma callin’ the security. We’ve got a hit up ‘bout ya folk, that stuff disappears here and there after ya’all performance. And from what I’m lookin’ at, you better leave the premises and wait for your friends outside”.

Ace clicked his tongue.

Fuckin’ band had a chance or even a plan to throw him under the bus for whatever junk they’ve smuggled from those shitholes? Not cool.

“That’s a shitty team to be on, that’s for sure,” chimed the voice from behind Ace.

He turned around.

The one and only Noodle from Gorillaz plopped on a stool beside him.

“I’m buying, man,” she said to the bartender. “Long Island for my friend here. And make it longer.”

She saluted Ace with her drink.

Bartender shot them a weary glance, but obliged.

Ace stared at Noodle, desperately trying to find some words to say that would not sound completely and utterly dumb.

“So,” he said.

“So,” she repeated. “Wassup?”

“Drummer got an STD and can’t sit properly,” blurted Ace. His cheeks burned. By the end of the sentence he was already accepting his imminent death.

Noodle raised an eyebrow and shot a quick glance on stage.

“Shit,” she chuckled. “I thought he was just energetic.”

“Gettin’ a solo in the middle of the chorus? Yeah, you can say so.”

Noodle snorted in her drink, splattering whiskey all over Ace’s shirt.

Great.

PRESENT TIME

“Music,” stated Noodle with a strainingly wide smile. “That’s how we know each other! Ha-hah”.

Russel was observing her quietly, with some sort of underlying intensity. Sure, it seemed that he was doing everything intensely, but Ace still panicked – just in case.

“Look, he’s got a guitar! So yeah. We jam sometimes. Don’t we?” She slapped Ace’s shoulder, probably dislocating it forever.

“We sure jam,” croaked Ace through the pain. “We jam very much”.

--

before / next where it started / navigation / about the story

[ts1989fanatic]

Taylor Swift’s “The Eras Tour” Is a Triumph of Spectacle and Stamina: Review

Las Vegas hosted a greatest hits tour unlike anything ever staged before

As Taylor Swift ascended to the stage during the opening moments of “The Eras Tour” she emerged from billowing clouds of soft-hued tapestry in a glittering rhinestone bodysuit. She presented herself as the sergeant-at-arms ready to take her infantry of Swifties into the great pop battle through the 10 eras of her 17-year career with 44 tracks over more than three hours.

The second weekend of “The Eras Tour” at Las Vegas’ Allegiant Stadium on March 24th and 25th drew locals, Swifties who flooded the roads driving in from neighboring states, and international diehards from destinations far and wide. It had been a long time since Swift played Las Vegas and she broke the dry spell in a big way. As she took the stage for night three and four of “Eras”—a sold-out doubleheader in the desert — Swift rolled in a winner.

The orientation for this grand presentation was 2019’s Lover era, which included six songs: “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince,” “Cruel Summer,” “The Man,” “You Need to Calm Down,” Lover,” and “The Archer.”

“We are about to go on a grand adventure,” Swift announced prior to performing “The Man.” “I’ll be your host this evening. My name is Taylor.” This was followed by a return to the familiar “Lover”-video dollhouse set, its rooms symbolizing each one of her albums. In “The Archer,” that house became engulfed in a rain of pyrotechnics—washing away in a blast of fire instead of water.

“Eras” was quite the adventure, as Swift promised. The show was loaded with heavy artillery from albums for which she has not yet toured, including 2019’s Lover, 2020’s Evermore and Folklore and 2022’s Midnights. Overall, the career highlight reel featured 12 live debuts. Those fresh moments were backed up by a smattering from Swift’s previous albums, tours and videos from eras including Taylor Swift (2006), Fearless (2008), Speak Now (2010), Red (2012), 1989 (2014), and Reputation (2017). The motifs, arrangements, costumes, dance moves and visuals drawn from those works were sometimes presented literally and at other times more nuanced and interpretive.

Despite the callback, for Swift, there is no time like the present and this era belongs to her. “The Eras Tour” aimed to engage all human senses, offering an extraordinary 4-D cognitive experience through its innovative stage design, cutting-edge visual mapping, and top-of-the-line production values that far surpassed most of today’s touring show standards.

The stage itself featured three separate platforms made of LED displays connected by a ramp — each equipped with mobile hydraulic blocks that form different shapes, creating those picture-perfect angles that Swift thrives on. It was a massive production with pyrotechnics, indoor fireworks, and image projection technology.

Whether alone or with her dozens of supporting talents, Swift dominated the football-field-long stage. In a true test of her stamina, she never broke during the three-plus hours for anything longer than a quick change.

The second era of the night was 2008’s Fearless, where she performed its title song as well as “You Belong With Me” and “Love Story,” a toe dip back into her transition from country to pop, represented by the soft golden glow of the iconic fringe dress and the lighting treatments. This was an homage to the pin-curled beauty queen with the guitar we first got to know way back when.

Era three, evermore, featured standouts “Willow” and “Champagne Problems.” The staging consisted of massive oak-like trees while Swift sat at a moss-covered piano. She went thoroughly witchy during the cloaked “Willow” as her cadre danced around with orange-hued orbs. “I’ve been fantasizing about what [this will be like] to sing it with you,” she said during an introspective interlude before heading into “Champagne Problems” where she noted the moment, “I’m so in love with this crowd, I’m petting the moss.”

Throughout, Swift deftly balanced her goddess and huntress personas, showcasing both sides of her artistry. During her performance of “Willow” from evermore, she channeled “little Taylor riding hood,” while in era four’s Reputation, she embodied a captivating “snake charmer.” Her setlist included memorable performances of “…Ready for It?,” “Delicate,” “Don’t Blame Me,” and “Look What You Made Me Do,” a reminder of the time when she had to defend and establish herself among her peers. The unforgettable snake-wrapped microphone from 2017 reappeared, slithering up her one-legged bodysuit.

The fifth era, Speak Now, received only one nod with “Enchanted” before moving on to Red and folklore.

The crowd fell into a frenzy with Red’s coming-of-age anthems “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” “I Knew You Were Trouble” and the 10-minute version of “All Too Well,” a sharp contrast to the seventh more ethereal and cottage-dwelling era of folklore, which packed seven songs and was one of the most prominently featured chapters of the night. The performers’ period attire during “The Last Great American Dynasty,” the funeral procession of “My Tears Ricochet,” and the woodsy isolation of “Cardigan” transported the audience back to the strange and isolating reality of the pandemic, which may have been too soon for some.

The biggest, baddest, boldest era was number eight, 1989, as dancers rode neon-lit bicycles for “Blank Space”, and used blue-lit golf clubs to smash an animated car, then “Shake It Off,” erupted into a dance party followed by the intense and hot pyro display of “Bad Blood.”

While the ability to change up a tour like “Eras” city by city is virtually impossible because of its scale — Swift played to the Vegas crowd in a few ways they could really own. Built into each setlist is space for two surprise songs, which Swift has promised will be wholly unique for each show.

During her first night in Las Vegas, Taylor Swift approached the front of the stage with her guitar for an intimate moment and addressed the crowd, saying, “This is what I feel like playing, and I will decide based on what I hope you might want to hear. I aim to please, but I also get ideas from things.” Swift then referenced an interview she saw with beabadoobee, the Filipino-British singer-songwriter who opened the evening.

“For beabadoobee’s first show, I will play this specific song that she wants to hear. I wrote this for my 9th grade talent show,” Swift shared before launching into the rousing anthem “Our Song” from her debut album.

Swift then took a seat at a hand-painted floral upright piano for the night’s biggest surprise. “Lana Del Rey put out a new album today,” Swift remarked. “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd … it is so good — you probably already know that… It is just extraordinary. I think she is the best that we have and so make it a priority to stream, buy, support this album and this artist. She knows I am obsessed with her and she was kind enough to make a song with me on Midnights called ‘Snow on the Beach,’” Swift said.

“She is a generous king, she did that for me and I will never forget how nice she has been… I want to do some promo for her and in honor of this brilliant album she just put out, I’m going to play ‘Snow on the Beach.’”

The second night featured the first surprise guest of the tour as Marcus Mumford of Mumford & Sons popped up to do the live debut of “Cowboy Like Me” from 2020’s evermore. She also dusted off “White Horse” from Fearless.

For the closing spectacle, Swift plunged into a virtual body of water that surrounded the stage, then swam underwater back to the main platform — thanks to the next-level production — before returning to perform more songs from her Midnights era. The crowd’s excitement remained high as she introduced new tracks such as “Anti-Hero,” “Midnight Rain,” “Vigilante Shit,” and “Karma,” which received the same level of enthusiastic reception as her previously played greatest hits.

Regardless of whether you are a fan of Taylor Swift, it’s impossible to deny the sheer magnitude, artistry, and technical prowess of this production. This greatest hits tour, undertaken during her commercial prime, is an unprecedented feat and could potentially earn over a billion dollars, making it the highest-grossing tour in world history.

The three-plus”Eras” hours became a marathon and at the end, the audience was in a state of utter exhausted euphoria. But a spectacle of this size does beg the question — once you go this big, where do you go from here?

Taylor Swift’s massive 2023 tour continues through August.

[justforbooks]

Fleetwood Mac were Brit-rock stalwarts when, in 1974, they hit on the idea of pepping up their lineup. They invited a folky Californian, Lindsey Buckingham, to join, but he refused to come without his girlfriend, Stevie Nicks. The band agreed, on one condition: their sole female member, Christine McVie, had to feel comfortable with Nicks.

They met over dinner in Los Angeles, and McVie, finding Nicks “funny and nice, but also, there was no competition”, waved her through. That decision led to the enlarged band becoming the sultans of soft rock, underlining McVie’s status as the quiet pillar of the Mac apparatus. (And she was right; Nicks complemented rather than competed. She was the ethereal conjuror, McVie the “very, very, very English” – in Nicks’s appraisal – countermeasure, and neither ever upstaged the other.)

McVie, who has died aged 79, was co-lead singer, keyboardist and author of many of the group’s canonical tunes, including Say You Love Me, Over My Head and You Make Loving Fun. Understatement shaped her identity, with Rolling Stone magazine rather insultingly calling her “the epitome of rock’n’roll sanity”. That kind of thing riled her: “I was probably the most restrained, but I was no angel,” she protested, claiming that one of her most acclaimed compositions, Songbird, owed its existence to “a couple of toots of cocaine and a half-bottle of champagne”.

Nevertheless, she avoided the spotlight, often literally. At gigs her domain was a relatively modest keyboard set-up at the side, safely away from stage centre, and despite her talent – “the finest blueswoman and piano player in all of England,” the drummer, Mick Fleetwood, maintained – she was self-deprecating about her abilities.

Deeply melodic love songs, burnished by her warm alto, were McVie’s stock in trade, but she could address her unhappy ex-husband, John McVie, with equal tenderness. The 1977 Top 3 hit Don’t Stop, later used as the theme tune for Bill Clinton’s first presidential campaign, did just that. Written during sessions for the landmark Rumours album, when relations between the pair were at their worst, it sunnily encouraged John, the band’s bassist, to look forward rather than brood about the past. (She blamed their periodic break-ups, culminating in divorce in 1976, on the stress of being in the same group, and her husband’s heavy drinking: “John is not the most pleasant of people when he’s drunk,” she said in 2003. “I was seeing more Hyde than Jekyll.”)

She didn’t deliberately write commercial songs, she insisted; they just came out that way. Which was just as well – in 1975, as the group were grinding through an American tour, their US label chose Over My Head to soundtrack a radio campaign for their self-titled new album. The LP duly became their first real smash, selling more than 9m copies. For that matter, the 1977 behemoth Rumours arguably owed a good chunk of its 45m sales to the two McVie tracks released as singles, Don’t Stop and You Make Loving Fun, which remain soft-rock touchstones to this day.

The younger child of Cyril Perfect, a music teacher, and his wife, Beatrice (nee Reece), Christine was born in Bouth, then part of Lancashire and now in Cumbria, and raised in Bearwood, West Midlands. Her mother’s avocation was spirituality and Christine was uncomfortable around her circle of faith-healer friends, but an even heavier burden was being saddled with the name Christine Perfect. “Teachers would say: ‘I hope you live up to your name, Christine.’ So, yes, it was tough.” She so disliked it that after her divorce she kept her married name.

As a child, she studied classical piano and cello, only becoming interested in rock at 15, when her brother left Fats Domino sheet music on the household piano. She was an instant convert to the blues, developing a driving, boogie-woogie left-hand piano style, but music became secondary to her other consuming interest, art. Five years at Birmingham Art College yielded a sculpture degree, but she emerged with a revived passion for music, thanks to having spent her university time busking with her friend Spencer Davis and playing bass in a band called Sounds of Blue, led by Stan Webb.

Listlessly working as a window dresser at Dickins & Jones department store in London after graduation, Christine was delighted to be asked to join Webb’s new outfit, Chicken Shack, as keyboardist and vocalist. One of the only women in the mid-1960s British blues scene to both sing and play an instrument, she got noticed. Though she later dismissed Chicken Shack as a “mediocre sort of white blues band”, she sang lead on their only Top 20 song, a dreamy cover of Etta James’s I’d Rather Go Blind, and was voted Melody Maker’s top female vocalist of 1969 (she won the same award in 1970, after releasing a solo album entitled Christine Perfect).

She fancied the guitarist Peter Green of the rival blues act Fleetwood Mac, but it was John McVie who asked her out. “It was Peter Green I had a bit of an eye on,” she said during a Desert Island Discs broadcast in 2017. “I started talking to John and fell head over heels with him.” They married in 1968, and a few months later, deciding she was not seeing enough of her husband, she left Chicken Shack with the intention of being a housewife. It lasted only until her manager persuaded her to make the solo LP, an “immature” effort she later preferred to forget. The next step was joining Fleetwood Mac as a permanent member in 1970, having already played uncredited on several studio sessions.

She was dubious about the band’s decision to relocate to Los Angeles in 1974, but reconciled herself to Californian rock-star life, buying Anthony Newley’s old house and a pair of Mercedes-Benzes with her lhasa apso dogs’ names on the number plates. While making the follow-up to Rumours, Tusk, she dated the Beach Boy Dennis Wilson, but her next significant relationship, with the Portuguese keyboardist Eddy Quintela, was happier and more productive. He played on her second solo album, Christine McVie (1984), and after their marriage in 1986 the pair wrote one of Mac’s biggest hits of the 80s, Little Lies. The marriage foundered, however, when McVie found herself craving a quiet life in England; she quit the band in 1998 and bought a Tudor house in Wickhambreaux, Kent.

Fifteen years of “this country life with the welly boots and the dogs and the Range Rover” proved enough, and matters definitively came to a head when she fell down a flight of stairs and became dependent on prescription painkillers. It was, she said, a bleak time, not least because another attempt at a solo career had failed to launch. She had made the album In the Meantime with her nephew, Dan Perfect, in 2004, purposely veering away from Fleetwood Mac’s big-ticket lushness. But without it, the relaxed, mid-tempo songs had little zing; moreover, a fear of flying kept her from travelling to promote it. Innately a team player, after therapy to overcome her phobia she rejoined Mac permanently in 2014.

Reaction to her return was roaringly positive, both from fans and the band themselves; to Mick Fleetwood, it made the group “complete” again. In the same year, she received an Ivor Novello lifetime achievement award. McVie’s last recording was a self-titled joint album with Buckingham, a Top 5 British hit in 2017. It caught her in a reflective mood but her gift for melody was undimmed. Her final public performance was at a tribute show for Green in London in February 2020.

In June this year, a solo compilation, Songbird, was released, but McVie was adamant that she wouldn’t tour again. “I don’t feel physically up for it. I’m in quite bad health. I’ve got a chronic back problem, which debilitates me. I stand up to play the piano, so I don’t know if I could actually physically do it.”

She and Quintela divorced in 2003. Her brother, John, and nephew survive her.

🔔 Anne Christine McVie, musician, born 12 July 1943; died 30 November 2022

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[corrupted-hands-texts]

Inktobertale but red prompts | Prompt #5 - Theater Play

- This is part of Threadverse. Read more about it here! -

-°-°-

He sat here, quietly, his blank eyelights set on what Holes, Horror and Doll were sewing together. Around them, the group was doing their own separate activities. He spotted Nightmare reading a book farther away, under a spare tree; Dream, Blue, Cross and Killer were playing a card game; Ariadne and Dust debated together on their most common subject, morals (though it was more quiet than usual).

The nearest trio was trying to make sets of clothes for their allies all around, him included. Well, not like those would be of any use to him, but it seemed like they were set on giving their friends(?) a good time.

He didn't think he'd even be a good actor on a stage anymore. He didn't actually have any semblance of a memory left on how to act as if he still had emotions. It had been so long without them. And, he literally couldn't even stand up by now.

He didn't get the point of making a costume for him too. But well, if they wanted that, he'd wear it. He didn't mind. (Why would he mind? Nothing mattered to him anymore really.)

Doll looked up from his work and smiled at the ex-painter for a bit, then went back to his activity gingerly. He was now knitting a long scarf together.

Ink wondered, as his eyelights followed the other's precise yarn work, why are they still smiling at me, even though they know I will never smile back. He wondered what foolish hope was driving them to still try after all of this, all of the proofs and all of the data correlating to only one end; what still pushed them to try despite their evident inability to succeed and save anyone.

Was it what he always lacked? Was it the emotions that he always craved and could only ever emulate?

Horror stood up, showing off the pattern for a large hoodie to his two friends. Holes immediately went to pin the other's mistakes down with a sharp eyelights and a precise pointed finger. The red-eyes skeleton hummed and sat back down, correcting the couple inches of fabric that his collaborator had noticed.

He wondered how it felt like to be able to make things. He had forgotten.

"Ink?"

He turned his head towards the person who was now standing next to him. Ariadne.

"How are you feeling?"

"Empty and in pain." A small silence, that he broke when Ariadne was opening her mouth again. "A bit more pain than usual."

"... I see," she mumbled. After another quiet moment, she spoke up again, her eyelights a little dimmer than usual. "Night thinks that little play he found would be a nice experience to improvise upon. and uh, the clothes might also just serve for fighting after, considering that our current sets are getting a little worn out."

"Why make a set for me though?"

"Well, your clothes are also giving up on you, and... yeah. You would like it if you still felt something," she quietly mused.

Ink let his gaze drift a little, and he met Dust's quiet and twisted stare piercing through his hood's shade. He was standing with both hands in his pockets, a little farther behind the other outcode. Quiet, almost like a shade under the muted sun.

"... I don't know if I would have liked it anymore. I forgot," the ex-painter softly said, as he led his eyelights back on his colleague.

"I'm sure you would have," she softly said back to him.

°-°-°

Credits :

Ink by Comyet/Myebi, Dream and Nightmare by Jokublog, Killer by Rahafwabas, Dust by Ask_Dusttale, Horror by Sour Apple Studios,

Ariadne by @ariadnetravels, Doll and Holes by @corruptgrail (me),

Inktobertale prompt list by Comyet/Myebi, Threadverse by me,

Undertale by Toby Fox.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 505, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

WORDS: 1112

A few days passed by an before I knew it, it was New Years Eve.

I had dressed myself in warm thermals, black jeans, a deep hunter green sweater, and my favorite black leather jacket. My jewelry was my engagement and wedding ring, the family birthstone necklace and the memorial bracelet for Baby Violet Marie.

When the kids had stampeded back downstairs again, I smiled. Elizabeth and Katie were wearing black fleece lined jeans, their heavily modified vintage Type O Negative t-shirts, jackets and winter accessories. Elle and Jing were dressed like their girls, and Baby Tommy was a mini Peter Steele in his green t-shirt that was a bit too short for the chubby little man, black jeans and little black and white baby Converses shoes. His little dollie friend also wore a mini Type O Negative concert t-shirt, much like his big sisters’ mini me dolls.

“We’re ready, mommy!” Katie cheered as my husband stomped down the stairs, tugging his trademark green t-shirt down his burly front, his leather jacket in hand and a green newsboy cap over his freshly dyed black hair.

“Okay, let’s go!” he urged them herding the cluster of little humans down to the back door that led down into the garage, grabbing his wallet and car keys from the sideboard as he passed by. I endcapped the group, turning off the lights and closing the doors as I passed by.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he murmured, lifting me up and settling me into the passenger seat, stepping into my personal bubble and wrapping his arms snug around me.

“Five more days until we can start actively trying for Baby Ratajczyk 2.0,” I giggled, pressing a quick little kiss to the underside of his strong jaw.

“Jesus Christ-” he wheezed as he shut my door and then looped around to the driver’s side. “You are going to be the literal death of me, woman.”

“Only for you?” I teased him, letting out a bark of laughter when he shot me his bedroom eyes.

“Only for me,” he acknowledged, smoothly pulling out from the garage. “Now shut up- I need to drive.”

~xoXox~

I smiled as I watched Peter from the reserved booth that was set aside for the family. When we had arrived, the owner of the Rat’s Belly had come out from the office in the back room, helped us with our wrists bands and then showed us to where we would be sitting, apologizing for the lack of backstage area. Indeed, the staging area consisted of just a wooden platform stage with no wings or a backstage area.

Once again, my strong, handsome older husband wore our son on his back in a cradleboard papoose, the gleeful little man happily holding back his father’s hair as he added his own thoughts into the microphone from time to time.

I sat in the booth with Elizabeth and Elle on one side and Katie and Jing on my other side, the three of us picking at an enormous basket of fries. Elizabeth was hard at work, working on a new idea for her YouTube channel and Katie was hand embroidering a t-shirt with delicate flowers and vines. From time to time, Type O Negative fans would recognize us and wander over to strike up a conversation.

Elizabeth was thrilled when a young woman with electric green hair dropped that she played the harp, and the two musicians turned away to chatter each other’s ears off about random subjects. Katie kept to herself mostly, only speaking when spoken to and eating French fries from time to time.

I noticed a young woman, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old, cradling a tiny bundle, which I only recognized as being a sleeping baby before she whispered something to the man in front of her, passing off the baby and then watching as the little baby began to crowd surf up to the front where Peter was strumming his bass and crooning into the microphone.

The crowd went nuts as the baby reached Peter, who scooped her up from the crowd. He removed his bass guitar and excused himself, bounding down from the stage and coming back over towards me with a tight smile on his face.

“Sweetheart, can you please handle the baby for me until intermission?” he begged me, handing over the quietly napping little lady and then returning back onstage to resume the small, one night concert.

I took the tiny baby girl from him and was immediately greeted with itty bitty fingers latching onto my scarlet curls.

My lower lip trembled violently for a full minute before fat, jibbly tears began to run from my eyes, streaking across my face and dripping onto the slumbering child.

“Oh, what’s your name, sweet baby?” I crooned, zoning in on the adorable little girl, who looked to be a few days old, if I had to garter a guess.

“Mommy? Why was daddy handed a baby?” Katie asked me, wrinkling her nose as she turned to offer the baby her finger.

“No idea,” I hummed, feeling myself breaking down emotionally. I looked up and saw the woman who had handed her off, looking at us with a deep sadness in her hazel brown eyes before she turned around and left the concert venue.

“Why would you be abandoned, little fae?” I whimpered, clutching at the peacefully quiet child, nestled almost lovingly in my arms as I fussed over her.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[taylorftparamore]

150 days of taylor swift (inspired by)

day four: fearless tour

[theepisceswriter]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍, 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 — Gojo Satoru

♡ Synopsis: The rise and downfall of Gojo’s relationship with a stripper as told through pivotal moments from their relationship. ♡ A/N: If you see any typos, no you don’t. But I’m so glad to finally get this out here because I haven’t written anything in such a looonngg time, I’m so happy I finally have the muse. I went kind of overboard with creativity and words, but I hope you guys still enjoy ! Thanks to everyone who helped me proofread the first part btw!! ♡ WC: Listen, its 7.1k and Grammarly tells me it’ll take about 28 mins to read.  ♡ TW: she/her pronouns, and afab body parts, infidelity, car sex, asshole Gojo at the end *sigh*, angst, heartbreak, fluff, 18 plus so MDNI !

The smell of expensive cigars, cheap party liquor, and aromatic scents of what was assumed to be weed-filled Gojo’s nostrils the moment that he stepped foot inside of the popular club that was filled to the brim with a sea of people. For good reason he would assume, Geto couldn’t stop rambling to him about how it was his favorite and the best in the whole city, claims that were shockingly backed up by Nanami in one of the many conversations he had brought up the local spot in. It was his bragging that had ultimately led him here after finally finding time to squeeze in some personal time in his erratic busy schedule. He had been working day and night for months on end it seemed, he was fucking exhausted and so close to calling this night out with Geto off, but he decided in the end that a little relaxation was indeed what he needed.

“The dancers here are gorgeous and fucking great at what they do. They don’t strip any of their clothes off at all, but they still have the same energy to them that'll make your dick stand tall!” Geto continued as he led Gojo over to a section of the club designated just for them with the clearest view of the stage in all of the club. Only a regular like Geto could truly have access to a gem like this, Gojo thought quietly in his head. 

Compared to the other clubs Gojo had briefly explored in the city this one was the most lavish out of them all. The seats were decorated with a soft deep red plush velvet material that just screamed expensive and the venue glittered constantly from the Swarovski crystals that bedazzled every other piece of furniture. Even the waitresses were dressed in carefully threaded themed costumes that all matched each other and stood out in the sea of people that crowded the floor.

Wandering eyes eventually made their way to the stage when the beats of trap drums and hip hop instrumentals breached his eardrums. Even though the lights dimmed, the club still sparkled from not just the crystals now, but the costumes of the dancers that slowly made their way on the stage.

Glancing over at his companion momentarily, he could tell from the way his pupils had dilated and how he was quite literally on the edge of his seat that his counterpart was enjoying himself already, and the dancing had barely just begun. He wishes he could say the same for himself, but even as his eyes moved back to the stage midway through the show he found himself not as immersed as his tag along was.

Sure, the women were beautiful, but nothing he hadn’t seen wrapped up in his sheets before after one night stands. 

Slouching back into his chair and spreading his legs wide to make himself comfortable, he found himself reaching over for a shot glass that was placed on the small coffee table beside it. An uncharacteristic move on his end since he didn’t even enjoy the taste of alcohol, but anything to get him through this. His face scrunched up in disgust at the bitter taste and by the time he directed his attention back to the stage a whole new set of dancers were on a new routine. 

A group of dancers that included you.

He was star-struck immediately by the beauty he had just laid his eyes upon, brown skin glistening with the reflection of sweat and crystals that reflected off of the pole you worked so graciously and flowed on like water. You stood out greatly amongst the sea of average-looking faces surrounding you. Your features were sharp and dripping with beauty, enough to challenge the prettiest of faces that graced magazine covers, and don’t get him started on how your eyes were slightly slanted downwards giving you the appearance of permanent bedroom eyes. And even though your lips were painted with a deep plum color that hid the contours of your lips, he could still tell that they were plump and probably the softest pair of lips in the world he would feel. 

He was already plotting on you, truly enamored by your beauty. 

And just when he thought you couldn’t get any more perfect? His eyes trailed each curve of your body with each contort of your limbs you did with each swing around the pole. 

And oh my, you had the body of a dancer who worked long hours perfecting her craft. The costume you wore complimented your curves amazingly. It looked as if it had been molded just for you, poured onto you actually, and held your breasts up at a perky angle that caught his attention with each bounce they made. 

For a moment your dazzling eyes looked up at the VIP section he was currently sitting in, something you did every night to see who occupied it this time, and he swore that you two locked eyes for a split second. His suspicion was only confirmed when you sent a sly smirk and quick wink his way, making his stomach churn in an indescribable way that felt so good. It felt right.

Gojo didn’t even realize that he was now sitting attentively at the edge of his seat in the same fashion that he was making fun of Geto for earlier. All his attention was on every single inch of your body, watching how your hips moved flawlessly to the music and how you gyrated so easily in a silver latex costume that looked like it was air-tight against your skin. 

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” The raven-haired man leaned over to ask Gojo as the performance came to an end, each dancer blowing a kiss to the audience as they exited. His heart fluttered as he watched you blow yours and disappear backstage to what he assumed to be a dressing room of some sort.

“Just amazing.” He let out in a breathless huff, referring to you and you only in his mind with his statement. “I’ll be right back, yeah?” He made no effort to come up with an excuse to present to Geto before he was rushing out of his seat down to the main area of the club, silently cursing himself in his head for not sitting closer to the stage so he could not only tip you but take your beauty in more.

The crowdedness of the main floor did not stop him from his journey of finding the gorgeous dancer that had stolen his eyes, images of your soft brown skin and supple thighs flooding his mind as he pushed through the slouchy drunken people and even stepped over a few unconscious bodies to make his way backstage.

He wasted no time in knocking on the door that led to the locker room, eager to introduce himself to you, positive that he would sweep you off your feet. He even took a couple of seconds to fix his hair, button-up shirt, and posture to seem more presentable before you came face to face with him.

"Yes?" Slowly the door creaks open to just a slit and a dancer pokes her head out to greet him, or more so question his presence. It wasn't the same one that had captivated him earlier. She was pretty too and her long white hair was something to gawk at alone, but not the one he had come for. His eyes wandered as he tried to come up with an excuse, but luckily it doesn't take long for his eyes to find those honey-brown ones once more.

It was a pleasant shock to see him apply effort to see you, but you hid that emotion in return for a smile to be sent his way. Which he graciously accepted with one of his own, heart-melting in his chest at the sight of your pearly whites up close. You were perfect and free of flaws in his eyes like someone had painted you, truly a sight for sore eyes.

The feeling of his heart-melting in his chest quickly became rapid beating once his mind processed that he was right here in front of you, about to ask you out at that. Surely someone as beautiful as you had men and women alike flocking at your feet, but he was supposed to care less about that. He was Gojo the playboy, a ladies’ man, for crying out loud but something about watching you stand up from your vanity and strut over to the door so effortlessly left him frozen in his position. Not to mention the slit in your robe that showed off just a tease of your thighs that had his mind wandering into the most lustful parts of his mind. Of course, it had to be you out of all people to have this effect on him.

“I think he’s here for me. I’ll take it from here, Mei Mei.” Your words left your lips so softly and every syllable that hit Gojo’s ears felt like pure silk. He could listen to you talk for hours on end, why did everything about you have to be so perfect? 

Your face was bare and from the makeup band that surrounded the edges of your hair, he could tell that you were most likely in the middle of completing a skincare routine, probably the reason your melanated skin shined so effortlessly the way it did. If he thought you were good-looking earlier then he most definitely thought you were gorgeous now, especially up close when he can now study every nook and cranny of your delightful face. You didn’t even look like you had danced the routine that you did, sweat hardly visible on your forehead being the only indicator.

“I’m assuming you’re here to see me, no?” You speak up after getting no response for a while, Gojo in a trance-like stance for a minute before he finally came to his senses.

Clearing his throat and puffing out the collar of his button-up once more, Gojo turned on his charmer mode and leaned adjacent on the doorframe, pushing his glasses down slightly so you could catch sight of his baby blues. "You'd be assuming correctly, mi amour." He stated confidently, voice as deep and seductive as it could get.

From the look that crossed your features, showing that you were more amused than you were impressed, he could tell his first attempt had failed greatly, but that was okay. He’d come up with ten different pickup lines if it meant he had even the slimmest chance to woo you over with one. 

"That one didn't work too well, eh? That's cool. I have plenty more I can try out on you." Hands going up in defense Gojo purses his lips together and shrugs his shoulders in a manner that a boxer would to warm up for a match, causing the sweetest laughter he had ever heard in his life to penetrate his ear drums. Only encouraging him more.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Standing up straight this time he cleared his throat, put on his best smirk, and flashed a pair of hooded eyes that he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. "Hey darling, how are you doing on this great afternoon? Names Gojo and I couldn't help but notice you on stage as you danced oh so beautifully. What's your name, pretty? I would really like to get to know you better.”

“Okay, okay I see you! Much better!” You gleam with a smile and chuckle, clapping your hands to applaud his attempt. “I am doing wonderful this evening, Gojo,” Even the way you said his name had him hooked to you, listening carefully to each syllable that left her lips, “And I think your prize for the night is knowing my name: It’s y/n.”

“Y/n, y/n, y/n.” He repeats not only to help him remember, but liking the way your name rolled off of his tongue as well. “A beautiful name fit for the goddess of a woman you are.” He winks. 

“Well, y/n, I was wondering if you would like to join me for a late night dinner at a diner not too far from here? My treat, of course.”

The white haired man took a quick glance over at the VIP section and was greeted with the sight of Geto surrounded by multiple women, one even sitting in Gojo’s seat while making conversation with him. No doubt in mind that he'd be face down in pussy by the end of the night and Gojo wouldn’t even cross his mind once. He looked back over at you just in time to see you nod your head in confirmation and this time he allowed a toothy smile to take over his features, though his smile never had truly left his face throughout the night.

"A waffle dinner does sound fantastic right now. Just let me change really quick, yeah?"

Although he appeared nothing more than simply pleased by your agreement on the outside, on the inside he was screaming at the top of his lungs and jumping around with glee. "Sure thing, baby." He told you with the wink of an eye. A smirk now on his lips seeing how the pet name caused a slight blush to your cheeks. 

"Meet me outside by the VIP parking area. I’ll be waiting outside of my car for you." His head tweaked over in the direction of the parking lot to show where he would be waiting and he proceeded to make his way over there soon after, allowing you time to get ready as quickly as possible. Already missing your presence the moment he stepped foot outside of the club

And as promised he was right there leaned up against the passenger side of his white model X Tesla waiting for you to make your appearance. The color was a direct contrast to his hair, more cream colored than it was white and you could tell he had custom work done on it because it looked more prestigious and updated than the other ones you had seen customers pull up in. If he would’ve told you that Elon himself had given it to him you probably would’ve believed him. 

You didn’t come dressed out in anything special, simply a cropped white tank top and brown sweatpants that you showed up to work in paired with a black zip up hoodie that protected you from the harsh coldness that was slowly creeping in. Your hair was pinned back with a clip messily and even at what you assumed to be your most basic, Gojo still found stunning. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier.” The compliment falls from his lips naturally and with a smile he opens the passenger door for you to get inside, which you do with haste. Your time with him had barely begun and you were already getting spoiled, memories of not having to open a door for yourself found nowhere in your mind.

The drive to the diner was filled mostly with music on shuffle rather than small talk, the two of you simultaneously agreeing in your heads to save it for the diner rather than spending it on a 17 minute drive. The fear of running out of things to talk to plagued the both of you. The last thing you wanted was to make these interactions between the two of you awkward and lose the connection that you could feel the two of you developing, but the two of you found conversation to come easy once the two of you had settled in the diner. Conversation flowed between the two of you like you were old friends reconnecting with each other rather than strangers, and of course with the occasional compliment thrown in there by Gojo.

By the end of the night it felt as if the two of  you had jumped from strangers to acquaintances to a blurred line between friend and romantic partner. You felt close and secure enough to entrust him with the address of your apartment building to drop you off and like the gentleman he was he even walked you to your front door to ensure your safety.

“I had an amazing time tonight, Gojo.” You didn’t want this rendezvous to end just yet, leaning up against the doorframe of your opened front door, doing your best to drag out this departure longer than it needed to be. 

“And I hope we can have plenty more like this in the future,” he starts off, “More lavish dinners and dates fit for a queen like you, of course.” He leans in just a bit and places his arms on the ledge of the frame so he can hover his body over yours at an angle, enjoying the way you had to adjust your body to look up at him.

Sleepiness was prevalent in both of your eyes, it was well off into the twilight hours of the day afterall, but this newfound intimacy between the two of you pushed your shared grogginess to the side momentarily. 

You just know from deciphering him all night long that his next move was going to be a swoop in for a kiss. Which is exactly why you stood still when you felt his long limbs move to the dip of your hips and pull your body closer to his to where there was a gap small enough for him to close with his lips on yours.

He gently grabs your face with his dominant hand and caresses your cheek with his thumb lightly, pulling your soft lips even closer against his as he lets out a guttural groan. It sent sparks through the two of you, the electric feeling of mutual attraction so exhilarating for you both. If it weren’t for the teaser in you, you could’ve stayed here in Gojo’s warm embrace for hours with his thumb outlining your jawline, but ultimately you decided to pull away with a smug smirk when you felt his hands sliding further down your hips. 

You caught his hands at the border separating your thighs from your ass and brought his hands up to your lips to send off with gentle kisses before letting them fall back to his side. “Goodnight, dear. Sleep well tonight.” You whispered in his ear, pulling away from underneath his build, and disappearing with a wave inside of your apartment.

He had to have more of you, he made it his mission for you to be his and no one else's. 

Visiting your job and watching you dance on the nights you performed and hanging out with you afterward started becoming a recurring tradition in his weekly schedule. No matter what he had to take care of he made sure he was in that VIP section front and center at least once a week to see you, every time after the first remembering to bring you big tips that would have you set for the rest of the week alone. 

Money wasn’t the only thing that came in his presence. Your closest was flooded with the best threads that you could find in town, some pieces even imported, and it wasn’t until designer bags started showing up on your porch that you became a fanatic for them.

He even started going out of his way to show up to your practices to bring you food, water, and whatever else you requested. His presence was becoming such an overwhelming force in your life in such a short span of time that even your fellow colleagues all knew him by name now. 

“Let me take you out.” He proposed through a mouthful of ramen during one of his many lunch visits to you.

Looking over at him in confusion, you raised your eyebrow and let out a little ‘hm?’ to now vocalize your confusion. You allowed your food to disappear from your mouth before you replied to him, “We’ve been out plenty of times before, Gojo. We’re out right now, actually and see each other like twice a week.”

“No, no, no. Let me take you out on a real date. Black tie affair, fancy restaurant, and all that jazz. “ He reiterates, a toothy grin on his face that makes his eyes disappear into his smile. “How about tonight? A few hours after you get done with practice to give you time to get ready?” He asks, “If that’s not too much for you.” He quickly adds on afterwards, your well being always in the back of his mind.

You had no plans for later on in the day like usual, usually spending that time to rest your body after a long day of dancing, but one night out couldn’t hurt you too much or throw you off track. You were too resilient after being in an industry like stripping for years and Gojo would never allow you to overwork yourself, that you knew with a certainty. 

“Okay, date night tonight it is.” Though there was never a doubt in either of your minds that you would’ve declined his offer.

“Perfect!” He beams with that same larger than life smile still on his face. “Don’t worry about anything except being ready at 8:30pm on the dot.”

It was a battle between you and your wardrobe trying to figure out what to wear. Besides being on stage dancing, Gojo had never really seen you dressed up or in anything that wasn’t basic streetwear or bedazzled costumes. You wanted that same appeal that attracted him to you in the first place, but while keeping it classy and not too overwhelming at the same time. Which is why you decided to go with a black turtleneck dress, one of your many gifts from Gojo, that had a slit that stopped just right beneath your underwear line. You paired it with some simplistic gold jewelry, a leather black bag, and some white pumps to finish off the look. 

You stared in the mirror not subconscious about the way you looked or anything, but the complete opposite; taking in how beautiful you looked while adding some final touches to your curls that you decided to let be wild on top of your head for tonight.

It was the sound of your doorbell ringing that told you it was most likely already 8:30, so you strided over to the entrance with confidence and opened it; met with the sight of your handsome date holding beautiful bright red roses in his hands. 

Gojo was done up nicely, but when was he never? He wore a silky ocean blue button up that complimented his eyes nicely with black slacks, YSL loafers, and even traded in his dark shaded glasses for rectangular opaque ones that sat at the bridge of his nose.

“For you, my beautiful date.” And with that he bowed slightly. Like he was thankful for just being in your presence, and once he straightened his body back up he was stretching out his arms to hand you the roses.

Taking a couple steps closer to him you gladly accepted the roses from him with a quick thank you and peck on his lips. You hurried to put them away in a vase, that was also a gift from Gojo because flowers were a common occurrence with him, and you swore you felt his eyes on your body from the time you walked away to put the flowers away to the time it took for you to stride back over to him.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm out for you to take hold of and you did so like he expected of you.

“We shall,” You flashed your pearly whites over in his direction, “Lead the way.”

The restaurant was truly a gorgeous sight for you to bestow your eyes upon once you were inside. The interior was beautiful, something straight out of those luxurious interior instagram pages you spent so many hours scrolling through before. Crystalled chandeliers hung from the ceiling that gave the restaurant a nice white glow, the furniture had a crisp black modern style to them, and the table tops were a sleek marble design that was shiny enough for you to make out your reflection in it. 

You felt like you were intertwined with the cream of the crop of society, a dining experience like this far more luxurious than anything else you had experienced and it was all for you to just sit back and enjoy, Gojo took care of everything for you. Because, in his words verbatim, “As hardworking as you are? You deserve it all and more. You deserved to get spoiled and treated right.”

While the food took a few minutes of staring at it, poking around, and inquiring the waiter what exactly it was while Gojo giggled in the background, it was delicious and presented just as beautifully to you like the rest of the establishment was. The date was filled with a lot of talking, laughing, and reminiscing on the few months the two of you had been intertwined with each other. Any outsider looking in would be quick to assume that the two of you had known each other much longer than just a couple of months, maybe even paint you two as a married couple well into a number of anniversaries the way you looked at him with such a loving gaze; like he was the center of your world. Which in this moment, he was.

You were comfortable around him. And you didn’t know if it was the two glasses of Moet being absorbed by your system or the string intimacy that had been prevalent between you two the whole night, but you found the ball of your feet gently massaging his leg underneath the table. Whether you were doing it on purpose or not, it got a reaction out of Gojo.

You could visibly see his body tense underneath the thin fabric of his shirt and you watched as he took a peak underneath the table, a choked breath escaping his lips, before he looked back up at you with hooded eyes. 

Reaching over the table he took a hold of your hand and gently began to massage it with the soft pad of his thumb, enjoying the way your face began to warm up and redden slightly.

“Are you drunk?” He inquired, tilting his head to the side.

“You think I’m that much of a lightweight? I’m honestly offended.” If anything? Just a little tipsy.

That’s all the confirmation it took before he was calling for the bill and rushing to get the two of you out of here. 

Next thing you knew you were in the front seat of his Model X in some abandoned parking lot. Gojo’s seat was all the way back, as far as it could possibly go, and you were straddling his lap with your dress pooling above your thighs and his hands gripping on to them for dear life. 

His shirt was sloppily unbuttoned by you and your hands were in his pillow white hair making a mess out of it while your lips connected in a passionate battle. Not only minted to being on each other’s lips, but moving to other areas such as necks, cheeks, and chest. You were positive that by the end of the night you’d be covered in hickies. Soft R&B music played in the background of your makeout session that was quickly turning into more. You found yourself grinding your hips down into Gojo, getting the surprise of your life when you found he was already hard, but still continuing on in rhythemed 8 figure movements that sent pleasure up both of your spines. 

“You’re so fucking needy for me, huh baby? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could’ve helped you out way sooner.” His words leave his mouth in an almost growl, large hands grabbing at your ass and moving you against his cock at an angle that positions his clothed length right over your clit.

You moaned into his collarbone and dug your nails into his scalp that left him hissing from a mix of pain and pleasure. He needed you as much as you needed him.

“Finally.” You let out a pant when he pulled you away from his neck so he could peel your dress off of you in one smooth movement. He took a moment to dwell on how perfect and perky your breasts were sitting in the constraints of your bra and only mere inches away from his face. He had seen your body plenty of times and each time he was just as wowed as the last time. Not to mention that this would be the first time he would be seeing it bare in all its glory.

In return your nimble fingers worked quickly on getting his hard cock free from the restraints of his slacks and once you did it practically jumped out at you, swollen pink tip dripping with pre cum and want. Just the feeling of being exposed to the air had the gentleman sucking in a breath.

“I’ll buy you some more.” Was the only warning you got before his hands went to your underwear and ripped them off for quick access, too impatient to wait a couple more seconds for you to remove them yourself.

Before you could even react, the pads of his fingers came forward and dipped into the slick that had accumulated between your lips, using that to roll upwards to your clit and roll it between his middle and index finger.  “God, you’re this wet already just from kissing me?” You didn’t know if his tone was teasing, praising, or a mix of both but either way you shuddered at the way he knew how to work your body so well already.

“It’s because I’ve been waiting for this so long.” You managed to get out in between broken breaths and moans. 

You put your hands on his shoulders for support and watched as he lined his tip up with your entrance, sliding into you with ease from how prepared you were already. You bit down on your lips so hard that it nearly drew blood, he was so girthy that there was a slight sting with the stretch when he thrusted up into you, but it was the kind that felt so good to the point where tears brimmed your eyes. 

Gojo’s fingers stayed on your clit as he thrusted up into you, concentrated breaths leaving his lips as he focused on not cumming too fast. You felt that good wrapped around his cock, he knew it would be worth it in the end. Just thrusting up into you at an angle was enough for the two of you already, but you decided to take it up a notch by resuming to the hip movements you were doing earlier, the only difference being that he was inside of you now. 

Whimpers and moans filled the atmosphere of the car to the point where the music was drowned out completely and you were sure the car was rocking back and forth from how rough the two of you were going.

“So fucking tight,” the white haired man let out through gritted teeth, head lolling back at the way your soft walls squeezed around him, “You gonna cum already? Cum all over this cock like it's yours.” He edged you on, hand flying through the air and landing on your ass. Hard enough to leave a temporary imprint that was visible even on your mocha colored skin.

Incoherent mumbles were the only thing you could form, losing your train of the thought the quicker your orgasm snuck up to you. Your abdomen felt warm and filled to the brim with pleasure as you picked up the pace of riding Gojo, your face flushed a soft red color. It wasn’t long at all until your cum left a creamy coating at the base of his cock. Him following suit and orgasming soon after you did.

“You’re fucking amazing.” You panted out, collapsing against his broad chest and allowing his arms to engulf your whole torso along with your arms. You both needed a few minutes to collect yourselves, not caring about the mess cum had made on both of your thighs. 

“I don’t think I could even put into words how amazing that was.” He fixes a curl thats stuck to the sweat that's formed against your forehead,  putting it back into its wild place. He leans in and places a kiss to your lips afterwards, a tenderness that you had never really experienced from him before.

“I can get used to this.”

The two of you got closer than you could’ve ever imagined after that night. You were practically living with each other now, Gojo having designated areas in your apartment and vice versa. Your everyday lives revolved around each other. Though the world boyfriend or girlfriend had yet to be muttered by either of you, you always felt there was no need for that. Your bond was labelless and that was okay with you, because how could you label something was one thing when it was a mix of all of them? 

He understood you better than anyone else did and you understood him like the back of your hand. At least you thought you did.

You thought you were the center of his world like he was for you, but obviously you weren’t and it wasn’t until your phone vibrated with several messages from Mei Mei that you realized that.

Mei Mei 💜: 7 attachments

Mei Mei 💜: I’m so sorry, y/n

Mei Mei 💜: I’m here for you if you need me 

You hadn’t even clicked on the messages yet, but still the pits of your stomach brewed up a nauseating feeling. You could just feel the bad vibes omitting from what you were about to bear witness to and even though you had a feeling of what this could possibly be, your head did it best to push Gojo from being the one to bring this feeling on you.

Not your beloved, he was all you had. The closest thing to a real relationship you had in years. He was precious to you, please it couldn’t be him. Yet no matter how hard you silently prayed in your head, the moment you clicked on Mei Mei’s iMessage contact you were met with the sight of your Gojo posted up with another woman, a video of the two of them caressing each other with a passion he once had for you. 

Your mouth started salivating rapidly, you felt like throwing up, but you forced it back down. One thing you couldn’t force back down though were your tears. You didn’t even notice them brimming in your eyes while watching the video, but the moment you felt the salty duct on your cheek they all started falling like the pounding rain outside. Howls ripping from your throat that burned like hellfire and in that moment you were thankful for the lack of Gojo’s presence. The last thing you needed was for him to see you like this and know that he had been successful in hurting you. And you haven’t even gone through all the other evidence yet, but truth be told you didn’t want to.

Gojo the ladies man, the playboy, had essentially played you even after the numerous times you defended his name behind closed doors in the locker room with your peers. 

How could he? How could he go and do something as terrible as this after promising he would never hurt you while you laid in his arms at night? How could he betray you like this after everything? After all the dates, gifts, long talks in the front seat of his tesla that you even started driving like it was your own, etc.

Did you just not see the signs? Were you so lovestruck and oblivious that you were ignorant to his ways? The only thing that could come to mind was how distant he had become with you lately and like a dummy you believed him when he blamed that on the stress of work. 

Work doesn’t make you not want to put your hand on the back of your partner’s back while passing them in the kitchen, work doesn’t make that gleam in your eyes go away, and it sure as hell doesn’t make you hardly want to touch them anymore. God, maybe if you really paid attention to these signs you wouldn’t be as hurt as you were right now. You could’ve fixed things or broke it off more peacefully, but what did you do to deserve this in the first place?

You always trusted him and now you know it was stupid to do so.

It was the sound of the rain and wind hitting the window that brought you back to your senses, your howling turning into muffled sobs and eventually it died down altogether to silent tears streaming down your features, the same features he had worshipped time and time again now stained with tears that he brought upon you.

Your eyes shifted to the clock above your stove from your position on the kitchen table, 4:08 it read. 22 more minutes until Gojo was supposed to return home from work, but you didn’t even know if that was where he was truly at. He could’ve been lying to you about that too.

22 minutes gave you enough time for the puffiness and redness to be removed from your face and dry your tears so that by the time the front door was creaking open and lanky limbs were stepping through it your features were now cold. There was no sign of crying, but there was no sign of life either. Yours had just been shattered.

“What are you doing just sitting here? You scared me!” There was an amused smile upon his lips as he made his way closer to you, but it fell once he saw the expression, really lack of expression, that you had on your face. It was uncharacteristic for you and you scoffed at the thought of him at least knowing that much.

“Y/n? Hey, what’s up?”

You bit your lips to hold back sobs as you built up the courage to look him in his face. Those baby blues that you had studied for hours and loved ever since he first revealed them to you, now becoming something you would grow to hate.

“Is it me? Was I not doing enough? You know we could’ve talked it out if you were feeling some type of way, Gojo. I would’ve sat down and listened to you, you could’ve told me you weren’t happy!” 

His face contorted into that of confusion and hurt at not only the way you spat his name out, but where all of this was coming from. 

“What are you—” 

“You hardly touch me anymore,” You purposefully rudely interrupt hi,. “You don’t kiss me, you don’t do any of the little things you used to do anymore. I should’ve seen this coming, I really should’ve, but I was so fucking stupid and trusted you instead.”

“Y/n.” He states more firmly than before, stooping down to your level so you two were eye to eye. “What is this about? What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about,” You bite back, resentment now overtaking your sadness, “Don’t act like you haven’t been cheating on me, treating me like trash!”

You watch him collapse on the side like a house of cards. His eyes darken a little, his shoulders cave in and his head drops slightly. He was caught and hw knew it. You didn’t even have to show the proof that you had to know that it was one hundred percent true, you can’t help but let the tears fall at this point. 

“We’re not even official yet, y/n, come on. Don’t be like this.” Ouch, that definitely hurt like a dagger had been viciously stabbed through your heart. Maybe it wasn’t what he meant to say in a moment of panicked emotions, but the fact that it was even a thought or left his lips was enough to hurt.

“Not official? Are you fucking serious? It’s been nearly 7 months that we’ve known each other and you’re telling me we’re not official?” This is exactly what you get for putting your all and barely having the same reciprocated.

“What happened to the Gojo I met at the club that night? The gojo that took me to my first luxury restaurant? The Gojo that held me close one morning until you woke up completely because you were scared that I was going to leave? I miss him, not whoever this is.” You motion with your hand, arms crossing over your chest afterwards. 

You can tell it hit a nerve because all of a sudden that sullen demeanor he wore was lifted and maybe if you ever saw him made before you’d recognize it in a heartbeat, but you couldn’t. 

“Oh what, like you could be tied down to me and only me? Like you’re not in the line of work that you’re in?” That was the lowest blow he had ever delivered to you and the one that hurt the most. You almost couldn’t believe that he was indeed the one speaking to you like this right now, it couldn’t be your Gojo in front of you right now.

“I think it says more about your character that I stayed faithful and you didn’t, if anything. Even though my line of work doesn’t have shit to do with this, you’re just an asshole!” And with that you rose up from your seat at the table, grabbing your keys and heading out the front door, but a hand behind you pushing it closed put a halt to your plans.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, fuck! Let’s just talk this out, please y/n.” His pleas fell on deaf ears, you didn’t even turn back around to look him in his eyes. Because you know if you did then you probably would’ve talked it out with him, but you had to be strong and resilient. 

“Goodbye, Gojo.” You huffed out, pushing his arm away and disappearing out the front door. 

No longer could you look at the view of him you had distorted in your mind and ignore the proof that was in the pudding you refused to eat. 

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part IV

Summary: The Halloween parade. Will and JJ are adorable. Anita suggests that Spencer become a classroom volunteer. Reader has a rough week.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a smidge of angst

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: I wish we’d seen more of Will and JJ as parents because I imagine it would be adorable and hilarious. Let’s see if you can guess all of their costumes before the reveal lmao. Your only clue is that Spencer loves keeping with a theme and the brown vest (I literally learned how to make my own shitty gif bc I couldn’t find the right one in the search and I do not understand embedding lmao) makes an appearance.

Series Masterlist

———

“Did you grab the bags?” JJ swept the pleated, platinum braid out of her face as she bent over to zip up her boots.

“No, I thought you did,” Will called, bouncing down the stairs.

“I put them in the car already,” Spencer informed them, popping his head back in the front door. “There was just the one box, right?”

“Yeah, that was it,” Will confirmed. “Shit— where’s Michael’s sword?”

“Should be on the counter,” JJ huffed, standing up and adjusting the bodice of the blue dress.

“Got it.” Will came around the corner of the kitchen, patting his hips where his pockets would be— if he weren’t wearing an adult-sized onesie. “Keys?” Spencer held them up. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”

The trio headed to the waiting SUV, Spencer climbing into the backseat as Will and JJ got into the front. Will and JJ chattered on about dinner plans and schedules for the following week, and Spencer smoothed down the brown wool vest layered over his white linen shirt. He’d spent entirely too long putting together the costume over the last week (with a little help from Penelope). He’d scrapped the Spock getup he’d been working on since September— he could always wear that next year. But he’d only get one chance to attend the Room 105 Halloween parade, and once the idea had wormed its way into his brain, he had to make it happen.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be able to pick Michael up on Monday?”

He ran his hands down his thighs over the mint green cropped trousers. “Sure, as long as we don’t have a case.”

Will smirked at him in the rear view mirror. “How’s Ms. Y/L/N?”

“You’re about to see her yourself, so you can ask,” Spencer replied.

Will laughed, and JJ turned in her seat. “Whoa, coming in hot with the snark. You really do like her.”

Spencer fought and failed to keep the blush from rising, irritation at being teased blooming sharp inside his chest. He tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. “She’s a great teacher.”

“That’s not a no,” JJ noted, eyebrows raised.

“She’s Michael’s teacher,” Spencer said, like it meant something.

“Yeah, so?” Will shrugged his shoulders. “You’re his godfather. Technically, you’re not related, so it wouldn’t be breakin’ any rules.”

“Well, it’s not like that, so it doesn’t really matter,” Spencer insisted.

Will hummed and JJ turned back around in her seat. Spencer drummed his fingers on his knees and watched DC roll past through the SUV window. It really wasn’t like that. Y/N was just… very nice. A nice, beautiful, sweet, silly kindergarten teacher that he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how many books he read or coffees he drank or chess games he played.

Monday was the last day of his sabbatical, and he was even more relieved to be headed back than usual— grateful that he’d have something to occupy his mind other than her. Because his mind was, indeed, occupied. The way her smile beamed like the spotlight on a stage, illuminating whoever happened to be on the receiving end. The way her hands moved in unbound, buoyant illustrations of her thoughts. The way her laugh felt like the first warm sip of tea or the wrap of his favorite scarf. It was getting out of hand, to say the least.

Will pulled into the parking lot, and instantly Spencer’s palms began to sweat. He glanced at the headband on the seat beside him and felt the mortification clawing at his insides. The costume was ridiculous; he was ridiculous. He should have just worn the Spock outfit.

Maybe he could just wait in the car and pretend like he hadn’t been able to make it. Or he could just leave the headband in the car. But then he’d just be in mint green capris with a sweater vest and platform sandals, and she’d have absolutely no idea who he was supposed to be. Then he’d have to explain it, and it would be even worse.

Will parked the car, and he and JJ immediately stepped out. Spencer watched them near the hood of the SUV, enjoying a rare moment of co-parenting without work hovering right out of frame. Will pulled the hood of the onesie up and JJ laughed, brushing her hand over the brown fabric twigs sticking out of the top. He supposed that if Will Lamontagne, Jr. could strut his stuff in adult footie pajamas, his handmade costume was probably all right.

With one last resigned sigh, Spencer slid the headband on. He grabbed the box of Halloween treats, opened the door, and hauled himself out of the vehicle. He pushed the door closed and looked in the reflection of the window, adjusting the headband around his curls and blowing out a breath.

“Ready?” JJ called, peering around the side of the SUV.

“Yeah—yeah,” Spencer agreed. He moved around the vehicle to join them, the three of them walking to find a spot in the crowd of parents standing around the carpool loop.

When they found a suitable spot, Will looked up at him and shook his head. The sandals added three extra inches to Spencer’s height, putting him a good six inches taller than Will. “Those shoes make you look like an actual giant,” Will chuckled. “I know that’s the point, but I feel like even more of a shrimp next to ya now.”

Spencer set the box of candy bags on the ground and would have shoved his hands into his pockets if the linen trousers had any. Before he could respond, JJ pointed to the door of the school, cooing, “Oh my god, look. Remember when the boys were that small?”

The PreK classes came out first, and Spencer could acknowledge that they were very cute, barely out of the toddler stage and holding hands with a line buddy. But he was waiting on a very specific cutie.

He’d barely had the thought when the kindergarten classes started to emerge from the door. He almost didn’t recognize her at first— just an orange blob and green shrubbery. But the converse gave her away.

“How is she so cute?” JJ threaded her arm through Will’s. “Even when she’s dressed as a giant orange blob.”

“It’s a gift,” Will agreed. He glanced up at Spencer. “Right, doc?”

Spencer nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Y/N. “I think so, yeah.” Will grinned and bumped JJ’s shoulder, but Spencer barely even registered his own response.

Thankfully they’d picked a spot near the very end of the loop, so he had plenty of time to get himself together before she was in front of him. While Will and JJ waved at all the tiny superheroes and princesses, he watched Y/N. She was all orange fabric from her shoulders to her knees, with bright orange Chucks to match. On her head was a strange variation on a party hat, bright green ferns sprouting from the tip of the cone and falling into her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous and entirely adorable, and he was in so much trouble.

When the class finally approached the final curve of the loop, Will nudged Spencer and gestured to the box of goodie bags. Spencer crouched down and lifted the box, standing back up to see Y/N laughing at Will and JJ. “Very cute, Lamontagne Family.”

Her gaze traveled across, then up, and then her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Spencer wondered if maybe the earth could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh my god, are you—?” She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over the vest, and he didn’t dare breathe. “Are you the BFG?!” Her hand dropped from his torso, and he didn’t have time to be disappointed before her face split into quite possibly the biggest smile he’d seen from her yet.

A tiny Superman shouted, “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re making a gap!”

Y/N came back to herself, gesturing to all three of them. “Don’t go anywhere.” She accepted the offered box of treats from Spencer and then turned to help her class catch up.

Will gave him a look. “It’s not like that, huh?”

“Oh my god, she likes you.” JJ clapped her hands together. “This is amazing.”

“I’m takin’ credit for this,” Will bragged. “I’m a regular ol’ matchmaker.”

Spencer couldn’t even be bothered to attempt a denial. He was still thinking about the feel of her palm on his chest, how it might feel to hold her hand, the way her eyes practically sparkled when she saw his ridiculous headband. He was in so much trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, the classes filed back out into the parking lot for dismissal. Y/N led the class down the sidewalk, grinning at the excitement coursing through her line. As they approached the end of the loop, Y/N caught sight of them and waved. The kids lined up in their normal spot, chatting excitedly about their costumes and candy bags.

“Lord, Ms. Y/L/N, you’re something else,” Will laughed.

“Is it not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen?” She laughed and tapped the green shrubbery hanging in her face. “I have the kids do a little persuasive writing thing every year. They draw a picture and write a sentence about what they think Ms. Y/L/N should be for Halloween, and then we take a vote.”

She waved her hands in that way Spencer loved, the way that was so similar to his own. “Usually the options are pretty tame, you know—ghost, witch, bumblebee. This year was a near tie between runner-up Jojo Siwa and well,” she gestured at herself, “carrot.” Y/N cackled, and the leaves on top of her head shook with the action.

They all laughed along with her, and then JJ added, “The details are truly incredible. Is this an actual plant on your head?”

“I really thought about it,” Y/N laughed, “but no, it’s just fake ferns stuffed into a cardstock funnel.” She gestured at Will and JJ. “But also, excuse me— this family costume is ridiculously cute. Mr. Lamontagne, loving this onesie. Mrs. Jareau, I didn’t even know it was possible to look prettier than you usually do, but here you are. And Michael’s Anna costume?” She held her hands up. “Incredible. Show stopping. I wish I had an aunt Penelope to enlist the help of, because that cape is the actual height of fashion.”

“She helped Spence, too,” JJ prompted, stealing a glance in his direction.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N asked, turning to smile at Spencer.

“We um, 3D printed the ears,” he clarified.

“No way!” She took a step closer to him, peering up at the detail on the headband. He leaned down a little for her to get a closer look. “That is so cool. I’ve never actually seen anything 3D printed up close before— did you design them yourself?”

She met his eyes briefly, and he realized how close they were— close enough that he caught the faintest whiff of sandalwood and cardamom. Of course she even smelled like warmth and home. “Well. I, um— I drew a sort of sketch, I guess. And then Penelope did the software coding. I— I’m not very good with technology, honestly.”

She ran her fingers lightly over the plastic, and he decided she was really trying to kill him. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really understand how it works.”

“Well, first you create a blueprint file of the design you want to print, which you can do through modeling software or three-dimensional scanning. Then you convert the file into an STL file— named for Stereolithography which was the first ever 3D printing process. The STL file is made up of triangular mesh polygons, which is the data that describes the surface of a three-dimensional object. After that, you use a software program to complete the process of slicing— essentially dividing or chopping the 3D model into hundreds or thousands of horizontal layers that the printer can print one at a time to create the 3D object. And then the printer prints each layer until you have your finished product.”

Y/N was quiet, and he pulled back to see her grinning at him. “I thought you said you weren’t very good with technology?”

“I’m not good with using technology,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Gotcha. So you just know everything about it.”

Her joking tone had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I read a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“I can read at a rate of 20,000 words per minute, so… a lot.”

Her eyebrows shot up into the tangle of ferns on her head, and he was just so overwhelmed by how adorable she was. “Well, if I ever have a question about anything, I know who I’m coming to.”

He was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “I’m happy to answer any and all of your questions.”

She let her gaze travel over the rest of the costume. “Oh my god, the sandals! Man, you really nailed it. I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I thought about being Trunchbull, but I couldn’t find the sweatshirt,” he joked.

She laughed, and he wanted to bottle it up to keep forever. “As much as I would have loved to see your hair in a bun… you’re much too sweet to have been able to pull that off.” She smiled softly at him. “Much more suited to our friend the BFG.”

He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, and it was only then that he realized Will and JJ had gone to the car. He looked back to Y/N, opening his mouth but unsure of what he was going to say.

“Y/L/N!” He turned his head to see Anita jogging toward them. “Did you—” The giant cardboard box she was wearing knocked into one of the few kindergarteners left in Y/N’s line, nearly sending them to the ground. “Oh my gosh, sorry sweetheart!” She righted the startled child, and Spencer gave her a once over, completely at a loss as to what her costume could be.

“What in the world are you supposed to be?” Y/N asked, choking out a laugh.

Anita looked at her deadpan. “A monopoly piece. Remind me that I’m never participating in team costumes ever again.” She rolled her eyes and gestured at Y/N. “Next year I’m gonna wear an orange t-shirt, call myself a carrot, and be much more comfortable.”

“I’ll have you know this costume was a lot of work,” Y/N remarked, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure it was. You could have put on an orange dress, stuck a green pipe cleaner in your hair, and called it a day, but that’s not the Y/L/N way.” Anita’s eyes slid across to where Spencer stood. “Well, hello, doctor. I have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to be, but I love everything about it.”

“Spencer’s the BFG,” Y/N said, and Spencer could have sworn she sounded almost proud.

“Ah, Roald Dahl, of course.” Anita smirked. “I see you, Spencer. I see you.” She put her hands on her hips— or rather where her hips would have been if they weren’t covered by a ridiculously large box. “So, when are you going to volunteer?”

“Sorry?” he asked.

“Like, when are you going to volunteer in Y/L/N’s classroom?” She held up her hand, palm down, and made a circular motion between the two of them. “You know, hang out, but professionally.”

“Oh my god, did you need something?” Y/N’s squeaked, eyes wide.

Anita ignored her. “You just have to do a background check, but I’m sure you’ll pass it.”

“Lopez,” Y/N said, staring her down. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I was just going to ask if you got the email about the PD after school on Tuesday. But this was much more fun.” She winked at Spencer. “Bye, Spencer.”

They both stared after her as she nearly skipped across the grass to the building. Y/N turned to him. “I’m— so sorry.”

He met her eyes and took the leap. “Volunteering could be fun.”

He watched her press her lips together to contain her smile. “It could be.”

He didn’t bother containing his own. “I’ll um— I’ll shoot you an email.”

“I’ll respond to your email.”

…

When he walked in the door, Spencer made a beeline for his desk. He opened his laptop and pulled up his email account, writing as fast as his one-finger typing would allow.

Spencer Reid Re: Volunteering

Hi!

I’m just following up about volunteering. Anita mentioned a form that I needed to fill out? Now that I’ll be back to work, I’ll just need to plan around the BAU schedule. Could you give me a list of days that would work for you?

Really looking forward to seeing you in action.

Spencer

He checked his two other email messages, and then left the browser up while he thumbed through his most recent reading material.

He sat at his desk for the remainder of the afternoon, distractedly perusing his book and glancing at his empty inbox every minute or so. His gaze flew up to the screen at the ding of a new message at 6:30, only to find a promotional email from one of his favorite indie bookstores.

He closed his laptop with a sigh. It was a Friday night. Y/N probably just didn’t check her email on the weekend. He could wait until Monday. He’d see her on Monday.

He limited himself to checking his laptop twice a day on Saturday and Sunday. When Monday rolled around, he checked it in the morning. He leaned back against the leather of his chair, staring at the empty inbox. He had some errands to run, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had a phone that had email on it.

He ran his last-day-of-sabbatical errands and stopped in at his favorite coffee shop for most likely the last midday, sit-down coffee he’d have for a while. Before he realized, it was 2:30. He brought his empty mug to the counter and waved to the barista. Then he walked to the car and prepped his conversation starters.

“Did you get my email? I sent you an email, just wondering if you saw it? Hey— Hello— Hi, I wasn’t sure if you got my email.” He blew out a breath. “Hi. How are you?” He waved his hand. “I’m great. Did you get my email?” He laughed into the empty car. “Ridiculous, Spencer. You’re ridiculous.”

When he pulled into the parking lot, his heart was racing and his palms were slipping against the steering wheel. He pulled around the loop, looking with a furrowed brow at the area where Y/N should be. In her place was a short woman with cropped grey hair. She held a clipboard and looked generally overwhelmed.

Michael sprinted to the car as soon as he saw it. He pulled open the door and let out a world weary sigh. Spencer turned in his seat. “Everything all right?”

“No, everything is terrible,” he huffed dramatically. “Ms. Y/L/N was sick today. Mrs. Franklin was our substitute, and she smells weird.”

Spencer looked through the window at Mrs. Franklin, struggling to keep a few rowdy boys in the line. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sure Ms. Y/L/N will be back soon.” He was secretly relieved that he had a potential explanation for the unanswered email.

“I can’t take another day of Mrs. Franklin,” Michael sighed, buckling his seatbelt. “I hope Ms. Y/L/N’s back tomorrow.”

Spencer let out a breath and pulled away from the curb. “Me, too.”

…

JJ huffed out a breath, glaring at the stack of paperwork in front of her. Spencer was nose deep in a book, but he glanced up at the sound. “I can take a few of those if you want,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’ve really only got six left.”

He looked at his watch. “Each report takes you approximately 37 minutes. With eight minute breaks in between, you’re not going to be out of here until almost 6:00.”

JJ laughed. “I can’t believe I missed out on these scathing performance reviews for thirty days.”

“Suit yourself.” Spencer dropped his gaze back to his reading.

His first week back from sabbatical had been uneventful to say the least. The team had just wrapped a local case, and they’d spent the better part of the week going over consultations and potentials. It was finally Friday, and Spencer was finished with his stack of backlogged reports.

He was finishing the last chapter of the book when JJ dropped a string of quiet curses. He continued reading, waiting for her to ask. She was quiet for another minute.

“I forgot I’m on duty to pick Michael up today.” Spencer looked up at her, slight panic coming over him.

“I really don’t mind finishing your reports,” he offered.

JJ raised her eyebrows. “What, no offering to visit Ms. Y/L/N?”

Spencer closed his book. “I, um. I sent her an email a week ago, and she hasn’t responded.”

“So?”

“So…” Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “That’s weird, right?”

JJ laughed. “You don’t really use email, so I’d imagine your inbox is pretty orderly. But if you use it a lot, it can be easy for messages to get lost.” She looked at him pointedly. “I can almost guarantee that she’s not ignoring you, Spence.”

He sighed. “I guess there’s a quick way to find out.”

...

Spencer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the door of the school. He glanced at the clock, noting the class was later than they’d ever been. Without really understanding why, he pulled out of the loop and swung back around to park in the lot. He exited the car, and as he rounded the hood, he spotted them.

Y/N was at the front of the line, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and mouth pressed into a thin line. The line behind her was unlike he’d ever seen it. No waving arms, no smiles, no giggles. Twenty small bodies followed behind her with absolute and total solemnity, and he felt uncomfortable just watching them. It would have almost been funny if it wasn’t so dramatically out of character.

The line weaved around the more rambunctious classes, maintaining their grave expressions and quiet pace. They reached their spot on the sidewalk, and Y/N didn’t even have to say anything. Spencer watched as the line took their spots behind her. She held one hand up to acknowledge parents as they pulled up, murmuring stoic goodbyes to students as they headed to their vehicles.

He hung back at the hood of the car until the majority of the class was gone, slowly making his way across the parking lot. Y/N’s line of sight was pointed in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused in the afternoon sun. He could see the moment that she registered his presence, her eyes widening slightly and bottom lip releasing from the place she’d been absentmindedly chewing. She shifted her weight as he closed the final few feet between them.

“Hi.” She held a silent hand up in greeting. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Rough day?”

“It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, despite what everyone thinks,” she snapped. She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes up to the perfectly blue sky, mocking her mood. “I’m sorry. Yes, it was a rough day.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“You don’t deserve my wrath.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the students. “They didn’t either, but— too late for that.”

He watched as she lowered her head back down, rubbing a hand over her face. He desperately wanted to slay whatever dragons had given her normally brilliant eyes such a grey cast. “You have strong relationships with them, and kids are resilient. I’m sure they know you—”

“Please— don’t.” Her voice was thick, and she looked at him with desperate eyes. “I— I appreciate the thought, but I’m— I’m a frustrated crier.” Her shining irises proved her point. “And I’m just— I’m really just trying to keep it together for the last four minutes of my contract time.” Her words were practically a whisper, and she swallowed thickly and glanced down the line, just Michael and one classmate left, eyes downcast.

“I understand.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out and touching her. “I’m sorry. I— I hope your weekend is better than today.”

Michael slowly left the line, murmuring a quiet goodbye to Y/N. Spencer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the car, stealing one last glance at a crushed Y/N.

...

Y/N Y/L/N

Re: Re: Volunteering

Hi,

I meant to respond to this email, and then a bunch of things happened, and then I was out all week.

I don’t know if you even still want to volunteer after this afternoon, but it felt rude to not respond at all.

I’ve attached the background check form to this email in case you’re still interested.

Y/N

1 Attachment: Background Check

—

Hi,

I meant what I said this afternoon. Your students love you, and they know you love them. If my conversation with Michael in the car was any indication, they’re feeling rightfully embarrassed and guilty about their behavior while you were out.

Regardless of what happened today, your relationships with your students are strong enough that they will come to school tomorrow knowing that you still care about them. Children don’t hold onto things nearly as much as adults.

It would be a privilege to volunteer in your classroom, even on the worst day.

Spencer

1 Attachment: Background Check - Spencer Reid

—

If I wasn’t already crying, I would be now.

Thanks for that.

No sarcasm intended. Really. Thank you.

—

This might be inappropriate, and if it is, please just pretend like this email doesn’t exist.

I have a favorite cafe in the DuPont circle area, Soho Tea & Coffee. They have an excellent tea drink made with honey and milk that I like to order whenever I’ve had a particularly difficult day.

If you’re up for it, it’s on me.

———

Tags: @spacedikut​ @uhuhuh​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @90spumkin​ @blameitonthenight21​ @magenta145​ @annesauriol​ @watermelongubler​ @ampal98​ @rainsong01​ @meowiemari​ @mrsmyaweasley​ @mggsprettygirl​​ @ceeellewrites​ @coffeeandendlesswords​ @daybabyx​ @joalsglasses​ @chevyimpala00067​ @misshale21​ @sapphic-prentiss @danifaithkae​ @saspencereid @heyitssomegirl101

Permanent tags: @andiebeaword​ @averyhotchner​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @shadyladyperfection​ @coffeeandendlesswords​ @justanothetfangirl​ @no-honey-no​ @ajeff855

[animepopheart]

Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but  which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

[q-gorgeous]

Falling Out

fanfiction

ao3

Sam and Paulina are assigned as partners for a school project.

word count: 2581

for @phandom-phriend

heyo bro

“I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Sam stared at Paulina, who was standing in the middle of the hallway twirling her hair between her fingers. 

“You don’t get what the big deal is? Your boyfriend literally just beat someone up!”

Paulina scoffs. “He’s not my boyfriend! And that kid was a loser anyway. His family is just a bunch of freaks.”

Sam looked at Danny who was still laying on the floor, his breath wheezing from when it was knocked out of him. “He’s not a loser.” Sam mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Paulina looked over her nails.

“He’s not a loser!” Sam stomped up to Paulina, her face inches from the other girl’s. “He’s really nice and actually likes hearing about things I want to talk about! Unlike you.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Paulina turned her nose up into the air. “That’s because all you like is that spooky ooky goth stuff. No one wants to listen to you talk about ghosts and spiders and witches.”

“He does.”

“That’s because he’s a loser.” Paulina poked a finger into Sam’s chest. “Why don’t you just drop him and this freaky goth phase and come hang out with your real friends.”

“You are not my friend.”

Paulina froze. “What?”

“I don’t know what bug crawled it’s way up your ass Paulina, but if this is how you’re going to treat people now I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

She watched as Sam walked away from her and helped Danny off the ground. Sam whispered a few things to him and he nodded. They began to limp their way to the nurses office. 

Paulina clenched her fists together and her throat tightened. That’s fine. She didn’t need Sam. She had plenty of other friends. What did one falling out matter? She turned around and stomped her way in the opposite direction towards the cafeteria.

She didn’t need Sam Manson. 

QQQQQ

“But Mr. Lancer!” Paulina whined, her hands resting on the top of her desk as she stood up in protest. 

“I’m sorry Ms. Sanchez, but you and Ms. Manson will be partners for this project.”

Sam raised her hand. “I’d rather do my project on my own than work with her.”

Lancer pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two are partners for this project, end of discussion.”

“But-” Both girls chorused. 

“That’s enough! Ms. Sanchez, take your seat.”

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms as she sat down. Why did Lancer have to assign her and Sam to work together? Hasn’t he figured out that they hate each other yet?

Her gaze flicked over to where Sam was sitting. She was angrily scratching something into her notebook. She paused and her eyes met Paulina’s. They stared at each other for a moment before Paulina sneered in her direction and looked away. 

Paulina sat angrily stewing in her seat until the bell rang. She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, heading out of the classroom at a brisk pace. She was putting the combination into her locker and had just gotten it open when Sam walked up and pushed it closed. 

“What do you want, Manson?” Paulina snapped. 

Sam rolled her eyes. “We’re supposed to work on that project together, remember? When are we going to meet for it?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you just do it on your own and write my name on it.” Paulina twisted the dial on her locker again. 

“Nu uh. If we’re forced to be partners you’re gonna help with it.”

Paulina groaned and opened her locker again. “I guess we can start working on it today after school.”

“Great. I’ll meet you at your house when school is over then.”

“What?” Paulina squawked and turned towards Sam. “Why my house?”

“I don’t want my parents thinking we’re friends again.”

Paulina just stared at her but frowned when Sam pushed the locker closed again and started walking away. She clenched her fists. As if they would ever be friends again. 

The rest of the day passed by both too quick and slow at the same time. She dreaded having Sam come over and having to talk to her so much that even though the day dragged on and on, when she was at home and a knock sounded on the door it felt like she had just been standing at her locker. 

Paulina opened the front door, a bored look on her face when her eyes met Sam’s. They stood there for a moment before Paulina waved her in. Sam stepped in, looking around and Paulina closed the door behind her. 

“So what is this project we’re supposed to be doing anyways?” Paulina led the way to the kitchen where her backpack sat on the table.

Sam sighed. “You weren’t even paying attention when he went over it?”

“I was too busy being angry at Lancer.”

Rolling her eyes, Sam set her backpack on the table and pulled some papers out. “He wants us to find a screenplay to go over. We have to read it and analyze it like we would for a book in class but he wants us to perform part of it in class.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know Paulina!” Sam threw her hands up in the air. “Why do they make us do anything? Now pick one from this list.” She threw a piece of paper at Paulina. “This is a list of plays I thought we would both be interested in.”

Paulina stared at Sam, stunned that she’d even consider Paulina’s interests when they clearly hated each other. Slowly, she looked down at the paper, her eyes scanning over the list. One popped out to her.

“Isn’t this one a musical? Does that count?”

Sam peered around at the paper. “I would think so. They’re basically plays, just with songs. I can’t see why it wouldn’t count.”

“Hm.” Paulina pursed her lips. “If we do this one are we gonna perform a song or a different part of the musical?” She looked over at Sam. She had a dangerous, determined look on her face.

“Only if we want to blow everyone else out of the water.”

Paulina stared for a few seconds, her cheeks heating up. Then she coughed and looked back at the paper.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do that one.”

QQQQQ

“Why are they all named Heather anyways?”

Sam shrugged as Paulina squinted at her copy of the script. 

They sat in the middle of the stage in the empty auditorium. The rest of their class was in the library, but Mr. Lancer had given them permission to go over their own project in the auditorium. 

“What I wanna know is why there’s always so much drama in musicals set in high schools.” Sam wrinkled her nose. “Like I know we have the A-Listers and everything but this in here is so excessive.”

“What, you don’t like drama?” Paulina rested her chin on her hand, shooting Sam a smile.

“I don’t like high schoolers killing other high schoolers.”

Paulina’s smile fell. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked down and away. She took a deep breath and stood up with her script in her hand. “Anyways. Let’s figure out which part we want to perform for the class.”

Paulina took a look at the list of songs they had. “What about Seventeen or Shine a Light? I listened to those a couple times and they both have different tones but they seem like they’d be fun to sing.”

Sam nodded. “And there’s not much about sex in either of those. That’s another thing, why do musicals about high schoolers talk so much about sex?” She faked a gag. “I think those are good choices because some of those songs would be so embarrassing to perform in front of the class.”

Paulina frowned. “If this one has stuff in it that makes you uncomfortable why’d you include it on the list?”

Sam shrugged. “I figured it’d make Lancer squirm. He didn’t actually give any specifications on what we could pick anyways. Now let’s get started. Which part do you want?”

“Oh oh! Can I have the lead part? That is, if you didn’t want it?” Paulina started standing up from where she sat on the floor.

Sam shook her head. “You can have it if you want. Want to practice Seventeen first?”

“Sure.”

The music started playing after Sam hit a button on her phone and it filled up the room.

Paulina took a deep breath. 

“Fine, we're damaged

Really damaged.

But that does not make us wise.

We're not special.

We're not different.

We don't choose who lives or dies.”

Paulina looked up at Sam as she sung the lyrics.

“Let’s be normal. See bad movies

Sneak a beer and watch TV.

We'll bake brownies, 

or go bowling --

Don't you want a life with me?

Can't we be seventeen?

That's all I want to do

If you could let me in.

I could be good with you.”

Paulina’s cheeks flushed but she continued singing.

“People hurt us.”

“Or they vanish…”

Goosebumps traveled over Paulina’s arms as Sam’s voice rang out towards her. 

“And you're right that really blows.

But we let go…”

Sam looked up and met Paulina’s eyes and it felt like Paulina was electrocuted. She pulled her eyes away and looked back down at her paper. They finished up the song and Paulina kept staring at her paper until Sam left out a breathless laugh.

“That was so cool! I’ve never really thought about doing theater or anything because it’s not very, you know, goth. But that was exhilarating!” 

Paulina watched as Sam laughed and smiled. She could feel herself falling in and laughed herself. 

QQQQQ

Paulina and Sam laughed as they walked out of the school together. Their project was due in two days and they were heading to Sam’s house to practice their song a bit more. 

“I can’t wait to see Lancer’s face when we discuss what the musical is about. Do you think he’ll-”

BOOM! 

Sam got cut off as something exploded ahead of them, sending both girls sprawling to the ground. 

Looking behind them from where she was on the ground, Paulina saw a giant animalistic ghost. It looked somewhere between a cross of a snake and a cat and it looked like it was about to shoot another blast off from it’s fangs. 

Just as the blast was launched towards Paulina, something crashed into the side of the ghost's head, sending the shot soaring into the sky instead. 

“Run! Get out of here!” Phantom shouted as he shot back at the ghost.

She stood up shakily but didn’t run away. She looked around the front of the school for Sam, where she saw the other girl in the middle of the sidewalk holding a...lipstick? With a determined look on her face. 

What was she planning to do with a tube of lipstick?

Paulina had begun inching her way over to Sam when a green blast came out of the lipstick she was holding onto. It shot into the ghost a couple of times, distracting it from Phantom’s attacks for a moment. 

It bared its teeth at Sam but Phantom punched it in the side of the head. Snarling, it batted Phantom away, sending it flying across the parking lot and it faced back towards Sam. 

Paulina felt like everything was happening in slow motion. When the ghost bared its teeth again, when another ball of ectoplasm started dripping from its fangs, when Paulina ran desperately across the parking lot and barreled Sam out of the way and onto the ground just before the blast created a crater in the ground where she stood a moment before. The ghost started snarling at them again.

“Hey ugly!” 

Phantom viciously threw another ectoblast at the ghost, stunning it before finally pulling it into his thermos. 

Paulina gasped and turned back to where Sam was still laying underneath her. 

“Sam! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m-” Sam paused, frowning and her face flushing before she spoke again, looking over Paulina’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“What?” 

Sam groaned. “That dip is making faces over there.”

Paulina turned around to see Phantom making kissy faces at them. She raised an eyebrow at him and he paused to give her a grin.

“Okay well, my job is done. Have fun you two!”

And he jumped into the air and flew away. 

“Seriously though.” Paulina crawled off of Sam and helped her up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why’d you do that anyways?” Her brows furrowed. “I would’ve been okay. You didn’t have to do anything.”

Paulina gaped at her. “It was about to attack you! It tried! It left a crater in the ground where you were standing! Why wouldn’t I have done anything?”

Sam looked away. “I didn’t think you cared.” She said softly.

Paulina’s stomach plummeted. “I wouldn’t have two weeks ago.” She whispered. “But then we got paired up for this project, and I realized that you’re actually very cool and that I was just really dumb in middle school.”

Sam looked at her. 

“And I think I’ve always sort of missed you. But I decided to never stop being mad so I never figured that out.”

“I guess I did the same thing too.” Sam said. “I could’ve decided to talk to you on my own and talk things out after a while but I just didn’t want to.”

“But it was my fault. I was the one being a terrible person.”

“Are you going to continue being a terrible person though?”

Paulina’s mind went back to the first time Sam’s rage had been bestowed upon her, when one of Paulina’s friends beat up one of Sam’s friends. She didn’t want to be the cause of that again. 

“No.”

“Well.” Sam smiled. “That’s the important part. That you’re capable of change.” She picked up her bag from where she had dropped it during the attack. “Now come on, my mom was gonna make cookies when we got home.”

Paulina smiled back at her and held up her arm to the other girl. Sam looked at it and linked her own arm with Paulina’s. Together they walked away from the school.

QQQQQ

Sam and Paulina’s chests rose up and down as they held their arms up into the air after performing the piece they picked from their musical. The class clapped for them and they lowered their arms and bowed.

“Very nice, Ms. Sanchez and Ms. Manson. Though, I wish you had picked something more appropriate than.” He squinted at the sheet they handed him. “Heathers the musical.”

Sam snickered. “Of course, Mr. Lancer. We’ll try to keep that in mind next time.”

Lancer gave her a look. “Yes, be sure that you do. Alright up next we have-”

Sam and Paulina walked back to their desks and sat down. Paulina shot a look to where Sam was sitting with Danny and Tucker, who were both making kissy faces at her while she swatted at them. Sam’s gaze met hers and Paulina waved at her before blowing a kiss to her across the room.

Sam’s face turned the brightest shade of red Paulina had ever seen it and she opened a folder and stuck her face inside it. Danny and Tucker were both teasing her even more, seemingly losing their mind about it. Paulina giggled at them and turned her focus back to the front of the classroom.

[path-of-my-childhood]

Aaron Dessner on How His Collaborative Chemistry With Taylor Swift Led to “Evermore”

By: Claire Shaffer for Rolling Stone Date: December 18th 2020

Taylor Swift and Aaron Dessner didn’t expect to make another record so soon after Folklore. As they were putting the final touches on Swift’s album this past summer, the two artists had been collaborating remotely on possible songs for Big Red Machine, Dessner’s music project with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver (who also dueted with Swift on the Folklore track “Exile”). Dessner recalls:

“I think I’d written around 30 of those instrumentals in total. So when I started sharing them with Taylor over the months that we were working on Folklore, she got really into it, and she wrote two songs to some of that music.”

One was “Closure,” an experimental electronic track in 5/4 time signature that was built over a staccato drum kit. The other song was “Dorothea,” a rollicking, Americana piano tune. The more Dessner listened to them, the more he realized that they were continuations of Folklore‘s characters and stories. But the real turning point came soon after Folklore‘s surprise release in late July, when Dessner wrote a musical sketch and named it “Westerly,” after the town in Rhode Island where Swift owns the house previously occupied by Rebekah Harkness.

“I didn’t really think she would write something to it — sometimes I’ll name songs after my friends’ hometowns or their babies, just because I write a lot of music and you have to call it something, and then I’ll send it to them. But, anyway, I sent it to her, and not long after she wrote ‘Willow’ to that song and sent it back.”

It was a moment not unlike when Swift first sent him the song “Cardigan” back in the spring, where both she and Dessner felt an instant creative spark — and then just kept writing. Before long, they were creating even more songs with Vernon, Jack Antonoff, Dessner’s brother Bryce, and “William Bowery” (the pseudonym of Swift’s boyfriend Joe Alwyn) for what would eventually lead to Folklore‘s wintry sister record, Evermore.

Even more spontaneous than the album that preceded it, Evermore features more eclectic production alongside Swift’s continued project of character-driven songwriting, and includes an even wider group of collaborators, like Haim and Dessner’s own band the National. Dessner spoke to Rolling Stone about the album’s experimentation, how it was recorded during the making of the doc The Long Pond Studio Sessions, and how he sees his collaboration with Swift continuing in the future.

When did you realize this was going to end up being another album?

It was after we’d written several songs, seven or eight or nine. Each one would happen, and we would both be in this sort of disbelief of this weird alchemy that we had unleashed. The ideas were coming fast and furiously and were just as compelling as anything on Folklore, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. At some point, Taylor wrote “Evermore” with William Bowery, and then we sent it to Justin, who wrote the bridge, and all of a sudden, that’s when it started to become clear that there was a sister record. Historically, there are examples of this, of records which came in close succession that I love — certain Dylan records, Kid A and Amnesiac. I secretly fell in love with the idea that this was part of the same current, and that these were two manifestations that were interrelated. And with Taylor, I think it just became clear to her what was happening. It really picked up steam, and at some point, there were 17 songs — because there are two bonus tracks, which I love just as much.

Evermore definitely sounds more experimental than Folklore, and has more variety — you have these electronic songs that sound like Bon Iver or Big Red Machine, but you also have the closest thing Taylor has written to country songs in the last decade. Was there a conscious effort on her part to branch out more with this album?

Sonically, the ideas were coming from me more. But I remember when I wrote the piano track to “Tolerate It,” right before I sent it to her, I thought, This song is intense. It’s in 10/8, which is an odd time signature. And I did think for a second, “Maybe I shouldn’t send it to her, she won’t be into it.” But I sent it to her, and it conjured a scene in her mind, and she wrote this crushingly beautiful song to it and sent it back. I think I cried when I first heard it. But it just felt like the most natural thing, you know? There weren’t limitations to the process. And in these places where we were pushing into more experimental sounds or odd time signatures, that just felt like part of the work.

It was really impressive to me that she could tell these stories as easily in something like “Closure” as she could in a country song like “Cowboy Like Me.” Obviously, “Cowboy Like Me” is much more familiar, musically. But to me, she’s just as sharp and just as masterful in her craft in either of those situations. And also, just in terms of what we were interested in, there is a wintry nostalgia to a lot of the music that was intentional on my part. I was leaning into the idea that this was fall and winter, and she’s talked about that as well, that Folklore feels like spring and summer to her and Evermore is fall and winter. So that’s why you hear sleigh bells on “Ivy,” or why some of the imagery in the songs is wintery.

I can hear that in the guitar on “‘Tis the Damn Season,” too. It almost sounds like the National with that very icy guitar line.

I mean, that is literally like, me in my most natural state. [laughs] If you hand me a guitar, that’s what it sounds like when I start playing it. People associate that sound with the National, but that’s just because I finger-pick an electric guitar like that a lot — if you solo the guitar on “Mr. November,” it’s not unlike that.

That song, to me, has always felt nostalgic or like some sort of longing. And the song that Taylor wrote is so instantly relatable, you know, “There’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me.” I remember when she sang that to me in my kitchen — she had written it overnight during The Long Pond Studio Sessions, actually.

Did she record all her Evermore vocals at Long Pond while you were filming the Studio Sessions documentary?

Not all of them, but most of them. She stayed after we were done filming and then we recorded a lot. It was crazy because we were getting ready to make that film, but at the same time, these songs were accumulating. And so we thought, “Hmm, I guess we should just stay and work.”

On “Closure,” there are parts where Taylor’s vocals are filtered through the Messina, which is this vocal modifier that Justin Vernon uses a lot in his work with Bon Iver. How were you able to modify her vocals with it, if she was never in the same room as Justin?

I went to see Justin at one point — that’s the one trip I’ve made — and we worked together at his place on stuff. He plays the drums on “Cowboy Like Me” and “Closure,” and he plays guitar and banjo and sings on “Ivy,” and sings on “Marjorie” and “Evermore.” And then we processed Taylor’s vocals through his Messina chain together. He was really deeply involved in this record, even more so than the last record. He’s always been such a huge help to me, and not just by getting him to play stuff or sing stuff — I can also send him things and get his feedback. We’ve done a ton of work together, but we have different perspectives and different harmonic brains. He obviously has his own studio set up at home, but it was nice to be able to see him and work on this stuff.

“No Body, No Crime” is also really interesting, just because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you produce a song like that. How did this country murder ballad featuring Haim end up on the record?

Taylor wrote that one alone and sent me a voice memo of her playing guitar — she wrote it on this rubber-bridge guitar that I got for her. It’s the same kind I play on “Invisible String.” So she wrote “No Body, No Crime” and sent me a voice memo of it, and then I started building on that. It’s funny, because the music I’ve listened to the most in my life are things that are more like that — roots music, folk music, country music, old-school rock & roll, the Grateful Dead. It’s not really the sound of the National or other things I’ve done, but it feels like a warm blanket.

That song also had a lot of my friends on it — Josh Kaufman, who played harmonica on “Betty,” also plays harmonica on this one and some guitar. JT Bates plays the drums on that song — he’s an amazing jazz guitarist, but he also has an incredible feel [for rhythm] when it comes to a song like that. He also played the drums on “Dorothea.” And then Taylor had specific ideas from the beginning about references and how she wanted it to feel, and that she wanted the Haim sisters to sing on it. We had them record the song with Ariel Reichshaid, they sent that from L.A., and then we put it together when Taylor was here [at Long Pond]. They’re an incredible band, and it was another situation where we were like, “Well, this happened.” It felt like this weird little rock & roll history anecdote.

You also brought on the National to record “Coney Island.” What was that process like, where you’re recording a song with your band that’s for a different artist?

I had been working on a bunch of music with my brother [Bryce Dessner], some of which we were sending to Taylor also. At that stage, “Coney Island” was all the music except the drums. And as I was writing it, I don’t think I was ever thinking, “This sounds like the National or this sounds like Big Red Machine or this sounds like something totally different.” But Taylor and William Bowery wrote this incredible song, and we first recorded it with just her vocals. It has this really beautiful arc to the story, and I think it’s one of the strongest, lyrically and musically. But listening to the words, we all collectively realized that this does feel like the most related to the National — it almost feels like a story Matt [Berninger] might tell, or I could hear Bryan [Devendorf] playing the drum part.

So we started talking about how it would be cool to get the band, and I called Matt and he was excited for it. We got Bryan to play drums and we got Scott [Devendorf] to play bass and a pocket piano, and Bryce helped produce it. It’s weird, because it does really feel like Taylor, obviously, since she and William Bowery wrote all the words, but it also feels like a National song in a good way. I love how Matt and Taylor sound together. And it was nice because we haven’t played a show in a year, and I don’t know when we will again. You kind of lose track of each other, so in a way, it was nice to reconnect.

When working on Folklore, you had to keep most of your collaborators in the dark about who you were working with. What was the process like this time around, now that everyone knew it was Taylor? How did you keep it a secret?

It was hard. We had to be secretive because of how much people are consuming every shred of information they can find about her, and that’s been an oppressive reality she’s had to deal with. But the fact that no one in the public knew allowed for more freedom of enjoying the process. A lot of the same musicians that played on Folklore played on Evermore. Again, it was a situation where I didn’t tell them what it was, and they couldn’t hear her vocals, but I think a lot of them assumed, especially because of the level of secrecy. [laughs] But as funny as this is, I think everyone who’s been involved has been grateful for these records to play on this year and is proud of them. It kind of just doesn’t happen, to make two great records in such a short period of time. Everyone’s a little bit like, “How did this happen?” and nobody takes it for granted.

Taylor has mentioned that you recorded “Happiness” just a week before the album was released. Was that something you guys wrote, recorded, and produced all at the last minute, or was it something you’d been sitting on for a while before you finally cracked the code?

There were two songs like that. One is a bonus track called “Right Where You Left Me,” and the other one was “Happiness,” which she wrote literally days before we were supposed to master. That’s similar to what happened with Folklore, with “The 1” and “Hoax,” which she wrote days before. We mixed all the tracks here, and it’s a lot to mix 17 songs, it’s like a Herculean task. And it was funny, because I walked into the studio and Jon Low, our engineer here, was mixing and had been working the whole time toward this. And I came in and he’s in the middle of mixing and I was like, “There are two more songs.” And he looked at me like, “…We’re not gonna make it.” Because it does take a lot of time to work out how to finish them.

But she sang those remotely. And the music for “Happiness” is something that I had been working on since last year. I had sang a little bit on it, too — I thought it was a Big Red Machine song, but then she loved the instrumental and ended up writing to it. Same with the other one, “Right Where You Left Me” — it was something I had written right before I went to visit Justin, because I thought, “Maybe we’ll make something when we’re together there.” And Taylor had heard that and wrote this amazing song to it. That is a little bit how she works — she writes a lot of songs, and then at the very end she sometimes writes one or two more, and they often are important ones.

My favorite song on the album is “Marjorie,” and I feel like, for most artists, the instinct would be to present a song like that as a somber piano ballad. But “Marjorie” has this lively electronic beat that runs through it — it literally sounds alive. How did you come up with that?

It’s interesting, because with “Marjorie,” that’s a track that actually existed for a while, and you can hear elements of it behind the song “Peace.” This weird drone that you hear on “Peace,” if you pay attention to the bridge of “Marjorie,” you’ll hear a little bit of that in the distance. Some of what you hear is from my friend Jason Treuting playing percussion, playing these chord sticks, that he actually made for a piece that my brother wrote called “Music for Wooden Strings.” They’re playing these chord sticks, and you can hear those same chord sticks on the National song “Quiet Light.”

I collect a lot of rhythmic elements like that, and all kinds of other sounds, and I give them to my friend Ryan Olson, who’s a producer from Minnesota and has been developing this crazy software called Allovers Hi-Hat Generator. It can take sounds, any sounds, and split them into identifiable sound samples, and then regenerate them in randomized patterns that are weirdly very musical. There’s a lot of new Big Red Machine songs that use those elements. But I’ll go through it and find little parts that I like and loop them. That’s how I made the backing rhythm of “Marjorie.” Then I wrote a song to it, and Taylor wrote to that. In a weird way, it’s one of the most experimental songs on the album — it doesn’t sound that way, but when you pick apart the layers underneath it, it’s pretty interesting.

I do have to ask: How did you come to find out about William Bowery’s real identity as Joe Alwyn? Or did you know all along?

I guess I can say now that I’ve sort of known all along — I was just being careful. Although we never really explicitly talked about it. But I do think it’s been really special to see a number of songs on these albums that they wrote together. William plays the piano on “Evermore,” actually. We recorded that remotely. That was really important to me and to them, to do that, because he also wrote the piano part of “Exile,” but on the record, it’s me playing it because we couldn’t record him easily. But this time, we could. I just think it’s an important and special part of the story.

Do you have a personal favorite song or a moment that you’re proudest of?

“‘Tis the Damn Season” is a really special song to me for a number of reasons. When I wrote the music to it, which was a long time ago, I remember thinking that this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever made, even though it’s an incredibly simple musical sketch. But it has this arc to it, and there’s this simplicity in the minimalism of it and the kind of drum programming in there, and I always loved the tone of that guitar. When Taylor played the track and sang it to me in my kitchen, that was a highlight of this whole time. That track felt like something I have always loved and could have just stayed music, but instead, someone of her incredible storytelling ability and musical ability took it and made something much greater. And it’s something that we can all relate to. It was a really special moment, not unlike how it felt when she wrote “Peace,” but even more so.

Do you see this collaboration with Taylor continuing onward, to more albums or Big Red Machine projects?

It’s kind of the thing where I have so many musicians in my life that I’ve grown close to, and make things with, and are just part of my life. And I’ve rarely had this kind of chemistry with anyone in my life — to be able to write together, to make so many beautiful songs together in such a short period of time. Inevitably, I think we will continue to be in each other’s artistic and personal lives. I don’t know exactly what the next form that will take, but certainly, it will continue.

I do think this story, this era, has concluded, and I think in such a beautiful way with these sister records — it does kind of feel like there’s closure to that. But she’s definitely been very helpful and engaged with Big Red Machine, and just in general. She feels like another incredible musician that I’ve gotten to know and am lucky to have in my life. It’s this whole community that moves forward and takes risks and, hopefully, there will be other records that appear in the future.