#so i just decided to be An Adult and ask her for the album name and i found it LMAO

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: as time progressed, Joel notice something's wrong and then at one night, You stood at his door, looking disheveled and distressed, your face streaked with tears and your clothes rumpled. 

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 2

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter one

next | chapter three

Saturday arrived with a sense of dread you couldn’t shake. The dinner invitation at Tommy and Maria's hung over your head like a dark cloud. Joel had decided to come, partly due to Ellie and Tommy's insistence, and also because it was a chance to catch up with your family, the Gibsons.

The aftermath of last Sunday's beating from your father for abandoning your duty at church service had left you changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a quiet resilience. Your body was still sore, the bruises and scars not fully healed, making even the simplest movements painful.

You worried some of the wounds might be infected, as you had been running a high fever and coughing for days. Your mother was concerned but too scared to take you to the hospital. In this small town, everyone knew each other, and a trip to the doctor would raise questions. Your family's reputation, especially with your father being the town preacher, was paramount. So, your mother did her best to care for you at home, but it wasn't enough.

You still went to school, hiding your condition under oversized sweaters. You had no close friends, just a few acquaintances, but you were well-known as one of the prettiest girls and the preacher's daughter. Boys liked you, always trying to get close, but you kept your distance. One day at school, Ellie noticed you didn't look well and asked if you were sick. You lied, saying you were fine.

"You sure? You don't look so good," Ellie said, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Ellie, really. Just tired from studying for finals," you replied, forcing a smile.

Ellie frowned, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," you promised, though you weren't sure if it was a promise you could keep.

As one of the smartest students, your teachers noticed your decline and sent you to the school's psychologist. The psychologist observed your physical and mental changes, but you lied again, blaming sleepless nights spent preparing for graduation.

As your family prepared to go to the Millers, you told your mother you might not be able to go because your body was still sore. The scars hadn't healed, and you worried about infection. You'd had a high fever for days.

"Mama, I don't think I can go tonight. My body still hurts so much," you said, your voice weak.

Your mother, worried but too afraid to confront your father, insisted you come. "You know your father will be angry if you don't come. It's better if you come, even if you're not feeling well," she said, her voice trembling.

Reluctantly, you agreed. For the first time in a while, you applied makeup to cover the bruises on your skin, arms, and the corners of your eyes and cheeks. Your father reminded you to behave, to maintain decorum as a preacher's daughter, and not to embarrass him.

"Remember, you represent this family. Behave yourself and don't cause any trouble," your father said sternly.

"Yes, Father," you replied, obedient as always, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. The weight of his expectations bore down on you, threatening to crush the fragile strength you had left.

At Tommy and Maria's house, Joel and Ellie were already there. Your family arrived at their front door, your mother's grip on the pasta dish tightening as if it were a lifeline.

Maria opened the door with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of your family. "Oh, Evelyn! Father Gibson! It's so good to see you all. Come in, come in!"

Your mother returned the smile, albeit a bit strained. "Thank you, Maria. We brought some pasta for adding some to the dishes."

"Oh, Evelyn, this pasta looks amazing. Thank you so much," Maria said, taking the dish and placing a gentle hand on your mother's arm. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," your mother replied, her voice soft. "It's the least we could do."

Maria led you all inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food. You stepped in and immediately met Ellie.

"Hey, how are you? You didn't look so good at school the other day," she said, her voice full of concern.

"I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," you lied, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ellie asked again, her eyes narrowing with worry. "You really didn't look well. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying for finals."

Ellie wasn't convinced but nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, just let me know, okay? We can study together if that helps."

"Thank you, Ellie. I appreciate it," you said, grateful for her concern but knowing you had to keep your secrets hidden.

Maria, finishing her conversation with your mother, turned her attention to you. "Sweetheart, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling alright?"

In front of your parents, you forced another smile. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired," you said, your voice steady but hollow.

Your mother quickly added to the lie, her voice filled with false cheerfulness. "Oh, you know Maria. She's almost graduate and been working so hard on her studies. It's just stress, really, right honey?" You nodded to your mother.

Your father, ever the manipulator, chimed in with a practiced smile. "She's fine, just been studying hard for her finals. Nothing to worry about."

Maria looked unconvinced but didn't press further. It was just another sad reminder of the facade your family maintained, the preacher's household hiding its cracks beneath a veneer of perfection.

You moved further into the house, your father's charm offensive continuing as he greeted Tommy. "Tommy, good to see you! How's everything going?"

"Going well, Tony. Just keeping busy with the business and this little guy," Tommy said, gesturing to his newborn son, Luke.

"He's adorable," you said, managing a genuine smile as you looked at the baby. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lightened.

"Thank you," Tommy said proudly. "He's a handful, but we're loving every minute."

As you continued to mingle, you felt Joel's eyes on you. He was helping Tommy with the food, but his concern was palpable. He approached you, his expression serious.

You smiled at Joel, remembering the last time you interacted with him by the lake. That memory was a rare bright spot amidst the pain your father had caused after it.

"Hey, Joel. Good to see you here," you said, wondering why he decided to come. You tried to lighten the mood, despite the pain radiating through your body with every movement. The fabric of your clothes rubbed against your skin, irritating the unhealed scars, but you did your best to endure it.

"Ellie and Tommy wouldn't take no for an answer," Joel replied, his tone a mix of annoyance and warmth.

You chuckled softly, though the motion sent a sharp pain through your ribs. "They can be pretty persuasive."

Joel's eyes softened slightly, but his concern remained. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying. It's near my graduation, and I have to prepare for the finals."

Joel's eyes lingered on you, taking in the pallor of your skin and the dark circles under your eyes. "You look sick. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. Joel was a man of few words, often letting his actions speak for him. His gruff exterior hid a deeply protective nature, one that he rarely showed to anyone. "I'm okay, really. Just a bit run down," you replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel frowned, clearly not convinced, but he decided to lighten the mood. "So, how's school going? When are the big finals?"

You forced a smile, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, finals are coming up. Lots of studying and late nights."

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "I remember those days. Ellie gives me a hard time about studying too. But she's a smart kid, just like you."

"Thanks, Joel," you said softly, appreciating his attempt to comfort you. You cracked a small joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I just hope I don't end up like a zombie by the end of it."

Joel chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. He noticed how you occasionally winced and shifted your weight, clearly in pain. "You sure everything's okay at home?" he asked gently.

"Everything's great," you lied, remembering your father's stern warning. "Just the usual stress of school and stuff."

Joel's concern deepened, but he didn't push further. But before Joel could probe further, your father suddenly joined the conversation, his presence commanding attention.

"Joel, good to see you," he said with a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What are you two talking about?"

Joel straightened, his demeanor shifting. "Just catching up, Reverend."

Your father chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Joel, we’re at dinner. Call me Tony. We’re friends, remember?"

"Sure, Tony," Joel said, though the familiarity felt forced.

"How's the construction business going, Joel?" your father asked, his tone amiable.

"Busy as always," Joel replied, his eyes drifting back to you occasionally. "But it's good. Keeps me occupied."

Your father nodded, pretending to be interested. "That's great to hear. We should get together sometime, reminisce about the old days."

Joel's gaze met yours briefly, and you felt a flutter of something in your chest. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm but polite nonetheless.

As they continued to talk, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, feeling a strange sense of longing. His concern was genuine, unlike the superficial care your father displayed. It made you yearn for something more, something real.

Joel's eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt like he could see everything you were hiding. His concern was like a warm blanket on a cold night, a small comfort in the midst of your storm. You smiled at him, a silent thank you for his kindness, and he returned the gesture with a slight nod.

"You remember the time we went fishing at the lake, Joel?" your father said, trying to sound nostalgic. "We caught that huge bass, and you almost fell in trying to reel it in."

Joel smiled, though it was a shadow of his usual warmth. "Yeah, I remember. Good times."

You watched the exchange, feeling a pang of longing. Joel's presence was a reminder of what you were missing – genuine care and concern, something your father could never provide.

As dinner progressed, everyone was making conversations and catching up. You remained silent, but to avoid suspicion, you occasionally joined in, talking to Ellie and responding when someone addressed you. Joel observed quietly, speaking only when necessary or when someone engaged him directly. His occasional glances toward you felt like anchors, ensuring you didn’t drift too far into the depths of your own discomfort.

When it was time to sit down for the meal, you ended up seated across from Joel. Your father, ever the sociable one, continued to dominate the conversation, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. You picked at your food, the pain in your body making it hard to eat.

Joel noticed your discomfort, his eyes filled with quiet concern. He whispered after you shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, "You sure you're okay?" this time in a whisper so your father wouldn’t hear.

You forced another smile. "I'm fine, Joel. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go, respecting your space. His presence, though, was a constant reminder that someone cared, even if you couldn't fully accept it.

The conversation flowed around you, snippets of dialogue filling the air.

"So, Ellie," your mother said, smiling warmly, "how's school treating you?"

"It's good, Mrs. Gibson. A lot of work, but I'm managing," Ellie replied, glancing at you with a reassuring smile.

Your father, ever the charming host, turned to Tommy. "And how's the construction business? Keeping you busy, I hope?"

Tommy laughed. "Busy doesn't even begin to cover it. We're swamped, but that's a good problem to have."

Joel's eyes flicked back to you as you winced slightly, shifting in your seat. He could see the struggle in your movements, the way you tried to hide your pain. His gaze softened, but he remained silent, respecting your space.

Tommy, clearly enjoying the topic, continued with enthusiasm. "We’re working on this big project downtown. It’s a major redevelopment of an old warehouse into luxury apartments. It's been a challenge, but it’s rewarding. We’re talking high-end finishes, state-of-the-art amenities. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk between maintaining the budget and meeting the client’s vision."

Your father, clearly interested, responded with a knowing nod. "Sounds like a big undertaking. How’s the team handling the pressure?"

Tommy grinned. "We’ve got a solid crew, but it’s been intense. Lots of late nights and early mornings. Joel’s seen the stress firsthand. He’s been around to lend a hand whenever things get tight."

Tommy’s gaze turned to Joel, as if inviting him to elaborate. "Right, Joel? You’ve had your fair share of those late nights, haven’t you?"

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, late nights and long days. It’s all part of the job. We keep pushing through because, in the end, it’s worth it."

Your father leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "You’ve been in the business a long time, Joel. What’s been the biggest challenge for you lately?"

Joel paused for a moment, thinking. "The biggest challenge is always adapting to new demands. Clients want more, and sometimes it feels like we’re racing against the clock. But we get it done."

Tommy, sensing an opportunity to keep the conversation lively, added, "Joel’s been great about handling the unexpected. I remember one time we had a major issue with a contractor, and Joel stepped in and saved the day."

Joel’s expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes for Tommy’s support. "Just doing what needs to be done," he said.

Your mother’s voice was bright and enthusiastic as she shifted the topic. "Tommy, Maria, how’s little Luke doing? I can't believe how quickly he's growing."

Maria’s face lit up with pride. "He’s amazing. It’s been an adjustment, but we’re loving every moment of it. He’s starting to smile more, and it's just the sweetest thing."

Your mother nodded approvingly, her smile wide. "Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s such a joy to watch them grow. We’ve always said that parenting is the most rewarding experience."

The words felt like a raw wound being picked at, each one a reminder of the dissonance between their image of perfect parenting and your own reality. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the sharp pangs of pain that only seemed to intensify with every sugary comment.

Your father, ever the performer, joined in with his own brand of parental wisdom. "Yes, it’s true. Parenting brings out the best in you. It's about guiding them, teaching them right from wrong, and showing them how to navigate the world."

Tommy, clearly enjoying the turn of conversation, added, "Absolutely. We’ve had our challenges, but it’s worth it to see Luke grow and thrive. Every milestone is a victory."

Your mother leaned in with an air of authority. "And don’t forget the importance of structure and discipline. It’s all about finding that balance and being consistent. We always said that’s key to raising well-rounded children."

As the conversation continued, your parents spoke in glowing terms about their parenting philosophy, each statement reinforcing the image of perfection they projected. The more they spoke, the more you felt the weight of their insincerity.

The pain you were trying to suppress seemed to magnify with every word. You gripped your fork tighter, the effort making your knuckles white. You wanted to scream at the facade, the false sense of superiority they exuded while completely ignoring the reality of your struggles.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to you repeatedly, his concern growing more evident with each shift in your posture. He watched as you tried to mask your discomfort, his gaze softening as he saw the strain on your face.

Maria, ever perceptive, noticed the change in your demeanor as well. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced another smile, though it felt like a mask slipping off. "Just a bit tired, Maria. Nothing to worry about."

Maria didn’t press further but her gaze remained concerned. She glanced at Joel, who gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her unspoken question. Joel’s eyes continued to linger on you, the concern etched deeply into his expression.

As the conversation shifted to a more religious tone, your father, ever the preacher, began to elaborate on his views. His voice took on that familiar, reverent cadence. "Children are a gift from God," he said, his eyes sweeping over the table as if to bless it with his words. "They are entrusted to us to guide, nurture, and instill the values that will shape their futures. It's a sacred duty, one that brings us closer to our faith and to each other."

He continued, the fervor in his voice rising, "The Bible teaches us that we are stewards of these precious souls. Our responsibility is not just to provide for their physical needs, but to mold their character, teach them right from wrong, and guide them in the ways of the Lord."

The words, so full of sanctimonious zeal, felt like a punch to your gut. Each statement was a cruel reminder of the gap between his idealized view of parenting and the harsh reality of your own life. You could feel your discomfort intensify, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

Joel’s gaze shifted between your father’s preachy sermon and your growing distress. His brow furrowed, sensing the tension in the room. He saw you clutching your stomach, your face growing pale. Maria’s concern mirrored his as she glanced at you, her eyes filled with empathy.

Feeling trapped, you struggled to maintain composure, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white. The facade of your father's perfect parenting began to feel like a cruel joke, and the more he spoke, the harder it became to stay seated.

Finally, unable to endure any more, you excused yourself. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, standing up quickly. Your voice was strained, but you tried to keep it steady.

Your father’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made you shiver. "Sit down, dear. It’s not polite to excuse yourself while others are speaking. We’re all here to enjoy each other’s company." The reprimand felt like a vise tightening around you.

You glanced around the table, feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze. "I really need to go," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to hold your ground.

Your father’s smile turned colder, and the sharpness in his tone cut through the tension. "If you must go," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if warning you not to embarrass him further. "But do you know where the bathroom is? Don't want to bother Tommy and Maria, they are still eating,"

Before you or Tommy an Maria could respond, Joel’s voice cut in, low and steady. "I can show her where it is. I’m finished eating, so I can walk her there."

Your father’s eyes flicked to Joel, his expression softening slightly in a forced show of graciousness. "Thank you, Joel."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a small measure of relief as you met Joel’s concerned gaze. He stood up, his movements deliberate and calm. Maria was occupied with Evelyn, and Ellie was still eating, leaving Joel as the most suitable candidate to help you.

Joel approached you quietly, his demeanor gentle as he offered a reassuring smile. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

You nodded, standing up with a sense of cautious relief. As you walked toward the hallway with Joel, you could feel the weight of the conversation still hanging over you. Joel’s presence was a quiet comfort, his concern a stark contrast to the harshness of your father’s demeanor.

As you made your way down the hall, Joel glanced at you, his eyes filled with genuine worry. "You feeling okay, kid?"

You managed a small, appreciative smile. "I'm good, thanks, Joel."

He gave a reassuring nod as you approached the bathroom door. "I’ll be right here if you need anything. Just take your time."

As you stepped inside the bathroom, the coolness of the tile against your skin was a brief respite from the tension. You leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The solitude offered a momentary escape from the scrutiny and discomfort you’d felt at the table.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened your dress to check the scars, the ones that had been worsening over the past few days. The sight of them made your heart sink further. They were inflamed, bruised, and itching painfully. You traced the edges with your fingertips, and the pain was sharp and immediate. A stifled hiss escaped your lips as tears welled up in your eyes. The physical agony was overwhelming, but it was compounded by the emotional turmoil of the evening.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the pain made it difficult. Your fingers brushed the scars again, and a small, anguished cry escaped you. The pain was almost unbearable, and you felt the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably.

From outside the door, Joel’s voice cut through the quiet. "Kid, is everything alright in there?"

His voice, tinged with concern, snapped you back to reality. You quickly wiped your tears, trying to compose yourself. "I’m fine, Joel. Just... give me a minute."

There was a moment of silence before Joel spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m here to help."

You hesitated, the pain and fear making it hard to respond. "I... it’s just—it's nothing serious. I’ll be out in a second."

After a few deep breaths and a final check, you composed yourself as best as you could. You pulled your dress back into place, the physical discomfort still sharp but slightly more manageable. You wiped away the remaining tears, trying to regain your composure.

Opening the bathroom door, you found Joel still standing there, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and patience. You offered him a shaky smile, hoping to convey that you were alright. "Thanks for waiting."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his concern deepening as he took in the faint tremble in your hands and the redness in your eyes. "You okay, kid?"

You nodded and smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Joel didn't respond immediately, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You look...like you're in pain."

Your smile faltered, and you looked down, unable to maintain the facade under his steady gaze. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to deflect. “Just...school stress."

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he decided not to push further. "Alright, if you say so. Let’s get back to dinner.”

You both returned to the dining room, where the atmosphere had lightened considerably. The meal continued with lively conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the warm glow of shared company.

After dinner, your mom joined Maria in the kitchen to help with the dishes, their laughter and chatter floating through the house. Outside, your father, Tommy, and Joel settled on the backyard porch, their conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of a beer bottle opening or the murmur of crickets.

You found yourself in the living room with Ellie, who was scrolling through her phone while little Luke slept peacefully on the couch. You took a seat next to her, and she looked up, smiling.

"Hey," you said, leaning back into the cushions. "How's school been for you?"

Ellie shrugged, putting her phone down. "It's alright, I guess. Same old stuff. How about you? Finals must be tough, huh?"

"Yeah, they are," you admitted. "But it's almost over. Just a few more months, and then we're done."

Ellie grinned. "Bet you can't wait to get out of here."

You laughed softly. "Yeah, it's definitely time for a change. How about you? Any plans after high school?"

"Maybe college, if I can figure out what I want to do," Ellie replied. "So...Tell me, are there any boys at school you've got your eye on?" She tease giving you a smirk.

You blushed, shaking your head. "No, not really."

Ellie rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows you're like the most popular girl in school. The boys are all over you."

You sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I can't say I'm like that and it's not quite like that. They're just...curious, I guess."

"Curious about what?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know, it seems like they're curious about me."

Ellie then brought up what she saw a week ago. "So...don't want to be nosy, but I saw you with Jamie the other day. Is he the one?" She gave you a smirk, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "No, he's just a friend."

"Come on, you can tell me," Ellie insisted, nudging you playfully.

You blushed and tried to deflect, but Ellie wasn't letting up. "Stop, Ellie. It was nothing."

Ellie grinned, leaning in closer. "Okay, but don't tell anyone. Jamie's been trying to get close to me. It's been going on for two months now. We’ve gone out a few times. He’s kissed me, but it hasn’t gone beyond that."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, looking more serious. “And he’s asking for more, isn’t he?”

You nodded, feeling a knot of confusion and frustration in your chest. “Yeah. He keeps bringing up sex, but I’ve told him I’m not ready. He said he’d wait, but he keeps asking. I don’t know what to do.”

Ellie leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Jamie’s the captain of the football team, right? Popular, blonde, not too smart?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” you confirmed, sighing. “He’s nice, but this pressure... I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Ellie nodded understandingly. “You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. If Jamie really cares about you, he’ll respect your boundaries. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth it.”

You sighed again, the weight of your father's teachings pressing down on you. "But... I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed if I don’t do what he wants. Jamie is nice and polite. His family has giving our church a lot...he also giving me a lot of nice stuff, like dress, necklace and all. My dad always said if someone’s nice to you, you should be nice back. And always obey men because they’re higher in status than women."

Ellie’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. "My father."

Ellie shook her head, her expression turning serious. "That’s...kinda messed up. Just because someone’s nice doesn’t mean you owe them anything, especially not your body. And men aren’t superior to women. We’re all equal."

You bit your lip, considering her words. "But that’s how my daddy raised me, Ellie. He always says women should obey men."

Ellie leaned forward, her eyes filled with conviction. "Well, according on how Joel raise me. He taught me to stand up for myself and that I’m just as important as any man. It’s about respect, not obedience. You don’t owe Jamie anything just because he’s nice. If he can’t respect your boundaries, he’s not worth your time."

You felt a flicker of hope at her words. "I... I guess you’re right. It’s just hard to go against everything I’ve been taught."

Ellie reached out and squeezed your hand. "I know it’s hard, but you deserve to be with someone who respects you and your choices. Don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less than you are."

When Ellie said that, it felt like a hit to the chest. "Don't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less..." Her words echoed in your mind, resonating with a truth that was both comforting and terrifying. You wished you could believe it, wished you had the strength to stand up to your father. But the reality of your life loomed large and unyielding. Defiance meant danger. Defiance meant pain.

As Ellie's words replayed in your head, you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. You imagined standing up to your father, telling him that you were more than his expectations, more than his strict rules and harsh punishments. The thought made your heart race with a blend of hope and fear.

You glanced at Ellie, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective light. She believed in you, saw your worth even when you couldn't. It was a beacon in the darkness of your doubt, a small but vital spark of hope.

Yet, the idea of challenging your father felt insurmountable. His shadow stretched long over your life, dictating your every move, every thought. You had been molded by his will, taught to obey without question, to live in the confines of his rigid beliefs.

You had to pretend to be the perfect daughter, maintaining the facade that your father was the saintly preacher everyone believed him to be. The weight of this pretense was suffocating, but it was the only way you knew to survive.

Outside, the conversation between Tommy and your father continued, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the evening. Joel, on the other hand, was mostly silent, nursing his beer as he leaned against the porch railing. His eyes flicked occasionally to the living room, where you and Ellie were talking.

Joel's expression was hard to read, but there was a tension in his jaw, a tightness in his grip on the beer bottle that hinted at his unease. He listened more to your conversation than to Tommy and your father's, though he tried to appear disinterested. Something about you drew him in, made him care more than he wanted to admit. He told himself it was none of his business, that he had no right to interfere in someone else’s family matters. But still, there was a nagging feeling in his gut, an instinct honed by years of protecting those he loved.

As Joel watched you, he saw the way your shoulders slumped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes darted nervously to the doorway whenever a noise came from the kitchen. You were like a skittish animal, always on alert, always ready to flee or freeze. It reminded him too much of the broken children he'd seen in the aftermath of tragedy, children who had learned too young that the world was a dangerous place.

He took another sip of his beer, trying to push the thoughts away. He didn't need more complications in his life. He had enough to deal with, enough to protect. But damn it, there was something about you, something that called out to the part of him that had once been a father, that still is a father to Ellie. It was a part of him that couldn't ignore the signs of distress, the silent cries for help.

In the living room, Ellie continued to speak softly, her words a balm to your troubled heart. "You know," she said, squeezing your hand, "no matter what, you've got me. If you ever need to get away, to take a break, my door's always open."

You looked at her, the warmth in her eyes contrasting sharply with the cold dread that usually filled your days. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice barely holding back the tears. "It means more than you know."

Joel caught that moment, saw the brief glimpse of vulnerability and the strength it took for you to accept Ellie’s offer of support. It stirred something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn't felt in a long time.

He tried to shake it off, focusing back on the conversation outside. Tommy was laughing at something your father said, their voices blending into the background noise of the night. But even as he tried to tune them out, his mind kept drifting back to you. He didn't know what he could do, or if he should do anything at all.

As the evening wore on, Joel glanced back at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to help, without overstepping the boundaries he was so careful to maintain.

***

The last few weeks had been a blur of routine and unspoken tension. Each day felt like a balancing act, with you trying to maintain the perfect image your father demanded while wrestling with your own growing doubts and fears. The only moments of relief came when you could steal a few minutes alone with Ellie, her unwavering support a lifeline in the storm.

One evening after school, you found yourself in your usual spot on the porch, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air. You hugged your knees to your chest, staring out at the darkening sky, your thoughts a tangled mess. You were wearing a nice white mini dress, modest yet elegant, with your hair braided into two sides and adorned with white ribbons.

You had managed to keep up appearances at church, attending every service, helping with every event, but the pressure was becoming unbearable. The weight of your father's expectations pressed down on you like a vise, and each day it grew tighter.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar truck parked in your driveway. You watched as a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and black hair stepped out. He had a ruggedly handsome look about him, and as he saw you, a charming smile spread across his face. He stood there for a moment, then walked towards you with an air of confidence.

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “Is this Father Gibson’s house?”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing your dress. “Yes, it is. Can I help you with something?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Well, aren’t you a polite one? I’m lookin’ for the Reverend. Is he around?”

You nodded again, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “He’s inside. I can get him for you.”

As you turned to go inside, he called after you, his voice teasing. “You know, you’ve got a real pretty smile. Brightens up the whole place.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and forced a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Inside, you found your father in his study, poring over his notes for Sunday’s sermon. “Dad, there’s someone here to see you.”

Your father looked up, frowning slightly. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s outside waiting,” you replied.

Your father nodded, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. You followed him, your curiosity piqued.

The man was waiting patiently on the porch, his hands in his pockets. As your father approached, he extended a hand with a broad smile. “Reverend Gibson, pleasure to meet you. I'm Naomi's cousin, I assume she already told you?"

Your father shook his hand, a wary look in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith."

The man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I was hopin’ we could have a little chat. Got some things I’d like to discuss."

Your father glanced at you, then back at him. “Of course. Let’s step inside.”

As they moved inside, the man glanced back at you, giving you a wink. You watched them disappear into the house, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling inside you.

Not long after, you heard the rumble of Jamie's truck pulling up. Your heart lightened, and you smiled, walking towards the driveway with an eagerness that belied the tension you had been feeling all day. You hung by the fences, your fingers curling around the cool metal as Jamie got out of his truck.

"Hi, Jamie," you said, your voice bright with excitement.

Jamie grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey sweetpie, how are ya doing? looking beautiful as ever,"

Jamie’s compliment made your cheeks flush, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Jamie. I’m doing alright. How about you?”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Can’t complain. I was thinking maybe we could catch that new movie tonight. What do you say?”

The thought of escaping the confines of home and spending a carefree evening with Jamie was a welcome distraction. “That sounds great. But I need to ask my dad first.”

Jamie nodded, settling back into the truck as you approached the front door. The door swung open, and you saw your father still deep in conversation with the man you didn’t know, whose gaze was fixed intently on you.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling that his eyes were tracing every inch of you.

You spoke to your father, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Father, Jamie asked if I could go to the cinema with him tonight. Is it okay?”

Your father glanced at you briefly, then at the man, whose expression was inscrutable but decidedly interested. “Jamie Lee?” your father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you replied.

Your father’s eyes flickered with annoyance at being interrupted but softened as he looked at you. “It’s not ideal to leave while we have a guest here, but alright, you can go. Be back by eight.”

You thanked him and turned to leave, but as you did, you couldn’t help but notice how the man’s gaze lingered on you. His eyes, though polite, seemed to hold a predatory glint, scanning you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly.

You gave a nervous smile as you rejoined Jamie at the truck, who was looking at you with a hopeful expression. “Dad said it’s fine. Let’s go.”

Jamie’s face lit up, and he slid into the driver’s seat with an easy grin. As he started the engine, he turned on some country music, the tunes filling the truck and momentarily lifting your spirits. The drive was smooth, and you found yourself relaxing, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.

After the movie, Jamie suggested a detour. “How about we grab a drink? There’s a little bar outside of town where we can chill for a bit. What do you say?”

You hesitated, not entirely sure about the idea but wanting to enjoy the evening. “I don’t know… I’m not really into drinking.”

Jamie reassured you with a charming smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Just one drink, I promise.”

When you arrived at the bar, a dimly lit place with a cozy, rustic feel, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Jamie led you inside, and you slid onto a barstool. Jamie ordered whiskey for himself and told you he’d get you something sweet.

The bartender handed you a glass, and you took a tentative sip, expecting a cherry cola. Instead, the liquid was warm and had a strong, unfamiliar bite. You grimaced, looking at Jamie with confusion. “This doesn’t taste like cherry cola. Are you sure this is what I ordered?”

Jamie leaned in, his voice low and soothing. “Nah, it’s whiskey, babe. I thought you might want to try something a bit more adventurous.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I can’t drink whiskey. I’ve never had it before, and my dad would be really angry if he found out.”

Jamie gave you a reassuring smile, placing a hand on your back. “Relax. It’s just a drink. No one’s gonna know. Besides, it’s just one drink. You’ll be fine.”

You hesitated, glancing around the bar. The atmosphere was relaxed, but you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Jamie’s insistence and easy demeanor made it hard to say no. You took another small sip, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Jamie’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched you. “Just have a little more. You might actually like it. It’s good for loosening up, you know?”

Reluctantly, you took another sip, feeling the warmth spread through you. The whiskey tasted harsh and made you cough slightly. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Jamie laughed, a bit too loudly, but with a genuine affection in his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax and have fun. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Despite the alcohol, you felt an uneasy flutter in your stomach, the drink making you feel lightheaded. Jamie encouraged you to drink more, and you found yourself gradually giving in, the whiskey dulling the edges of your anxiety.

As the evening wore on, you felt the effects of the alcohol more clearly. Your thoughts became hazy, and the room seemed to spin slightly. Jamie’s presence became more comforting, and his laughter more infectious. He kept encouraging you to drink, telling you it was all in good fun.

The bar buzzed with life around you, but the world felt distant, the sounds muffled by the warmth and haze of whiskey. Jamie’s arm around your shoulders was a constant presence, a mix of comfort and tension that made your skin tingle.

As he helped you into the truck, his touch was firm, and you leaned against him, inhaling the potent blend of whiskey and his cologne. The city lights outside blurred, a streak of neon against the dark sky, but Jamie abruptly pulled over to a quiet, secluded road.

“Jamie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Jamie’s gaze was intense, a smoldering look that seemed to pierce through the fog of your mind. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly slurred. His fingers traced your jawline, his touch both tender and possessive.

The air in the truck was thick with anticipation, charged with an electric tension that you couldn’t ignore. Jamie leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so incredibly beautiful. I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

A shiver cascaded down your spine at his words, a confusing mix of desire and trepidation swirling within you. The whiskey had softened your inhibitions, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

His words were like a seductive caress, stirring a deep, unsettling need. “Jamie, I can't,” you began to say, but his lips silenced you, capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips were rough, demanding, and they moved with an intensity that set your senses alight. His hands roamed over your body, finding the buttons of your blouse with a hunger that made your heart race. he's messaging your boobs you slowly moan because it feels so good.

The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate urgency. His hands were warm but rough, the contrast of his touch creating a mix of discomfort and electric thrill.

You felt a rising heat as he tugged at your blouse, the fabric yielding under his insistent fingers. “Just this once,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged. “It’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted, I promise.”

A part of you wanted to resist, but the intoxicating mix of his touch and your own growing desire blurred your judgment. You felt a strange, almost reckless surrender, your boundaries melting away in the intensity of the moment.

"Stop, I-I can't," you said

"I promise, it will feel good, baby," he said

Jamie’s fingers moved with a deliberate skill, teasing and exploring your most sensitive spots. You gasped as his touch sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making your head swim with a mix of desire and confusion. The whiskey's lingering warmth mingled with the heat rising within you, clouding your ability to think clearly.

His other hand slid down your back, pulling you closer until you were almost on his lap. The friction between your bodies only intensified the sensations coursing through you. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, a hard, undeniable reminder of his desire.

“Jamie,” you breathed, your voice a mix of protest and longing. “I shouldn’t—”

But your words were cut off as his fingers found their mark, pressing and circling with just the right pressure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. A moan escaped your lips, unbidden and undeniable.

“Just let go,” he whispered, his voice husky with need. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth found yours again, the kiss deepening as he continued to work you with his fingers. Your body responded eagerly, every nerve ending on fire. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you surrendered to the sensations overwhelming you.

With a deftness born of experience, he slipped your blouse off your shoulders, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Your skin tingled where he touched, each kiss sending a wave of heat through you.

His hands moved to your breasts, kneading and teasing, his mouth following close behind. The contrast of his rough fingers and the softness of his lips was intoxicating, making you arch into his touch. You could feel the last vestiges of your resistance crumbling, your body aching.

“Jamie,” you whispered, your voice a mix of wanting for more but you are scared, “Please, stop…”

His eyes darkened and he wasted no time in shedding his own clothes. The sight of him, bare and ready, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He reached for you, pulling you close until you were both lying back on the seat, your bodies entwined.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jamie, please,” you begged, a note of panic creeping into your voice as his grip tightened and his movements became rougher. The initial pleasure was swiftly giving way to pain, each thrust sending shockwaves of discomfort through your body.

“Stop, Jamie, it hurts,” you pleaded, trying to push him away. But he was too strong, his body a heavy weight pinning you down. His eyes, glazed over with alcohol and desire, didn’t seem to register your distress. Instead, his anger flared, his thrusts becoming more forceful and unrelenting.

Tears streamed down your face as you cried out in pain, your voice breaking with each sob. “Please, stop! Jamie, please stop!” you screamed, your hands frantically pushing against his chest, but it was no use. He was lost to his own needs, driven by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

You felt a deep, pervasive sense of violation, your body and spirit shattering with each brutal movement. Desperation clawed at your insides as you prayed for an end to the torment. “God, please make him stop,” you whispered through your tears, your voice a broken, helpless plea.

But Jamie didn’t stop. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. The pain was overwhelming, each thrust tearing through you, leaving you feeling dirty and used. Your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and the cruel rhythm of his assault.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, every second an eternity of agony and despair. You felt yourself slipping into a numb, distant place, a coping mechanism to survive the relentless onslaught. Your body became a vessel of pain, your mind retreating to a place where the hurt couldn’t reach you.

Finally, with a shuddering groan, Jamie reached his climax, his body stilling as he released himself inside you. The moment he pulled out and rolled away, you curled into a ball, your body shaking with sobs. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional devastation, the sense of betrayal and violation that coursed through you.

Jamie lay beside you, panting and spent, seemingly oblivious to the trauma he had inflicted. His eyes slowly cleared as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, but the damage was already done. You felt hollow, your trust shattered, your sense of self irreparably damaged.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled, his voice thick with regret as he reached out to touch you. You flinched violently, recoiling from his touch as if it burned.

"Get away from me!" you screamed, your voice raw with pain and anger. You felt so dirty, so violated, your mind reeling from the horror of what had just happened. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the world and escape the unbearable weight of your trauma.

Jamie pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and guilt. "I didn't mean to... I was drunk... I—" His words were a pathetic jumble of excuses, falling on deaf ears.

"Just shut up," you spat, your voice trembling with rage. "Just shut up and take me back to town. I can't be here with you. I can't even look at you."

He nodded mutely, too ashamed to argue. As he started the truck, you pulled your clothes back on with shaking hands, each movement a reminder of the violation you'd endured. The drive back was silent, the air thick with a tension that neither of you dared to break.

When the truck finally came to a stop near the outskirts of town, you didn't wait for it to fully halt before you opened the door and stumbled out. "I can walk from here," you said coldly, not looking back. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He simply nodded, the look of regret and sorrow etched on his face as you slammed the door shut and started walking away.

As you walked, each step felt like an eternity, your mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion. You couldn’t go home, not like this. The thought of facing your family in your current state was unbearable. Instead, you turned your steps towards Ellie’s house. She was the only one who would understand, the only one you could trust to hold you through this nightmare.

You stumbled up the porch steps, your vision blurred by tears, your makeup smeared and your hair a tangled mess. Your dress was wrinkled and torn, a stark reminder of what had happened. You knocked on the door, hugging yourself tightly in a futile attempt to keep warm, to feel safe.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ellie who stood there. It was Joel. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with tears, your breath hitching in your chest.

Joel's eyes widened in shock and concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. "What happened?" he asked urgently, his voice trembling with worry. "What’s going on? Are you hurt?" Ellie wasn’t home; she was staying at a friend's house for the night.

The sight of him brought a fresh wave of tears, and you couldn't hold back the sobs any longer. You collapsed to the ground, your body shaking with the force of your cries. The world around you blurred into an indistinguishable mess of pain and despair.

Joel was beside you in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you. "You're safe now. I've got you."

As he held you, his heart raced, a sense of urgency fueling his every movement. He noticed the blood seeping through your legs, and panic gripped him. There was a raw, protective anger in his eyes, one that he usually kept buried deep beneath his calm exterior.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "Joel," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "He hurt me. He wouldn’t stop. I begged him, but he wouldn’t stop."

Joel’s body went rigid, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Who hurt you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Jamie," you sobbed, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. "I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen."

The silence that followed your confession was thick with tension. Joel’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness that made you feel a flicker of safety amidst your despair. He took a deep breath, clearly fighting to keep his anger in check.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He led you into the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light on the room, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. Joel carefully sat you down on the couch. He needed to clean you up. The sight of your blood-soaked dress made his heart ache with a mix of sorrow and rage.

Joel disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket and a cup of tea. He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring, then handed you the tea.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’ll help."

You took the cup with trembling hands, the warmth seeping into your skin, offering a small measure of comfort. Joel sat beside you, his presence a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don’t have to talk about it right now," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "But I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready."

You looked at him, the tears still streaming down your face. "I feel so dirty," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't want this. I didn’t want any of it."

Joel's face softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and fierce protectiveness. "You're not dirty," he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "Baby, it's not your fault."

The sincerity in his voice broke something loose inside you, and you sobbed harder, your body shaking with the force of your grief. Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For the first time in a while, Joel opened his heart, letting his walls down to show you his unwavering support.

He held you for what felt like hours, his embrace a cocoon of safety and warmth. The tears seemed endless, each one carrying a fragment of your shattered soul. But Joel remained steadfast, his presence a constant reassurance that you were not alone in your suffering.

As he held you, Joel's thoughts churned with a mix of emotions. He was a man of few words, accustomed to keeping his feelings locked away, buried deep beneath a hardened exterior. But seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, stirred something dark and primal within him.

It reminded him of his own past, the pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. The memories of Sarah, his daughter, flashed through his mind – the way he had failed to protect her, the helplessness and rage that had consumed him. He had vowed never to let himself feel that kind of pain again, to never let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

Yet here he was, holding you, feeling an overwhelming need to protect you, to shield you from the world’s cruelty. The thought of Jamie, the man who had done this to you, ignited a fierce, burning anger within him. Joel's grip tightened around you, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

He would make Jamie pay for what he had done. There was a darkness inside Joel, a ruthless side that he rarely let see the light of day. But for you, he would unleash it. He would ensure that Jamie never hurt you – or anyone else – again. The thought of revenge, of justice, gave him a grim sense of purpose, a way to channel the turmoil inside him.

Joel's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He was deeply troubled by the sight of you in such pain, and his protective instincts surged to the forefront. He knew he had to keep himself under control, to focus on helping you heal. But the thought of Jamie’s actions ignited a cold, calculated fury within him.

[81pastrys]

Hi I love ur dad Lando fics sm and I have a request (u can ignore if ur not inspired nw) but I was thinking about dad Lando to singer daughter so she's now like 21 or smth and she's quite famous and her newest album has like extremely suggestive/sexual songs about her bf (could make him one of the other drivers son) and ppl r going crazy but basically just Landos reaction to those songs. Example songs: Sabrina carpenter or Tate McRae. Anyway hope u have a wonderful day byeee

That’s Not-

Summary— Lila warned her parents not to listen to her new album but Lando can’t help himself

Warnings— mentions of sex ; explicit lyric

A/N— here we go!

Dad Lando List

Lila pursued her career as a singer and broke the internet. “Lando Norris’s daughter Lila has made millions off her singing career!” Or “Lila Norris breaks records of other artists, topping lists!”

Lando was super supportive, so when Lila was begging him not to listen to her new album he was devastated. “Why not sweetheart?” He was genuinely curious. All she could think about was when he caught her and Carlo years prior making out.

“They’re all about Carlo and you don’t want to hear about that.” She said serious. “Things we shouldn’t know about each other you know?” Lila tried so hard to convince him.

“Okay, I won’t.” He surrendered. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and headed out for her next show across the world. That was a benefit and a downside. They both traveled but rarely caught each other in the same place.

Lando decided to ignore his daughter’s words and instantly regretted it. The music was good, he couldn’t lie, but the lyrics were well, explicit.

She was 100% correctly when she said it was ALL about Carlo. Some being disses towards fans who pined over him and others just casual date night descriptions. He was a few songs deep when he recoiled at a line and checked to make sure he wasn’t hearing wrong.

“You’re screaming his name on the sidelines while I’m in his bed screaming papi.” He read in a whisper. “My god Lila.” He laughed and decided he was not going to listen more. His wife was also told not to listen and she didn’t.

“What’s wrong lan?” She walked in on him cleaning while his headphones were on. “Listening to something?”

“Yeah Lila’s new album.” He scoffed. His wife gasped dramatically. “My love if you think I’m going to listen to her telling me not to do something you’re really funny.” His wife burst into a fit of laughter.

“How bad is it?” She asked after calming the giggles. “She said it’s all the gory sex details.” His wife mocked their daughter’s words.

“Oh there’s some gory details alright.” Lando laughed. He pulled up the lyric that halted his listening and his wife’s eyes nearly popped out her head. “Yeah, I had to stop cleaning and re-read it to make sure I heard it right.” He laughed.

“I bet she still sounded good singing it.” His wife shrugged. They knew she was an adult now, and that she was definitely sexually active with Carlo. However they could’ve lived without knowing what she calls him in bed.

They would have a good laugh about it 🙂‍↕️

@il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv

[yasministration]

Never ending song - Sirius Black

summary: rockstar!reader - when your parents divorce, you decide to move to london to finish your last year of school, and take your music career there with you. what happens when you meet another pureblood rebel named sirius black. wc: 7.3k+ a/n: funnily enough this whole concept was inspired by The Ballad of the Witches Road from agatha all along being a protection spell.

WITCHES WEEKLY

In a twisting turn of events, rockstar y/n l/n ditches her parents amongst their divorce to move to London with her aunt.

A new light has been shed on rockstar y/n l/n since the beginning of her parents’ divorce. The singer songwriter, famously known for her most recent album “Heart of Chaos” was seen in court this week, finally showing her vulnerable side to the public, contrary to the heartthrob persona she usually puts on.

Her parents, two world renowned aurors have reportedly called it quits after more than twenty years together, and this week in another court hearing, a shocking event took place. When young adult y/n was asked by the court which of her guardians she would like to live with, the two parents broke out into an argument, causing the rockstar to have an astounding outburst. “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to live with either of you — I mean just look at you. One of you has a drinking problem so bad you shouldn’t be allowed to work and the other works so much and is so controlling and insensitive that living alone would be better than living with you!” The unfolding truth about her father’s drinking problem has opened a new case which could potentially cost him his license as an auror.

L/n’s aunt, her godmother, lives in a remote area in London, and owns a very successful boutique in Diagon Alley, one of the most popular magical villages in the UK. The guardian was brought into court this Friday, and the judge confirmed that y/n would be living with her aunt until she becomes a legal adult, in which case the choice of her living situation will be up to her.

This means that for her last year of school, the popular singer-songwriter will be quitting her studies at the Ilvermorny Institute of Magic to begin a new journey after the Christmas holidays at the hight ranked school of magic in the world: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The real question is: what will this mean for her musical career? Will she change record labels, or go independent?

Sirius’s jaw went slack, the tea he had previously sipped dribbling out of his open mouth and onto the newspaper in front of him. He frantically wiped away at the liquid, muttering a “No way” under his breath. “Padfoot that was absolutely disgusting” Remus commented, throwing a napkin at Sirius’s face. James laughed, rearranging the glasses balancing on his nose, but Sirius quickly interrupted him. “No, no, look at this!” He exclaimed, shoving the paper into James’s unprepared hands. Lily and Remus, sat on either side of the quidditch player, leaned closer to James, reading the paper over each shoulder.

“Oh hey, isn’t she the girl whose music you’re obsessed with?” Lily pointed out, finger resting on the moving image of you in court, shaking your head disappointedly at your parents. Sirius nodded frantically, snatching the paper back from his friends. “The popular singer-songwriter will be quitting her studies at the Ilvermorny Institute of Magic to begin a new journey after the Christmas holidays at the highest ranked school of magic in the world: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Sirius read out, a look of excitement on his face. “This is great!”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

“This is terrible.” You muttered two weeks later, arranging the tie adorning your neck. “I feel like I should have thought things out a little more before deciding to move halfway through my last year of school, right?” Your aunt laughed, shaking her head from where she sat on your bed across from you. “Hogwarts is great, and I’m sure you’ll be a lot happier here than you were before.” You got off your bed, kneeling down to finally close your suitcase. “I hope so. I just wish they have something about spells in song. It’s my favourite thing to learn about.” Your aunt hummed, helping you up from the floor and rearranging the tie on your chest. “Well, the student can always become the teacher.” She mumbled with a smile. “Now don’t forget your jumper, you’re on the brink of missing your train.” You jumped up, grabbing said jumper alongside your suitcase and guitar case, ready to apparate to the station.

The station, bustling with magical activity, screamed of students excited to return to Hogwarts, with magical firecrackers flying across the platform and chocolate frogs escaping their packaging. Parents cuddled up nostalgically, remembering the first time they’d dropped their children off here.

Platform 9 ¾.

You sighed, turning towards your godmother for the last time before you’d leave her until the summer. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. Shutting your eyes tightly to savour the quick moment with her, you were interrupted by a bright flashing light in your direction. All too familiar to the feeling, your eyes snapped open, exposing the reporter and her cameraman in front of you. You glared at the pair of them, letting go of your aunt’s hug to flash her one last smile and a loving “Bye bye” before rushing onto the train, where you know the journalist wouldn’t dare follow you.

"Rockstar y/n l/n shares tearful goodbyes with her godmother before hopping on the Hogwarts Express to mark the beginning of her witchcraft journey in the UK. Will she receive the same praise in the land of the Brits as in the United States, or will her career fall short? It’s difficult to tell if the new audience will boost her sales due to its new exposure to her music, or if the teenagers of the UK will find l/n unrelatable. Only time will tell…"

The whistle of the train had you jolting awake in your seat, looking around the empty compartment to make sense of your surroundings. Sighing, you blinked the fatigue away, observing the figures crowding the hallway of the train. You followed the pack’s movements, gathering your suitcase just in time for the train to come to a halt, wheels screeching on the tracks as it settled on the platform, the door to the compartment slamming open. “Newbie, I’m guessing?” You spun on your heels, eyeing the boy in front of you wearing green robes. “What gave it away?” He chuckled, nodding towards your suitcase. “Leave your stuff on the train.” You eyed him wearily, gaze wandering down the hallway to see if he was trying to fool you. Alas, none of the other students carried their luggage with them. Cautiously, you lifted your suitcase onto the seats next to you, deciding to trust the stranger.

The boy stuck his hand out in front of him, a strand of blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. “Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy.” You shook his hand with a thankful smile, introducing yourself to the pureblood. It didn’t take long for you to notice the newspaper Malfoy carried under his armpit, making the carriage ride up to the castle uncomfortable, realisation of his previous knowledge of you dawning on you. At the glimpse of your smiling face in the paper, you wondered how they represented you today.

Were you the snobby pureblooded princess who threw away everything her parents did for her, or the poor, vulnerable teenager whose parents abandoned in the midst of their hatred for the other?

The castle was impressive, more so than Ilvermorny had been, you noted as you stepped foot in the entrance hall. You weren’t surprised that Malfoy immediately left your side, catching a snippet of the remark he made to his friend who met him in the hall, beginning with “Mate, you’ll never guess who…” Instead, you allowed yourself to be whisked away by a tall, intimidating woman who suddenly appeared in front of you, summoning you with an ominous call of your name. You followed the nameless woman down the halls of Hogwarts until you stopped in front of two open double doors, tall enough to reach the high ceilings of the castle. The Great Hall was full of students, some of which were still taking their seats at their designated tables. You felt as though every single pair of eyes in the hall turned to look at you as you stood in the entryway. The view was somewhat more intimidating than your largest selling concert, despite the decrease in number of people.

Gulping, you let your gaze wander to the man sat at the centre of the teacher’s table, returning his steady stare. Albus Dumbledore. You’d read books about him; his problematic backstory and the people’s tendencies to forgive and forget. Here he stood now, in charge of the next generation of wizards. You watched as he stood up, booming voice echoing in the hall as he gathered the students’ attention.

From the Gryffindor table, Sirius elbowed James, innocently sat next to him, desperately waiting for dinner after a rigorous snow fight with the other marauders. James hissed, turning towards Sirius, who redirected his gaze towards the doors of the Great Hall, where you stood.

“Mate she looks scary.” James muttered, eyes glued to your fixated glare, your overconfident posture, your perfectly manicured nails. “Yeah.” Sirius sighed in amazement.

Ironically enough, your composure communicated the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You had to consciously keep the muscles in your legs flexed otherwise you were sure they’d be seen shaking from the other end of the hall. You kept your hands flat against the sides of your thighs to ensure you didn’t nervously fiddle with anything, only moving your hand to flick your hair over your shoulder because it was itching the side of your neck uncomfortably. “Oh she thinks she’s so much better than us.” Sirius heard a girl mumble further down the table, watching as your beautiful hair was swept behind your shoulder.

“Students of Hogwarts!” Dumbledore began, silencing everyone in the hall. “Welcome back! I hope you’ve had a wonderful winter holiday. As I’m sure many of you have heard, we are starting the new year with a new student to join our community of witches and wizards. To welcome her, she needs to go through the rite of passage that every student here at Hogwarts has gone through. Miss L/N, would you please step up to be sorted into your Hogwarts house?”

“You’re joking.”

The hall erupted in laughter at your comment, which had come out much louder than you’d intended, and Sirius heard the girl who’d previously made a comment on you now say “Never mind, she’s so right about that.” Your head snapped to the tall Professor next to you, eyes desperately looking for her to tell you that Dumbledore was, in fact, just joking. However, she only smiled sympathetically at you, putting a hand on your shoulder to softly nudge you down the hall. In an attempt to ignore the eyes following each step you took, you observed the different tables around you. Blue, red, green and yellow. God, you didn’t care where you were put as long as it wasn’t the yellow one. That colour didn’t go with any of your clothes.

Your heels echoed on the stairs, and you almost rolled your eyes at the sight of the stool placed in the centre of the platform. It was too cliché. You sat down, folding one leg over the other before the same old Professor approached you, this time carrying an old, filthy hat. You returned your gaze to the rest of the hall, watching each pair of eyes scan your body before your vision was stolen, and you welcomed the darkness. The sorting hat was heavy on your head, and a few sizes too big, you realised, feeling the tickle of the hat’s rim against your nose.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, I know just where you should go.” What the fuck? “Oh give me a break, I’m just trying to make this a little fun.” Fun? The hat’s raspy voice echoed in your mind, and you almost fell into a trance as it scanned through all your memories. Like a movie, a certain memory displayed itself in your brain, your very own voice echoing in your head. “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to live with either of you!” “Mhm, confrontational, rebellious.” The hat murmured in your mind before ultimately yelling out:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius was the first one on his feet, cheering you on as you made your way down the steps and towards the table. He tried hiding his disappointment when you were whisked away by a group of girls in his year group towards the front of the table, greeting you with welcoming smiles. Halfway through dinner, Lily had to scold him for how often he glanced your way.

On the way back to the common room, Sirius sped up, trying to catch up with you while dragging James and Remus with him by the wrists. The crowded hallways were the cause of Sirius's lack of success, and he huffed loudly when he couldn’t manage to slip past someone, the gap between you and him increasing as people pushed past him. When he finally made his way through the Fat Lady’s portrait, he grinned widely, eyes scanning the cozy common room, only for the smile to fall from his face when he couldn’t spot you in any of the seventh year students’ usual spots.

He was too late; you’d already been whisked away to your dorm.

It was only a week later that he’d managed to finally speak to you, despite sharing most classes with you. Mary and Marlene had clearly become close to you, and you’d even gotten to meet Lily, but Sirius? Well, you had no idea who he was.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Sirius, Remus and James were late to class. They had been doing so well with being on time and avoiding useless detentions, a resolution they had made together for the new year. They rounded the corner of the hallway, panting loudly as they ran, trying to catch the stairs before they shifted again, which would inevitably make them even later.

You sat on the stairs with a bored expression, leaning your chin on your hand, your bag on the floor next to you. You had gotten here a few minutes ago, and just like the three marauders, had missed the stairs. Loud groans pulled you out of your train of thoughts, looking up to see where the voice had come from to find three boys your age — the marauders. They were all panting: Remus had his hands on his hips, head thrown back to catch his breath, and James had crouched down, leaning his head on the stair’s railing. “You alright?” The mysterious boy caught your attention. He stood nearly directly behind you and had long curly hair and a sweet smile, though his eyebrows were pulled together in concern at the sight of you sat alone on the stairs. Just like his other two friends, his chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, cheeks slightly rosy. You nodded softly “Yeah, gave up trying to find my way to class ten minutes ago.” Sirius chuckled, moving to sit down next to you. You could hear his heavy breathing, but he still asked “What class do you have next?”

Sirius knew what class you had next.

You had transfigurations, same as him. But you hadn’t noticed that you shared the class with the boy, unlike him, who had internally cheered when you first walked into the transfigurations classroom. “Transfigurations. Marlene gave me a tour of this whole place like a week ago but I still can’t get my head wrapped around it.”

“You let Marlene give you a tour?” Remus’s voice suddenly sprung up, causing you to look at Sirius in confusion. He felt his heart surge as he realised you were looking at him to clarify. You had instantly chosen to trust him. “Was I not supposed to?” Sirius shrugged with a smile, “She’s just not the most… knowledgeable person of the castle. She still gets lost getting from the common room to the Great Hall sometimes.” Your laugh surprised him, and you reached a hand out to him, saying “I’m y/n, by the way.” Sirius’s grin widened impossibly as he shook your hand, introducing himself and the marauders behind him.

“Well, we’ll walk you to class. We’ve got McGonagall too.” You shook your head at Sirius’s offer, pushing yourself off the ground to stand up. “No way I’m going class 15 minutes late. I’m not waiting to be humiliated in front of a full class of people who probably already know who I am.”

“Fair enough.” Sirius stated, mimicking your movements. You shot him a look from the corner of your eye. “I take it you know who I am then?” Sirius’s cheeks darkened, but he didn’t let the exposure humiliate him. You’d think he was pathetic. He puffed his chest out confidently. “You could say I’m an avid enjoyer of your music. But that doesn’t make you any different to the next guy.” With the smile that blossomed on your face, someone would have thought that Sirius gave you the most flattering compliment. “Okay, good to know, Mr. Sirius.”

“Black.” He added, “Sirius Black.” Your eyes widened slightly at the name. Pureblood, you noted. One of the sacred 28. You both looked at each other with acknowledgment. He knew who you were, and you knew who he was. You took the silent moment to take in his features: striking silver jewellery on his fingers and around his neck, you spotted tattoos creeping up the collar of his uniform. A rebel. As his eyes bore into yours, you instantly knew there was a mutual understanding between you. And without another word, you were turning the corner to the next hallway and disappearing from Sirius’s sight until the evening came.

You lingered at the bottom of the stairwell to the girls’ dormitories, debating on making an approach or not. You liked Sirius. He obviously related to the parental pressure, and didn’t care too much about you no matter how much he liked your music. And he had style. Realistically, it was also about time to make friends other than your dorm-mates and their one friend. You imagined that no matter what happened, it wouldn’t be worse than your interaction with Malfoy. “Sorry.” You muttered, moving away from the staircase to let some girls make their way up to their dorms.

Feeling the girls look back at you, you mustered the courage you had to stroll across the common room towards where Sirius sat with his intimidating group of friends. The group turned their attention to you as you approached them, and you ignored the nerves building up in your gut, instead saying “Hey”, though it was mainly pointed towards Sirius. The boy was already making space for you to sit down next to him before you had the chance to ask. You were grateful when the others around you carried on with their conversations, turning towards Sirius. “Hey Sirius, do you know if there’s an extracurricular or something about spells in song?” The boy in front of you furrowed his eyebrows as though he had never heard of the concept before, and you knew that was a bad sign.

“You know, like when protection or love spells are, like, weaved into music?” Sirius straightened up in front of you, whisper yelling “What? Wait, do you do that with your songs?” You felt your face heat up and leaned back into the cushiony couch. “Kind of. I’m trying — learning.”

Unfortunately, Sirius had let you know that he hadn’t heard of such thing in the castle. In fact, he didn’t think that spells in song was a concept known between wizard and witches in the UK. That would be something you’d have to change. However, he was kind enough to lead you to the library, where he insisted on staying with you to find all your books on the subject so that you’d have someone to guide you back to the common room. It was so that you wouldn’t get lost again, obviously.

The library didn’t seem to have much on the topic, despite its grand size. You sighed, putting the books you’d found on the table in front of you. Your aunt seemed to stand correct, the student was becoming the teacher. Sirius sat patiently at the table, watching you ponder silently for a moment. You opened the first book, scanning its table of contents, before shutting it closed again. “This isn’t going to work.” You mumbled, putting both hands on your hips. You chose one of the textbooks at random, shoving it in your bag and gesturing for Sirius to follow you. You trotted out of the library, ignoring Sirius’s claim that you had to sign the book out. “I’m just borrowing it!” You exclaimed, taking the first flight of stairs up. Sirius had trouble catching up with you, and was quickly lured into a hallway he didn’t recognise. A hallway on the fifth floor.

“What are we doing up here?” He asked, breathing heavily. You ignored his question, instead whispering under your breath “Where is it?” Sirius matched your pace as you came to a slow walk, pacing in circles around the same pillar. “I swear it was here.” “What was here?” Sirius asked, watching you. But his question was quickly answered for him when a big wooden door appeared on the empty wall in front of you both. Matching gasps left your lips, and Sirius cautiously watched as you walked up to the door, placing a hand on its peeling paint. “The music room.” You mumbled, finally pushing the door open.

Sirius followed you through the wooden door, jumping slightly when it slammed close behind him. His breath had been taken away. The room was enormous. It had a stage with a grand piano and several percussion and string instruments littered around the room. There were even muggle microphones, which he knew you often used in concerts, contrary to the normal amplification spell.

In all seven years at Hogwarts, Sirius and the marauders had restlessly tried looking for this room: the room of Come and Go. They had read about it, doubting its existence after years of failure. And here you were, not even three weeks into your time at Hogwarts, and you had found it. “This isn’t a music room,” Sirius started, looking around. Your footsteps came to a halt, and you spun around to face him with your eyebrows raised. “This is the room of requirements. I never thought I'd live to see it.” Sirius returned his attention to you, a glint in his eyes like he was eleven, seeing Honeydukes for the first time. He’d have to take you there one day.

“It gives you a room you want the most. And you… You really want somewhere to play your music.” He guessed, eyes filled with empathy. You hummed. “Not just play. Write, compose. Sing too loud sometimes and embarrass myself.” Sirius laughed, and you joined in until a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. You spun on your feet and ran towards the stage, putting your hands on the floor of the stage and jumping so you could roll onto the elevated surface. Sirius followed you, equal ecstasy in his movements. Sirius sighed, staying laid down on the ground.

You grinned down at Sirius, a microphone now in your hand, and asked “Do you play any instruments, Mr. Black?” Sirius’s cheeks bloomed with a bright blush, and he sat up straight, shyly muttered “I play the piano.” You laughed, nodding at his words “Okay, I see. Pureblood parents force you to play? Let me guess, you have a sibling and they play the violin.” Sirius scoffed, muttering “Shut up” as he stood up, though his bold smile didn’t budge.

“I have skills. I’ll show you.” You hummed, unconvinced, watching as Sirius sat down in front of the grand piano, fingers skillfully resting on the keys. His fingers danced across the keys, and despite the years it’s been since he’s touched the instrument, he didn’t make a single mistake, shutting his eyes as he let the music flow through his veins. Sirius opened his eyes to glance up at you, and when he spotted the mesmerised smile on your face, he felt his fingers press all the wrong keys, causing an unpleasant sound to fill the room. “Sorry!” You both cried out, and Sirius furrowed his eyebrows at you. “I distracted you, I didn’t mean to.” Sirius shook his head, gesturing a hand towards you. “It’s your turn now.”

You and Sirius spent all night in the room of requirements, playing music and trying to teach him how to play the guitar. He took a particular interest in the electric one, which you immediately thought suited him. He was more than just a piano player. Sirius was a rockstar, whether he knew it yet or not.

“So tell me about this spell in song thing.” Sirius brought up after a long break from music. You had just returned from the kitchens, thankfully not too far from this hidden room, and had only narrowly missed some Professor who was doing their rounds. “Well, from what I’ve learned, you can either make the music to a song a spell, so that when the instruments are played together, a spell is cast. Or it could be the lyrics that are the spell. The difference between that and a normal spell is that the lyrics are real words, but our spells that we cast as witches and wizards are mostly latin. Never the spoken language that we use. But then it gets complicated, because if someone wants to replicate the spell, everything has to be the same. Each note, each harmony. Otherwise, the spell risks being a curse.”

Sirius was silent. He didn’t even have any questions. “Have you heard of the Ballad of the Witches’ Road?” You asked, and the boy nodded “You recorded your own version of it.” You grinned, nodding eagerly. “Well, the song was written centuries ago — no one knows by who or where it was written, but it became crazy popular. The original song wasn’t a spell, but then each version of it that was created afterwards had its own different spell. The sacred chant version uses the chant itself as the spell, but in the version that is most popular now, the guitar solo is a protection spell. I don’t know how it works, I really don’t.” Sirius’s mouth was gaped open, a silent question lingering in the air, but you refused to answer it if he didn't explicitly ask you. “And in your version?”

You cleared your throat, looking down at the guitar in front of you. “In my version, my voice is a love spell. I played it to my parents in hopes that they would fall back in love. Clearly, it didn’t work.”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Over the next couple of weeks, you’d decided that you’d asked Sirius to come up with you to your music room too often. You were being a burden. If he wanted to come with you, he could always ask. You’d grown fond of the boy, and even his friends, though you never asked to sit with them. At breakfast, Sirius would wave you over, and you’d happily sit next to him, smiling and nodding along to the conversation, only ever speaking if a question was directed towards you.

In lessons, you’d sit and write song lyrics in a note book you took with you everywhere, and Professors loved to target you with bombardments of questions. You’d shut your book, tilt your head to the side and flawlessly answer every question thrown at you. They hated it, but it made Sirius smile. He was lucky that while people admired you in the hallways, he could call out your name, jog up next to you and hold enjoyable conversations with you. He even ditched his friends to go to Hogsmeade with you. When he’d asked you to come with the group, you stared at your hands, declining his offer respectfully.

“How about just us, then?”

“Sirius, you don’t have to ditch your friends for me.”

“But you are my friend.”

It hadn’t been a very successful outing, despite you and Sirius having a wonderful time. He took you to Honeydukes and smiled at the amazed expression on your face when you gasped. You dragged him over to the music store and signed a record of your album a young girl was buying. But when you both finally decided it was time to cozy up with a butterbeer, arms linked together, you met unpleasant company at the door of the three broomsticks.

Years of experience allowed you to spot reporters and journalists from a mile away. You stopped in your tracks, pulling Sirius back by the arm you had hooked with yours. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He had asked, following your line of sight. “Sirius, those are-” But it was too late, because they had finally seen you. The lady immediately sped towards you with a list of questions she was ready to ask whilst the man next to her pulled out an expensive camera and immediately started taking photos, the flash blinding you each time it went off. Sirius instantly tried shielding you from the pair, his hand slipping into yours so you wouldn’t lose him. Sirius dragged you into the popular pub, and by magic, Madame Rosemerta appeared and locked the door before the reporters could enter.

Sirius had immediately asked you if you were okay, but his question was drowned out by laughs coming from the other side of the pub. It was the same blond boy who had met you on the train, with his insolent group of friends who were joking about the encounter. Well, now you knew exactly who had ratted you out to the reporters. “Here, sweetheart.” Had said Sirius as he offered you a fresh butterbeer, but your mood had already been spoiled, and all you wanted to do was return to the castle.

“Look, Sirius, you’re wonderful, and I’ve had so much fun but-” your consistent glances towards the door had given what you wanted to say away, and Sirius nodded again. “Hey, I’ll walk back with you, okay?” Thankfully, the reporters were already gone by the time you left the pub, and you dug around in your pocket to pay Sirius for the butterbeer. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He had said, rejecting your two silver sickles.

Once in the castle once more, you hid in your dorm for the rest of the day, dreading the headline that would be on the papers tomorrow. Maybe they would scare Sirius away and he’ll stop spending time with you. Fuck, that would be the worst thing to ever happen to you, you thought, digging your head into your pillow.

You were very aware of your blooming feelings towards the curly-headed boy. In fact, every time you sat alone, or even in a lesson, and picked up a pencil, the only song lyrics you could thing about writing were about him. He invaded your mind, and usually, you wouldn’t complain about having some inspiration, but now? Well, you liked him so much you wanted him to collaborate on your music with you, to sing and to play with you. But you couldn’t do that if every single song you wrote was about falling head over heels for him.

Downstairs in the common room, Sirius was clenching his fists over the incident with the reporter. He went on about how you’d had so much fun together, all for it to be ruined by a two-minute encounter. “That shouldn’t happen to anyone! Fuck, I swear I’ll beat Malfoy up.” He said to his friends, letting his head fall back on the couch. James looked at him empathetically, but after a moment of silence, he shot a look to the other marauder who sat across from them, an idea suddenly popping up in his mind. Remus was already holding a quill in hand, parchment laid out in front of him.

“Hey, instead of beating that blond bitch up, how about we do something worse?”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

THE DAILY PROPHET

Heart of Chaos? More like heart of romance!

The young rockstar y/n l/n was seen cozying up with pureblood rebel Sirius Black at Hogsmeade on Sunday. As seen in the image, the couple was very physically close to each other, making fans wonder what is going on behind closed doors. Though we only have limited information on the topic, an anonymous source at Hogwarts has revealed to us this piece of information:

“Sirius Black is the only person she’ll speak to. Everyone is so welcoming to her, but she either spends time alone writing things, or she spends time with him. He’s probably the inspiration for her new album. I mean, you know how it is, the girl’s last album was literally called ‘Heart of Chaos’! All she does is probably write about boys!”

Everyone’s eyes were on you on Monday during breakfast, watching as you read the article about your so called love life. The worst part of the article wasn’t the assumption that you and Sirius were together, or that you were having sex ‘behind closed doors’. No, it was the assumption that your last album had been about boys when it had truly been about broken trust and personal healing. Hence, the Heart of Chaos.

Sirius noticed you hadn’t had anything to eat for breakfast, so when he saw you abruptly stand up, he pocketed an apple to bring to you later. He just hoped that Malfoy came down for breakfast before you left.

And indeed, an unrecognisable Lucius Malfoy ran down to the Great Hall just as you turned to face the entrance. Loud gasps and laughter was heard instantly at the sight of the disheveled teenager. Lucius had been transformed into your number one fan. His face had been made up for him to resemble a rock fan. A big, glittery, red star was painted around his eye, the other one sporting bold eyeshadow and liner. He wore heavy lashes that he couldn't tear off, and the best bit? Every single piece of clothing in the boy’s closet had been turned into merchandise you recently launched to promote your tour beginning this summer. In a desperate attempt to appear anywhere near normal, Lucius had begged Evan to lend him clothes, but the second he pulled the uniform on, it had also been transfigured into more merch.

“What have you done to me!?” He screamed over the laughter, marching over to the Gryffindor table, his gaze fixed on the marauders. You took confident strides towards Lucius until you stood right in front of him, blocking his route towards the three boys. The hall went silent when you put your hands on your hips, everyone listening closely to what you had to say. “And for the record, Malfoy, my last album wasn’t about boys, which I thought you might know considering you have been so far up my ass recently, you could practically see what I had for dinner last night.” You walked away from Malfoy as he stood in the middle of the Great Hall, an embarrassed flush on his face.

“Don’t worry,” Announced Sirius, standing up and beginning to follow you. “It wears off after 72 hours… I think.”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Sirius was only able to find you a few hours later in the room of requirements, separated by clashing schedules. Sirius pulled the apple out of his pocket, offering it to you when he finally reached you. “Didn’t see you eat this morning.” You jumped at the sound of Sirius’s voice, a wide smile on our face as you shut your book, pushing it aside and making space for Sirius next to you. When Sirius sat, he wasn’t expecting you to throw your arms around him, engulfing him in a tight hug. “Thank you.” You mumbled into the crook of his neck. “Hey, why should you be embarrassed for something he did? Also, I’ve got to say your comment was beautiful.” “What, about him seeing my dinner?” Sirius laughed as you let go of him, throwing an arm around you and tugging you in closer to him.

“So, it doesn’t change anything for you?” You whispered to him, afraid of his response. “Why would a little gossipy article change anything for me? Whatever this is, it doesn’t need a reporter to put labels on it. So, tell me what you’re working on.” “I- just a song.” Sirius heard the wobble in your voice, but decided not to ask about it, watching as you wiped at your eyes. “Um, a song I actually wanted you to sing.” Sirius made a sound of surprise in his throat. “Love, you know I don’t sing.” Your laugh surprised him. “Yes you do, you just don’t know it yet.”

Sirius watched as you jumped up from your place on the couch “This song is a little different to what I usually write and perform.” You told him, pulling out your wand and grabbing the sheets of music from the table. You muttered a spell, enchanting each instrument to play its own part before you finally grabbed your electric guitar and lyric sheet.

The second your fingers strummed the guitar, all the instruments came to life in a melody that Sirius instantly knew would change the world as you knew it. Then, you began singing the lyrics, your voice as light as an angel for a tune that didn’t match it.

“I wanted to be with you alone

And talk about the weather,”

And Sirius was instantly in love. Not that he hadn’t been before, no. Sirius had realised that meeting his heroes wasn’t always a bad thing since he sat down with you in the middle of a staircase. You’d looked at him with angel eyes, looking to him for comfort when speaking to his other friends. Sirius was lost in a trance as you observed him now as you sang, watching for each and every reaction. You cleared your throat nervously when you got to the chorus.

“Something happens and I'm head over heels

I never find out until I'm head over heels

Something happens and I'm head over heels

Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart

Don't, don't, don't throw it away”

Sirius’s mouth was agape. He pieced the song together, you figured. He stood up from his spot, walking over to you and putting his hands on your guitar. The second you stopped playing, the rest of the instruments died down too, putting an end to your never ending song. You let Sirius take your guitar from you, passing the thick strap over your head so he could put it to the side. “You want me to sing it?” Sirius whispered, his face mere inches away from yours. You nodded “Can only imagine it in your voice.”

“You know, it's fitting, because I really am head over heels for you.” You gasped at Sirius’s words, moving your gaze down to your feet but his hand was already at your chin, gently pushing your chin up so you could meet his eyes again. “I really wanted to kiss you in the great hall today.” You muttered, and Sirius grinned. “So did I. I love myself a woman who will stand up for herself.” “So you’ll sing the song?”

“How about you let me get that kiss first?” You felt your cheeks get hot as Sirius leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your hands immediately gripped his crinkled uniform shirt, pulling his chest flat against yours. He moved a hand to the back of your head, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue in your mouth. You pressed yourself onto your tippy toes, but just as you wrapped your arms around Sirius’s shoulders, he broke the kiss, saying with a wide grin “How about you teach me this song, yeah?”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

WIZARDS WEEKLY

Y/N L/N has begun her ‘Heart of Chaos: World Tour’, and fans were not surprised to see who she brought on stage.

Rumours of the singer-songwriter’s romance with Sirius Black started when she first moved to England to live with her aunt. The couple were spotted in Scotland’s very own Hogsmeade village, near the Hogwarts castle. Those rumours started around February 1978, and it is now September. The rockstar’s first show of the year-long tour was last night on June 10th, and fans went absolutely crazy. To open her second set l/n brought Sirius Black, her rumoured boyfriend, on stage with her, and they sang their newest collaborative song ‘Head over Heels’.

In a recent interview, l/n shared that her tour would be the start of something big, and it seems as though ‘Head over Heels’ is the beginning of that. The singer said that whilst she wrote and produced the entire song and its music, she felt as though the song would be perfect for someone else — that someone whom we now know is Sirius Black. However, when the pair of wizards sang ‘Head over Heels’ together, a strange phenomenon occurred. It seemed as though people in the audience became calmer, and there was more than one instance of people kissing during the audience. Whilst this isn’t exactly odd during concerts, our reporters noticed that this only occurred during the one song, and nowhere else in the show.

Experts are theorising that y/n l/n isn’t only one of the most talented artists of this new generation, but one of the most powerful witches too, embedding spells in songs, for instance, a love spell in 'Head over Heels'. This is often seen in music in North America, however l/n is introducing it to the rest of the world for the first time.

Sirius Black stayed with her on stage for the rest of the show, singing background vocals and playing the electric guitar to create the most magical duet people have witnessed in a long time. At the end of the show, they confirmed the old rumours started by an anonymous source, sharing a passionate kiss on stage in front of thousands upon thousands of fans. l/n revealed what the tour was starting — or rather ending, during the final moments of her first show of the ‘Heart of Chaos: World Tour’.

This tour would be her last as a solo artist.

At the end of the tour, she will be joining a group called ‘Marauders of Mischief’, in which her boyfriend Sirius Black will be the lead guitarist. l/n and Black revealed to us that the other three members of the band would be Remus Lupin, James Potter and Marlene McKinnon, all of whom l/n met whilst she studied at Hogwarts for less than a year. When asked in an interview about how this band was formed, l/n opened up about a lot of details.

Y/N L/N: Truly, I didn’t speak to Remus, James or Marls much when I was at Hogwarts. But towards the end of the year, I opened up more, and when they discovered that Sirius and I were writing music together, they showed an interest. We spent a day in the music room together, and we instantly knew that we were forming a band. And James’s lovely fiancé, one of my best friends, Lily Evans is our manager, and you know, it’s the six of us against the world. I don’t want to spoil too much, but since I’ve become an independent artist, they’ve been helping me — and Sirius — out with this tour. So they’re on tour with us right now as our sort of ‘backstage team’ which means that we get to spend every day together. And that means we’ve spent a lot of time writing and producing music. So, stay tuned for what we release.

Coming circa 1979.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @friedfreyfries, @azure-drag0ness

divider by @v6que

[cosmicpadfoot]

i met my younger self for coffee this afternoon.

she scheduled it at four pm, said she needed to take her classic nap after lunch first. i couldn't agree more.

i got there 10 minutes early and she was already there waiting for me, said she arrived just 5 minutes ago. we both commented on how we hate people that are late.

she ordered her coffee black, with no sugar. i ordered a special coffee from the shop only, wanting to try something new. i know she judged me silently for getting a sugary drink, but i decided to let that slide.

she wore a faded flannel, some ripped jeans and a pair of red converse shoes. i wore a black jean jacket with some bottoms on it, some mom jeans and a pair of red converse shoes. she told me she would always wear them because her grandma thought they were cute. i told her mine did as well, that's why i wear them almost everyday.

she said she was really insecure about her career path, but was free lancing as a graphic designer to get some money. i told her i am studying to become an architect like my grandma from my dad's side of the family was. she smiled a little, though the idea was cute, said she would think about it.

she said she like playing The Sims 3 anyway, and Minecraft too, and said she was practically an architect anyway because she loved watching The Property Brothers. i didn't have an answer to that, just laughed and sipped my coffee, which actually was too sugary for my liking.

she told me i was the first adult to really listen to her in a while, that her parents didn't really understood her much. i told her that, at her age, mine didn't either, but with time and therapy things got better and now we have a great relationship. as i watched her eyes shine a bit with hope, i told her that she would always have me to talk to as well.

she smiled a little bit brighter than before.

she told me about her friends at school, her two guinea pigs, and her favorite teachers. i told her about my friends, my art projects and my favorite teachers at uni. i also told her i wanted to get a dog or a cat, that i missed having a pet. she suggested me to get a really fat orange cat and name it Garfield. i told her i was thinking to do exactly that.

i told her that my favorite coffee shop used to be at that same street, but it closed down and became a mattress store. she told me that that was her favorite coffee place, that her and her mom used to go there all the time.

she told me she was really getting into a new band right now, called Twenty One Pilots and that they were going to tour with Fall Out Boy so they must be pretty good. she told me that she started watching a new show called How I Met Your Mother. she told me she loved watching Dan and Phil Games after school and she loved their The Sims series.

i told her that i listen to Twenty One Pilot's new album on my way to my internship. i told her that i am on my countless re-run of How I Met Your Mother and advised her to watch the alternative ending instead of the canon one. i told her i love playing Dan and Phil's videos in the background as i work on my projects at night.

she told me that she had dyed her hair blue and purple recently, i told her that i was bored of dyeing my hair so often, so now i just kept the blue peekaboo highlights. we both agreed that we couldn't recognize ourselves with just plain black hair anymore.

then, she asked me if i had my own place yet. i told her i didn't, that i still lived with my parents.

she told me it was okay, everyone had their time anyway and i was still so young that it would be an actual miracle if i was already living by myself.

i didn't answer it, surprised at how comprehensive she was. i didn't expect it.

she told me she was scared of not getting into a good uni, of choosing the wrong course and failing, and that she felt that her time was running out.

i told her that she should listen to her own advice. i told her that she didn't need to know everything right in this instant, that life would find its course no matter what, and she would be great at anything she put her mind to.

i saw the glimpse of shock in her so calculated expressions, surprised someone listened to her troubles and eased her mind. i guess she didn't expect it.

she warned me she needed leave around six pm, saying her best friend's dad would pick her and the girls up for a sleepover, it was the weekend anyways. i said i should get going as well, since my best friend would pick me and the girls up for a sleepover, it was the weekend anyways.

as i made the move to pay the bill, she insisted on paying her half. i said i would pay for everything, the coffee was my idea so it was my treat anyway. i saw her typing in her phone, a message with what seemed to be a rolling eyes emoji at the end. i decided to let that slide and even added some cookies to the bill, saying she should take it to the sleepover for her friends. i saw a little smile grow at the corner of her mouth.

when i saw my best friend's car and her best friend's dad car pull up at the corner, i noticed they were the same model and color. i smiled, and i noticed she smiled too.

i hugged her first, before she could back off or think she didn't deserve that hug. she gave me such a bone crushing hug i thought our souls would melt into each other. in a way, they would.

her best friend's dad eyes on the rear view mirror glinted at me as if he knew me from somewhere. i gave him a small wave back, knowing he would recognize me anywhere.

i watched her shove her stuff in the back seat, talking to the girls so excitedly about all the new gossip they had to share with each other. i opened the passenger seat door of my best friend's car, and the gossip happening in our backseat mirrored theirs perfectly.

i looked in her eyes one more time before getting in.

we both locked eyes. me and her. her and me. me and me. her and her.

at that moment we knew something that the whole universe was yet to find out. but that was fine, it was just for us to know anyway.

she got in the car, and as it went off i heard the giggles of her and her friends.

i got in the car, and as it went off all i could hear was the unabashed laughter of my friends.

as we stopped at a red light, our cars next to each other, i heard the notification sound on my phone go off.

i saw her big smile from the side mirror, as she was squished in the backseat with other three very familiar faces chatting excitedly at her side. faces that were now a little more mature in the car i was in, but so young in the car besides us. if only they knew.

i looked at the screen and saw her message glowing as the night sky started to come in.

"we should do this more often, it was really fun! XD"

i looked at her and nodded through the window, cringing inwardly from the XD, but at that moment i would let that slide.

i could see her eyes were a bit watery, hiding behind her fringe so her friends wouldn't notice.

my eyes were watery too, a single tear escaping through my cheek. the hair tucked behind my ears flew a bit in the wind from the window being open. i didn't hide it, and as my friends noticed that i was crying, i told them i would tell them all about it later.

"we really should! i missed you bestie!" i sent it back to her.

i saw her eyes roll as she read, probably cringing at the "bestie", i knew it would be harder for her to let that slide and she would tease me later for it, but that was fine.

the light went green, our cars started to move in different directions.

i miss her already.

☆.

inspired by the tiktok trend and the book deep in my feels by jennae cecelia who wrote the original poem that inspired the trend.

[gamerbearmira]

Rock band au - Backstory…kinda? 

Alma had already built her own following on her own youtube channel when the kids were like…teens? Many albums and such in her day. She toned it down a notch when she was 54, that’s when Dolores and Isa were born. (Her channel name was “Young Crimson” and changed to “Abuela Crimson”. She still drops some music from time to time.) She has done a world tour and released many albums and singles. 

Pepa had started her own music in her 20’s to mid 30’s. (And she happened to meet Felix at one of her small concerts). Her youtube channel name was “Thunderstorm” of course. She had done some world tours and whatnot as well. 

Isabela was ten when she took an interest in rock and frequently went to Pepa or Alma for music recommendations. Same for Mirabel as well, but she was nine when she started her love for rock/alternative music. Camilo was only eight when he started out. 

Over time their styles gradually changed the more they got into alternative fashion and such. Alma and Pepa mainly helped of course.

Isabela got her guitar at fourteen, Camilo got his drum set at eight (a year after her) and Mirabel got her guitar at nine (a year after them). 

I also wanna add the Pepa sometimes featured in Alma’s songs when she was in her teens + young adult years. So when she branched off to do her own stuff she already had a big following. Mirabel, Isabela, and Camilo kind of did the same when it came to her. They asked if they could be background vocals and she couldn’t say no, she folded like a wet paper towel. 

Three years passed and the three grandkids kind of worked up a good foundation in knowing how to use their instruments. Mirabel had an idea and decided to go to Alma about it first. Alma looked it over and she truly liked the idea and…made it into a full song with her daughter and three grandkids help. (Isa was nineteen and Camilo and Mirabel were twelve at the time the song was made.) 

The song was released on Pepa and Alma’s youtube channels. Since Mirabel made the song she was the lead singer. Everybody loved her voice seeing as it was a twelve year old singing at such a deep base and loud base.  

An Idea came to Mirabel’s mind…why not just be a full band? They already had the foundation for it and a huge following. It wouldn’t- well…starting a band was not easy but they already have a few things going for them. 

She asked her tia and abuela if they could be a full band and of course, both women were on board. Isabela and Camilo were absolutely ecstatic when they were told the idea. 

“Waiting on a Miracle” was released on April twelfth, four months later, “Illusions of identity” (written by Camilo) was released on August fourteenth. Four months later, “Flora and Rage” (written by Isabela) was released on December sixteenth. Each song had Pepa and/or Alma featured in them. 

Five songs by the second year; “Surface Pressure” (By Isa), “Thin ice” (by Pepa), “Hard Work that no one sees” (By Alma), “Shaken emotions” (By Mirabel), and “Constant heartache” (By Camilo). The youngest three had their first tour that year as well!

By the third year five more songs were made. Which made the band have a total of eighteen songs out! And they will be going on tour this year as well. All of which had music videos. 

-

I was thinking of Alma joining but…decided against it for some reason??? Anyway, her stage name is Abuela Crimson! The kids & young adults absolutely love her and see her as the coolest grandma in the world. 

I’m not sure what to do for a group name tho…maybe “The unwanted”? I’m not sure, I’m just going for somethin’ edgy with 2000’s flair. 

Also, I like the suggestions! More than what I thought of honestly. 

Other stuff-

Mira and Isa’s Parents (and sister) couldn’t be more proud to see them on stage with their Tia, Primo, and sometimes Abuela. Agustin and Luisa manage to cry every single time.  

Felix and Dolores love seeing them up there, even if Lolo has to wear headphones that muffle the sound a bit, she can still hear and loves every second of it. Felix a head bopper all the way through…to the point of getting whiplash.

The band mostly tours a few months before summer comes around. That way, when summer break comes, they can just have fun as a family. 

UNDERSTANDABLE‼️‼️ also. I was thinking, the time?? Is weird. So for Alma to have had a YouTube channel in her late 30’s/early 40’s, we’ll say when YouTube released, that means that this takes place farther into the future than now. Cause if she took a break at 54, Isabela and Dolores would’ve been born in like 2018 😭😭 BUT. A way around this is

A: Change the ages or Time screwing

B: Change the release of YT for this AU

C: Alma was popular before YT, but grew even bigger when YouTube came around. This could also let the AU take place in the mid 2000 and the 2020s.

Idk, just wanna understand the time <333

ANYWAYYYYY EVERYTHING ELSE IS SO COOL 💪💪 I like how they were pretty young when they got into the rock/alt music scene, that’s so rad <333 you know how loud they must’ve been when they got their instruments. All of them at different skill level for a minute and playing different songs. Like wow 😭

Also Mirabel proposing the band and being the first of the grand kids to release a song. THAT’S WOAM 🗣️🗣️ not surprising that they joined together and then got more popular. Song names are so cool, so creative 🦈🦈 ALSO ABUELA CRIMSON RAHHHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅

Glad you like the suggestions <333 another one. You know how for bands, especially rock and metal, people wear face paint to concerts based on the band theme or their favorite member? Like KISS and ICP?? Yeah they have that too <333 Antonio sometimes wears it, but it varies 🗣️🗣️

LOVE THE BAND NAME‼️‼️

Felíx is literally like. The most insane person at a concert. From row. Screaming Pepa’s name and stage name.

[therecordchanger62279]

TAKE TWO (14TH EDITION)

For this 14th edition of Take Two, I decided to explore the solo Beatles recordings along with fellow traveler Yoko Ono along with some very big names from the Pop field, and one outlier whose last name begins with a ‘Z’. At this point I don’t have any more ideas for a 15th installment. But I might scrape one together. Maybe I’ll make one more pass through the collection, and see if there’s anything I missed that might be worth discussing. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy it. This one was a bit more challenging for me,

Paul McCartney: 1. Ram 2. McCartney. McCartney has made so many great records since The Beatles disbanded that I found it difficult to choose just two without leaving out things I really love, and still play. There isn’t, to my mind, a satisfactory anthology of one or two discs that suit our purposes here, so I decided the best way to go was to pick the two records that I feel most connected to. McCartney’s first two records after the band split are albums I’ve had since they were released. I wore them out then, and I still play them today. They’re not just records to me. They’re more like close friends, and when you don’t have any human friends, and your dog has passed away, you’re left with records. If you asked 100 McCartney fans to just pick two, I can’t imagine any would choose both of these. Maybe one or the other, but not both. For me these records are McCartney stepping into adulthood, and family life, and forging his own approach to record making, and finding a sound that would work for him. I remember how becoming an adult, and taking on a real job, and real responsibilities with a wife felt. These records chronicle that for me – even though they were there several years before I had to take those first steps. In some sense, I guess they were a guidepost for me. That’s what friends are for, right?

John Lennon: 1. Rock ‘N’ Roll 2. Shaved Fish. I enjoyed most of John’s solo records, but he never cut an album of original material start to finish that I could just go back to and play again and again. His Plastic Ono Band is a gem, but an easy listen it isn’t. Imagine is a fine record, but there are a couple of things on it that I find repellant, and would have to skip when I played it. The easy way out of this dilemma was to pair a collection of Rock ‘N’ Roll oldies with a well-chosen ‘hits’ collection. Problem solved.

George Harrison: 1. All Things Must Pass 2. Cloud Nine. George was easier because his debut is my favorite album of all-time. And Cloud Nine was a great comeback record loaded with great songs.

Ringo Starr: 1. Ringo 2. Blast From Your Past. The Ringo album is the definitive Ringo album. He pulled it off with a little help from his friends, and it’s a record I always enjoy listening to. The second choice here puts Ringo squarely in with that select group of artists whose albums are sometimes spotty, but the singles are always terrific.

Yoko Ono: 1.Walking on Thin Ice 2.Yoko Ono/Plastic Ono Band. Some people still hate Yoko Ono’s music. I’m not one of them. My first choice collects some singles and deep album cuts that are well-written, well-produced, and define Yoko Ono as someone who pours herself into her art. The second chronicles her first serious steps into the music world, and while it’s not going to change the minds of haters, there’s more than enough to satisfy those of us who look for something outside of the box to go along with our more mainstream tastes. And if you’re a John Lennon fan, some of his finest guitar playing was saved for his wife’s records.

Frank Zappa: 1. Burnt Weeny Sandwich 2. Strictly Commercial. Zappa’s catalog is huge, and most Zappa fans have very definite ideas about what they want most from him. I prefer his studio work to live, and I’d rather hear his band play than be bludgeoned with sophomoric lyrics, and silliness. My first choice is my favorite of all his records because there is so much great music on it, and just enough of the lyrical silliness that it never grates. A nice balance, and the one I would recommend to neophytes. The second is a collection of “hits” from a guy who never had “hits.” What it really is, is a compilation of his most noteworthy songs from several of his better selling, and most loved albums. It wouldn’t be all the Zappa I need, but I could live with just these two if I had to.

Rod Stewart: 1. The Mercury Anthology 2. Atlantic Crossing. Rock critics Lester Bangs and Paul Nelson paired for a knock-off Rod Stewart biography in 1981 wherein they presented the notion that basically said that early in his career (when his hair was red) Rod made records for guys, and later in his career (following a move to America, and a blonde-dye job) Rod made records for girls. I subscribe to that theory, and since I’m a guy, it should be easy to figure which period I prefer. Rod’s Mercury period, the best of which is collected on the 2CD The Mercury Anthology, is an embarrassment of riches. You really should own all of those Mercury albums, but we only get two here, so the collection is the best option. Atlantic Crossing is the transitional record that marked the change in Rod’s career. One side has fast songs, the other side ballads. It’s got a gorgeous art deco cover, and it would prove to be the last time we heard “Rooster Rod” (as he was nicknamed before the dye job). He made some great singles after he moved to L.A., but he never again made a great album the equal of any of his first four records for Mercury.

Frank Sinatra: 1. The Very Best of Frank Sinatra 2. Everything Happens to Me. How many Frank Sinatra records are there? I have no idea. Which Sinatra is better – the Columbia era big band Sinatra, the Capitol crooner, or the Reprise “Rat Pack” guy? Most agree that he was at his best as a singer, and a stylist when he was at Capitol, and I won’t argue that. So, why did I choose  two of his collections on the Reprise label? Because I “discovered” Sinatra in the 1960s through television, and AM radio. My parents both liked him, and, surprisingly, so did I even though I was still collecting Beatles cards, and trying to catch The Stones on The Ed Sullivan Show, and The Doors on The Red Skelton Show or the great new Rock bands on Shindig or Where the Action Is. But in the middle of that, there was Frank guesting on The Dean Martin Show, or there was a Sinatra special for one of the networks. And there was Frank singing Something Stupid with his daughter, Nancy on radio right after the station played The Byrds, or Buffalo Springfield. So, while the Columbia, and Capitol Sinatra belonged to my parents, the Reprise Sinatra belonged to me. The 2CD Very Best of is just a stack of great songs and big hits, one after another. Essential to any collection of music. Period! The second is a compilation Sinatra himself hand-picked of his favorite saloon songs – a type of song he did better than anyone ever has. And there’s very little repetition between the two choices. If the house catches fire, I’m saving these two first, for sure.

Barbra Streisand: 1. Stoney End 2. The Essential Barbra Streisand. Just as I consider Sinatra the finest male voice of the 20th century, I consider Barbra Streisand the finest female voice of that same century. But I am not a big fan of Barbra’s showtunes, and Broadway, and early film music. I am, however, a fan of Streisand the contemporary Pop singer. So, the choices here are 1971’s Stoney End which features songs by Laura Nyro, Joni Mitchell, Randy Newman, Gordon Lightfoot, Mann & Weil, and Goffin & King among others. The Essential is a career-spanning hits collection that has a bit of everything. I usually skip the Broadway stuff, and just go to the Pop stuff. But her voice is so magnificent, I can listen to it all without any hesitation.

Lana Del Rey: 1. Born to Die: The Paradise Edition 2. Norman Fucking Rockwell. I’ve only been listening to Lana Del Rey since last September. But it didn’t take me long to fall for her, and fall hard. Her voice, her look, and her attachment to an America in which I grew up, and remember well, along with her ability to tap into the special magic that is the state of California are all things that draw me to her. Every album is an indie film starring Lana surrounded by interesting, and off-beat characters – all of whom I wish I knew and could hang out with. These two choices stand a very good chance of cracking my list of my all-time favorite top 200 records the next time I revise the list. I chose these because they have more in them that I connect with – that is to say, you might choose two others that you relate to far more. The best solution is to buy everything she does, and take the trip with her. But if I only get two, I’ll take these.

[a-friendly-fangirl]

Random thoughts on We're in Love (or "Your average Italian girl has had an awful week and Boygenius' love saves her ass again"):

So, I've been listening to the Boys and to their solo stuff the whole week (for the past 5 months, to be honest... but who's counting?) and I've been going crazy lately for the beauty of We're in Love.

I think we can all acknowledge that that song is one of the greatest songs in "The Record" and one of the best ever written. And then I started bawling, when my mind got stuck on its lyrics and realised just how heartbreaking and beautiful it is.

This will be kind of my personal analysis (also inspired by some suggestions here and there... thank you to all the geniuses around that have noticed certain things. I wish I could write down all your names, but my memory is awful), so if you disagree with it or feel the need to add something, do it. I'd be happy to meet more Boygenius fans!

Ok, I'd like to begin with the third and fourth line of the first verse, where Lucy sings: "I don't need the symbol of a scar/ So put down the knife, we're not swapping blood". And yet, in "The film", Julien still takes a blood oath with the young versions of Lucy and Phoebe. I think that this was such an interesting choice to make, considering the difference between the words and the actions. This actually makes sense though, when underlining that 20$ is Julien's song and these words belong to Lucy.

Julien, as her solo albums readily witness, has no real problem with hurting herself ('Cause I'm so good at hurting myself - Brittle Boned) both physically and psychologically. We also know, from 20$, that she does believe in being connected to Phoebe and Lucy in every universe or life (In another life we were arsonists). Lucy does too with them (And I told you of your past lives; In the next one [life], will you find me? - We're in Love). Same goes for Phoebe, even though it's a little more subtle with her. In fact, more than believing in other lives, she seems to believe in changing herself in the present life, so much that, even though Emily I'm Sorry is her song, she has decided to sing it with her best friends, because, maybe, she'd rather be someone that can be loved by them in particular and not someone only Emily "could want".

To better understand the scar line/imagery, I think it important to notice that Julien doesn't take the blood oath with her adult friends but with their younger selves. In my opinion, it's like a machine has brought them in Julien's universe or timeline to help her get out of her home, which, listening to her music, is a synonym of recovery or at least of a better state of mind (in Go Home and Please Stay, it is quite clear: "I wanna go home, I'm sick", while in Graceland Too she finally gets out once she's feeling better). But, not belonging there (and we know they don't thanks to Julien's surprised expression when she sees little Phoebe), pehaps she's afraid that she'll lose them once they're done with the car, therefore asking them to do that oath. Childhood scars never fully leave us, so Julien might be convinced that it'll help adult Phoebe and Lucy to remember her, once they meet as intended or hoped.

When you think about it, the layers here are so many that it's scary. Scars have always at least a touch of negativity, even when you get them for something not negative per se (I have so many scars I got from running around as a child...), because they always follow pain. Julien and Phoebe have dealt with it their whole life and have actively put themselves through it more than once, so of course Julien chooses to use a knife (which also brings us back again to Please Stay: "The hunting knife you kept by your bed". I don't think the mention in We're in Love is a coincidence) against herself if it means being sure Phoebe and Lucy know it's her. But Lucy stops her for two main reasons:

Julien won't have to wait for them to find her, because she and Phoebe will, according to Lucy, be the ones going to her, if they want to (Will you find me?);

Instead of remembering each other through something painful, they could use the happy and positive memories they've shared in this life. Lucy once again wants to do everything in her power to dismantle her friends' self-destructive tendencies and replace them with something good (even the "happy" in Letter to an Old Poet was her suggestion).

Moving on to the next lines (Isn't it enough that we stripped down to our skin?/ Cold and porcelain like bathers in a painting), the beauty of this specific portrait delivered by Lucy kind of proves the point just made. Saying that the skin is "cold" and "porcelain" delivers a poetic image of extreme fragility that could be both literal or figurative and it shows just how much they trust each other. What Lucy appears to be pointing out is that she doesn't need any more pain to believe they're in love with each other, since they've already done the great sacrifice of showing themselves when they were most vulnerable (something they're still learning to do, according to recent interviews).

In Lucy's specific case (And I told you of your past lives, every man you've ever been/ It wasn't flattering, but you listened like it mattered), I'd go as far as to think that she did that by letting Phoebe and Julien listen to the stories of her past friendships or even relationships, telling them whom she had had by her side before them. She sings that that tale wasn't flattering: why? If I had to express myself on that, I'd guess, by her albums, that, just like any other human being, even Lucy has had a lot of troubled bonds with people she might have wrongly thought were as true and loyal to her as the Boys are now (take Strange Torpedo, Nonbeliever or Brando as examples). My personal take on this part is that she hasn't tried to tell Phoebe and Julien who they've been in the past, but to confess them who had had their roles in her life previously, feeling perhaps embarassed by it. But they're in no way bored or mad at her for that, listening, however, "like it mattered" (quoting True Blue: "It doesn't matter anymore", 'cause they're together now, but it is still important to her that they are paying attention to this part of her story).

She also admits being open to them about her own insecurities, especially the fear of being or seeming crazy (I feel crazy in ways I never say/ Will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/ I know what you'll say, but it helps to hear you say it anyway), making herself vulnerable by exposing this side of her she usually keeps hidden in hope of being reassured by them, which they've probably done a thousand times already.

Long story short, coming to the end of the first chorus: Lucy loves and values them for the trust they've put in each other and no scar will ever match that feeling. I have a lot more to say about the rest of the song, but this is mostly me ranting about it, so I'll see how it goes. Sorry for all of this :P

[padfootastic]

One of my favorite semi-crack headcanons is that Narcissa actually does look like her relatives, she’s got naturally black hair and gray eyes, but she initially started wearing glamor charms/charms to change the color after the war to avoid the number of people giving her suspicious looks for her resemblance to two notorious Death Eaters and her husband who’d only avoided a conviction through Ministry ineptitude and legit everyone suspects him of lying or also lied but knows the truth, but then she just fell into habit of doing this (and uses relatively permanent charms. They can be undone, but they don’t need to be constantly reapplied). Bella escapes from prison and says “what the hell happened to your hair—and your eyes” straight away, first thing she says to her sister after over a decade; Narcissa shrugs and says looking like her convicted criminal cousin and sister wasn’t winning her any favors, better swing the opposite direction to see if that helps. Andromeda, who looks like Bella’s twin, still got suspicious looks but marrying a Muggleborn and having his kid went a long ways toward making people trust her; she has a scathing commentary on her sister deadass changing her appearance to try to dodge the DE allegations and it is one of the first things she says to Sirius after meeting him again. Draco genuinely cannot recognize younger photos of his mother and fully thinks this is her natural appearance; he gets a nasty shock when he learns otherwise and he only discovers the truth because Rabastan was telling his sort of nephew stories of what they all used to be like and found a photo album that had their old pictures. Rabastan watches the kid stare at 16 year old Narcissa Black with her little cousins at her side—all three looking near identical and laughing together—and wonders if he broke the kid and if so, can he fool Narcissa into thinking he didn’t play a role in this; he sadly decides he can’t and frantically tries to calm Draco down, because if Narcissa doesn’t hex him into next year, she’ll just tell Bella and Bella most certainly will. Sirius once saw a recent photo of Cissy and choked on his breakfast, pre-seeing Andy again, asking who the hell that woman was because it sure isn’t his cousin. Upon the younger lot confirming that’s just how she looks now, he hollers for Tonks to go get her mother, Sirius needs to find out what the hell her sister is up to. This is the first time the younger kids meet Andromeda and she makes a hell of an impression

ok but why is this actually hilarious lmao

i think i’ve seen something adjacent to this in a fic where someone (sirius?) makes a crack ab narcissa partially dying her hair blond a la the movies to try and fit in better w the maggots and the thought is honestly too funny.

some teenage girls get a tattoo of their bfs, some teenage boys carve their crush’ names into their hands, and narcissa black permanently colors her hair blond and staunchly stands by that decision well into her adult years (while resolutely cursing her fair skin for betraying her embarrassed flush)

[prismkat]

tell me about "the photography one", I'm curious!

You ask and you shall receive!! The photography one was a silly one shot I came up with where Dee finds the old Kennedy family photo album from before their parents died and sees that well, since it’s from before their parents deaths, she’s not in many of them. She becomes determined to change this and then picks up photography as a hobby, which then just led to a very wholesome fic

HOWEVER. I got a bit too carried away and ended up writing a fic about Jack Kennedy committing tax fraud. I have actually mentioned it before! Jack commits tax fraud in a totally normal way, by handing in his taxes like an overdue library book and running away before the police can find out he’s actually just giving them Monopoly money. Peter, afraid and concerned, constantly tries to prevent Jack from committing tax fraud, but no matter what he tries he can never get him to stop.

Tragically, Jack’s criminal past catches up to him, and he is confronted by the IRS. They take him to court and instead of giving him a fair trial, his fate is decided by the mayor of Reno and also newly elected president of the United States, Mayor Majig from hit Roblox game find everything.

He ended up in America through means that aren’t relevant, but only because ive never played find everything and dont even know if the stereotypical ‘getting hit by a truck’ would work.

Dee rushes into the courtroom, carrying the us constitution that she stole from the national archives museum on the way back from kindergarten and tells Mayor Majig that since nothing in the us constitution says that Jack can’t pay his taxes with Monopoly money, he should go free. Mayor Majig agrees with this verdict and proceeds to legalise gay marriage.

And if you want to read the short snippet I’ve actually written of this masterpiece, here you go:

Dee had always thought that the closet at the end of the hall had harbored some dark, mysterious secrets.

Jack had assured her again and again that it was just a storage closet, and that there was nothing more to it. But Dee knew better. Obviously.

After all, adults always had dark secrets in the tv shows she had seen. And she wasn’t oblivious to the demons that her older brothers faced without her involvement.

She knew they both had a common enemy, someone who went by the name of Taxes, and while she wasn’t quite sure who that was, she was sure she could beat them in a fight if they ever showed their face in her presence. She wasn’t crowned the champion of arm wrestling in her school for no reason! And of course, she was so good at fighting that one time the teachers even rewarded her for it by sending her home! And then Jack got her ice cream, and then he and Peter had a very serious conversation in another room. Likely, they were discussing defense systems against Taxes, but no matter.

It was late at night when she made her move. … Well, she couldn’t really be sure of that. It was either late at night, very early in the morning, or some sort of limbo time. It would have been beneficial to know how to read a clock, but a five-year-old has much deeper concerns than stupid maths.

Jack was working the nightshift, and Dee knew she wasn’t meant to be awake, but she needed to open the closet. She could never ever admit this to her brothers, but sometimes she would lay awake at night with her bedroom door open and stare down the hall. If she didn’t, then Taxes might creep out and eat Jack in his sleep.

But Dee wasn’t scared of Taxes hurting her, because she could defend herself. But Jack was weak. She knew this. She had beat him in a fight before, and she could do it again if she wanted to. However, she knew to pick on people her own size. It wasn’t right to fight people who didn’t stand a chance against her power. It was why she had stopped fighting Jack a while ago, much to his dismay. But if he wanted to get stronger, then he should fight someone on the same skill level as him and then come back.

Dee wasn’t scared of Taxes hurting her so she chose the night Jack was working to make her move. Finally, she would slay this monster once and for all.

She crawled out of bed, holding her toy gun close to her chest. She was very careful to not make a single sound, because she needed to have the element of surprise.

Gradually, she made her way down to the closet door.

Dee took in a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous. What if Taxes had too many eyes and she couldn’t figure out which one to look at and then she lost the upper hand? What if Taxes had no eyes and stole hers?

No. She couldn’t let eyes be her downfall. Too many eyes or none at all, Dee was going to save her family! Even if it killed her.

Dee swung the closet door open, pointing her plastic gun upwards, only to see that there was no one there.

Now, Dee was little, but she wasn’t stupid. Jack was an infinitely cooler brother than Peter, and let her watch all of the scary movies with him that Peter didn’t allow her to. She knew that the moment she turned around, Taxes would be there.

They were right behind her, weren’t they? Well, she still could have the element of surprise. No one expects to get shot when they appear behind someone! She wasn’t going to slowly turn around, she was going to-

She shot around, firing her gun, remembering at the clicking sound that came from it that there wasn’t any ammo in it (of course there wasn’t, Jack wasn’t that irresponsible). She was lucky that Taxes wasn’t behind her after all. She turned back around to the storage closet.

Nothing there.

Taking a closer look, there didn’t seem to be any places to hide in there, either. Just boxes and boxes.

Wait.

Boxes.

Of course Taxes had to be a shapeshifter! Clearly, they were one of them. She had to end their reign of terror once and for all.

She thought for a moment about what she should do, before slowly backing into her bedroom, taking one of her teddy bears and placing it directly in front of the closet. She was sure he would keep an eye out if Taxes tried to come out of hiding.

Dee snuck to Jack’s bedroom, rummaging around in his drawers for a pair of scissors. When she found what she was looking for, she returned to the closet, grateful to see that not a single thing had moved.

She made her move.

[cassisanasshole]

this fucking poem i made on allpoetry.com at the age of 12 (cw SH)

in honor of 2024 being around the corner i would like to announce the first poem i ever wrote on allpoetry.com at the age of 12 years and 4 months. coming up on a fucking decade on this piece in which my little awful shitty emo angsty self decided to both start and end the poem with the word 'forevermore',

You are not Edgar Allan Poe, you are a 12 year old girl

i cannot emphasize this enough. i look back on this as an adult and go what in the sweet ever loving fuck. who else was like a super fucking mentally ill 12 year old? i swear to hades, i asked for fallen for my 11th birthday. when i was about that age i drew this picture:

it was a girl drowning in some sort of body of water, with what i can only describe as a traditional comically large drowning boulder attached to her ankle. her cartoonish face stared, panicked, at the viewer--as her mouth, losing air with bubbles and all--uttered one last phrase, scribbled into a curly-q speech bubble.

"I'm going under!"

a callback to the timeless classic going under by evanescence, first track on the aforementioned album fallen.

when i went to school in the fifth grade we had computer lab. sometimes we were graced with the sweet, sweet blessing of free time. in my infantile years as i perceived it then, i did silly things like webkinz. but now i was too old for webkinz (in public--not at home) i was onto bigger and better things such as:

listening to 2012 bangerz such as starships and party rock anthem on full blast with one headphone hanging out to prove i was normal. and then, on hard days when i could not resist the temptation, pulling up evanescence and linkin park and green day and listening to them very quietly.

Nobody could know i was an emo in the making.

once middle school hit though, this was where i found myself: the troubled pubescent experience of being a girl forming kik groups with her in real life friend and random internet strangers. some of whom were our age, some of whom significantly too old to be interacting with us (we know this story.)

staying up til like...2 am! (sleep, child!) to try and convince these essentially random people to not yoink themselves.

well one of these internet friends i don't even remember his name, says all of that and then just disappears, so i wrote this poem. i guess it was what this experience stirred up in me considering i had definitely never seen his smiling face

anyway uh yeah i don't know what the fuck you're meant to take from this but

HAVE IT!

[highly-opinionated-art]

It's officially been a year of album of the week illustrations! Had a hard time taking pictures this time around but you get the point, right?

(2024 part 1) (2024 part 2) (2024 part 3)

Lyrics + albums + descriptions:

Week 40: We're letting the music speak for itself this time: this is the guitar solo from the song Smooth, from the album Supernatural by Santana. Easily one of the songs of all time, and it turns out the rest of that album was quite fun as well!

Week 41: "it's gonna happen when it's supposed to happen", from the song One Step At A Time, from Jordin Sparks' debut album. My only claim to fame is that when I marched in Macy's thanksgiving day parade, we were behind her and she waved at us. I almost cried.

Week 42: "start again from wherever you end" is from the song Time Is The Playground, and "everything that ends begins again" is from the song Catching Windmill. Both are from the album Time Is The Playground by one of my favorite bands, Carbon Leaf!

Week 43: "speak soft with a big stick, do what I say or die", from the song US History, from the album Flipsyde by the band of the same name, except those lyrics are actually WRONG! It's supposed to be "do what I say or be killed". I'm so mad that I messed that up, cause I really like how this little piece came out. I also became instantly obsessed with that song, it's so good

Week 44: "what a way to make a livin'!", from the song 9 to 5, from the album 9 to 5 and Odd Jobs, by Dolly Parton. Once at work I found a silver stamp pad on the floor, so I took it home, and then I smeared it all over this page to create a glittery silver background which is impossible to take a picture of. The album itself was eh.

Week 45: it's the chorus and the background vocals of the song I Won't Give Up, from the album Love Is A Four Letter Word, by Jason Mraz. Another hella nostalgic banger- I drew my adult and kid selves singing it together

Week 46: "don't think you knew you were in this song", from the song 5 Years, from the album The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, by David Bowie. Sorry the art came out kind of bad this week, but not that sorry, cause what the hell was this album? Why, when I asked my parents which David Bowie album I should listen to, did they both recommend me this incomprehensible nonsense? It's so weird! You guys like this kind of thing???

Week 47: "it's been decided how we lose", from the song The Emptiness Machine, from the album From Zero, by Linkin Park. By contrast this whole album was absolutely incredible, I LOVED it. The art this time is my beloved Hector of Troy, duh!

Week 48: "show me to where there's music // with music, I just might go on", from the song I Gotta Have A Song, from the album Signed, Sealed, And Delivered, by Stevie Wonder. It was alright. Colored pencil drawing I'm pretty proud of this week of Kim, an old and also beloved oc

Week 49: "I've got laser vision, and I'm burning a hole in the wall", from the song The Lady and the Tiger, from the album Join Us, by They Might Be Giants. YES I fell victim to the same faulty red marker again. I threw it away this time. Also weird music, but weird in a way that was much easier for me to appreciate. Really liked this song in particular.

Week 50: "you can keep your body, I just want your place in the world", from the song Mantra, from the album Vicious Creature, by Lauren Mayberry. GOOD ALBUM! REALLY GOOD SONG! My mom was really confused by the background for some reason- it's of my broken car mirror. Duh.

BONUS ART: "little boys have action toys for brains // I'm living proof it can last a long time", from the song A Great Big Sled, from the album Don't Waste Your Wishes, by The Killers. Annual holiday listen to my favorite christmas album ever! Drawing is of an action figure I have- yes, he's blue, I call him Paintball Vader. Meant to make the words smaller but I like how this came out

Week 51: "I'm gonna set my feet on Southern soil and breathe that Southern air", from the song Hey Porter, from the album I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash. 'Why is it green' cause I don't have enough gray markers to make it grayscale instead. Next question. Was it a good album? Eh, it was fine.

Week 52: "whoever I was then, I can't ever be again", from the song Miami, from the album Louder Now, by Taking Back Sunday. I'm so mad because I had high hopes to like this album and I hate it. I picked an album I hated for the first AND last weeks of 2024, ugh!

Thanks for following along with this little project of mine so far- MORE TO COME IN 2025!!!

[theartofgrowingblog]

to those i used to know

I had a best friend all throughout high school. I won’t say her real name, so we will call her Holly. Holly and I were joined at the hip. At school events, we would huddle together on the bleachers, making fun of whatever happened or laughing at videos on our phones. We played the Sims and pretended like we knew how to do makeup. Lana Del Rey’s “Born To Die” album was the soundtrack of our teen years.

We met for ice cream last month. I wore an outfit I never would have dared to in high school. I drove my own car there and listened to Lana Del Rey for nostalgia. I hadn’t seen her in three years, not since our high school graduation. 

I remembered it. I had been an online student for my entire senior year because my mom is immunocompromised and I am an introvert. I also had no friends to spend the senior year with. So why would I bother? Everyone thought I had just homeschooled instead and was surprised to see me at graduation. I got a picture with a few of the people I remained acquaintances with and we talked about Dungeons & Dragons. 

I saw Holly there. I wasn’t quite myself yet, so I didn’t talk to her. I was scared that we had ended on bad terms I was not aware of, so I went to see my family instead.

She reached out to me early this year. We had brief exchanges of ‘you look great’s or ‘I love that game’s, but hadn’t had a real conversation in four years.

So we met for ice cream. It was awkward at first. We didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore. I am not 16 years old. I am nearly 21. 

I’m proud of her still. She has grown, just like I have. She is not 16 years old. She is 21. She is doing good things with her life. She has a good support system. She has fun. She has grown without me. And I am proud of it rather than sad.

We are planning on hanging out again soon. I had to re-give her my phone number. Maybe we can get to know each other as adults.

My childhood best friend was a girl named Taylor (not really, but you get the gist). We met when I was the new kid in third grade. I’d just transferred from a tiny public school to a sizable county school. I didn’t know anyone. I sat at lunch with a girl I didn’t know that well and moved seats when she puked on my sneakers.

I don’t remember how me and Taylor started hanging out, but we were fast friends. We basically lived at each other’s houses. Her grandmother was like my own. I tried Starbucks for the first time with her. That’s a big deal for a basic white girl like myself.

We went through a lot together, but we remained the strongest of friends. Most pictures of me between age 9 and age 13 have her in them in some way. We always made sure we were in the same class (her grandmother worked at the school, so we did utilize a bit of nepotism). 

We talked about boys and tried to learn to do makeup and painted each others’ nails. We played stupid long games of truth or dare. We were basically sisters. We couldn’t wait to get older and be able to go out by ourselves. We were girls together.

She has a baby now. I sent her a gift when he was born, but had to text her grandmother to ask for her address. We haven’t seen each other since 8th grade.

I decided it wasn’t cool to hang out with her anymore, since a more popular girl wanted to be my friend. She ate lunch with a mutual friend for about a month before transferring schools.

I didn’t feel guilty about what I did until a similar thing happened to me. It wasn’t a good thing to do. I know that. I was thirteen, but I knew better.

She seems like a wonderful mother. I’ve never met her son, but he is adorable and has the cutest chubby cheeks. I hope he liked the toy I sent him.

I have another friend, let’s call her Melanie. Melanie was my soul sister in ninth grade. We just clicked. We spent the night together and watched Riverdale and went to the mall together (unattended!). We took selfies in school bathrooms and she would help me fix my hair in seventh period. 

Being 14-years-old is hard enough as is, but having Melanie helped me more than she knows. She moved to Indiana the next year. I missed her so much, and we messaged and kept up with each other through Facebook and Snapchat. 

She still texts me “happy birthday” and sends me the Snapchat memories she gets of us. 

“Omg, we were babies!” was my most recent response to a picture of us with a very dated dog filter on. 

My saving grace in 11th grade was a boy I’ll call Devin. Devin was my best friend when I needed it most. I was the most alone I’d ever been. Holly and I weren’t talking anymore and I would either skip lunch in the bathroom or eat with my favorite teacher. We had mutual friends, but he noticed when I disappeared from the lunchroom. He started eating in the classroom with me. He would bring his Nintendo Switch and he would always beat me in Smash Bros. He tried to teach me how to play Yu-Gi-Oh! and I never caught on. We came up with a Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Devin helped me beat the permeating loneliness of being friendless in high school.

Devin and I don’t talk anymore. I ran into him in the university union the other day and it was distant.

I still carry pieces of every person I have ever known. I still play the Sims because Holly showed it to me. I eat Tostino’s Pizza Rolls because I tried them for the first time with Taylor and we loved them. I still have the perfume I bought while at the mall with Melanie. I play as the character that I made for Devin’s D&D campaign.

I crack jokes that old friends made first. I massage a popcorn bag before putting it in because a girl I went to elementary school with said that it gets butterier that way. I keep Marco’s ranch in my refrigerator just in case my best friend Brooke comes by and wants some. I hate ranch. I read text out loud in movies and TV shows because my mom can’t see it well from the couch. I didn’t even notice I did it until my boyfriend told me it’s cute when I do. 

I am more than myself. I am a mosaic of all that have loved me and all that will love me. When I hate myself, I hate the combination of thousands of years of love. When I get aggravated at something I do, it’s probably something I gained from an old friend or a distant relative. 

I am me because someone loved me.

[lizzygrantarchives]

Spin or Bin, October 27, 2012

At the luxurious Four Seasons Hotel in Singapore, Lana Del Rey, dressed in a simple yellow dress and red Vans shoes, welcomed me with open arms as I entered the room. The 26-year-old singer-songwriter shook my hands with a sweet smile. “Hey, how are you again?” she asked. She remembered me as I first met her when she played a show in Sydney three months ago. “Have you been busy? I hope you have been coping well,” smiled Del Rey as she sat down on the vacant couch. I really admire how down-to-earth she is despite being so successful. She made me feel calm and at ease, like a longtime friend of hers during the entire interview where she revealed that music is not her first passion and that the interview questions posed were ‘interesting’! (Thanks to our Twitter followers). Check out the full interview below!

How did you get the name Lana Del Rey?

When I was younger I felt like I wasn’t the person I was supposed to become yet. I had a vision for myself that was as beautiful as I wanted the music to be. I generally don’t deny my creative impulses so that was just one of those creative impulses that I had.

What can we expect after the release of Born To Die: The Paradise Edition, will you still be releasing another album?

The only thing I have really been working on is helping two directors score two different movies. It’s not too in-depth, just writing songs for two different films. Actually I have to call Universal to ask if I’m supposed to reveal the movies. One of the movies is coming out in June next year. What I really like to do is start writing music for films, it’s a really natural place for me. Most of the people I work with are already composers so it’s a good fit. That’s really the only ambition that I have.

You posed nude in British GQ magazine recently, what makes you do that?

I just like how beautiful naked women are. I love seeing girls’ skin in pictures. I have all the old Playboy magazines from the 60s and 70s. I love the look of girls with red lips and shiny skin. I am a big fan of the female form. So for me, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Why did you decide for your latest music video Ride to be so lengthy like a 10 full minutes?

I really love movies as much as I love music. When I made my first record, I felt like I have to tell my stories through words and now I wanna wrap it up by telling my stories through pictures.

How were your teenage years like?

They were interesting. I stopped drinking 10 years ago just because I felt like a person who like trying new things and feel different. You do things so fast, you end up having so many different lifestyles all in one short time. Aside from that, I always felt like I have been around for a long time. My mother said that when I was seven, I used to think that I was an adult. When I was at all the parties, I talk to people like they were my friends.

Did you expect Born To Die to have so much success?

When I made that record, I brought it to a lot of different record labels and they weren’t interested in it because it was sort of weird. It wasn’t party music, my music was more down beat. People who got involved in it kind of got involved with it as a passion project. My photographer was my sister and my little brother was helping me. I was making my own movie stills from videos I took from YouTube. I have been doing that for a long time so I felt like if it was gonna work, it would have worked a long time ago. So no, I didn’t expect the success at all.

How do you feel when you feel like you got the attention of people?

I think the attention came with such a negative spin on the other side. It never really felt like it was something I could sit back and enjoy. I felt more like I have to guard the songs and protect them to make sure their future was protected. I really believed in the record, the music and the producers who have worked on it. I felt like I have no idea what is going to happen now.

How did you find this lush sound?

I found this young guy named Justin Parker and he always brought me different chords that he really likes. Originally when I started, I was just recording songs in my room and sending it to people to put music to. But then I found Justin, he started bringing me chords for Video Games and I started free styling. Eventually, I started free styling on all my songs like Video Games, Born To Die and Ride were all done on the spot in one take. But other songs like Summertime Sadness and Blue Jeans, I worked slowly with different composers.

What was it like working with ASAP Rocky on the National Anthem video?

I love him! When I told him I wanted him to play JFK in the video, he was totally down for it. ASAP Rocky and Azealia Banks are the only people I relate to these days.

What was the quirkiest item you received from a fan?

A crucifix necklace that is also a help whistle. I wore it for one of my videos although it was weird.

Do you have any special name for your fans?

No because all the other girls have such good names for their fans. I don’t have any names for them but they do run the show. They know they are in charge. (laughs)

How do you cope with fame?

I really hope I still feel inspired to write the way I used to a few years ago. When I first found writing, it was really new. I felt like I was doing something no one has ever done before. In California, I take a lot of walks and I drive on my own. No one ever said anything to me and I have my brother and sister with me there. When I leave America, it gets a little crazier. To be honest, when I’m talking to people with interesting questions like this interview, that is really good. And then the rest of it, I’m not sure about…

Some of your videos are controversial, what’s your take on controversy?

That’s a really good question! I think I wanted respect more than I wanted anything else. I considered myself a writer because writing is my passion. I hope I would have respect from journalists. I don’t welcome controversy as much as I welcome more creative collaboration with amazing people. When I wrote the record, it seemed more like I was trying to capture a moment in time. But with Ride was a little different, that would seem really fucking weird to people. The rest of it I don’t think it is that controversial.

Who is Lana Del Rey beyond music and all these attention from the public? Who are you really?

Although I love music, it is not my first passion. When I decided to stop drinking 10 years ago, my passion was working with homeless outreach, drugs and alcohol rehabilitation. I lived in New York for 10 years so that’s my job for real. I would say music doesn’t really feel like my true calling.

What are your all time three favourite movies?

Don’t Look Back by D.A. Pennebaker that covers Bob Dylan’s 1965 concert tour in the UK. It’s fucking crazy! I love American Beauty and The Godfather part one and two.

You wrote a song called Ghetto Baby for Cheryl Cole, how did that come about?

We have the same boss at Polydor and they thought Cheryl would like the song so they played it to her. She loved it and decided to record it.

Many people tried to define your music, what will you personally call it?

I would say it is film-made, really visual and reflective.

Originally published on spinorbinmusic.com with the headline Lana Del Rey Reveals All In Intimate Interview: “Music Is Not My First Passion.” Click here to view photos from the interview, conducted on October 25, 2012.

[briamichellewrites]

19

- I know I’m skipping ahead but I was too excited to wait!

February 23, 2000. Bria was at the Grammys waiting to hear who won the award for Best New Artist. She was nominated among Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Macy Gray, Kid Rock, and Susan Tedeschi. Her album, Memories was doing well on the Adult Contemporary charts. It took months of writing, recording, and editing. It got Jeff’s approval before it was officially released. Critics gave it very good reviews. They liked everything about the album.

The day before, she was called upon to perform. The show had a last-minute cancellation and they needed an artist to cover for them. She met the producer in person to discuss what song she wanted to do. They decided on To Love You More by Celine Dion. He informed her that she would be in the audience. So, no pressure.

“Yep. No pressure”, she joked.

Brad and Mike had her practice the song after hearing of the situation. They had her practice with Celine’s vocals and then with the instrumental version. They even had her practice how she was going to stand and her movements. She nailed it every time! They were excited for her! She crossed her fingers. Was she nervous? Hell yeah! That was to be expected.

They would be at home watching her. Celine was informed that she would sing her song. She thought it would be a great opportunity for her to prove she could sing and promote her music. Both she and her husband, Rene heard her single, Better Days on the radio. Her voice sounded like she had years of training and experience. Brad and the band were at home watching the show, as Bon Jovi sat with her in the audience.

When her name was called, she took a second to process that she won! The band got up and took turns hugging her as she walked to the stage. The guys were excited about their best friend winning! No way! That’s Bria!

“I first want to thank Richie Sambora for telling me earlier that Britney Spears was going to win…”

The audience laughed.

“I also want to thank my parents for encouraging me and believing in me. If anyone here is drinking tonight, please get a sober ride home. Thank you.”

The audience clapped as she walked backstage. Melissa Etheridge, Sarah MacLachlan, and Sheryl Crow took turns giving her a hug and congratulations. She was photographed by the media holding her award. They also asked her questions before she sat back down in the audience.

Jon, Dorothea, and the other guys congratulated her. Thank you. When it was her time to sing, she gave her award to Jon to hang on to before going backstage again. She went on stage as she was introduced. The audience clapped for her. She took a deep breath as the music started. Everyone knew she could do it! Though, they could only imagine how nervous she was.

Celine listened to her singing her song. She held her breath, like a nervous parent watching her daughter. Her voice and performance was… there were no words to describe it. Tears of happiness were in her eyes. She had just started her career, but she sang like she was a true professional. She knew how to breathe, stand, project her voice, and keep time. The camera went over to see her reaction. It caught her with her hand over her heart. She had pride in her eyes.

She held her arms out at the last beat. The audience gave her a standing ovation, as she bowed. Celine blew her a kiss. She had proven herself as a singer and as a performer. Mike and the band were ecstatic! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!

At the after-party, they introduced themselves with a hug. She and Rene both congratulated her on her performance. Thank you! That meant a lot to her. How much training did she have? She did theater and voice lessons while away at school. They were impressed. She joked about practicing for about four hours the day before. They learned that she could play music by ear.

What instruments did she use? She played the guitar and piano. Initially, she wanted to be an alternative country singer but she fought with her label over that. They wanted her to be more pop. She was going to do that just to get them off her back. Then, they decided that her voice was more suited for Adult Contemporary, so they went with that. What label was she on? Warner Music. A couple of her friends were starting an independent label, so she was going to join them.

They had the same issues she had with not having creative control. So by joining them, she would be able to experiment and put out music she wanted to make. They understood what it was like to have to fight for control. Almost every artist did. They were excited to hear more music from her in the future. She thanked them. Before saying goodbye, they took a picture together.

She also got to talk to the Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, Ricky Martin, who was very impressed she was fluent in Spanish; Whitney Houston, Chris Cornell and Bruce Springsteen. While talking to Chris, she mentioned her friend, Chester who was a fan of his. She took out her phone and called him.

“Hey, Chessy. It’s Bria. I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

As he was asking her who it was, she handed the phone over to Chris. Did he freak out? Hell yeah! He was cool about it and he talked to him like an old friend. They talked for about twenty minutes. During their conversation, they agreed to meet up sometime. He handed her the phone back while asking if he was always that enthusiastic. Yes. Yes, he was. He laughed.

Phoenix called her and they both cried together tears of happiness after she went somewhere private. He was so proud of her! Was she proud of herself? Yes, she was. Good because she deserved it! The entire night was a dream come true! She didn’t care if it was cliché because it was true. For over a year, they had worked hard to put together an album and now, the hard work had paid off. She wiped her tears away and agreed that it had.

“I love you and I can’t wait to hear all about your night!”

“I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Faith Hill and her husband, Tim McGraw saw her coming back to everyone. They also noticed that she had been crying. Was she okay? She laughed. Yes, she had just been talking to her boyfriend on the phone and her tears were ones of happiness. They laughed with her before telling her how well she had done performing. Thank you.

Linkin Park was calling each other about her performance. To say they were proud of her was an understatement! They were all going to see her the following afternoon after she slept in. Mike was still working through his break up with Anna.

He learned her baby wasn’t his. After being caught together too many times, Brad and Rob were forced to come out as a couple. Rob came out as gay while Brad came out as bisexual. They congratulated them and apologized for forcing them to come out.

Chester was up and down, as was his marriage. It wasn’t going to last. He was looking at other women but he had yet to cross the line. Mike invited him to hang out, so he wasn’t alone. It was because of that, they became close friends. Joe was still single. He joked about liking his video games too much to have a girlfriend.

It was very late when Bria got home. She put her award on the kitchen counter before going upstairs, getting her pajamas on and hanging up her dress. After taking off her makeup, she crawled into bed exhausted. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

[todayisafridaynight]

You Be Tails, I’ll Be Sonic by adtr is also very masadai to me, which is hilarious actually

most insane title for this song but you're also right so i'm putting it on the playlist

[tobns]

all the lights went down in hollywood

from the writer’s desk: so, just right off the bat, for the full ~experience~ i recommend you read on ao3, as this is a multimedia fic and everything is formatted for that platform. but i know tumblr fics are slowly becoming a thing again, that’s where i came from and it’s who i’ll always be + i had some people asking, so here you guys go! disclaimer that there is adult material in this fic, so read at your own discretion. happy reading :’)

CHAPTER ONE: FEEL SO UNSTABLE, FUCKING HATE MY LABEL

"Gale is officially not coming back."

Clove wishes she could say this comes as a surprise, but it does not. If anything, it is a dull ringing in her ears, like someone's phone is bleating and they're just pretending to ignore it. The noise is akin to a nail-grating whine that digs underneath her skin.

Except the phone has been ringing for four weeks, and she is ready to rip her flesh off her body.

The suit sitting on the opposite side of the board table plows ahead, adjusting the lapels of his jacket as he speaks. "His team has finalized the paperwork, and as of tomorrow, March 13th, for all legal purposes, he will no longer be attached to The SeventyFourth."

Beside her, Glimmer rolls her eyes. "So why the hell did someone post the Twelve cover this morning to our Instagram?"

"Roxanne is contractually obligated to post to the band's Instagram at minimum once per month."

"Well why couldn't Foxy post that picture of Gale's bare ass? It's the least he deserves after he ditched us."

Across the table, the suit lowers his wire-rimmed glasses. "Ms. Dillon, Mr. Hawthorne provided you all with a formal resignation letter upon his entry into rehab. I'd hardly call that ditching."

Glimmer falls silent.

A formal resignation letter is pushing the envelope considerably. Emmett's still of the belief that Gale doesn't know how to form more than two complete sentences.

Really, they'd forced his hand. They couldn't keep pushing back tour rehearsals to accommodate for his broken heart. At some point, something had to give, and Clove would go to her grave with the truth if anyone decided to ask questions about her call history.

"You're drunk," Foxy warns as Clove starts fumbling with her phone, trying to get the face identification to do its singular job and recognize her as the owner. Apparently, when she's drunk, Apple tells too much of a difference between freckles and specks of glitter and deems her as another person entirely.

"Yeah, no shit."

Foxy's fingers start trying to pry the phone gently from Clove's grip, but Clove immediately swats her hand away, all but clocking her in the face with the point of her elbow as she wrestles herself out of Foxy's proximity. "Stop it," she spits venomously. "If no one else in this fuckin' group is gonna tell him the truth, then I will."

"Clove..."

Clove's face draws up into a tight line. "Foxy," she mimics. "It's bullshit."

"I'm not disagreeing with you, but—"

"But what?" Clove snaps. Her face falls, come on scrolling in her irises as she glares at her publicist. "Rox, this is shit and you know it. Katniss didn't do anything to him, he's a pussy who can't accept that he has always been and never will be anywhere but her friend zone. And now he's making the band suffer because he's suddenly twelve?" She huffs. "We named the album after the number of songs, not how old our fuckin' guitarist acts."

Foxy is silent, lips pressing together in an attempt to suppress the riot act she's dying to read Clove, but knows that ultimately, she cannot. As long as it doesn't grace the top searches of Google, it's out of her hands. Clove's always been a fish in her hands, slipping and darting from her grasp. Every time she thinks she's got Clove, there's a narrow escape back into the pond.

Clove manages to unlock her phone and gets into her contacts, finding Gale's name and violently pressing the call button. Every drone of the phone ringing only heightens her blood pressure.

"What the fuck do you want, Clove?" Gale answers on the third ring, his words slurred together. "'M not hashing this out with you."

"Oh, the hell you are," Clove snarls into the receiver. Beside her, Foxy is now physically biting down on her fist. "You're going to stop acting like a little bitch, you're going to pull your head out of your ass and you're going to be at rehearsal tomorrow. We are not waiting around on you to get over yourself."

"Fuck you," he groans.

"Know who else I fucked? Kat." The silence on the other end is so profound, she wonders if he hung up on her, but she knows she's got him by the throat. She almost wishes he could see the smug grin that so effortlessly drapes over her lips. "While you were whining after every show about whether or not she'd ever give you the time of day, I was with her in all those hotel rooms—"

"Shut up—"

"—and tour bunks, between her legs, making her say my name—"

"God, you are an insufferable cunt—"

"—and guess what? She didn't think about you once! Not one mention of you, ever!" Clove sneers into the receiver, a low laugh rumbling from her chest. "C'mon, Hawthorne, you didn't seriously think she and I wrote honey because we'd caught a marathon of the fuckin' L Word one night and thought it'd be a cute idea for a song."

There's more silence on Gale's end, so Clove takes that as her invitation to keep prattling on. "So if you're gonna be mad at anyone in the band, don't you dare be mad at Katniss for going out on dates with someone that is perfectly kind and normal and sane like she's got every right to. Be mad at the person who was fucking her behind your back for eight months knowing full well how you felt about her. I didn't give a shit about bro code, I don't regret it, and I'd fucking do it again."

"I can't believe you."

"Believe it." Clove switches hands, pulling the phone away from her ear and putting the receiver directly up to her mouth. "You better fucking be at rehearsal tomorrow morning, or you are out." Gale doesn't have an opportunity to protest; she forcefully ends the call and then throws the phone haphazardly over her shoulder. She hears the soft bounce it makes when it lands somewhere on the couch behind her.

Clove bends down, reaching for the shot glass she'd discarded and tossing it back. Foxy just stares at her with wide eyes, wordless. "What?" Clove asks calmly as the tequila carves a neat path down her throat. "I'm expediting the process."

"Yeah," is Foxy's hollow intonation, unsure of what the fuck to say. It's a good thing she said enough for the both of them, then.

Gale was never the favorite in the band. Once upon a time, he'd been tolerable. Those were the days when Madge was on keys, of few but meaningful words and they were opening for nobodies, when it didn't matter the way it does now. And then she left, and Emmett recommended they give one of his sister's friends a listen to see if she'd be a good fit. Katniss was, of course, and everyone loved her. Gale loved her the most, in a way that he was stuffing napalm into all of their cracks that he all but promised to come back and ignite later.

Clove knows she probably put more than just a toe or her neck out, telling Gale the truth, but it was just that: the truth. He never bothered to do anything about his insufferable crush on her, and that was far from Clove's problem. It became her problem when he dialed the dramatics up to an eleven and let the band get in the crosshairs. Twelve was their most successful record to date, got them nominated for three Grammys, and the Twelve tour sold out in minutes.

So, yes, it very much mattered when Gale started saying he couldn't be in the same room as Katniss and pushed tour rehearsals back. And then it really was her problem when he broke his hand after punching a wall, a direct result of their phone conversation, and pretended to go to rehab just so he could punish her by making everything screech to a grinding halt.

She really, really hated him.

"Furthermore—" Clove's never heard anyone use the word furthermore in a conversation that was not scripted by Shakespeare — "Within the terms of his release, Mr. Hawthorne would not be officially released from his contract within the band until a suitable replacement was lined up with the approval of the label."

"Yeah, what about the band's approval?" Marvel says, the steady rap of his fingers against the wooden table never faltering. "Imagine the label's still mad at me for that time I wrecked that golf cart—"

"—they probably are," Katniss chimes in.

"—and they give us someone worse than Gale as a dose of our medicine." He glances around the table at the rest of them, looking for support. "I mean, it's more than just a business arrangement. This is somebody we have to live with, in cramped conditions, for the next seven months. Do you want one of us to become a serial killer?"

"Mr. Dillon," the suit says in a disapproving tone, lowering the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose to glare. Marvel winces, slouching back into his seat; underneath the table, Glimmer has stomped on his foot as hard as she can manage, arms now folded across her chest and a triumphant smirk on her lips that she does her best to water down for appearance's sake. "Considering your own contract and moral clauses, I highly doubt that will be an issue."

"So, what are you saying?" Glimmer asks. "We don't get to pick our new guitarist?"

"It's not just a guitarist, from my understanding. If I'm correct, Mr. Hawthorne also did male lead vocals for the group's latest record."

"That's something Marv or Thresh can do." Clove sits up a little taller in her chair, finding herself nodding along with Katniss's suggestion.

The suit, on the other hand, is skeptical of this. "That may well be true, Ms. Everdeen, but it's of the label's perspective that Mr. Hawthorne's replacement should be able to replace him entirely."

Clove sighs. This is veering on the borderline of asinine and aggravating, and she's got shit to do. Namely, get her band in rehearsal, now that they are apparently back on track. "Okay," she interjects, lifting one of her hands. "So Gale's out, and now we've got to wait on the label to find someone to replace him, and we'll probably figure out who it is once Rox's contract obligates her to post it on the band Instagram. Is tour officially on?"

Suit clears his throat. "Tour is on, yes." He begins ruffling through the stack of papers he has spread out around him. "According to Mr. Abernathy and Ms. Trinket, replacement dates with the venues are in the process of being finalized. The European shows are, I believe, the only ones still up in the air. My understanding is that you will play Amsterdam instead of Po—"

"Okay then," Clove deduces with the clap of her hands. "So when do we start rehearsals? Is the plan still to open in Glendale?"

"Yes, but..."

"And do we have to actually wait for the label to tell us who's joining, or are we allowed to make recommendations and audition people we like?"

"I like that," Marvel nods fervently. "At least gives us some say in the matter."

"And that's how we found Katniss," Glimmer adds, thumb jambing in the direction of their now slightly blushing keyboardist. "She was a perfect fit."

Emmett shrugs. "Told y'all I had good taste."

"That you did, Threshie."

The suit looks visibly uncomfortable where he sits, Clove's sharp eye narrowing in on his body language. It takes only a second to conclude why he's behaving as though his tie is choking him. "We're not going to get to audition anyone, are we?"

Marvel's neck nearly breaks. "What? Why?"

Clove's eyebrows shift upward, and Suit opens his mouth. "Per the terms of his release from his contract, Mr. Hawthorne would not be able to officially leave the band until a replacement was lined up. It's my understanding that we are meeting today because the label signed a new lead guitarist to The SeventyFourth last night, and the paperwork for Mr. Hawthorne's departure was processed and finalized early this morning."

The dull ringing is back in her ears, but this time, everything around her sounds as though it has been plunged into water.

Quite a bit of her disdain for Gale stemmed back to the way that he made Katniss feel (read: like shit, and Clove hated to see her down), but the reason Clove could not stand him, even for the sake of professionalism, was the lack of control she was able to exercise regarding his mere presence. She's always in control, even when others think she's not.

It's why the rest of them throw the baton her way when it comes to leading the charge — and the band — without a complaint. It's because she gets shit done. She doesn't mind making hard decisions that must be made, starting difficult discussions that need to be had. Everyone in The SeventyFourth has always had a fair say, but typically it all boils down to Clove.

She's been doing this twice as long as the rest of them. She's seen shit, and while it doesn't make her better than any of them (she will never be able to play piano like Katniss, or make even the stoniest person crack a laugh like Marvel, or be half the woman Glimmer is or have the rationale Thresh has in any given moment) it incentivizes her to make sure The SeventyFourth is the best it can possibly be. And Gale was the weed that no matter how she tried to rearrange or disguise she simply could not prune. Gale was a force outside of the things she could control. She'd certainly thought about it, but there was no way to physically make him show up for rehearsals. There was no way to quell his broodiness. There was no legal way to be rid of him unless he did it on his own terms.

The only thing that could possibly be worse than having the tour continue to be delayed is hearing that they have already found his replacement, and Clove's got no fucking clue who they could've picked to invade her family.

Slowly, the conversation around her pokes and prods at her bubble.

"I'm calling Haymitch," is the first thing Clove hears clearly, Katniss spinning the chair around so her back is to Suit with her phone already out, unlocked, and mid-dial.

"That's not necessary, Ms. Everdeen, but if you'd like."

Marvel is halfway across the table with how far he is hunched over. "Why weren't we privy to that information? We should have at least been told that the label would be out looking for people; I mean, for fuck's sake, we've all been doing nothing for five weeks. We could've been looking on our own for someone to take his place."

Suit seems to be sweating, even if he's doing a damn fine job with his poker face. "These were terms mentioned in the contract when The SeventyFourth signed with Rose Garden."

"Are you telling me that I don't know how to read?"

"I'm saying that this should not come as a surprise had you read your contracts."

"Those are like the goddamn terms of service," Marvel grumbles. "Nobody reads them!"

"Marvel, shut up," Glimmer says in lieu of smashing his foot underneath her Louboutins for the second time. "You're making it sound like we're stupid."

"Well, we might as well be."

"How far are you from the Garden?" Katniss is saying into the phone, hand cupped around the receiver so Haymitch can hear her. "Did you know that they were finding someone to replace Gale?"

"When do we get to meet them?" Thresh asks, perhaps the calmest of them all. It's why he is the threshold for all of their bullshit: nothing rattles him. "Since they're officially part of the band, we shouldn't be left in the dark. If tour's back on, we need to get into rehearsals."

"I'm glad you asked." The voice does not belong to the suit, but rather a sandy haired man that has burst through the conference room doors with a phone still tucked against his cheek, broad smile across his face. He winks at Katniss, who is staring back at him with her mouth agape. "We wanted to make sure you all were in the same room first," he says, hanging up the call. "And here you all are."

Haymitch.

"What the fuck, Haymitch," are the first words out of Marvel's mouth. "You couldn't have told us?"

Both of Haymitch's hands lift in mock arrest. "Wasn't allowed to." The look he gives Marvel is utterly patronizing. "Can't read the contracts for you, I can only tell you to read 'em carefully." Marvel's eye is now twitching.

"Okay, so who is it?" Clove snaps, already nauseous with the back and forth and stalling. "Who's our new guitarist?"

If it were possible for Haymitch's smile to grow, the upward curve of his lips would be carved in his skin. "So glad you asked." He turns slightly, arms gestured out to the side. "May I introduce — or, for some, reintroduce to you..."

Clove's vision goes red, and she vaguely feels as though she might be sick.

"SeventyFourth's newest guitarist and male lead, Cato Hadley."