#The picture of Robert I got last summer

[bisexual-horror-fan]

[verdemoun]

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN JOHN MEETS ABIGAIL AGAIN😭😭😭😭

oh my sweet summer child which one. don't worry i'll do both

john's death is awful. it's abrupt but it's not fast. he wheezes, knowing any breath could be his last but still fighting despite there being more lead than bone in his body in case he still needs to protect abigail and jack. falls to his knees, still trying to make his lungs inflate, feels himself falling backwards as the clouds in his vision turn to black

feels someone catching him. pain is gone instantaneously and he gasps like he was suffocating. strangely familiar voice he'd almost forgotten but could recognize anywhere tells him to take it easy, it's alright. wildly glances over his shoulder to see arthur. hosea's there, kneeling in front of him, trying to assure him that 'it's okay, son' in that crackly old voice he hasn't heard in over a decade.

still trying to catch his breath, looking around wildly and the first thing john asks is where's addie. not abigail. addie. because if he's seeing arthur and hosea, he's dead, and he can deal with that later but that means he can see his little girl again

and arthur, who once mocked his brother as 'father of the year' and despised how he acted with jack for so long can't feel anything but pride because the first thing stupid dumb younger brother asks for is his daughter. can't help himself from chuckling, because charles is no doubt struggling to keep her in the car, makes some gesture to release the little demon who has been bouncing up and down since she found out her dad was coming 'home'

john hasn't even picked himself off the ground before he's holding his arms open and abigail marston jr is sprinting to him. beaming like he is the luckiest man in the world for being shot 21 times because he gets to hold his little girl, kissing her cheeks in adoration, asking where she got the idea to get so big.

it's been less than a year but to not see a child for almost a year feels like a lifetime. she's almost 3 inches taller, she's giggling and whining he's going to squish her he's hold on so tight and he has to stop himself from thinking about the last time he saw her. last time he saw his little girl he was burying her.

the gang are almost glad to be forgotten about. there's john marston, older than they'd ever seen him, older than arthur ever got to be in 1899, who experienced his own death seconds ago immediately becoming a father again.

he answers her excited questions so gently - so sorry he was away so long. he went to mexico and all over new austin, but he thought about her every night. that mommy and jack still need to look after the farm so they couldn't come with him, that she better have said thank you to uncle arthur and uncle charles for taking care of her while he was gone and he's never putting her down again, despite her squirming and wriggling in his arms because she's a big girl who doesn't need to be carried

on the drive the gang can't even talk to him because he's just staring at his little girl nestled up beside him with so much love, trying not to look obviously confused and slightly horrified by her holding up an iPad and eagerly explaining how to play way of the turtle because 'arthur i swear to god if you converted my daughter into chelonianism i will find a way to kill you also why is this moving picture show handheld and interactive'

if he ever struggles adjusting to modern era he doesn't show it. the second he saw his daughter he knew that eventually (sooner than he'd like) his family would be together again and he would go through hell/learning to drive and work a mobile phone and getting a shitty part-time job as a laborer to make sure they are all safe with a place to call home again

--

in direct contrast, abigail marston nee roberts death is so peaceful. bedridden for days, knowing her body was quitting and blaming the immeasurable toll of heartbreak despite how much she tried to pull herself together for jack's sake. jack, who looks so much like his father, sitting at her bedside and insisting he'll be okay (for her sake. he very much won't be)

it's a blink. one blink, she's looking at her son, and the next it's her husband. the images almost overlap each other, their similarities and differences never more obvious. jack squints because he reads too much, young enough that it hasn't formed lines on his face yet but promises to. john squints to make his singular eye focus (well, he has two eyes, but she knows he can only see out of one after those damned wolves). his face is worn, an old, scarred map of the lives he's lived. the corners of his mouth tug more with smile lines than frown, though. it's like a secret between them, how often he smiles

it's like jack and john are in the exact same spot, sitting beside her, but the walls of bedroom have become a field, as john takes her hand delicately as if it isn't as rugged and haggard as his from years of washing, cooking, tending to the chores on the farm that used to be his

"hey"

"hey"

he sits beside her, staring at her as much as she's staring at him. she looks so beautiful but so tired, holding onto so much grief that no one person should shoulder alone. abigail notices he's somehow older, like the three years they've been apart have affected him too. more crinkles in his face, but his hair doesn't look so dry

he cuts her off before she can work herself into a panic over where their daughter is, as much as he knows it's been so much longer for her. addie's fine, arthur is entertaining her, she's as bossy and demanding as her mother (to which abigail playfully hits him for) arthur's here, sadie's here, charles and hosea and lenny and sean and karen, the whole gang, they're here too. not heaven or hell but something else she can worry about, figure out and understand later

might as well be speaking latin because abigail could not care less after she heard her daughter was there. she just so wholly, entirely missed john she doesn't want to take her eyes off him in case she blinks and he's gone again

[cottagecheese1]

Knocking on the devils door

Summary: When you come back from college for summer break, the last thing you expected was to have a stepdad.

Paring - dark stepdad robert pronge x reader

Warnings - not really smut but close enough, robert is a weirdo

College was fun. Well, except juggling classes and doing work wasn't all that fun, but other than that, you enjoyed it. Before you left home, you and your mom got into this huge argument about how you shouldn't go to college and just stay in your hometown and find a rich husband to take care of you, so you can become a housewife like her.

You have always been an independent person, but your mom never really understood that. Every time you would bring up getting a job or going to college, she would refuse, and ask you why you wouldn't just get a husband.

Then again, you do keep in mind that she is your mother and always has been, so you hoped that if you put this little hardship behind you, your mom would understand and also do the same.

You pulled into the driveway and took a quick gander at your childhood home. Nothing has changed even before you left, but what you did notice was an ice cream truck parked right in front of you. How strange.

As soon as you get out of your car, you smooth your shirt out. Taking in a deep breath, and walking up to the front door, knocking with your left hand while you hold your bag in the other. After waiting for a good two minutes, you raised your hand to knock once again until a tall man with long hair and a scruffy mustache answered the door.

"Listen, kid, I don't wanna buy any girl scout cookies"

He had a white T shirt on with glasses, as much as you would hate to admit it. He was a handsome man. The feeling of your tongue being caught in the back of your own throat wasn't really the most convenient.

"Um, no, sir, I'm looking for my mom? M/n?"

He looked me up and down, but before he could answer again, a high-pitched voice that was highly recognizable came quickly to the front door.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm so glad you're here! You should have called before you came! I missed you so much, sweetheart please come inside!"

To say that you were surprised was an understatement. Being welcomed into open arms by your mother after what happened really surprised you. After you came inside, and looked around at the same pictures, same radio, same dusty bookshelf that has been here since your childhood, you quickly realized there was nothing visibly different. Nothing special.

When your mother led you inside, the tall man behind you followed, "Sit down, I was just making spaghetti for tonight!" Your mother spoke joyfully. You sat quietly, waiting for someone to make conversation so you wouldn't have to.

"So, I see you met Robert, don’t worry sweetheart he may look a little intimidating, but he's not all that bad, " your mom said as she gave a heartfelt giggle. You gave a small smile and turned to look at him, you didn’t get to observe his features until now, you swear he could feel your gaze burning in the back off his head because he shifted his head around and made eye contact with you. His icy blue eyes, and scruffy facial hair made you feel some sort of way, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it..almost a little creeped out. Pulling you out of your train of thoughts was your mother, she gave a frustrated sigh, "Dammit! I forgot the pasta sauce, I'll have to run down to the store... you two don't go anywhere, and I'll be right back".

You giggled and gave a quick ‘ok’ while she grabbed her purse and walked through the front door. After your mom left, it was extremely awkward when you just sat there silently while Robert seductively eyed you up and down.

"So, you go to college?"

Giving him a quick nod, you start to speak. "Yea, sports medicine...did you marry my mom?"

He chuckled and made his way over to the fridge to grab a beer, "Yeah, so I guess that makes me your daddy, right?" He said as he took a swing of the bitter liquid. Feeling your cheeks go red, you gave an awkward laugh.

“Um, yeah I guess so, if that’s the way you think of it.” Robert cracked his beer open, and walked over to the seat beside you to sit down. Fiddling with your fingers nervously, trying to come up with a question or some kind of excuse to make this situation less awkward.

Robert reached over, and tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ear softly, “Do I make you nervous angel?” You gave a embarrassed smile, and attempted to make some space between him and you, because for some reason it felt like he was to close to you. To comfortable for just meeting you the first time.

“Not at all, why would you say that?” He then managed to get closer to you right after you said that, giving you a unsatisfied hum, he grabbed your chin softly while making you look at him, “Because you are. You don’t need to lie to your daddy angel” After he said that you pushed his hand off your face with a wide eyed look while getting up out of your seat, “Are you fucking crazy? I’m going to tell my mom.” He laughed getting up and striding over to you, never until now have you realized how much bigger he was then you, probably a lot stronger also.

Pushing you up against the kitchen wall, he grabbed your face roughly. “Your mother would never believe you, and even if she did it’s either you or me. After that little disagreement you two had about not settling down and getting a husband, not to mention you also not wanting to stay in this shit hole of a town made your mother really upset. I’ve stayed with that hag for four years, and you wouldn’t wanna ruin your relationship with her even more would you angel?”

That was your breaking point. You broke out in sobs while burying your face in Roberts shirt, “Aw, angel face..daddy didn’t mean to make you cry, let me see that pretty face sweetheart.” You looked up at him with defeat, “what do you want from me..” Robert smiled and wiped the falling tears from your cheeks, “right now I want you to be my good girl, and to look me in my eyes when I fuck you with my fat cock. I want you to beg for daddy’s dick angel.” You looked up at him with wide eyes, “no..”

All the somewhat warmth and softness that might’ve been in him disappeared at that moment, “So you want your mother to think your a whore and tried to force yourself on me? Hm?” You froze, thinking of all the things your mother has done for you, and then her going to think for a minute you tried to have sex with this man. Robert exhaled while putting his head on your forehead, “How about I give you twenty spanks for being a brat, and another ten because you’re not being a good girl, then we can start over and you can actually start being my good girl. How bout it angel?”

You looked at him angrily, “NO.” Robert raised his hand, giving you a warning smack on your cheek. “If you say no again you’ll be choking on my dick to.” There was a pregnant pause in the air for a moment before he spoke again, “if your mother gets home before we get started, it will be much much worse tonight.” With that you sighed and gave a quiet ‘alright’.

Kissing your forehead softly before following with a ‘good girl’. Pulling you in the living room, and sitting on the couch before tugging you over his lap.

Pulling your pants down, leaving you in your panties for a moment, “so pretty angel, you wear these panties for anyone else, hm?” Giving him a soft ‘no’ he gave a satisfied hum, tugging your panties down your ankles, and giving your ass a teasing smack. “Count.”

_______________________________________________

Smack after smack went down painfully on your ass, at this point you were sobbing while counting, “twenty-five..” you just wanted it to be over, “twenty-seven..” your ass is bright red and hurts like shit, “your doing so good for daddy angel, just three more.” You gave him a whine, “twenty-nine..” you think the last one hurt the most because somehow you started crying even harder, “t-thirty…” Robert rubbed your ass soothingly, and put you on his lap. All you could do was hug him, and being in such a vulnerable state, you didn’t really care that you were clinging onto him with such urgency, “Aw, daddy’s sorry angel but you had to learn one way or another didn’t you sweet pea?” All you did was whine and bury your face in the crook of his neck, you can’t describe it, but he smelled good, “daddy..”

Robert smiled finally getting you wrapped around his finger, “did you learn your lesson?” With a burning red ass and no more fight in your body all you could do was nod your head yes.

Robert leaned down to grab your pants, accepting your answer as it is, “we need to get you cleaned up angel, we don’t need your mom finding you in such a humiliating mess honey..would hate to explain this to her wouldn’t you?” Nodding your head, and letting him wrap his arms around you. Maybe this isn’t to bad.

A/n: This isn’t usually like any of my other fic’s but I enjoyed writing it. I know it’s been a minute but I’m trying to go through my drafts at the moment!

[aprilias]

Just for my own documentation (and anyone else’s if they want it) here’s a summary of Thursday at Silverstone. This is going under the cut because while this is a summary, I myself cannot summarise the words lmao.

The basics/area/idk how to describe it:

- Arriving at the track it really feels like more people are here for Thursday than last year (hopefully this continues for the weekend since this is regularly not a well attended race in comparison).

- There was also so many people wearing different merch whereas the last 2 years have been pretty much Marc and Vale. Fabio I think actually looked the most popular this year, but there was a surprising amount of Martin fans.

- The one thing I’m disappointed about is that last year they changed the bit around the fanzone from grass to gravel and it’s the same this year. It makes it a lot more inaccessible and its so difficult to get to the activities and stuff.

- In fact I think they changed the layout way more this year but it was still fine, just weird that they don’t want us touching grass lol.

- The fans as a whole behaved well but there were a few people that were rude, not necessarily towards the riders but towards other fans.

The paddock:

- The paddock opened at 11 but the queue started at like half past 10, but it really didn’t take long to get in so it was fine. It was ridiculously hot though.

- The paddock itself is massive, but for the GP teams its too small unlike the old layout. They’ve had to add a secondary part at the back for some of the smaller teams in Moto2/3 for their hospitality and motor homes.

- They didn’t have anywhere to get drinks in the paddock unlike last year. We wouldve had to leave to get drinks but luckily we bought water and they had refilling stations.

- We wanted to get to the pitlane for the bike reveals and the queue was… well just absolutely ridiculous to put it mildly. We decided to skip it which was sad but we got to watch the reveals on the screen (Yamaha and Pramac won for me and I love Trackhouse’s too).

The auction:

- The auction is so fun. Basically all the riders put something of theirs, for example a knee slider or boots or something, and then people bid (slightly ridiculous) amounts of money for them for the two wheels for life.

- Joe Roberts was brought on stage and he was giving away part of his race winning bike from mugello??? They got 4k for it.

- Jake Dixon was there on stage but he was ill. He brought Summer (his daughter) out on stage and she waved at all of us which was so cute.

- The auctioned a Prosecco bottle that was signed by Johann Zarco, Jack Miller and wait for it…. Pecco Bagnaia. No one else seemed to care how ironic that was but I burst out laughing.

- Johann Zarco talks a lot. By a lot I mean he may as well have presented the auction himself. That’s all I can say about the MotoGP riders that I didn’t know already.

- Actually I just want to say that Fabio seems really shy and reserved but he knows how to work a crowd. The British crowd absolutely love both him and Rins but I genuinely think he’s the best supported rider here, maybe even more than Marc.

- He also did the auction for his boots which was absolutely hilarious. He wanted to buy them himself too but got outbidded 😭

- Also Remy kind of said on stage that it appears he will be doing another year of WSBK with Yamaha!!!!!

- We left early because of the rain but it was so fun, if I had money then I would’ve been bidding on stuff but it was fun regardless.

The riders (and team people i suppose):

- Met the Moto3 baby goats extremely early and David and Collin are both lovely and so polite too.

- Ran into Massimo Rivola. I have a picture with him and he smiled at me when he saw I was wearing Aprilia merch. Also found Pablo Nieto and Frankie Carchedi and said hello to Nadia Padovani.

- My friend saw Somkiat in the motorhome and shouted at him, and he kind of jumped and pointed but he came down for a chat and a photo. Again, he is probably one of the, if not the, nicest person in the whole paddock.

- Found Celestino and again he is so nice but also comes across as really shy. I actually told him he was my favourite out of everyone and he seemed really grateful for it (unless he thought I was crazy which is also possible).

- Saw somebody who I thought was J.A. Rueda but I’m not 100% sure. Also ran into both Senna Agius and Jeremy Alcoba and when I tell you those boys look the same its crazy.

- Saw Albert and had to stop myself from apologising that I jinx him every weekend. Also a great guy it seems and we saw him a few more times after that.

- Not saying it’s necessarily him all the time but it’s two years in a row I’ve had a very negative experience of a certain #1. Never said hello or anything when people said it to him, unlike literally every other rider (yes including Fabio and Marc and any other person you want to try a pull a gotcha card on).

- I need to issue a public apology to Jorge Martin because I saw him on his scooter and shouted “Hola Jorge” from a distance and following that he got swamped. He’s not off the shit list but he was actually a nice guy. I also asked if he could sign anything Aprilia yet (thought I’d ask because i had my pen and cap) and he smiled and said not this time.

- I have had skin-on-skin contact with Fabio (not even out of context: he touched my arm while I was helping him escape on the scooter from a crowd).

- I didn’t see him but my friend did and the good news is for the first time in two years Pedro has arrived at Silverstone not on crutches!!!

- Saw Maverick, Aleix and Enea (who was walking back and forth around Aprilia for some reason). They were down the opposite end to all of us but all smiled and waved. Maverick disappeared somewhere so I’m pretty sure he’s a wizard.

- Found Luca who was lovely again. Also Miguel who said he has given up dentistry now!! Again lovely and stopped for as many as he could, as did Bezz.

- We stopped to get some shade, which conveniently ended up being outside the Yamaha hospitality. Got a picture with Remy and I got thrown off because he was speaking perfect Italian to someone.

- Saw Sarah (Jake’s wife) and we said good luck to him for the weekend, and we asked where he was but she told us he was ill (which you could tell from the auction lol)

- David Muñoz was laughing at everyone queueing for and just sat there on his bike.

- Saw Ai and he was really patient because I could not get the camera to work. Again such a lovely guy and in case anyone was curious: he and Somkiat are still really good friends and Somkiat was riding Ai around on the same scooter so they’re still cool.

- I said it earlier but favourite rider of the day: Tony Arbolino aka loml. I cannot even tell you how nice he is because that deserves a post in itself. He was so happy I had his cap that he thanked me before I could thank him for signing it (his signature is interesting to say the least lmao I put the picture so you be the judge). Also some man offered to take our picture but I didn’t realise and I’m fairly confident it was his manager.

So yeah this was basically my day. If you wanna ask about any other riders cause I saw so many (the ones I’ve mentioned are the ones I have pictures with or of) then feel free to ask but yes 11/10 day, would recommend it to everyone. Hopefully we have a good weekend to follow!

[landojpg04]

Revenge on the Ranch//G.Tillman

Index

This is gonna be a multi-part series. It's gonna follow the story of Rumor Abbott as she progresses further into her career as an agent for the FBI and what she plans on when coming across blackmail. She is a long-time girlfriend of Gator Tillman and would do about anything to protect their love.

This story may have some dark themes, but I promise to detail all of the warnings. As mentioned previously, I am creating my own plotline but incorporating some themes from Fargo and Outer Range. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Warnings for this part: Language (few cuss words), Mentions of R*y Tillman.

Two weeks earlier

“What do you mean, they canceled the competition?” 

“Im telling you, they didn’t have enough cmpetitiors so now I’m done a month early.” Rhett was my older brother. He rode bulls professionally, and during the off season helped ur father and eldest brother Robert at the ranch. 

Rhett and I were closer in age making us closer in our relationship. He was the one to ship me away from the butt fucks of nowhere. Said my talent was a waste in the city we grew up in. Because of him I got into Quantico and began to pursue my dream.

“Well shit, what are you gonna do now?”

“Mom found out and entered my name into the homecoming competition. Said it’s an easy win. So guess I'm going back.”

Mom always did sneaky things to get us back home. Said shes done with Dad and Robert antics. This was a classic move by Reese herself. 

“Hows training going? You almost done?”

“I got a few months to go but its going good. I got to work this team this past week. Was able to locate and gather more intel for them.”

“Thats what I like to hear.”

I hummed to his response. I was sitting on the balcony of my apartment. The city was loud, in many ways than once. People yelling, sirens from every cancer with my head constantly going round in circles with thoughts.

“So you able to come up with me?”

“There it is.”

“Look you know Mom signed me up for a reason, she knows us.”

Mom did know us. I haven’t seen Rhett since last Christmas or have been able to get away to see him ride.

“I don’t know Rhett.”

“Come one, please. Do this for your favorite brother”

I laugh at his opinion.

“You think youre my favorite?”

“I definitely am.”

“That's presumptuous.”

“Well then, don’t go up for me–go up to see lover boy.”

I went silent thinking about that. Gator and I haven't seen each other since New Year. My schedule is the opposite of his. We talk every day still; we just haven't seen each other.

“What day are you gonna go up?”

“Probably Thursday. Friday is the competition.”

“Thursday, I have work till noon. But if you can't pick me up, no worries, I’ll drive up.”

“Sounds good. I'll see you later, Rue.”

“Bye, Rhett.” I hung up the phone. Immediately looking down at my lock screen. A picture of Gator and I last summer. I needed to go home, even for just a few days.

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I finished work around 1250. Today, I was on the desk for a gruesome case. I was able to find some information, but they weren’t able to raid till it was signed off by a judge. 

I began my walk from the office to my apartment. 

On the way there, I wanted to grab a pick-me-up drink, stopping by my local coffee shop.

I walked in, and there were two people in front of me. I took this time to text Gator,

How’s it going?

I send and within seconds I see the three dots.

Dad scheduled me to be out on the field. It’s like he know’s

You're gonna be back soon.

I’m counting down the hours 

I smiled at the last text. I look up and notice it was my turn to order.

“Hey Rumor, your usual?” I nodded and smiled. I began to pay when I heard the barista talk to me again. “You know, Rumor, there's a band playing at the Klatch this weekend; I have an in and was wondering if you’d be willing to go with me.”

The barista’s name was Vincent. He’s been working here since I moved. He went to college but dropped out, exclaiming he wasn’t gonna spend his life working away. 

“Sorry Vince, I’m actually planning on going back home this weekend.”

“Yeah, to see that fake boyfriend of yours.”

I just pressed my lips into a thin line. Despite Vincent knowing about Gator, he has always given me shit about him. Saying it would just be better if I said I wasn’t interested in him rather than creating a fake boyfriend.

Rather than responding, I just grabbed my drink, gave a small smile, and walked out.

Yeah, it's definitely time to go back home.

And like an angel from heaven as I turn the corner to reach my apartment. There he was sticking out like a sore thumb. Dressed like a cowboy. Hat, boots, and one of his sponsors jacket on.

“Rhett!” I scream overwhelmed with emotions.

He was standing in front of my building. I run towards him, he engulfs me in a hug.

“Holy shit Rue. I have never seen you run that fast.”

“What, I can't miss my favorite brother?” I say.

“That is exactly what I like to hear.”

I laugh.

“Okay, let me shower, pack my bags, and then we can hit the road.”

Rhett nodded.

“Thank god I have time for a nap.”

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Arriving at home was bittersweet. The ranch looks the same. But those who occupy it look older. Dad has a few more gray scattering his beard and Momma is aging like fine wine. Both of them cried when we got out of the car.

If it was up to them they would have us at the ranch year long, but they are the type of parents who don’t hold their kids back from their dreams. And for that, I am thankful.

“Honey, you haven't been eating,” Momma exclaimed. I roll my eyes at her.

“Mom I eat just fine.”

“Rob, go get your sister’s stuff! Rhett needs to rest up.”

“You owe me so many drinks tomorrow.” Robort says hugging me once more.

I laugh at thow we have resumed the hustle and bustle of the house like it once was all those years ago. 

Rylee was now walking and had long hair pulled into braids. I got up to swoop her, having her grow into a fit of giggles.

“Aunty Ru-Ru!” She says while giggling. 

I see Jane and rush to give her a hug. Jane was always the older sister I never had. 

“Hell Rumor look at you!” She said taking me in. “Crime stopping does wonder for you.” I laugh at her comment. Jane and Robert were high school sweethearts. Jane was always around, she got me ready for my first date and did my makeup for all the special occasions. I set Rylee down and pulled Jane into another hug “Miss you sis.” I said.

“Don’t go soft on us killer.”

I look down to see her belly growing.

“Son of a bitch.” I say under my breath.

“Hey don't talk like that about your nephew.”

“Rumor, come eat!” Jane laughed hearing Momma call me. I walked over and sat down. Content with the peacefulness around me.

After dinner and the catching up conversations with the family, Momma sent us all to bed because of the competition tomorrow. Exclaiming we all needed to be on our best behavior, as it was the first time since graduation we would all be together. I laid in bed and reached that call button. I heard it ring a few times before I heard him.

“How is my girl doing back?”

“Momma made me eat two servings of food and made us all go to bed. So currently a little happy."

“Sounds like Reese.”

“Where you at?”

“An hour or so up north. Roy sent me up due to a call about some missing cattle. I’m just sitting here till six and then heading back.”

“He hates me.”

“That I can not dispute. He is even making sure that I go to the station before the competition tomorrow to ensure my papers are up to date.”

“I hate him”

I heard Gator snicker.

“You’ll see me before your brother is up to ride, I promise.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m pretty sure I miss you more.”

I took a deep breath, and Gator did the same.

“Not to be a pest but why didn’t you text me back earlier?”

“Some asshole I was dealing with tampered my mood.

Then Rhett was already at my apartment.”

I heard him hum.

“Anyone I need to deal with?”

“Not yet. But you can deal with your father for me.”

He laughs.

“Call me if you can't sleep. Ill be up, but get some rest.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow, love you.”

“Love you.”

[nathanbatemanfucker]

summary: never wanted love, just a fancy car.

pairing: cowgirl!reader x cowboy!din

contents: 18+/nsfw/smut, cowboy au, typical Wild West violence & values (murder, stealing), flirting, pining, perceived unrequited feelings, yearning (if you squint)

wc: 4k

an: part two comin at yaaaaa. these two are so special to me. reader does have a code name in this that she uses, so if your name is scarlet sorry in advance!

series masterlist | writing masterlist

ch 1: takes one to know one

You don’t discuss the logistics or practicality of sticking together, you just do it. After meandering in Strawberry a few days longer to garner more money and supplies the two of you head southeast.

Din has a tent. You’ve gotten used to traveling as light as possible and staying in structures that already exist so as not to draw attention to yourself. But you already feel safer traveling with him. You feel yourself loosening up in the wake of his companionship and competency. And in that, you find a discomfort you’re not ready to unpack.

The town you end up in after dabbling in Strawberry– Cheyenne– is the closest thing you’ve seen to a true city. There are talks and whispers of New York and all the structure and opportunity it brings. Bustling with thousands of folk, buggies, art, and theater. Not to mention proper plumbing. But, settling down isn’t an option right now– or ever—you quickly remind yourself, as not to get your hopes up for something that doesn’t exist. Besides, you’re not sure you could ever imagine yourself working a steady job. Staying put in one place sounds so…stagnant.

Cheyenne is markets in back alleys, crowded streets, and a view of the sea. You’re grateful for the cool, salty air of the coast during this hellish summer. But the city has its cons: mixed in with the salty air is the stench of pollution that comes with such a populated place. Its lawman force— ever present and large— works to you and Din’s disadvantage. The work you do is harder in a place like this but the spoils will last you ten times over than in places like Strawberry or Annesburg.

You and Din have taken a room at an inn close to the edge of the city. You’ve just returned from a bath down the hall, one that was well overdue. Din’s already dressed in sleeping clothes, his hair wet and slicked back from his own bath. For just a moment you wonder what his hair feels lik. If it's as soft or thick as it looks. Whatever spell that is breaks when he closes his eyes as you enter in just a towel, turning over in the bed.

There’s nothing there for him, not that you can pick up. It shouldn’t matter, there’s nothing there for you either. He’s your partner, life has been so much better with him at your side already. It runs smoother, it feels safer. The fuzzy, unfocused picture that you were living in sharpened. Why would either of you even think to jeopardize something that works so well with the simple thought of more? You won’t.

“There’s a big wig in this city. Robert Leroy— folks call him Bobby,” You say to distract yourself from the sinking feeling in your stomach.

“What’s he got to do with anythin’? We’ve got our targets.”

You and Din had stopped at the jail as soon as you’d entered the city, eager to pick up as many bounties as you could. It earns you some trust with the lawmen and gives you an excuse to meander the city at any time, asking questions to get the lay of the land and search for real targets. This time it was easier than that, but it doesn’t mean you won’t maximize your time here, exploring every possible avenue of income.

“Bobby is the reason they’re our targets. I used my charm on the sheriff, he says Bobby’s the one who put the price on their heads. We get them and maybe we get invited to that big fancy party that’s next week.”

You aren’t able to see it, but Din frowns, teeth gritting at the mention of using your charm. He should be used to it by now, and it should never bother him. But in the recesses of his mind, there’s no denying that it does. None of those men deserve to look at you, let alone witness your charm.

“Party,” Din repeats, sounding skeptical.

“It’s at his house. His mansion. The one full of expensive shit,” You explain as you slip into the only thing of your mother’s you have left— an old, scratchy nightgown.

“You’re still not sellin’ it, girl.”

“We can’t pass up all the riches in that man’s house, Din. You’ll have to deal. I’ll charm, you’ll steal and we’ll leave this place,” You insist as you slide into bed next to him, facing away so that your backs are just a few inches apart.

Din’s body radiates heat and despite the sweltering heat, you stay beneath the blanket with him. Sometimes if the two of you sleep close enough to the other, you’ll wake up tangled in his arms the next morning. Neither of you say anything about it, going about those mornings as if they’re any other. And maybe they are.

“Do we gotta?”

“Strawberry’s reapings will only last so long,” You reason, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“You charm, I steal,” He repeats his version of your words and you can hear the mirth in his sandy voice.

“I just said that.”

“Did you? I didn’t hear,” He stretches, snuggling further in the mattress.

“You’re full of shit.”

He snorts, shaking his head, “Go to bed, girl, we’ve got busy days ahead.”

Din was right— the next week the two of you work from sunrise to sunset capturing all the bounties you’d collected from the sheriff. Some are easier than others, frequented black markets or popular bars for folk that run in your lifestyle.

But there’s one that’s tedious to catch; Stagecoach Mary, a notorious cowgirl who you’ve always admired all holed up in her little shack that rests in its own little bayou just outside of the city. The shootout with her eats up most of your ammo, and a bullet ends up grazing your arm. Din gets Mary hog-tied and strapped to his horse before he comes to check on you. He’s deathly quiet like he always is, but you can feel the urgency in his movements. He removes your button-down without asking, using some of the water in his canteen to cleanse the wound before he covers it in salve and wraps it.

“You alright?” He asks quietly as he helps you back into your shirt.

Your eyes go a bit wide at the raw sound of concern in his voice, but you quickly brush it off, “S’just a scratch, I’ll be just fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, Din,” You say gently, and though it stings like a bitch, you aren’t going to say differently. The last thing your resolve needs is him fawning over you, worried about your health.

His gaze raises to meet yours, eyes narrowing to appraise you before he sighs and starts towards his horse. Mary is quiet on the ride back thankfully, and when you drop her off at the sheriff’s office, you get exactly what you two have been working so hard for. Bobby himself is there– the sheriff had told him about you and Din, how promising your skills had been so far and he wanted to thank you both personally.

He looks like money, with frills and shiny leather shoes, his hair slicked back with a pomade that smells like pine, ““I can’t thank you fine people enough. She’s been a real thorn in my side.”

You take the hand he’s offered, shaking it daintly, “We’re happy to help Mr. LeRoy, no one should have to leave in fear.”

Leroy squeezes your hand before bending to kiss it, “Please, sweetheart, call me Bobby.”

You giggle softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “Bobby, then. I’m Scar. This is my partner Djarin.”

Din blinks in surprise before quickly schooling his expression into the impassive mask he’s so good at. It's the first that he’s heard of your name. He knows that this is part of the charm, knows that you wouldn’t give this man– or any man– your real name, but curiosity blooms inside of him. Had you just picked it randomly? Did it have any deeper meaning? Is it close to your real name?

“Scar? As in Scarlet? What a precious little gem,” Bobby runs his hand down the length of your arm, turning to look at Din with a glint of jealousy in his eyes. “Djarin, bet you never get enough of this sweet woman’s charm.”

“We aren’t— she’s my workin’ partner, s’all,” Din says firmly, though the way that he clenches his jaw says otherwise.

But who is Bobby to tell a grown man how he truly feels? Especially if he can reap benefits. He grins, turning back to look at you, “Well I’ll be hog wallered, I thought a dime like you’d be taken, Scar. If that’s true…I’m having this grand party in just a few days. Come, the both of you.”

“Oh, we couldn’t Bobby!”

“I insist!”

A sly grin spreads across your face and you smooth your hand over his, “Well if you insist. We’ll be there.”

A few nights later, after spending the days in fitting rooms, shopping (and stealing), you and Din are finishing up getting ready for the party in your inn room. You peek around the partition to make sure that he’s dressed and your mouth goes dry. He’s in a sleek black suit, the silver accents of his belt buckle and cowboy boots glinting in the last rays of sun that flood the small room. He looks incredible, his hair wet and slicked back, skin scrubbed completely clean. You lean back, bracing yourself against the wall as you force those thoughts out of your head. A distraction, you need a distraction. You look down at your dress, toying with the skirts– perhaps your distraction could be in distracting him.

“How do I look?” You ask as you step from behind the partition, holding your arms out as if to present yourself.

Din simply stares at you, and you’re about to tell him to forget it when he finally speaks. “You look—“ He stops, going quiet for what seems like forever before he clears his throat.

“What, is it? I look bad, don’t I? It’s stuffy, but we gotta look the part.” Your head tilts as you turn this and that way, watching the skirt flutter as you twirl.

“You look—it’s good,” He supplies, turning towards the mirror to fiddle with his tie. He swallows, ignoring the way the fabric of his tie sticks to his sweaty hands.

You turn to look at him, frown deepening as you smooth your hands down the intricate corset of the dress, “You sure? I need him to look at me, and if it’s not pleasin'—“

“It’s plenty pleasin’, now finish up and let’s go.”

You and Din rented a carriage, standing out to others invited would just make this evening worse. The ride– like most of your traveling with Din– is quiet, and you fiddle with your fingers, forcing yourself not to pick at the polish you’d gotten down for the occasion.

The mansion is grand, all cream with pillars and statues so delicate they look fit to shatter if you look at them wrong. You’re guided inside by men dressed in impeccable suits, hor devours and glasses of champagne pressed into your hands as you make your way through the expansive foyer and down the stairs into an even large backyard.

This is something you could only imagine in those moving pictures you’ve only had time to see once or twice. There are tables full of food and alcohol, droves of people dressed to the nines dancing and laughing and eating. And while you’re impressed, disgust accompanies it. The excess when there are so many who don’t have enough to make it a week. You’d seen plenty of unhoused folks on the streets as you and Din explored Cheyenne and this party could feed them all for days on end. You swallow your disdain for everyone here by focusing on the goal and painting a smile on your face as you breeze through the crowd. Try as you might, you can’t find Bobby so you park at a table that’s moderately far from the various groups of others.

“Maybe he hasn’t come out yet,” You whisper to Din as you pretend to look over some of the food. It looks so fancy that it’ll make you sick.

“Stay here and watch for’em, I’ll see what I can find out.”

Your eyes don’t leave him as he skates through the crowd easily and your mouth turns down in a frown when he’s stopped by a beautiful woman. To your surprise, he doesn’t blow her off, smiling as he begins to talk to her. You’ve never seen Din like this before. In the short month or so that you two have been together, you’ve been the lead on charming as all the places you’ve been in teem with men and their testosterone. You aren’t sure what this feeling is that rises in your chest as you watch the woman Din is talking to throw her head back with laughter. What you do know is that you want to end. Your feet are moving you towards him before you can think logically about it.

“Djarin, could I speak to you for a moment?” You say in your sweetest, most polite voice— emphasis on your southern drawl.

The woman he’s speaking to gives you a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.

Din excuses you both, walking you over to a quiet spot beneath an ice sculpture that is surprisingly intact despite the heat of tonight’s air, “What is it, girl?”

Delicately as not to draw anyone’s attention, you remove your arm from his grasp, mouth pressed into a thin line, “What the hell happened to ‘you charm, I steal’?”

“She’s been in the house before. I was gettin’ the lay of it. You ain’t doing much charming if you’re chewin’ me out, are you? Look who it is.”

Bobby has finally made an appearance.

You narrow your eyes at him but stay silent. Din just stares back, unphased and you eventually give up, slinking off to do your part. To charm. Once you’re by his side, Bobby stays close to you like a bee stuck in honey– it's annoying really but this life has given you incredible acting skills so he’s none the wiser.

Lucky for you he gets distracted by some bigwig oil men who start to throw around some big numbers. You stand by his side, listening politely– gathering the names of these men just in case you ever run into them again– until you grow bored. You excuse yourself to the powder room, assuring him that you’ll return shortly as you leave the sweetest kiss on his cheek. You feel the way he shivers against you, his eyes cloudy as he nods.

Not long after you’d gone to talk to Bobby you’d seen Din slip out of the crowd and into the house. It may be a pain to find him a place this large but if you’re caught it’ll be realistic to play a dizzy, turned-around maiden.

As soon as you’re out of sight you spit, wiping your mouth with your sleeve in a move most unladylike as you try to find Din. The halls are empty, it seems as if Bobby’s staff is either occupied with entertaining guests or off for the evening.

“Up here, girl,” Din calls from above you, and when your eyes meet he holds up a sack that looks fit to burst. The smile that spreads across his face is different than the one he’d given the woman he talked to early, this one is genuine and it makes your heart flutter.

“How’s it going?” You ask once you make your way up to the stairs to stand beside him.

“Good, last room we got left is his office. C’mon.”

You follow after him closely, keeping your steps light like a cat so as not to draw any attention from below. When the two of you turn a corner down the final hall which holds Bobby’s office, there are two guards— one blonde, one brunette— standing outside of the door that is gilded in gold. You roll your eyes at its gaudiness but step forward with wide, guileless eyes.

“I’m sorry you two, it seems we’ve got lost trying to find the powder room. Could you help us?” You bat your lashes at the two men, standing up a little taller to push your breasts out.

“Back the way you came, down the stairs, to the left,” the blonde one says, unaffected by your attempt at charm.

Nevertheless, you try again, getting a little closer to the brunette, whose eyes have had a hard time staying on your face.

You gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes, “Could you maybe walk us? I mean— we are lost.”

You raise your hand to fiddle with the distracted guard’s tie, but the first one’s hand shoots out, wrapping tightly around your wrist. You gasp, looking over at the guard in feigned offense, like you’re some helpless maiden– like you wouldn’t slit his throat if your knife wasn’t buried under so many layers of fabric.

“It would do you best to walk away ma’am or I’ll have to call the lawmen,” The blonde says, his grip tightening around your wrist until it makes you wince.

Din takes a step forward, his voice so low and rough it sends a welcome chill down your spine. You don’t have to look at him to know how terrifying he looks right now, “No, it would do you best to let her go or I’ll have to crush your windpipe.”

“You threatenin’ me, yokel?”

You lean closer to the brunette guard, grimacing as you say, “Well this ain’t gonna end well is it?”

His eyes widen for a moment, flickering behind you and you know that Din is moving, already going in for the kill. You do your best to pry your hand from the other guard’s grip but it is tight, and as you struggle the one in front of you struggles to get his gun. As soon as your hand is free you reach for his neck, planting your feet so that you’ll have the strength to snap his neck. There’s a loud crack from beside you before you can get your hands in the right place, and your glance over to Din, seeing the way he followed through— the man's face is red and limp, the blood vessels in his eyes busted.

You regret getting off track because it seems the guard still alive is successful, getting off one shot that flies up into the ceiling. Refocusing, you knee him in the stomach, and his gun clatters to the ground just as you get your hands around his neck and twist as hard as you can.

“Fuck,” You breathe as the second man’s body hits the floor. His gunshot will absolutely draw attention, you and Din need to move quickly.

“In and out, no safes, whatever is unlocked and out in the open.”

You follow his instructions with no hesitation, stepping over the two bodies and moving through Bobby’s office with ease. There are solid gold paperweights, stacks of bonds, maps of train routes and what they’ll be holding, and even a few stacks of money in drawers. It's a jackpot if you’ve ever seen one and the two of you share a look of wonder before kicking it into gear to get out of there. You can hear the footsteps of lawmen rumbling through the house and give Din the signal to move into the room across the hall– it's another powder room. The two of you squeeze into the shower, listening intently as the lawmen call to each other, trying to figure out where you’ve gone.

You hear a voice say, “They must’ve gotten by us. Comb the streets.”

That works perfectly in your favor, and you grin over a Din, knowing that the streets are not how you plan to escape. As soon as the coast is clear, Din grabs your hand, leading you the opposite way of all the lawmen and house staff that have started towards Bobby’s office and bedroom. The two of you sneak out a side door and make your way toward the bayou in the backyard. You’d already set up a boat there to make an escape— no one would expect it since you and Din had rented a carriage to arrive.

He helps you step in the boat, grasping the hem of your skirts so that it’s easier for you to step in, and joins you as soon as you're settled. He doesn’t know how to row— not well at least— so you grab the oars and get to work. Your horses are strewn up to trees not too far from here and afterward you’ll collect your belongings from the inn and leave Cheyenne for good.

Din has started to count the money he retrieved, thumbing through the bills with his steady fingers.

“I pocketed a few things here and there while I waited for you— mostly watches but some wallets too. This should be a lot, we could rest in the next town for a bit if you wanted,” You whisper into the night.

He nods at you but doesn’t stop counting, pulling out a few gold bars you imagine he got from a safe. Once he’s finished counting he restarts, wanting to make sure he’s right.

“This is enough to get outta this,” He mumbles once he’s finished.

You think you’ve misheard him. “What?”

“This enough to get outta this,” He says again, looking up at you. You’re too busy rowing to gaze back at him and he takes this opportunity to look at you unabashedly, something he never lets himself do. It’s foggy enough that even if you were to notice his eyes burning into you, he could play it off, blaming it on the wispiness in the air.

Though you both look ridiculous, stiff, and dolled up for this party even as you row diligently through the muggy bayou, everything about you still shines through. His eyes are syrupy slow, following the curve of your jaw, the swell of your cheek, the line of your nose.

“Din?”

“Hmm?”

“Outta this profession, you mean?” You repeat the question he hadn’t heard as he got lost in you.

He clears his throat and sits up, staring into the fog, “You can’t tell me you never thought about it. Slowing down with a little patch of land, few animals and crops.”

Sure you had– on your loneliest days you’d let your mind wander. You let yourself dream about a life like that with someone. When Din came into your life, those dreams became a little more specific no matter how many times you tried to push them away.

Your brows shoot up as you finally look at him, face twisted in surprise, “You want to settle?”

“I said I’ve thought about it. This is just enough to get far enough that no one knows us. We’d need a lot of money to get everything for a stead. Not to mention makin’ it sustainable.”

This is the first time you’ve ever heard him talk like this and though you’ve only been doing this together for a month or so, you’d think it was something he would mention before entering into a partnership with someone. But hell— he still doesn’t know your name. It's worked so far, hasn’t it?

You make it to where your horses are, Augustine and Cresida look at you both expectantly, as if they’ve been waiting all day and have places to be.

“You’re serious,” You say in disbelief as he helps you out of the boat.

“There’s no reason for me to lie, girl,” He starts to shed his layers, removing the suit jacket and the crisp white button-down in favor of his long-sleeved undershirt. “You’ve never…”

You fish the pair of jeans you stashed on your horse out, hiking them up under the huge skirt of your dress before you take a knife and cut through it. You easily cut through the fabric of the tight corset, letting out a relieving breath.

“I have. Here and there. Didn’t see a point for it if it was just to be alone,” You murmur, shrugging into your shirt.

He’s quiet for a moment, before whispering into the night, barely heard over the symphony of crickets and cicadas, “Different now, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Everything’s been different since meeting him. As the two of you mount your horses and start off into the night, your mind can’t help but wander back to that key detail— this man wants to settle down with a wild, nameless woman like you. Maybe that says enough. Maybe it’s all you’ll need.

ch 3: eyes full of stars

series taglist: @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch, @jazzelsaur, @lesbianhotch, @ivyheliotrope, @campingwiththecharmings, @frogers, @juneknight, @obscurexsorrows

[sadcatinapartyhat]

hey! i've been reading your fic and i've been loving it

aaaaaand i've got a few things i wanted to ask you:

1. do you have any fancast for the marauders?

2. what're your headcanons regarding their sexuality?

3. can you tell me any of your headcanons about the marauders that you strongly believe and we might see in the story?

(yes, i'm very nosy)

Hi!! Thank you so much for asking, I’m really glad you’re liking my fic!!!

As far as fan casts go, I actually don’t have very many; it’s just not something I think about all that often. The one true exception is Dev Patel as James, bc I really like the idea of James being a cute-but-kinda-geeky-looking child who has a huge glow-up upon reaching adulthood (or would have, if he’d been allowed to be an adult for longer 🙃). I also picture Mary as vaguely Sofia Bryant-ish, and I think Robert Sheehan would do a very good job as adult Sirius if the HP movies were made now (although I picture him slightly differently).

For characters’ sexualities, this is how I’ll be portraying them in my story (although I do like reading other fics with different takes):

James, Lily, and Peter: straight

Remus and Mary: bi (I should note that I’m not sure yet if I’ll be fully exploring Mary’s attraction to women in my story, but that’s what’s in my head for her)

Sirius: gay

Marlene: lesbian

Dorcas: asexual biromantic

(As an aside, I personally identify as an asexual lesbian, and I’ve noticed I have a tendency to unconsciously write all characters as asexual and romantically attracted to women, so as they get older in my story it’ll be a fun challenge to try and not do that✌️)

For other random headcanons, I’m not sure these are necessarily what I feel most strongly about per say (my brain went a little blank on that lol), but here’s a handful of mine that I think are fun (sticking to just the four Marauders):

James likes to draw (in another life, he would have illustrated comics)

Sirius really likes to sing, but he’s terrible at it. Remus would be much better, but nobody knows because he never does it

Peter has a summer birthday. His eighteenth birthday party in the summer of 1978 is everyone’s last big hurrah before the war

Remus is accepted and would have gone to a Muggle university (studying history), but Dumbledore persuades him out of it

(I saw this a long time ago in a fic I can no longer find and it’s kind of corny but I love it) Sirius’s first tattoo is a moon that changes throughout the month to reflect the current phase

In their later school years, Peter joins several extracurricular clubs, and thus winds up with the largest social circle (though not necessarily the tightest one)

James does not know how to pick stylish glasses and consistently wears very unflattering ones (until Lily finally helps him out)

Babies and toddlers make Remus very anxious. He does not know how to talk to children as anything other than miniature adults

Peter’s best subject would be Arithmancy, but he never takes it, because he thinks it would be too hard. As it is, his best subject is Care of Magical Creatures

The cousin Sirius is most similar to on a super basic personality level is actually Narcissa

James likes jazz, easy listening music, and the Beatles

Of the four of them, Sirius is the best-looking on a regular basis, but Remus would look the best in drag

Thanks so much again for asking!!! Hopefully those headcanons were suitably interesting, tbh I had a hard time choosing ones to include (and I know most of my takes are fairly basic lol). Feel free to be as nosy as you like :)

[awhorrerstory]

Slipping into darkness

Jill Roberts x F!Reader

Sorry if I used this gif before but I love it! I’m trying to write a bigger one but here’s a shorter one to get y’all fed even

Warnings: Jill being phsycho as usual, sad ending ig, angst, Jill leading reader on, Jill being creepy

“Y/n…Please you have to believe me!! You know me y/n! Please…” Jill begs me to let her in and I’m about to until I notice the blood on her hands, “no-no y/n, I just found Kirby please trust me…” I look at the girl I’ve been in love with since middle school and begin to cry not knowing what I should do. “Jill…I-I can’t-I-“ I’m interrupted when I’m hit with something and black out. I wake up with Jill tied to a chair outside the door. She was gagged and looked at me fearfully. My phone rings causing me to jump and I look at the screen to see the picture of Jill and I, my arms around her neck and nuzzling into the crook of her neck and smiling and Jill smiling too as she took the picture. My heart breaks…How could I do that to her??

I answer the phone and ofc ghost face greets me; “hello y/n, your little girlfriend here is quite the expert on horror, can you tell me what her favorite scary movie is?”

I nod, “y-yes it’s Halloween 3.” “Good…You’re going to be good at this game.” I sob fearfully as I look at Jill, “Please just let her go!” I plead as I stare at her, “nah ah ah, first you have to answer 3 questions, hopefully Jill has talked to you about all her horror favorites.” I gulp, knowing I was recently introduced to the horror genre fully but I hear the words come out of my mouth, “okay…Just please don’t hurt her…” “okayyy…first question;

In the shining which room in the hotel does Danny find the ghost of a naked woman in the bathroom?”

“Um-ahhh-237!”

“Correct.”

Thank god Jill made me watch that movie like 8 times

“Next question; “what holiday were the kids celebrating the night they accidentally hit a person in the street in i know what you did last summer?”

“Last question. what's the name of the camp the kids attend in sleepaway camp?”

I chuckle at the question, “Are you kidding? Sleepaway camp!” I say excitedly before hanging up and waiting a few moments before opening the door and running to Jill. I rip the tape away from her mouth and smile at her, “I did it Jill! I answered all his questions!! You taught me soo well!” I say as I untie her, “You really did great y/n, except one thing…” Jill stabs me in the stomach and I begin to cry as I look into the hazel eyes of the woman I loved, “you got the last question wrong. It’s Camp Arawak, silly.” She says as she turns the knife causing me to gasp in pain then scream, “I love you Jill…why..?” Her eyes meet mine as the words leave my lips, “what?!” She pulls the knife out of me and I fall to the ground, “You’re a liar y/n!” She yells at me. I shake my head to indicate that it’s true, “I just wanted to tell you before but, it’s too late…” I look up at her and tears run down my face as I look at the Ghost face killer. “Jill…” I look at her, despite all that happened I still loved her I wanted her to hold me one more time before I died. “Jill…” She looked away from me but I could see a tear running down her cheek. “I still love you…” I whisper softly as i look at her, my breath was becoming rapid, I could feel myself drowning. She looks to Ghost face who came in the room, “What’s the matter?” He asks in his evil voice. “Nothing. Let’s get her.” Jill states beginning to leave, “p-please Jill…” I whimper as I cough up blood. She looks to me and curses under her breath, “set up the scene Charlie, I’ll be there on time as we planned.” He must’ve nodded as I could hear his footsteps moving away and could hear Jill coming closer. She kneels down and looks at me coldly, “just…be quiet, it’ll be quick.” Jill says as she sits next to me on the floor. I shuffle over to her and lay myself on her lap as I coughed up blood and felt my entire body on fire from the pain of the stab wounds.

“You’re so beautiful like this y/n.” Jill says with a sick gentle smile on her face as she stroked my cheek. I attempt to speak but only a gurgle was heard causing Jill to chuckle. She leans down; “I’ll give you what you want.” She says as she places a kiss on my lips. I let my eyes close and kiss back the best I could, though I know I shouldn’t love this psychotic bitch. But I loved what I had, what we had. The sleepovers, going on drives with Kirby and Olivia, the kiss we shared when we got drunk over her break up with Trevor, or should I say make out session. I wanted to believe all the lies Jill told, all the ‘I love you’ s and happy times we spent with our friends, I’d hope was real.

I’m slipping but I don’t feel the warmth of Jill’s body leave mine yet. Maybe this is a dream at one of those sleepovers, or a deep nap after those nights of shared passionate kisses and drunk antics. Maybe Jill was behind me holding me as I slept and all of this was just a sick dream. But it isn’t, because I can feel the cool seeping in and I feel Jill’s warmth soon disappear and I could swear heard the scream of the woman I loved before I eventually heard nothing.

[dynamic-power]

Weekly tag Wednesday Sunday!

I got tagged by some awesome people! @mybrainismelted @energievie @transmickey @skylerwinchester

1. If you could switch bodies with anybody for only one hour who would it be and what would you do? My first two thoughts were Jeff Bezos, to steal his money, or Cam Monaghan, to jerk off, ngl. But my final answer is Robert Irwin. And I'm gonna cuddle as many animals as I can.

2. whats your most trivial / dumbest hot take? Summer is the worst season. It just is. I live in a place that gets up to 110+ F (43+ C) and it's just gross.

3. if you had to teach a college course what would it be in? English Handbells. Or intro to music, maybe. But handbells are my specialty.

4. season 12 of shameless is suddenly happen and youve been put in charge! what plot point(s) are you gonna make happen? Obviously, I wanna see Gallavich living their best lives. But I also want to see Carl and Debbie get the chance to settle properly into adult hood. I'd have Carl meet an amazing young woman with a kid and watch him learn to love them both. Give Debbie her own space with Franny. A little stability, y'know? I just want them to be happy okay

5. who would be your godly parent? (can be any mythology.) Apollo

6. what’s something you love about yourself? My ability to care. I love deeply and completely. Once you are my friend, you're stuck with me. I have been a pillar for a lot of people to lean on when they need it and I love that I can do that for them. 💜

7. describe your day in 5 emojis: 🐶🌅😴☕️🫂

8. what shameless character do you think you could beat in a fight? Jimmysteve

9. tell us 2 truths and a lie, we’ll try to guess the lie!

1. I was an area manager at an Amazon warehouse

2. I dropped out of college because of the English course requirements

3. I chose the name Dyno because I have an obsession with dinos

10. do you have a pet(s). if so how did they get their name? I don't. Can't have animals in my apartment. But! I did name 2 cats growing up. I was 10. One was PK (pretty kitty. She was pretty.) And the other was JD (John Doe. Because he was a stray that kinda just. Showed up.) I have always been a very original person.

11. show us a meme (or picture) that captures your essence.

12. whats your typical coffee / tea / beverage order? Coffee, iced carmel latte. I don't drink tea. But other beverages, diet Dr. Pepper or beer. I'm a big beer drinker lol.

13. use a song to describe the last 5 years of your life? I saw Kat do a song for each year and I liked that so here you go. It's been a rough 5 years, so they aren't the most cheery selection. 😅

2019- Good Things Fall Apart by ILLENIUM

2020- 1 Last Cigarette by The Band CAMINO

2021- Figure Me Out by The Summer Set

2022- Matilda by Harry Styles

2023- Slither by Djo

I'm super late so I won't tag anyone. This one was a fun one!!

[britishchick09]

What the Future Holds: A Wadlow Sibling Fic

it's senpai's b-day, which calls for a special fic! this took 3 days to write (february 19th to today, the 22nd) and was a lot of fun since it's something a little different! enjoy! ;D (shoutout to @robert-273-fan, who came up with betty and harold jr's stories!)

what will senpai be doing 5 years in the future? the sibs might have an idea...

 “Happy birthday to you!” a chorus of voices sang.

The Wadlow family clapped as Robert blew out his candles.

“Congrats!” Betty said. “You’re officially eighteen now!”

“He’s been eighteen for hours.” Eugene reminded her.

“Since six-thirty in the morning.” Addie added.

Robert smiled. “I didn’t quite feel eighteen earlier, but I sure do now! The cake looks delicious.”

“I heard it’s your favorite- strawberry shortcake,” Harold said. “But we won’t know for sure until we have a piece!” he added with a wink.

Harold Jr. grinned. “Yay, cake!”

Before long, the cake was distributed. The siblings relaxed in the living room afterwards.

“This has been a great birthday,” Robert said with a smile. “I hope there will be more like it for years to come!”

Betty smiled as she said, “Look at this!”

She held up Thursday’s issue of the Alton Evening Telegraph. On the first page was a photo of Robert standing next to a tree. The siblings were on his other side.

“Hey, there’s me!” Harold Jr. exclaimed, pointing to his pouty little self.

Betty ran a hand through her bangs. “Still a good decision! Although I sort of miss being bangless.”

Helen frowned. “Even all these years later, it’s still so weird to see us in the paper.”

“It’s neat being famous,” Eugene said. “...Or, partially famous. We still have Robbie to deal with.”

“I’d rather you be famous than me,” Robert smiled. “I’m not one for the spotlight. Although I’ve gotten used to it.”

Betty noticed something else in the newspaper. “This says, ‘Five years ago today, Mr. John Wood and Miss Carol James wed. They were high school sweethearts before their marriage.’ Aww, how sweet! I can see that happening to someone…”

Robert tried not to feel her arm nudge or notice the cheeky look she was giving him. He knew exactly what she was hinting at!

Harold Jr. had to get ready for bed, leaving the other siblings to read the paper.

“I can’t imagine what I’ll be doing in five years,” Helen remarked. “What do you think you’ll be doing in that time, Robert?”

“Who knows?” Robert asked. “It’s best to take things one day at a time.”

“I know what he’ll be doing!” Betty exclaimed.

...

 It was a bright summer day in 1941. Robert was at his high school reunion.

...

 “Reunions start at ten years, not five.” Eugene pointed out.

“Well, in the future, they thought otherwise,” Betty said. “As I was saying…”

...

 It was a bright summer day in 1941. Robert was at his high school reunion, which was the very first fifth reunion ever. It was a huge success! Everyone was dancing to the latest song, Love Is In The Air. Robert certainly thought this was true. He went up to Marilyn Stanton, who was chatting with some friends.

“Ahem.” he said with a clearing of his throat.

Marilyn turned around. “Oh! Hello, Robert, my love.”

“Hello, Marilyn, the loveliest of all my loves.”

“Get a room!” an aggravated Eugene called (from in the story or real life, no one knew!).

Robert smiled. “I know of something better than a room,” He got on one knee. “Marilyn Stanton, will you do me the honor of becoming Marilyn Wadlow and becoming my wife?”

Marilyn gasped. Tears came to her eyes as she exclaimed-

...

 “No way,” Robert cut into Betty’s story. “She’s just a friend.”

“Sure, tell that to your yearbook!” Betty said with a smile. “I caught a peek at the Camera Club page. You’re standing right next to her!”

“That was just a picture.”

“I remember walking down the hall before the Yearbook Club’s last meeting before winter break. Marilyn said hello and you sounded awfully shy,” Helen told Robert, her eyes coy. “Not insinuating anything, though! Just reminiscing…”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Marilyn and I are friends and club members. That’s all there is to it.”

“Sure, you say that now, but what about in five years?” Betty asked. “Anything could happen! And that anything is…”

...

 “Yes!” Marilyn exclaimed with a smile. “Yes, I will marry you, Robert!”

The crowd cheered!

Robert and Marilyn kissed, which they’d do again at their wedding a few months later. Eugene was a groomsman, Helen was a bridesmaid, Betty was a flower girl (or flower woman since she was the very mature age of seventeen) and Harold Jr. was the ringbearer.

Robert stood at the front of the aisle with the priest. When the music started, he nervously adjusted his bow tie. Then Marilyn walked into the church with her father. She wore a pretty silk dress that flowed out a little at the bottom and the longest veil! It was hard to see past the tulle fabric, but her smile was clear as day. It took forever for her to get to the front of the aisle, though. And when she did, Helen whipped out her viola and played a solo!

“Do you, Robert, take Marilyn to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the minister asked.

Robert smiled broadly. “Yes, I do.”

“And do you, Marilyn, take Robert to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Marilyn replied.

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Helen played the Here Comes the Bride song as Marilyn raised her veil, revealing her excited flushed face. It grew even more so when Robert raised her up! Now at eye level, they kissed.

Five years later, Robert and Marilyn went to their tenth anniversary reunion… with their kids! There was Charlotte, Tom and little baby June. Everyone thought they were so adorable! (And they thought Betty was the best aunt!)

The Wadlow couple lived in bliss and their family lived happily ever after. The end!

...

 “That was sweet,” Robert said. “Not a particularly realistic one, but it’s nice to think about marrying and starting a family,” He frowned at Betty’s look. “Not with Marilyn.”

“We’d have a minister at a wedding, not a priest. That’s Catholic,” Helen corrected her sister’s story. “I approve of the surprise viola solo, though.”

Eugene scoffed.

“What’s your problem with it, hmm?” Betty asked with a cross of her arms.

“It’s too happy. There needs to be excitement, tension!” Eugene said.

Just then, a pajama-clad Harold Jr. ran into the room.

“I know an exciting story!” he said.

He scrambled to the floor to give his idea of the future.

...

 It was five years from now. Harold Jr. was nearly nine years old, which is very grown up. He was now a Boy Scout just like his big brother!

“Okay, Scouts, we’re going to have a fun day today..” said Scoutmaster Big Brother.

Scoutmaster Big Brother was actually Robert! Harold Jr. thought it was so much fun to have Robert in the Scouts again. And Robert enjoyed being back.

“It’s time for the big swimming contest,” Scoutmaster Robert said. “So put on your swimsuits and meet at the lake.”

It didn’t take long for Harold Jr. to put on his swimsuit. He was the first one at the lake!

“Would you like to go first?” Robert asked.

“Yes, I would!” Harold Jr. said.

He started to put a foot in the water, but Robert stopped him.

“You need to wait for everyone else.” he reminded him.

Harold Jr. tried to wait, but the other Scouts were taking so long! Scoutmaster Robert went off to look for them. While he was gone, Harold Jr. dipped a toe in the water. It was just a toe! But then it became a foot, then an ankle, then a whole leg…

*SPLASH!*

Harold Jr. fell right into the water! He tried to swim up, but his shoe got caught on a rock. He was stuck! Through the water, he heard someone say something. It was a deep voice. He tried to reach up to the voice, but his breath was getting lost. He was getting so tired…

Just then, there was a big splash. Harold Jr. saw a huge hand grab his arm. It was Scoutmaster Robert! Harold Jr. pointed to the rock and his big brother swam down. He was strong enough to get the rock away from Harold Jr’s shoe. Then he grabbed Harold Jr. and took him up. Harold Jr. held on really tight as Robert swam through the water.

Finally, they heard a rushing sound. It was the air. They were free!

“Thank you, Scoutmaster Big Brother!” Harold Jr. said.

“You’re welcome,” Robert set his baby brother on the ground. “You need to remember to wait. See what happens when you don’t?”

“Yes, I do,” Harold Jr. felt all embarrassed because of that. “I’m sorry.”

Robert smiled. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. Are you still up for the race?”

“Yeah!”

Then Harold Jr. jumped in the water with the other Scouts. And this time, he made sure everyone else was ready! He only got fourth place, but that was okay. Harold Jr. knew his big brother’s love was enough.

...

 “Aww,” Betty said. “What a sweet story!”

“Yeah, that was great, Junior.” Robert agreed.

Harold Jr. gave a proud smile.

Eugene then said, “Here’s what I think will happen…”

...

 February 22nd, 1941 was a day no one would forget. Robert was celebrating his twenty-third birthday in a rather… interesting way.

“I hereby declare Wadlow’s Shoes to be officially opened!” he hereby declared (whatever that means).

Then he cut a comically sized ribbon in front of him. As it fell back, Helen played a celebratory song on her viola. Betty and Harold Jr. applauded, smiles on their faces. Mom and Dad- I mean, Addie and Harold held each other close as they wiped away touched tears. The only family member missing was Eugene.

“I wonder where Gene is.” Robert wondered.

“He’s off getting a college degree,” Helen said. “But who needs him? There are plenty of people here already!”

Before anyone could speculate, a bunch of reporters pushed Helen aside. They pelted Robert with questions.

“Why did you decide to open up a shoe store?” one of them asked. “A fall out with Peter’s?”

“Oh, no, Peter’s and I are on good terms,” Robert said. “They helped fund this store. I’m very thankful for their donations!”

He led the reporters into the store. It was stocked with all kinds of shoes, from sneakers to heels and boots to slippers and even regular old dress shoes.

“Wait,” Harold said. “Where might your shoes be, son?”

“They’re right over here, Dad,” Robert told him. “Right in the display window.”

But when he pointed to the window, he was shocked to discover that one of them was missing!

“Where did it go?” Harold Jr. asked.

“I… I have no idea. It was here this morning,” Robert said, stunned. “Why, it was stolen!”

Gasps and whispers floated through the crowd.

“Oh my!” Addie exclaimed. “Who would do such a thing?”

Betty frowned as she said, “He did!”

She glared at the reporter with a point.

“Why would I do something like that?” the reporter asked. “I’m an honest man!”

“Oh, sure. You’d do anything for a story! Anything to stir up some drama.”

“I swear I didn’t take that shoe. I’ve never even stepped inside here until today!”

Helen started walking away, her viola in hand. She headed towards its case, which was tucked in the corner of the store.

“Wait a second,” Robert said. “I know who it was…”

Just then, Eugene walked in. He saw Helen walking past. The display window was right over her shoulder. His eyes widened.

“It was Eugene!”

“Wha- me?” Eugene asked in surprise. “What did I do?”

“You stole Big Brother’s shoe!” Harold Jr. said.

“I’ve been at college all day. There’s no way I could’ve done it.”

Harold stepped up. “Didn’t I ask you to check the store first since it’s on your route?”

“Yeah, but I just took a peek in. I was nowhere near the window.”

“Wait!” Robert exclaimed. “It’s Saturday. You couldn’t have been at college.”

“It was for one of my classes-”

“That’s it!” Helen yelled. “It wasn’t Gene…” She stepped up. “It was me!”

Everyone gasped.

“You stole my shoe?” Robert asked in shock.

“We should’ve known,” Betty said. “She was always pulling that stunt back in the day.”

Helen lowered her head. “Yes, I did. But Gene suggested it!”

Eugene flushed. “I only did it to distract everyone.”

“Why?” Harold Jr. asked.

“Everyone’s talking about Robert. We wanted reporters to give some attention to the rest of the family. Besides, we need a little excitement.”

Robert chuckled. “I think there’s enough excitement with the store opening! Fess up, Helen.”

After setting her viola in its case, Helen moved it aside. She opened a secret panel… and revealed the shoe!

“We’re sorry for causing all of this.” she apologized to Robert, the shoe in her hands.

“Yeah, we didn’t mean any harm,” Eugene added. “Just buzz.”

Robert smiled. “I understand. But before you put that shoe back…”

He turned to the reporters. Helen, Eugene and Robert all smiled as the camera snapped. They didn’t just capture Robert and his shoes… They captured everyone together.

...

 “What a story!” Betty exclaimed.

“Yeah, it had me on the edge of my seat.” Robert said.

“The plot twist was great,” Helen smiled at Eugene. “Nice job.”

Eugene smiled back. “Now that’s how you tell of the future.”

Just then, Harold Jr. let out a big yawn.

“Looks like it’s time to get to bed.” Robert said with a smile.

“No!” Harold Jr. exclaimed. “I wanna hear the last story.”

Everyone looked at Helen expectantly. She looked down at the paper before giving her vision of the future…

...

 February 22nd, 1941 was a day no one would forget.

A sweet sound floated through the air. It came from Helen’s viola.

“Bravo!” Harold Jr. cheered.

“Brava.” Eugene corrected him.

Helen bowed. “Thank you!”

“That was lovely, Helen,” Robert said. “Just like this birthday. It sure is nice to not be in front of crowds and whatnot!”

“Look, you’re in the paper!” Betty exclaimed.

She showed him the article. All it said was, ‘Robert Wadlow Celebrates Birthday. Robert Wadlow turned 23 years old today. His only wish was to not be bothered by reporters and admirers, which will definitely be respected. He’s spending today in the peaceful presence of family.’

“It’s certainly peaceful,” Robert said. “And I’m glad that it’ll be that way for the rest of time!”

...

 “That certainly sounds like an unforgettable day,” Robert remarked after Helen ended the story. “Although I doubt reporters will stop bugging me forever.”

Helen gave a shrug. “Who knows? Anything can happen.”

“That’s true,” Robert smiled at his siblings. “All of your stories were great. No matter what the future holds, I know it’ll be better with the ones I love.”

[queenlucythevaliant]

Such a Blaze You Seldom See

Written for the Inklings Challenge 2022 ( @inklings-challenge ). Inspired by Robert Service’s “The Cremation of Sam McGee.” 

January 6, 1897 

Dear Lena,

Men say that strange things can happen in the Klondike. I never quite believed them till now. Now, I tremble to recall what happened to Sam and me a month ago when we crossed from Fort Yukon to Dawson in late December, a rough trip to be sure. I halfway suspect that what I saw was the strangest thing ever to happen in that frozen expanse. Whatever the case, it was a miracle.

You know better than anyone that Sam was always keen to leave Idaho. He would have liked to go anywhere else, but from boyhood his favorite notion was that he’d go back east for a fancy college education and become an engineer or an architect. Even more than that, though—more than anything, he wanted to marry you and start a family. He would have done right by you, Lena, if only he could have.

But God was unkind. Sam never went east, never got to college, and he broke your engagement, though it broke his own heart to do it.

Da was a wandering soul, you know, and he went out the door when I was ten after years of struggling to stay put. I started getting nervous fits after Da left, though I mostly grew out of it within a couple years. They hurt like blazes and I had to treat with laudanum, but I never fell dependent on it the way so many people do. I had Sam, who was carefuler and more precise than any doctor. He watched over my laudanum use and cared for me when I was hurting.

I started healing, and that was when you and Sam finally got engaged. But then Ma fell sick with consumption. 

Sam told me what you said when he broke the engagement: “I’ll wait, but not forever.” Those words were like some morsel of food to a starving man. He put your engagement ring on a chain after you returned it and carried it around his wrist as a bracelet: “So I can wear my hopes on my sleeve,” he would say.

Ma died last summer. I’m not sure if you know that. You were long gone by then.

Sam called it a miracle when the letter came. Dear sons, it said, If you are reading this letter, you are still in Pellton where I left you. Now I have the chance to make amends for my absence. By some stroke of luck, I was in Seattle when the news of Klondike gold came down. I have staked a claim worth six dollars a pan and begun construction of a cabin on site. Come to Dawson City and join me. Five hundred dollars advance enclosed for the trip. At the bottom of the page was my Da’s unfamiliar signature. 

Of course, getting to Dawson would be difficult, but Sam and me conferred and decided to go for it. Soon as possible, we said, else Da or the gold or both might have run out by the time we got there.

*

Six days before Christmas, we were making our way over the God-forsaken trail from Fort Yukon to Dawson. It was freezing—"Proper cold,” Sam said, which I later found out meant thirty below. Our eyelashes froze and stuck together. The hair in our noses froze and it stung when we inhaled. Even through our parkas, the wind stabbed past our skin down to the brittle bone.

“Hell on earth,” I complained. It wasn’t an exaggeration either. “Didn’t some fellow once write that Hell was someplace frozen?”

“That was Dante, I think,” Sam hollered back, “’S not in the Bible.” I couldn’t see his face through the hood and the cap he had on over it, but I could picture the way his lip quirked up at the edge when he said it.

“Want to stay in back another turn? I can keep going,” he offered. It was near my turn to walk out in front of the sled and break the path for the dogs while Sam took his turn walking behind.

With sled dogs, someone has to go out front of the team on snowshoes and clear the way, else the dogs would waste all their energy fighting through snow that might come up past their noses. It’s hard work, being out front, but it would be harder still heading to Dawson without a good dog team.

Sam’s brows would be furrowed together in worry when he made me that offer. I could just see it, and it bothered me. Even all these years on, Sam was always fussing after my health.

“Naw, I’ll manage,” I said. I didn’t want Sam wearing himself out on my account.

Of course, a few miles later, he insisted and back behind the sled I went. I never could talk Sam out of anything once his mind was made up.

*

That night, we were packed beneath the snow in the shadow of the sled, which served as a windbreak. It was near fifty below, but the stars were dancing overhead in a show the likes of which you just don’t see in Pellton and I felt, if not comfortable, then at least contented. Sam turned over then, from being on his back looking up at the sky to sideways and looking at me.

“Cade,” said he, “we’ll pass near the Belle Isle Altar on Christmas day. I’d like to make an offering.”

“Mmmm. Whatever you say, Sam.” I was damn exhausted, as you can imagine.

I’m sure you’ve heard about the Altar as a legend or a fairytale, but the folks up north will swear that it’s real. I’d heard talk of the Altar a thousand times over the last few months. Once we got up past St. Michael, everyone had something to say on the subject. A tall, burly man from Oklahoma called it a miracle and a mystery. The captain of the boat that had carried us to Fort Yukon said it was the closest thing to magic that any man had ever seen. Yet plenty of people also said it wasn’t worth adding the extra hours to the long, grueling trek to Dawson.

“I’d like to offer up Lena’s ring,” said Sam.

That got me awake. “What?”

“Her engagement ring, Cade.”

No no no, I thought, You can’t!

What I said was, “It’s your token, Sam. But don’t you want to keep it so you can go back and give it to her again once you’re rich?”

Sam was quiet for a long time. “Lena’s gone, Cade. She waited, and then she left, and I expect she’s found someone else by now. And that’s alright.” Were it not for our wraps, he would have reached out and ruffled my hair.

“Now wait a minute, Sam—”

“And I’m never gonna pass by as holy a place as Belle Isle Altar again in my life, most like. I want to offer God the most precious thing I have as a sacrifice, and what better time than on the holiest night of the year?”

“You shouldn’t be so rash—”

“I ain’t being rash! Been thinking about this since we decided to come this way. If the good Lord does see fit to give me the second chance I always prayed for, then I’ll tell Lena what I did with her ring and I’ll buy her a big diamond instead of a little silver band. But if, as is my suspicion, I never have that chance—well then, that’s alright too. I’m praying for other things now, Cade.”

I bit my lip hard to keep the tears in. “You ever regret all the things you gave up to care for Ma and me?”

Sam didn’t hesitate. “Never. Not once.”

He turned a little in his snow-bed and I could just see the glint off his eyes in the starlit darkness. He was looking at me with more love than I knew how to take in.

“I’ll always wish I could have married Lena and gone east and all—but I never could have left you and Ma while either of you was ailing. Wouldn’t have been fair to Lena either, if I could only give her half my worry.”

And that was that, I guess. We dozed off, slept hard, and woke in the morning with miles and miles of frozen expanse ahead of us.

*

About midday, we were picking our way across the flats when a squall hit us flat outa nowhere. One moment, the horizon was clear, then an instant later an enormous cloud of silver was racing towards us and Sam was yelling “Hurry! The dogs! The sled!”

Well, we got the dogs dug in as fast as we could and dove beneath the sled before the worst was upon us. We bundled up tight in the snow and prepared to wait it out, both trying to work out in our heads how far it might set us back. The light had dwindled to little more than five hours each day and it was costly to lose any of it.

Then, slowly and then all at once, my vision lit up hot. I felt a pain in the base of my head, right in the place where my skull met my spine.

“Sam,” I said. “Sam.”

There must have been something about my voice, because Sam knew at once. “You’re having a fit,” he stated in a pitch-black tone.

Strange, that. I hadn’t had a fit in nearly four years. I’d been healthy, but somehow Sam just knew.

I nodded. When I remembered he couldn’t see me, I cleared my throat and murmured, “I am.”

I could sense Sam’s indecision. His muscles were taught and there was a grim look on what little I could see of his face. The moments lengthened and ticked by until finally, Sam let out a sigh. “Your laudanum’s in the sled, way down towards the bottom. Can you bear it?”

“Yessir,” I said, trying my best to be brave.

I don’t know how much time passed. Pain is timeless, even worse when you’re in the middle of a white-out storm. I only know that eventually, the pain got too much to take. I started screaming.

Sam was up in a flash. He climbed into the sled and got me the laudanum. Then he was beside me again pouring a measure in my mouth, and a short time later the pain began to leave me. (Or was it hours? Never can tell.)

I slept. Sam didn’t. The storm ended eventually, but we stayed put till morning.

*

When we rose the next day, I could tell Sam wasn’t right. Those few minutes in the storm the day before had stolen away his body’s heat and he was still chilled, even after the long rest in his hood beneath the snow. “Don’t you worry,” Sam told me, but his voice was dry and cracked like last year’s autumn leaves. He was moving real slow.

He was staggering and stumbling about before noon, muscles stiff and uncooperative. I decided to halt, but Sam wasn’t having it. “Am I in charge, or is my baby brother? We’ve got thirty miles to make today. We go on.”

“You may be older, but you’re not in charge of me. Right now, I know what’s best and I say halt.”

We halted.

I built a fire, but that blue tinge that he had all over wasn’t going away. I pulled out the extra blankets, but Sam pushed them aside. “Too darn hot,” he said, teeth chattering.

After a while, he fell into delirium. Last thing I remember my brother saying while he still knew me is, “Steady, Cade. Death ain’t such a big thing.” After that, he just clung to the sled and raved. Ma and Da, his plans for college back east, bits and pieces from Scripture, and you. “Lena, Lena,” again and again. It was all jumbled and after a while it just ran together in a long stream of nonsense.

“’S it snowing?” Sam asked.

“Not right now,” I answered.

He never moved again.

It took me a bit to realize that my brother was dead. When I touched his skin, it was blue tinged and cold as ice.

It was only then that I realized I didn’t have any way of burying my brother. The ground was frozen solid, even by the river where the snow pack wasn’t as bad. There was no way I could possibly dig a hole to fit him. I knew what he’d tell me if he could: “Leave the body and go on; it’ll only weigh you down.”

But Sam was gone, and I wasn’t going to leave my brother’s body to freeze in the snow and be food for some animal. He was a good Christian, read his Bible at night and went to church most every week. He deserved a Christian burial.

The sled had a little room free, but not near enough to fit Sam’s whole body. I thought about just trying to tie him down on top of everything, but I knew that adding him to the heap would upset the stability of the sled and tire out the dogs. Even a good team can only haul so much. For a desperate moment, I thought maybe I could somehow carry him on my back—but when I tried to lift him, I found my brother’s body a great, unwieldy block of ice. It took nearly my whole strength to pick him up at the torso and carry him all of six yards. I set him back down with a grunt and for a long moment I considered dosing myself with a little more laudanum. I wanted to be numb.

(I didn’t want to think on the laudanum too hard, else I’d think about Sam going out in that storm to get it. If I let myself think on it, the guilt would destroy me and I couldn’t let it. I’d as good as killed my brother. I owed it to him to survive.)

But wait. One of the crates on the sled was Sam’s clothes. There was no need now to bring them to Dawson anymore. I would never wear them; Sam’s a good head taller than me, and I’m not likely to do much more growing.

I didn’t want to part with Sam’s clothes. Even if I couldn’t wear them, they’d still carry his scent. But I reasoned that it was more important to give my brother a proper burial than to hold onto sentimental objects. I tossed the clothes out into the snow and chopped up the crate for firewood.

The same logic applied to most of Sam’s half of the food and the few precious books he’d decided to bring. By the time I was though, I had space on the sled big enough to stow his body.

Then, just as I was shoving him onto the sled, I caught sight of your ring on its silver chain and I remembered about Sam’s offering.

I was three days out from Belle Isle Altar. I could still sacrifice the ring for him. Even though he was dead, I had to believe that God would still honor his offering.

So, as I finished chopping the crates and packing up and I prepared to move out, my heart swelled with a new strength of determination. It was up to me now to offer Sam’s most precious treasure to the Lord on Christmas day, just like the Wise Men did. I swore I would not fail.

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death as I started away that morning. The winds let up and I made good time. Maybe even enough that I wouldn’t be hard pressed to reach my destination by Christmas. I was hopeful, at least. I had promises to keep.

I tried not to think of what the Eskimo at Fort Yukon had said: “It is good that you have each other. Only a fool ventures into this country on his own with the winter at his heels.”

I halted for the night at the edge of one of the Yukon River’s little braided tributaries. It took me two tries to get the fire started all on my own, but I managed it in the end.

When I crept beneath the snow to sleep, I could almost feel Sam sitting there above me on the sled. I must have laid there for ten or fifteen minutes, keener and keener discomfort growing in my gut, until finally I said aloud, “It’s a mighty grief not to have you down below with me, Sam.”

In my mind, I saw his eyes crease and heard him reply, “You can come join me if you like, but it'll be a tight squeeze. You’ll have to toss your own things out in order to fit!”

I chuckled softly in the silence, momentarily comforted. I talked to Sam until my eyelids drooped shut.

*

In the days that followed, I kept up a steady stream of talk for Sam. I crossed several more tributaries telling him what the new cabin in Dawson would be like: “Wood floors, windows facing west, and a little reading corner, just like you said. Da’ll give us anything we ask for, just wait.” As I went across the Flats, I talked about you and him as though you could still get married for real: “Oh, but she’s a beauty, your Lena Lindquist. Long dark hair down to her knees and a pretty little smile that turns big when she laughs. She’ll make a beautiful bride, and your children will be prettier still. Can you imagine, you and her with a strapping boy and a half-pint little girl?” I hauled myself over a series of toothy ridges one at a time, grouching and cussing and hearing Sam chide me for my foul language. “If you’re gonna cuss, leave the Lord out of it!”

I felt half-mad. I found that I didn’t much care if I was. 

Sometime in the middle of the next-to-last day before Belle Isle, I started to sing Christmas carols. “Here’s ‘Hark the Herald Angels’ for you again, Sam!” I would cry before launching into another of his favorites. In lonely, fleeting moments when the winds blew hard, I saw Sam’s body grinning at me from the sled. “Always did love that one, Cade,” he seemed to say.

As I sat and supped that night, a kind of fierce, lonesome sorrow came over me, different from the constant ache in my chest that was Sam’s death. It was Christmas Eve and I had naught but my brother’s corpse for company. It was silly, but I guess I never really believed that anyone spent Christmas alone.

“Wish you were here,” I said. The wind whistled, but from the sled, Sam spoke not a word.

“I wish you were really here,” I said again. “Wish you hadn’t gotten me that laudanum. Wish you’d let me suffer. Wish you’d let me die, if it came to that. Wish you’d just listened to me scream and not moved a single inch.”

Sam wasn’t really on the sled. Only his body was.

“Wish you were selfish,” I said. “Wish you’d gone off to Yale or somesuch after Da left and married Lena while I was still sick and never looked back. Wish you could have had the life you wanted instead of freezing and dying in the middle of the Klondike. Wish you’d had a different brother. Wish you hadn’t had any brother!”

I was nearly yelling by this point and the dogs were getting agitated. I made myself settle and softly I muttered, “Wish I had died instead.

“You never would have let me, would you? You spent up all your life making sacrifices for your kin, so naturally you had to go and die on my account. You wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

The snow fell, and my tears fell. They froze crystal on my face. My brother didn’t answer.

*

I came to Belle Isle Altar after lunch on Christmas Day. It was right on the edge of the lake facing the water, closed in by a squat little stone building with a chimney on top. Out from the chimney, maybe half a mile into the air, came a continuous billow of smoke.

“Alright Sam,” I muttered. “Alright.” I climbed to the back of the sled where I’d left your ring with its chain still wrapped around his wrist. I felt for it. It was gone.

Immediately, my thoughts began racing. I remembered making the decision to put the ring back and go through with Sam’s offering. So, I figured, it had to be here somewhere.

I wrapped my arms around Sam’s torso and dragged him off the sled, then climbed back into the place where he had been. I scoured the whole area, raked my hands along every surface, but I couldn’t find it. Panic began to rise in my throat.

One at a time, I pulled every crate and box and item off the sled and piled them there in the snow. The sky scowled down at me as I carefully opened each and found that the ring wasn’t inside. My throat was closing up, somewhere between rage and despair. I didn’t know whether I wanted to scream to heaven or curl up in a ball and weep.

Finally, as I was pulling all the bits of firewood off the sled, I caught sight of something shiny and let out a whoop. I reached down for the engagement ring, but an instant later I realized my mistake. In my hand was only a broken-off piece of tarnished silver chain.

It must have gotten caught on one of the crates when I dragged them off the sled to chop them up, I realized. The ring itself was likely still lying there in the place where Sam had died, long since covered by drifts of snow.

Now I really did weep. I sat down on the edge of the sled and howled my woes out to the dreadful wind and snow. No offering. It was Christmas Day and I was at Belle Isle Altar without anything to burn.

No, wait. That wasn’t true. All my worldly possessions were there with me. We hadn’t brought much from Idaho, and less still had made it onto the sled when we left Fort Yukon, but I still had plenty of options. Surely, somewhere in that great pile I had a fitting treasure for Sam to offer. I turned and stared at the stack of crates and boxes. There was the monogrammed handkerchief that Da had once given Ma as a Christmas gift. There was the old family Bible, and all of my clothing, including my one good Sunday shirt.

There, leaning up against it all, was Sam’s body.

Bodies ought to be buried, but I remembered hearing once how some people prefer to cremate their dead and scatter the ashes.

“Here!” I cried aloud, and I wasn’t sure if I was talking to myself or my brother or to God. “Here is your offering!”

All in a rush, I stashed everything back on the sled except Sam’s stiff, frozen body. Then, with all my strength, I grabbed him tight beneath the arms and dragged him towards the squat little building where the Altar was waiting.

I blinked when I stepped inside. There were no windows, but it was brighter than the snow outside had been.

In the center of the squat, stone room stood a pillar of flame which started at the ground and went all the way up to the ceiling where its smoke escaped through the chimney. It was untended, and no fuel sat beneath it. From the untouched snow outside, I didn’t even think anyone had set foot in the place in at least a week. The Fire never grew or shrank. It danced and flickered, but never wavered. The light it threw off was bright, brilliant gold.

Yet it was a true fire; the smoke smelled like smoke, and the flame was blistering hot as I approached it. I came away with my parka singed.

It was all true. The Standing Fire at Belle Isle Altar was real, and as near to magic as I had ever seen. A miracle.

Would you take my meaning if I said that place covered up all my grief with a feeling altogether heavier and harder to bear? And yet the Fire was beautiful. Even now, I don’t really understand it.

Beside the Standing Fire was a stone slab big enough that I could have laid down and slept on it. It was far enough from the Fire that I could stand at it without turning red, but near enough that I was always aware of just how awfully hot it was. This was the Altar itself, erected, I assumed, by the Eskimos, or else by whatever fur trader first found this place a hundred years ago.

I left my offering a few feet from the Altar and returned to the sled for some wood.

*

I started singing again as I prepared the Altar. I started with a funeral dirge because it seemed only proper, but before long I found myself on Christmas carols again. The jolly tunes should have been at odds with the somber work I was doing, but I didn’t think Sam would have minded. Matter of fact, he’d have enjoyed it.

I arranged the kindling like I was making a bonfire, mostly because I couldn’t think of another way of doing it. Once all was set, I chose a long branch and carefully reached it to the very edge of the Standing Fire. A few seconds and it caught. I lit the kindling, and before long the flames of my Altar-fire were soaring high.

I figured there were probably words you were meant to say when you make an offering to God, but I didn’t know any of them. Then again, I didn’t think anyone had ever offered a corpse before. I was already doing the thing all wrong, so I might as well do it as best I could figure out.

“Lord, here in your presence, at the Standing Fire on Christmas Day we do bring this offering—that’s Sam and me both, Lord. He meant to give you his engagement ring, the one he’d intended for Lena Lindquist, but it got lost. I’m sorry about that; it wasn’t his fault.

“But Sam here was the best brother you ever gave anyone. I treasured him, and his body is the most precious thing I’ve got with me. If an offering is supposed to be something precious—well, I hope this is alright with You.

“But Lord, maybe it’s right that his body gets to be an offering. All his life was a sacrifice, you know. Every bit of it.”

With that, I burrowed a hole in the glowing center of the fire, and I hefted my brother’s body in. Then I turned round and fled out into the cold. I didn’t want to see him burn.

The wind was blowing hard, howling cross the frozen expanse. It was proper cold, but I could still feel the heat from the Standing Fire licking all over me. Sweat rolled down my forehead and the small of my back. I went back to the sled to get something to drink.

I made camp, melted some snow for water, and ate a little food. The stars came out overhead and I don’t know why, but they seemed prettier than ever that night. I tilted my head back in awe.

I don’t know how long I waited before returning to the Altar, but I think it was a good long while. I padded back cautiously, almost frightened—though I don’t really know what I was afraid of. I opened the door.

Sam was sitting cross legged on the Altar in the midst of the flames, cool as you please. When he saw me, he looked up laughing and called, “Close the door, won’t you? Don’t let the heat out.”

It was all I could do to stop myself lunging into the fire to grab hold of him.

“Sam?” I choked out, “Is that really you?”

“I told you, Cade: Death ain’t such a big thing.” My brother reached out his hand from inside the flame. I touched it.

Living flesh.

We laced our fingers together for a moment, and his hand was just like it always was. I could feel the calluses on his palm, the little raised scar on the back of his thumb he got making a fishhook when he was nine, the strength of his grip.

And then he was gone. The fire on the Altar burned with his ashes, and beyond it the miraculous radiance of the Standing Fire blazed on.

I don’t know what you’ll make of all this, Lena, but every word is true. Like I said: strange things happen in the Klondike. I know. I’ve seen them. I burned my brother Sam’s body on the Altar of the Standing Fire at Belle Isle, but I swear he was alive again in those flames.

[chaigirly]

C ai Characters 2

The Quarry

Jacob Custos

You aint my friend

Don’t know shit about where I was made

And I sit on the curb

I don’t know what I’m doin’

Nick Furcillo

You said you had my back

Might want a kiss before the end of this song

Dylan Lenivy

And at night, turn into a monster

Max Brinly

Did you get what you deserve?

I know it’s not your fault

Kaitlyn Ka

For a girl who will never know it’s about her

Abigail Blyg

Only love can hurt like this

Emma Mountebank

Take me down into your paradise

She got that rich girl LA vibe

Red Dead Redemption

Sadie Adler

She might let you stay but just for the night

I don’t want you to leave

Forget about your boyfriend

Run run runaway runaway baby

Arthur Morgan

Everyday is summertime with you

I know about whispers

I need you here to stay

Don’t waste your time, go home

Mary-Beth Gaskill

It felt so wrong, it felt so right

And she means everything to me

Javier Escuella

He’s down at your alter

I wanna show you all the finer things in life

Dutch van der Linde

I know you want me baby

John Marston

But I’m in the trees, I’m in the breeze

Abigail Roberts/Marston

Oh you would find her in a Polaroid picture

Lenny Summers

When does a ripple become a tidal wave?

Spiderverse

Miguel O’Hara

Clandestine meetings and longing stares

Yes of course I will my darling

DC Universe

Jaime Reyes

Am I allowed to look at her like that

Resident Evil

Leon Kennedy

Look at me, look at me. You looking?

Five Nights At Freddys

Mike Schmidt

Hard not to fall for you

Let me hold you like a baby

The Last Of Us

Ellie Williams

“She likes a boy,” I’m not a boy

How can I be homophobic? My bitch is gay

I’m young but my mind is well beyond my years

I need you more than I want to

It’s a craving not a crush

Abby Anderson

Stop calling me your bunny

So it’s best that we move fast and keep quiet

Joel Miller

You’ve been fighting the memory all on your own

Dairy of a Wimpy Kid

Rodrick Heffley

When you said, “Hello.” I knew that was the end

Yes I was running far away

Take you downtown

One random night when everything changes

Call of Duty

Simon Ghost Riley

Oh I’m sorry, sorry that you love me

Imma fight a man tonight

Valeria Garza

Love me like you

Nothing fucks with my baby

YouTube/Twitch

Caseoh

Welcome to my candy store

Oh who is she?

She met me on the tour

And it may seem like she’s crazy

Life is Strange

Chloe Price

Smoke cigarettes when she couldn’t sleep

Isn’t she lucky?

To me you’re all I am

You give me butterflies

You got me in the back of your car like a star

Max Caulfield

Are you falling in love with a feeling?

If that’s what you like, I’ll do it

Until Dawn

Matt Taylor

You think you’re cooler than me

The Boys

Homelander

It’s the way you walk, the way you talk

Disney

Dimitri

In love with the one who can break my heart

The Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark

She only wanted to lie beside me

Raised the kids the very best she can

Coriolanus Snow

You belong to me

She was a showgirl but that was 30 years ago

My hands on your knees, I’m Angelina Jolie

Johanna Mason

Can we talk about this later?

The Legend of Korra

Korra

I could do this all day

Eyes don’t lie, say you’re mine

Ghostbusters

Phoebe Spengler

I swear I fell in love right there

Don’t care about grades just call me your lady

Who you gonna call? GHOST BUSTERS

How do we rewrite the stars?

Seeing stars in your eyes

You’re always in my brain and I take the blame

Egon Spengler

Oh my good looking boy

The Fall Guy

Colt Seavers

Girls don’t call and they never tell you why

In the back of the nightclub sipping champagne

Arcane

Jinx

I’d let the world burn for you

Vi

Blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff

Would I run off the world someday?

Walked in the store right behind me

I bet they planned it all out, like the shows

Caitlyn Kiramman

No I wouldn’t do a thing like that

Sevika

Are we best friends? Are we something?

[mountainmaven]

Twenty Books Challenge

Hypothetically, you are only able to keep 20 of your books. Only one book per author/series. So what books are you keeping?

I was tagged by @the-forest-library - thank you!

This was way harder than I imagined (and I still messed up because I have 2 books by the same author oops). I was surprised by how many of the books I chose to keep are non-fiction. I also may have messed up with the rules with some of my collection books but oh well.

From the bottom up:

The Lost Words by Robert MacFarlane & Jackie Morris - just a beautiful book that reminds us how important words are.

The Uncle Wiggly Book by Howard R. Garis. One of the first books I read as a child, and this is the copy I've had since childhood. It's also the book that started my book collecting hobby.

The Canterville Ghost by Oscar Wilde - such a sweet, fun story and this one has great illustrations. (this is the book I'd switch out for something else since I messed up with the rules)

Hold Still by various. This was a project started by The Duchess of Cambridge during The COVID Pandemic. She and the National Portrait Gallery collected thousands of photos and went through and chose the top 100 to put into book form. It's a story of life during a modern pandemic. It's incredibly moving.

Collective Wisdom: Lessons, Inspiration, and Advice From Women Over 50 by Grace Bonney. A Christmas gift from one of my kids in 2021. It's a beautiful collection from women, most of whom are average, every day women, very few celebrities or well knowns are in this book. And the diversity is great too (Native, WOC, Disabled, Trans etc.).

The Complete Language of Flowers by S. Theresa Dietz the classic book of flowers and their meanings with beautiful drawings.

Women in Science by Rachel Ignotofsky. 50 Inspiring and notable women in Science. Fun, cartoonish illustrations as well.

American Prince by Tony Curtis. Because he's so pretty, and his whole face lit up when I told him what I thought of his book when he signed it for me.

The Snow Queen and Other Winter Tales by various. Collection of tales from various Fairy Tale books and authors. I have a few of these but this one I think is my favorite.

The Works of H.G. Wells by H.G. Wells. A collection of stories by Wells. The Time Machine was the first Science Fiction book I'd read. I read it as a teen and I loved it.

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (and this would be the one Wilde book I'd keep since I'm only allowed to have one book by the same author). This is my all time favorite book.

The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen. I have loved and own every book Allen has written, but I think this is my favorite.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I have a few copies of this book, it's a favorite. I chose this version because it's just very pretty.

Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer. Because Mother Nature DGAF. Also as I was being admitted to the hospital for my hysterectomy the admitting nurse who was doing all my vitals, giving me my IV etc. was reading this book and we discussed it. We both agreed that this book confirmed for us that we never want to climb Mount Everest.

Timeless by Gail Carriger. The final book in the Soulless series. I loved this whole series. I chose the last book, however, because it's one of the few series that I absolutely loved everything about how it ended.

The Radium Girls by Kate Moore. The incredibly infuriating story of the women who risked their lives in watch factories and how little help they got. This book made me a better feminist and grew my understanding of the importance of women's rights and how important our history is.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. I think this was the first Gaiman book I read and it's my favorite.

Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. A series I read one summer in my youth. I chose this one because of its iconic cover, and because it's the first in the series.

The Aviary by Kathleen O'Dell. One of my kids read this when they were younger and suggested it to me. It's one of my all time favorite middle grade reads. It's magical.

The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. My 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Bauer (my favorite teacher ever) read this out loud to us in class. I fell in love with the story. I never read it again until I was a married adult with children. It's the first book I ever re-read as an adult (Uncle Wiggly is the first book I ever re-read). And I re-read TLtWatW at least every couple of years. I tag anyone who wants to do this!!

[bisexual-horror-fan]

A Very Important Question: Do you have your own Freddy's Glove?

Not only do I own a replica Freddy glove made out of metal and leather, I own the hat, the sweater, the Nightmare on Elm Street van collab shoes, a replica glove necklace, (that I am wearing right now). An Elm street sign, the Freddy Krueger body pillow, stickers, prints, a custom ANOES themed Starbucks cup embossed with my name, themed candles, themed and licensed jewelry sets, posters, socks, shirts, the Freddy VS Jason figure set AND the glass set, shot glasses, mugs, the Springwood high baseball cap, all the movies, including the Never Sleep Again documentary. I met Robert Englund himself and got a picture with him last summer.

And of course, I've got the glove itself tattoo'd on me.

Might be missing some peices, but yeah you could say I'm a fan who loves to show it physically.

[freddiemercurydaily]

12 November 1977, Queen performed @

This is almost certainly the longest show Queen ever played, clocking in at nearly 2 1/2 hours. They play thirty songs in all, including eight from ‘News Of The World.’

“A Royal Quartet Rules The World of Heavy Metal Rock”

Boston — By New York or even Philadelphia standards, Boston is a generally sedate town, although an an outsider on hand last week at the Boston Garden would be forced to reassess any such generalization. Indeed, the more than 13,000 young rock fans who packed the Garden on the evening of Nov. 12-provided. an awesome example of mass hysteria, as the British rock group Queen unveiled a new stage show of such epic proportion and sustained excitement that there seems no way to adequately describe its impact.

It was only the second performance of the quartet’s current 27-city American tour (which touches down here at the Spectrum for shows Wednesday and Thursday nights), but it was a clear enough indication that Queen has blossomed into the leading practitioner of heavy-metal rock drama, With British kingpins Led Zeppelin temporarily out of the touring picture (due to the sudden death this past summer of singer Robert Plant’s young son), Queen literally reigns, thanks to ah impressive new album — “News of the World” (Elektra Records) — and the sort of non-stop, three-hour, no-opening-act show pioneered by Zeppelin in the early 1970s.

Queen’s triumph — after about five years of increasing popularity and one smash hit single (“Bohemian Rhapsody”) — derives from a wise and welcome change in musical/theatrical direction. Originally a busily theatrical “glitter” band reliant on a multitude of costume changes, smoke, strobe and fire effects, Queen has considerably toned down its flashy excess. With the exception of one major costume change — from stripes to sequins — on the part of lead singer Freddie Mercury, a modicum of smoke and flare, and a massive, 5,000-pound lighting rig in the shape of a queenly crown, the group’s theatrical impact is almost exclusively tied to its music. Noticeably phased from the current repertoireare the rococo, operetta-like tunes of an earlier period, and in their pIace is a masterfully paced program of eruptive yet polished hard rock

With such boldly articulate new, recent and old Queen songs ” We Will” Rock You,” “Keep Yourseif Alive”, “Liar,” “We Are the Champions”, “Tie Your Mother Down,” the group brillantly sates the mass appetite for the surefire basics of modern pop rock: soaring tenor lead and harmony vocals, pungent electric guitar lines, driving yet sophisticated rhythms, evocative Iyric:s and rich melodies.

“I suppose we’ve been leading up to this all long. It certainly feels like the breakthrough we’d never quite made” admitted Freddie Mercury after the Boston Performance. Mercury is tall, dark, muscular yet lean, retiring yet intense in terms of eye contact, and possessed of a rather pronounced overbite. He’s a gifted showman of genuine grace and relentless energy, a first rate vocalist and songwriter, and quite lucid on the subject of Queen.

“I think it got to the point with us where the theatrical tag began to take over our image, but it was only a matter of time before the musci began to come into its own. That’s what’s making the difference on this tour”, he reflects. In a near chair, bassist John Deacon – quietly amiable – nods in agreement.

“What bothers me so often when people discuss rock ‘n roll is their tendency to label it,” continues Mer­cury. “Either it’s ‘glitter’ or ‘punk’ or progressive’ or whatever, and these tend to obscure the fact that you’re really talking about a kind of entertain­ment that often touches on a lot of styles. The last thing l’d want to do is limit our music to a label.”

Speaking of labels, though — and of “punk” rock in particular — one can’t help but note that one of the group’s new tunes, “Sheer Heart Attack,” affects the piledriving intensity of today’s “punk” sound.

“I suppose it does, now that you mention it,” agrees drummer Roger Taylor, who wrote the song. Blond and blue-eyed, Taylor is very much the pretty boy of the band. “But even so, I wrote it a few years back and we only just got around to recording it. I do think, though, that the punk rock scene is still very nascent, and you’re going to see a lot of these young bands making a lot of crappy music before the good stuff comes along, i suppose it has to be that way”.

The nucleus of Queen — Mercury, Taylor and guitarist Brian May — met up in London in 1969 and rounded out in 1971 with John Deacon. Previously, Mercury had been with a group called Wreckage, while May and Taylor had been members of one called Smile. All four are in their late twenties, and each has a college degree, Mercury in graphic design and illustration, Taylor in biology, Deacon in electronics and May in astronomy.

The most accomplished academic of the four, May not only taught astronomy but published a few papers in British scientific journal before forming Smile with Taylor in 1968. Tall, leather Jacket and sporting an abundant mane of curly black hair, May could hardly look less a scientist.

“I was doing research on cosmic dust”, he explains, ” and I really did enjoy my work, in fact I still keep up with the latest developments”.

By now, the party has thinned down and it’s quite late – 3 A.M. – as May and I share an elevator to respective floors. he shakes his head, dazed and happy. “You know”, he odfers, “we’ve played a lot of places, but everytime I hear an audience roine crazy like they were tonight before we even got onstage, I get such a feeling inside, and I know I could never feel that way doing anything else…”

Source: The Sunday Bulletin

[jamiebamberdaily]

TV & Satellite Week Article - Issue 25 (24 - 30 June 2023)

Tap/Click ‘Keep Reading’ to view the transcript.

Picture Cannes and you’ll probably imagine an azure ocean, the annual film festival or multimillionaires sunbathing on superyachts - but Acorn TV’s six-part romantic crime drama Cannes Confidential is hoping to make it synonymous with screwball comedy and a ‘will they, won’t the? central pairing.

Detective Camille Delmasse (Lucie Lucas) is having a challenging day when she collides with debonair art collector Harry King (Beyond Paradise’s Jamie Bamber) on the Boulevard de la Croisette, wrecking her beloved classic car in the process. Already irritated by the smooth-talking stranger, Camille’s day goes from bad to worse as she and her colleague Léa Robert (Tamara Marthe) investigate the murder of a street artist known as the Jester, only to find themselves crossing paths with Harry...

He pops us everywhere within the town, infuriating her,’ reveals Bamber. ‘They get off on the wrong foot, and the bickering and badinage, an that energy between two people with sexual chemistry finding each other intolerable was what drew me in.’ It soon becomes clear that there’s much more to Harry than he’s willing to let on to anyone, but as Camille comes close to finding out what he’s really up to, he proposes a mutually-beneficial alliance between the two of them.

PIVOTAL PACT

‘When Harry finds out she’s a policewoman, it’s a problem for him because he’s got something to hide,’ says Bamber, 50. ‘But he also happens to know a lot of the characters involved in the supposed wrongful imprisonment of her dad, the former chief of police, so they each have something that the other needs.

‘They have a quick agreement, a sort of poisoned chalice that they each take a sip from, and from that moment, they become more dependent on each other.’

Bamber likens the show to ‘the love child of Moonlighting, The Persuaders! and Miami Vice’ with its compelling blend of a feuding odd couple at its centre and solving crimes in scenic locations, but Cannes Confidential has a few more twists up its sleeve... ‘Léa, Camille’s police partner has designs on her as well,’ explains Bamber. ‘So you’ve got this odd love triangle at the heart of the show, each angle of the triangle antagonising the other.’

For avowed Francophile Bamber, who speaks fluent French, the lure of filming on location in and around Cannes proved impossible to resist - as was the opportunity to deploy his skills for the show’s French-language version. ‘The language was a big deal, because you’ve got a mostly French cast who are working in English and they were real troopers,’ says Bamber. ‘But they shoe was on the other foot when we dubbed into French - I was allowed to dub my own part, but that was when the French actors really came to the fore!’

Navigating a language barrier wasn’t the only difficulty that Bamber faced during filming for the series last summer - the scorching Mediterranean temperatures left him literally hot under the collar. ‘The most challenging thing I had to deal with was wearing a three-piece suit in the sunshine for three months, and trying not to ruin it with perspiration!’ he laughs. ‘My dresser, did amazing work with portable fans, whipping one shirt off and drying it while I wore the other, because I was wringing wet a lot of the time.’