#and frank got to see those dreams he had for the album as far as touring goes come true

[transjudas]

Frank + his relationship with World Destroyer as the Parachutes opener. "That would be the normal thing to do, is to release it and then find out what people are thinking, and then go out and do it. And I felt like… I felt like that was kind of taken from me, you know? But I feel fortunate that I was able to kinda be able to get that back a little bit." (x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x)

[kasagia]

The last time

Pairing: William "Billy" Russo x fem! reader Summary: You're done being the less important one. The one who always had to conform to the big asshole and playboy Mr. Billy Goddamn Russo. And this time you really promised yourself that it's over... but is it? Wairning(s): Billy is toxic, but he loves the reader; the reader loves Billy, but everyone is fucked up; fight; swearing; blood; the reader is a doctor; the reader and Billy argue, but both cannot live without each other; violence; weapon; Inspired by: Taylor Swift - The Last Time (Feat. Gary Lightbody) Nonsense from me: I'm so happy I was able to write this in this week. I hope you like it. 💙🖤 P.S. The next oneshot will be with Darkling (Would've, Could've, Should've), but I don't know when I'll be able to write it. 😅 Word count: 6,5k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

Find myself at your door Just like all those times before I'm not sure how I got there All roads, they lead me here

When you opened the door, you didn't expect that instead of finding the pizza delivery guy, you would find Billy Russo... or rather, what was left of him.

The hood over his head and his slightly lowered head were unable to hide the scars on his face. You notice that over time they have become... less visible... at least not as angry red as they were in the media after they published the fugitive's photo.

Yeah. You saw the news. (And talked to Maria.) You know what happened.

Maybe you didn't want to deal with a man who had broken your heart many times over the years, but you couldn't just pretend he didn't exist.

His face, his name, even that stupid nickname, Jigsaw, were everywhere. In the newspapers, on TV, on the internet, in your old photo albums and even in your fucking dreams. And now he was standing in front of you. The shell that remains of a one and only Billy Russo.

"May I... may I come in?" he whispered, staring at you uncertainly. You promised yourself that you would slam the door on that scarred face when he came to you... but in your toughts he was more... arrogant... just like he used to be.

"I... I'm not sure." the words come out of you as you look at him, trying to recover from the shock. You thought seeing him in person wouldn't do anything to you. How stupid you were...

"Please... I just want to talk to you. Give me five minutes and then you can sand me back to hell."

You bite your lip. You saw on the news that the Punisher and Jigsaw had teamed up... if Frank could forgive him enough to work with him and let him near Maria and the kids, you could give him that five damn minutes, before you try to kick his ass.

"Only five minutes, Russo." you say as you let him in.

Closing the door behind him, you wonder how far you've fallen by letting him back into your home… but from the way he looks around your place hesitantly, avoiding looking at you, you wonder who's really lost their dignity here.

I imagine you are home In your room, all alone And you open your eyes into mine And everything feels better

"You... you look beautiful." he says as he finally looks at you for the first time since your… rather tumultuous breakup.

"You wanted to talk." you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the dresser and stare intently at the man sitting on your couch.

"I… wanted to come to you after… all this shit. I… I could have lost my fucking memories somehow, but I think you've embedded yourself in my brain more than anything else. I went to your apartment, but you moved away." he admits, avoiding your heavy gaze to stare at the coffee table. You see a sad smile on his face as he stares at the pile of books and papers that were almost always present in any available space in your apartment. Some things don't change.

"I did." you say, closing some of your patient files from him so he can't analyse where exactly you work after you quit your job at Anvil as their private doctor. You collect papers and put them on your desk, turning your back to him. "Some people would get the hint. Did Frank throw out what was left of your brain by smashing your head against a mirror?"

You know it's a low move on your part, but you can't resist making him suffer. And by the way you suddenly feel his warm body behind you, you know that turning your back on your former marine and murderous ex wasn't such a smart idea. You swallow and turn around, crossing your arms to stare defiantly at him.

He is angry. You see it in his eyes. For some strange reason, instead of throwing you against the wall, he decides to close his eyes and take a few calming breaths.

And the part of you that still cares about him reminds you that he never laid a finger on you. Screaming, shouting, verbal threats were options. However, he never lost his temper enough to actually try to hurt you... but maybe you should stop testing your luck after all?

"Well... I... I think he finally put something into my empty head." you shift your puzzled gaze to him. You thought Frankie and Billy would go back to fighting like vicious dogs, trying to kill each other. Apparently, things have changed more than you originally expected.

"And here I thought that no one would be able to get through your thick skull."

"I'm going to therapy." he blurts out. You frown. Well, this wasn't at all what you expected when you saw Billy again. "To… sort it all out." he says, not breaking eye contact with you.

"Well… good for you. But I assume you didn't come here just to brag about it."

Billy shakes his head and takes a step towards you, watching your reaction. You tense up, but then relax as your body subconsciously takes in the scent of his perfume, which after all reminds you of (ironically) safety.

"No. I don't. I... I'm here to ask you if..."

"Stop it. Whatever you are about to ask me, my answer is no. I don't want to have anything to do with you." you interrupt him before he makes any suggestions for you to consider. "Not after what you did to me, to Frankie, to Castles. I'm glad you're on the mend, but I don't want to know you, Russo."

"Y/N, please..." he sighs pleadingly and reaches up to cup your cheek. You grab his hand before you can feel his fingers on you in a tender gesture that so often melted your heart for him.

"DON'T... just leave. Do one damn thing for someone else's sake and just leave. Let me be as I was." you say, glaring at him and internally cursing yourself for the tremble in your voice.

Somehow you win this battle of hurt glances because the next thing you hear in the room after his heavy breathing is the door slamming as he leaves. You are left alone. You're shaking with the emotions that are flowing through you now. You put your hand to your mouth and cried quietly.

Billy fucking Russo always had to come and mess up your life like a damn master.

And right before your eyes I'm breaking, no past No reasons why Just you and me

You come back from your shift at the hospital to find Frankie sitting outside your apartment door.

"One more such trip to the past, and I swear I will take a dog from the shelter and threaten you with it. What do you want, Frank?" you ask, crossing your arms and glaring at the Punisher.

"Nice to see you too, Doc. Have you finally learned how to sew people up, or are you still torturing them?" he asks with a mischievous smile, standing up and walking over to you.

"It was only once in Afghanistan, and in my defence, you were squirming like a dog in a nettle. Besides, it's not my fault you fell on knives because you stumbled like an idiot after the action was over."

The man laughs and pulls you into a hug. "It's been too long. Too bad you fucking ran away from Russo all the way here, I hate coming back to this town. By the way, Maria and kids missed you too."

"I spoke to them just yesterday on Skype. Besides, somehow this distance doesn't stop you from harassing me. And not only you. Billy was here two weeks ago." you say, leading him into your apartment. You give him a stern look as he walk inside. He rolls his eyes at me but bends down and takes off his shoes before walking further in.

"I thought so. He's been looking like shit for two weeks. I'm sure he now consists of 70 percent alcohol. Lisa wondered if his corpse on the couch was starting to decompose enough for Maria to let her perform an autopsy on him." you smile at the mention of your goddaughter. That's your little girl.

"If you tell me you're here to stand up for him, I'll kick you out of my apartment. The idea of letting him be part of your family again after all this shit he has done is sick. You're a fucked-up man, Frankie."

"Y/N, it's not what it looks like."

"Frank damn it, he almost helped kill your family! If I hadn't let Maria talk me into going with you that damn morning to the Central Park and forgave him after seeing those fucking eyes of a broken puppy, he probably wouldn't have lifted a finger to save Maria, kids and you!"

"I thought so too, so I shattered up his face, and we did a lot of shitty, sick things to each other, but believe me, it's not that simple. This fucking mess around us... is partly his fault, but not in the way we first assumed. He's still my brother… he's still our Bill."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You were fed up with it all. All this drama that's going on around Russo. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if they'd never called you in to stitch up that damn Marine and you'd never met him...

"I don't care, Frank. He hurt you. For money. He can go and keep selling himself like a whore." you say bitterly and walk past the man standing in the middle of your living room. You go to the bar and pour yourself a glass of something stronger.

"You can't be serious."

"I fucking am, Castle." you reply dispassionately, drinking the alcohol in a gulp. You pour yourself another glass and sit on the couch, watching the conflicted man in front of you.

"Come on. It's you and Billy. You always came back to each other. After every shit, big fight and breakup. Like a damn Ross and Rachel."

"For the last time I'm telling you, stop fucking watching Friends with Lisa and Maria, it's our show. Besides, this isn't damn Friends or any soap opera, Frankie. Billy fucked up. Ultimately. Nothing will change that, so just fuck off or accept it. God! You're taking our breakup worse than that cold bastard." you laugh bitterly and finish your glass. You set it down on the coffee table with a bang and run a hand through your hair. No. You won't get drunk again because of that damn asshole.

"Bullshit. He's a mess… I've never seen him like this."

"Do I look like I care?" you ask him, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"You fucking liar, you couldn't stop loving him overnights."

You don't answer right away. He was right. You couldn't stop loving someone who was so deeply embedded in your soul, who saw all of you and became a part of your heart so easily... but loving Billy hurt you more than staying away from him. And for once in your life, you just want to feel at peace and be somewhat happy. Even without Bill by your side.

"If you want something, you better fucking say it or get the hell out." you say, not looking at him as your attention is drawn to your hands instead of the man standing in front of you.

He sighs, tightening his grip on the chair. You see his white knuckles, and for a moment, you think he's going to break the back of the chair. He sighs suddenly and relaxes his muscles, staring at you with a less angry look.

"I need your help."

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye (Eye, eye)

You imagined your reunion with everyone a little worse. Maria and the kids were in a safe house outside the city, but it was nice to meet the rest of your old friends (in the case of the murder of the last of Rawllins' men, but hey, people talk about different things, right?) And it was really nice... until Billy returned to the apartment.

As soon as his dark-brown irises met yours, an unpleasant, awkward silence fell in the living room. You felt not only his gaze but also the curious gazes of the others as they glanced between the two of you.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he asks, shooting an angry, betrayed look at Frankie.

"Don't worry. I'll be gone as soon as I make sure the Castles are out of any danger. I don't really feel like seeing your face too." you say, giving him a defiant look. You turn your head away from him and towards Micro as quickly as you can.

Billy had dark circles under his eyes, a paler face than usual, and obvious signs of sleep deprivation. You'd care if he was more than just a piece of trash who betrayed people close to him. Yet you still cared.

However, the man does not give up easily. He walks over to you, stands in front of you, and takes your chin in his hand to make you look at him. If you didn't know better, you'd think you saw pain in that son of a bitch's eyes.

"You don't have to look at me from the hiding place where we put Maria and the kids, so get your pretty ass out of here and don't cause us any more troubles than we already have."

"How dare you talk about them after what you did?!" you growl at him in anger, pushing his hand away and standing up to face him. "All the trouble we're having is because you're a selling-out motherfucker who betrayed the only people in this world who fucking cared about you!"

Billy clenches his fists and takes a step towards you, leaning towards you. You both breathe quickly, shooting each other hostile glances, waiting to see who will break away and attack first. The tension in the room is so great that you can almost feel sparks flying between you. Frank quickly steps between the two of you, gives Billy a stern look and turns to face you.

"Save the lovers' quarrel and make-up sex for later, okay? Billy, Y/N is coming with us. Y/N, you're not trying to kill Billy until we do what we have to do, and it's best not to argue with him at all. Same with you, Bill. Can you do it, or are you resentful young brats who will be at each other's throats after a breakup?" he says, looking between you two. You huff, crossing your arms and staring at Castle.

"And since when did you become such a responsible asshole, Frankie?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Since we've been planning a glorious murder at those, who tried to kill my family." you sigh and nod. He is right. Killing these bastards is your priority. You can't let your feelings for that asshole who still manages to get under your skin somehow complicate your already difficult mission.

"Fine. Just keep him away from me." you growl in anger and walk past Billy, elbowing him as you go to get ready for your 'mission' with the boys.

And if you looked over your shoulder, you would see a dark brown irises staring longingly at your retreat towards the armoury silhouette.

You find yourself at my door And just like all those times before You wear your best apology But I was there to watch you leave And all the times I let you in Just for you to go again Disappear when you come back Everything is better

A ring at your door at 2 a.m. should make you suspicious.

You should pretend to sleep and finish studying for the last exam that separates you from your desired diploma. You promised yourself that after completing your specialisation, you would leave the army and move to a state hospital. You were fed up with gunshots all around you. For now, you were well on your way to shedding your soldier's uniform and permanently donning a doctor's coat.

You were one exam away from your dreams... and one Billy goddamn Russo who was standing outside your door.

Before you could close it in his face, the man stuck his shoe between the door and the frame. You curse under your breath and open them again to meet this hot damn asshole on your doorstep.

"You shouldn't open the door at this hour without checking who's behind it." he starts, resting his hand on the door as if to make sure you won't shut it in his face again. Only now do you notice his bag slung over his shoulder. He must have come here straight from the airport as soon as he landed.

"A lesson for the future. What do you want?" you ask dryly, crossing your arms. He looks at you tiredly and sighs. The hand that isn't holding the door is combing through his hair. Dog tags hang from his neck as he bows his head slightly before looking back into your eyes.

"Please... I just want to talk." he pleads, wearing his best apologetic, kicked puppy look.

"We have nothing to talk about. Can you let go of my door now? I have an important exam tomorrow; I need to get some sleep." he smiles slightly. Reluctantly, you feel your chest warm up at that damn cute smile.

"Knowing you, honey, you probably weren't even going to go to sleep, just keep revising the material."

"What are you doing here? There were no more sheets of paper in Afghanistan? The poor postman used to come here with a bag full of letters from you. I felt bad sending them back just because of him."

"So… you haven't read any?" he asks, swallowing and staring at you with those damn eyes you would kill for someday.

"Why? I broke up with you before I left the unit. I was just your sexy doctor, right? Or maybe I'm distorting your words? I'm almost sure that's what you called me while bragging to your colleagues in the unit that you fucked the coldest and most unapproachable bitch from the base."

"These same colleagues saw me rage and fall apart as I was getting my letters back from you. I was the one of us, who was there to watch you leave." he responds to your accusations, and the pain in his eyes almost convinces you to throw yourself into his arms. But luckily, you remember the nights you spent crying because of the asshole in front of you.

"And I was the one who overheard that everything between us was some kind of fucking adventure for the time being until you get to another woman." you growl angrily, trying to slam the door on him, but his hand on it prevents you from doing so. He pushes himself inside your apartment and pins you to the wall, closing the door behind him with a loud bang. Loud enough to have your neighbours hear that.

"It's not true… what was between us… it was the only real thing I ever had in my damn life." he says with a shaky voice and you see tears forming in his eyes. "Neither of us expected what was between us to turn into something more than a few-month fling, but here I am, flitting around without you like a moth searching for the fucking light after spending years in the darkness, which was my life without you. I care about you. More than anything. More than I want to admit, more than I would like. That damn much that I would travel halfway around the world for you, I will grovel at your feet just to be fucking close to you."

You let your tears flow freely as you listened to his confession. You know what the man in front of you has been through—what demons of his past pursued him at every turn. And maybe it's his words; maybe it's those damn, tearful eyes that allowed you to see his vulnerability, hidden for so many years; or maybe you just can't live without him either...

Anyway, you grab his dog tags and pull him towards you for a passionate, tearful kiss as both of you realise one terryfing truth... You need each other.

"This is the last time, Russo." you whisper against his lips as he guides you towards your bedroom, stripping you of your clothes.

And right before your eyes I'm aching, run fast Nowhere to hide Just you and me

"What the fuck are you thinking you are doing?" you ask him angrily as he drags you by your elbow away from the shooting.

Things have gone a bit south. Frank didn't anticipate how much support the group we were supposed to kill would get, and now they cut off your group, and now you were forced to work with Billy to get out of here and kill the people you had to. A very mad Billy Russo in his stupid mask.

"I'm saving your ass. Stay here. I'll take care of the rest." he says, letting go of your elbow as he looks around the room.

"There's no fucking option. You won't play my hero, Russo." you say, and reload your gun.

"You won't distract me. You're staying here. End of discussion." he walks up to you and tries to grab the gun out of your hand. You struggle with him and use the grip he taught you to push him away. After a while, you aim your gun at him. You see a hint of fear in his eyes. You shoot, killing the guy standing in the doorway behind him.

"I'm not you. I don't kill my people." you growl at him in anger and move past him to drag the dead man inside and close the door. Billy is grateful for his mask... at least you can't see his shocked, pained expression.

He pulls up a chair and starts rummaging through the flap of the ventilation duct. During this time, you take the gun and bullets from the corpse.

"I would never kill the Castles." he says, not looking at you as he continues to open the vent. "They are my family... just like you."

"You haven't been my family for a long time." you snort at his seemingly tender words. You shiver when he suddenly jumps from the chair and pins you to the wall. Even from behind his mask, you can see how hurt and furious he is.

He holds your arms tightly, almost in a bruising embrace, as he whispers from under his mask so quietly that you can barely hear his words and his voice shaking with emotion.

"Everything... I've ever done... I've done for you. For us."

"There are no us, Russo." You growl in anger and push his arms off of you. You go to the air vent, but he grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards him. You fight him, even going so far as to rip off his mask, but he still holds you in a tight hug, staring into your eyes.

"I fucking love you; do you understand?! With my entire pathetic existence. I know that now you only see me as a monster and that my face is disgusting, but I can't... I can't lose you. Not you. I can endure everything—insults, your hatred... just... please... please don't leave me." he whispers desperately, cupping your cheek in one hand and resting his forehead against yours. You close your eyes, feeling tears welling up in them. You can't count how many times you cried because of that bastard in front of you.

"You think I care about your scars? I don't give a damn about them. What's keeping me away from you is your ugly inside, Russo. You don't care about anyone suffering as long as you profit from it. I'm disgusted by your personality and by the fact that you were willing to sell out your best friend's family and all the people who cared about you for goddamn money and fame. And I hate you, because somehow, even after all you've done, I still care about your damn ass."

His thumb strokes your cheek tenderly as you let him kiss the tears off your face as you almost fell apart in his hands, which you've missed for so long.

“Y/N, my heart, I swear I would never, ever hurt them. You have to believe me. I wouldn't risk what we have… I wouldn't risk losing you after having no one to care about for my whole messed-up life.”

And you're inclined to believe him. You are willing to forget everything and just accept him back. But then you hear a faint beeping sound. You both freeze, staring at each other.

Billy works fast. Too fast for you. He pushes you into the vent and closes the hatch behind you before you can do anything. After a moment, a quiet explosion echoes from the room below you, masking your frantic scream of his name.

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye (Eye, eye)

Billy was not a good man. He knew it. He had no reason. Life never spoiled him, and everything he worked for he had to tear out with his nails. He had no reason to be good. But what he was about to allow now would seal who he was forever. There would be no turning back. And he knew it the moment he joined Castles in the Central Park.

He actually had nothing to lose. Y/N left him, and it would only be a matter of time before Frank would turn on him. He would be alone again. At least he would have guaranteed his future... however empty it might be. But he always believed that it was better to be depressed in an expensive sports car than anywhere else.

At least that's what he thought until he saw Y/N again, for the first time since their next big (this time final, which he deeply believed) breakup. And God, she was beautiful. More beautiful than ever.

She was wearing that little black floral dress that he loved, and she was joking about something with little Lisa as she dragged her through Central Park and the stands. Little Castle led her towards him.

Quiet: "Don't fuck it up, Uncle Bill." came from Frank Jr.'s mouth, before the kid disappeared, likely going to his father, who was probably already watching him. A young boy had to stop using such words. Maria would have his and Frank's heads for it.

Billy's eyes met yours. He gulped, watching as you walked up to him, and Lisa disappeared, probably going to the hideout where her parents were, watching him and Y/N. He clears his throat as you stand in front of him and gives you one of his practiced smirks... though he doubts he's acting as confident as he should be.

"Hi." he says quietly, staring at your face. His stupid heart beats like crazy as he completely forgot everything that wasn't you.

"Hi." you reply, playing with one of the rings on your finger—a nervous habit that he has despised since he felt the need to put HIS ring on you that you can play with and twirl on your finger when you feel insecure. "It was a long time."

"Indeed." he agrees and puts his hands in his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant. "You look beautiful, how are you?" he asks, as if he didn't have people positioned around you, to keep you safe and out of his troubles... the daily update about your life was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind after... losing you.

"All right. I got this job at the hospital." he knows. He himself made a transfer to the account of the hospital's head so that he would employ you there. Still, a smile appears on his face at the excitement in your eyes.

"I told you it was only a matter of time. You are the best surgeon in the USA."

"Well, I doubt Frank would agree with that." you laugh, and he can't help but join you. Frank was your test subject. A very grumpy test subject. Billy could never complain about being a little too strict or stitching it up too quickly at your beginnings. You were just perfect in his eyes.

"Don't listen to him, he is just a brat." he says, nudging your shoulder gently with his. And suddenly, you both stare at each other. You both linger on the other's lips for a moment longer.

"I missed you, Bill." you admit and his heart starts beating wildly.

He swallowed. No. He can't drag you into his shit. You would be better off without him... but as you stood in front of him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours that he would do anything for, he knew he had lost. And much sooner than he realised it.

He pulls you into his embrace. And when you wrap your arms around him, when you snuggle into his chest, and he inhales your scent, burying his nose in your hair, he knows he's home. He knows that he wants to feel this way forever and that life without you simply makes no sense to him anymore. And if he were anyone else, if he hadn't gone through all this shit in his life, he would have cried right there.

Instead, he pulls you closer to his chest, almost digging his fingers into your back, and whispers softly, his eyes closed tightly:

"This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore." he kisses your head, sealing his promise. He will burn the world for you. And nothing will stop him.

And as you sit next to him on the bench, across from the Castles, who are teasing you about how you two can't live without each other, he just smiles and texts his people to call off the action. Unbeknownst to you all, he declares war on Rollins, writing to him: "No one hurts my family. That's the end of the deal."

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong This is the last time I say it's been you all along This is the last time I let you in my door This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore Oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho Oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho

You've been holding his hand since you returned to the Castles' house after his doctors examined him and patched him up. They didn't let you get to him. Something about an emotional attachment would cloud your judgement as a doctor. Stupid bullshit, but there was nothing you could do against Frank's strong grip as he held you in the hallway until you were allowed to carry him home. You're sure Castle had scratches from your nails when you tried to get away to go to Billy.

You shiver when Frank suddenly enters the room and hands you cup of tea. You take it from him without a word with one hand, and with the other, you still hold Billy, waiting for him to wake up. Frank snorts and sits down in the chair next to you, watching you closely.

"He'll get through this. Fortunately, he didn't set himself on fire, he just crashed into the opposite wall." you shiver, ignoring his words as you sip your tea. "Although I doubt he'll have any luck next time if you dump him again. Who knows what he'll do next time just for you to hold his hand."

"What the hell are you talking about?" you ask angrily, shifting your outraged gaze to him. He just shrugs.

"Do you think he let me give him those scars just like that? This is some form of his twisted compensation or punishment. The fact that he was hoping you would magically come get him and patch him up only encouraged him more to stay still as I smashed his face."

"You're fucked up. Both of you. No normal people would come back to being friends after something like that."

"We're all fucked up. Me, because I still see him as a brother. He, because he still wants to be part of my family. And you, who love him despite everything, but leave him at every possible opportunity." you turn your gaze away from him to Billy. He is right. And that hurts the most.

"Every time I promise myself it will be the last time. That I will never go back to him. That this is the last time he breaks my heart without even blinking. One last time I let him back into my life, but I… I just can't, Frankie… I can't leave him, no matter how much he destroys me."

"He thinks he's not worthy of you. That you deserve better." you huff bitterly, shaking your head, trying to fight away the tears.

"There is nothing for me apart from him." you whisper, staring blankly at your linked hands with Billy's. "Not after everything I've been through with him."

"Then stick with it. It's better to be fucked up together." you are laughing. It's not that simple, it never was… or maybe it was you who didn't want to make it such a simple thing.

"You should go to Maria and the kids." you say, wanting to get rid of him. You don't know what you feel. All you know is that you won't leave this room until those dark brown irises look back at you again.

"Will you stay with him?" he asks, and from the heavy atmosphere in the room, you feel like this question means more. He asks if you will stay forever. You lift your hand and gently run through Billy's short hair, observing what happened to him after the two of you were apart... and in fact, you weren't holding up any better than he was.

"Yes... yes I will." you whisper, never taking your eyes off his face. And you feel like something heavy has fallen off your chest. Months of crying, anxiety and apathy passed with the snap of a finger.

"I want to be godfather to your first. And for him to have Frankie as his second name if it's a boy."

"Fuck you, Castle." you say and throw a spare pillow at him. The man laughs as he leaves. He closes the door behind him and you look at the unconscious Billy.

"This is the last time, Russo. I mean that. Don't fuck it up." you whisper and kiss your joined hands.

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye This is the last time I'm asking you this (This is the last time I'm asking you this) Put my name at the top of your list (Put my name at the top of your list) This is the last time I'm asking you why (This is the last time I'm asking you why) You break my heart in the blink of an eye (You break my heart) This is the last time I'm asking you, last time I'm asking you Last time I'm asking you this This is the last time I'm asking you, last time I'm asking you Last time I'm asking you this

The gentle brushing of your hair is the first thing you feel when you wake up. Another is his tight grip on your hands, as if he's afraid you're just a product of his head high on painkillers. You raise your head slowly. His hand slips from your hair and rests hesitantly on your cheek.

"Hello." he whispers, staring at you. And for a moment, you just stay like that, each drinking in the sight of the other.

And your heart breaks when you see him waiting for the moment when you start screaming at him, when you take away the closeness he missed so much.

So against your better judgement and what you should do, you lean in and kiss him sweetly, cupping his cheek in your hand. You caress one of his worst scars with the pad of your thumb as he responds to your kiss. His hands stay stiffly in place as he's afraid to move, lest he disturb this moment between you, to feel your lips as long as possible.

You pull away from him and rest your forehead against his. You close your eyes, catching your breath. You feel his burning, confused gaze on you, but you don't move. You don't say anything. You just sit there, enjoying his touch and his closeness, not thinking about the conversation you need to have.

"I missed… I missed this." he whispers shakily. You feel him burning with the desire to taste your lips one more time, but he maintains some semblance of control and settles for just moving the hand that isn't cupping your cheek to your waist.

"Me too."

"I know I screwed up. But… I will never… never again…" you kiss him again, interrupting him. You brush away the tears that fall down his cheek with your thumbs and gently brush your nose against his as you end your kiss.

"Shhh... I know." you whisper, straddling him, needing to feel him as close to you as possible after everything that happened. You were both shattered, but maybe you could put each other back together?

"Are you sure?" he asks, swallowing. You nod and bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He strokes your back slowly, drawing patterns with his fingertips under your blouse. You shiver at the feeling of his touch on your skin.

"This is the last time, Russo. Either we succeed or... it's over. And I mean it. There will be no great quarrels and returns, no appearances on the doorstep of the other at midnight. We'll either be honest with each other... and make it work... or we won't be together at all. You understand? We're at the top of each other's lists, or not at all. I don't want anything less, any toxic love, any blaming each other, and all that bullshit. We take each other and try to do something with us, or we end it."

He nods and pulls you closer to him, digging his fingers into your back, anchoring you to his chest.

"Deal. I hope you know, you just stuck with me forever, because I'm not leaving you." you lift yourself gently from his chest to look at him. Your eyes water as your eyes meet and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to fully express your feelings to him.

"Just... don't make me ask you this again... don't hurt me. Please."

Billy pulls you into a tender kiss, showing you all the love and devotion he has for you. Trying with your actions to ensure that this time will be different, that you will never suffer because of him again, that you will never run away from each other again, that you will never watch the other one leave again.

"I'm nothing without you. Trust me. I tried to live without you and look how it ended." he jokes, and in any other situation you wouldn't find it funny, but now, fueled by the high of being with him again, you giggle stupidly into his neck. Billy smiles fondly and strokes your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Break my heart again, and it will end worse for you. I have connections in the mortuary, Russo." he huffs, undeterred, and pulls you closer.

"Please. As if you didn't fly across two states just to stitch my face together because you didn't believe in the competence of the doctors at the hospital." you blush as you realizes that he knew about your moment of weakness after you found out what happened to him after his fight with Frank.

"How did you know?"

"I'd know your stitches anywhere." he says with a shrug and pulls you in for a kiss.

Maybe this really was the last time after all… and this time you will stitch the scattered pieces of both of you together for good.

[lsdunesarchive]

Blue Echo Radio Interviews Tucker Rule

21 Years of “Full Collapse” and L.S. Dunes

Recently, Blue Echo Radio had the opportunity to interview legendary drummer, Tucker Rule. Tucker has a long history of playing in bands such as Thursday (since 1997) and Frank Iero the Future Violents. Most recently he’s joined the band L.S. Dunes, which features other legends from bands like Thursday, Coheed and Cambria, Circa Survive, and My Chemical Romance.

Written by Cielo Maranchello and Maia Breashears September 6, 2022

Transcript under the cut

THURSDAY’S ALBUM, “FULL COLLAPSE,” HAS BEEN REGARDED AS ONE OF THE GREATEST EMO/POST-HARDCORE ALBUMS OF ALL TIME. HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE SET THE STANDARD FOR THE SCENE IN THE EARLY 2000S?

TUCKER: It feels crazy because we literally were just a couple of people who put a band together to play in our singer, Geoff Rickly’s, basement because he used to have shows there. It was like, five dollars to get in and all kinds of acts came through such as Hot Water Music, Saves the Day, At the Drive in, the list goes on. So we literally just put a band together to play [and] to open for these bands. You never think you’re going to do anything that people think is important. That’s not what we set out to do, [we] kind of just wanted to play in the basement so it’s wild. I’m on tour right now. I’m in Worcester, Massachusetts and this record has taken us this far so it’s great.

THURSDAY’S FROM NEW JERSEY. CAN YOU TELL ME A LITTLE BIT ABOUT YOUR UPBRINGING AND HOW THE MUSIC SCENE IN JERSEY AND THE SURROUNDING AREA HAS IMPACTED THURSDAY’S SOUND AND YOURSELF IN PARTICULAR?

TUCKER: Well, we were really lucky to grow up in New Jersey around a time when all of this talent pool was going crazy. I remember being 14 and going to a venue called City Gardens and seeing the Bouncing Souls and Yuppicide. Fast forward a little bit of time after that, [I remember] going to see Agnostic Front at the Wetlands in NYC. We had Philly, New York, New Jersey– all the shows, we would just go to all of them. I remember skipping school one day to see Sick of It All in D.C.. Everything felt close enough to go to and we were kids, so we were willing to get in the car and drive an hour to four, to five hours to see a show. So we just got really lucky that things were so close and people came through the Tri-State area to play. For me, I liked listening to music but also, seeing a hardcore band and being that close really spoke to me.

BLUE ECHO: Shows really elevate the experience. It’s like nothing else.

TUCKER: Absolutely. As a player, as a drummer, being able to watch the drummer that closely and see what movements were making those sounds was really inspiring. I think it was huge for me to pick up the instrument.

DID YOU EVER THINK THURSDAY WOULD STILL BE PLAYING SHOWS OVER TWO DECADES LATER?

TUCKER: Absolutely not. I really thought we put a band together to play in the basement, to play with our favorite bands, to be able to get into shows and be a part of it. So no, I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would still be able to do this. Obviously, I love what I do. To have people come out to shows and have people sing along is really rewarding and I love my job more than anything.

HOW HAS CHANGING TECHNOLOGY IMPACTED BANDS AND YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE MAKING MUSIC?

TUCKER: You have to find ways to make money as an artist and as a musician. People think ‘oh, they’re putting out another box set’ or whatever. It’s like ‘well you know this is special to us too’. Being able to turn on Spotify and hear whatever song I want [or] whatever band I want is kind of crazy because we [musicians] see none of that monetarily. At the same time, all of this is just the flier for a live show in our opinion. That’s why we do it. We like playing, we love connecting with people. Writing the music is fun and being a part of the recording process and putting out records is fun but actually playing the music is all we kind of care about.

ANY ADVICE FOR SMALL BANDS TRYING TO MAKE A NAME FOR THEMSELVES IN THIS ENVIRONMENT?

TUCKER: I would say just be a nice person. Be good to people. You never know who’s coming to your show, and it doesn’t matter, just be a nice person. It’s so much harder to be a mean-spirited person. I think that the more people you come across, the more friends you make.

BLUE ECHO RADIO: I know that’s especially true for the Asheville scene. Everybody in the Asheville music scene has played in everybody’s band and knows everybody.

TUCKER: Yeah. It’s kind of the same with New Jersey. It’s a very small state but it’s vast. It’s filled with lots of people – overpopulated.  Being nice will get you a long way in this world in any career path you choose. 

HOW DID YOU COME UP WITH THE IDEA FOR L.S. DUNES? WAS THIS SOMETHING YOU WERE THINKING OF FOR A WHILE, OR DID THE ISOLATION OF COVID GIVE YOU INSPIRATION?

TUCKER: So I’ve been in a band with Tim, Thursday’s bass player, for 25 years. He and I have been inseparable musically from the day I started playing drums. I always just wanted to play with Tim as much as I possibly could. Frank and I did the Future Violents together but even prior to the Future Violents like we’ve always been friends. The Future Violents just taught us that we were very compatible musically so that was a no-brainer for me. Travis from Coheed, he’s always been a friend of mine – a friend of ours. We did some of our first tours with Coheed and I just love the way he plays. I love Travis, I think he’s a phenomenal human-being. Again no-brainer. I’ve always wanted to play with Anthony. I think he’s one of the most talented singers out there. His passion is insane and his stage presence is amazing. That energy is an energy I have in Thursday, and I wanted that in another band as well. Anthony was the only person I felt that could capture that in a bottle. 

All of us have been friends for a very long time and we’ve followed each other’s careers. It’s just been a really fun time. Covid has a lot to do with it obviously because this whole entire record was written remotely. We were never really in the same room and you can only get that with like-minded people. 

WHAT WAS IT LIKE IN THE INITIAL PRODUCTION OF PERMANENT REBELLION AND THE REST OF THE ALBUM? HOW HAS EVERYONE’S EXPERTISE FROM YOUR OWN PROJECTS CONTRIBUTE?

TUCKER: First and foremost, we all were lucky enough to have ways to record at home. I actually bought a bunch of recording gear and watched a bunch of youtube [videos] and asked a lot of friends how to do it. I learned how to record myself. So that was a huge boundary, a huge mountain to climb, for me personally. 

I would throw a drum beat out, somebody would write a riff over it or vice versa. Things just kept stacking up and things were moving really quickly. I think the first song we ever wrote was a song called “Antibodies” and that’s the first song we ever sent to Anthony. We didn’t tell him who was in the band. I messaged him and was like, ‘Hey, I have a band. I have a couple songs that we wrote [and] I would love for you, if you feel moved by it, [to] sing over it.’ Maybe 24 hours later, we got vocals back, and I was like ‘OK, this is sick. This is exactly what I wanted it to be.’ I didn’t give him anything to go off of. I was just like ‘Here’s this. Just do what you do.’ Then I was like, ‘Well this could be a band if you want to be in it and here’s who’s in it if you want to contribute.’ This was on text. He called me, stopped midtext, and called me on the phone and was like, ‘Yo, I want to do this.’ It’s been really amazing. I think the five of us, amongst many other musicians in the world, really wanted to write music during the pandemic and needed an outlet and [we] found each other.

DID YOU FIND YOURSELF LEARNING NEW THINGS FROM EVERYBODY IN THE BAND WHILE RECORDING AND PRODUCING?

TUCKER: Absolutely. With Thursday, we’re already an established band, same as Coheed, same as Circa, same as MCR. Each of those bands have their style. When you’re starting something fresh, you don’t know what it’s going to sound like. You have no plan for ‘I want to be,’ or ‘we should sound like this.’ It kind of happens organically. I learned how to learn people’s writing styles and be intuitive about it. It really helped me to become a better player because I’m used to writing with Thursday. Thankfully I had Tim on my side, and Tim had me on his side [as] the rhythm section. These dudes are very intuitive, very smart, and very good at what they do. Everything came strangely easily, almost alarmingly too easily.

BLUE ECHO RADIO: I mean it worked! I, personally, love Permanent Rebellion. It shot up to number two on my on-repeat within like, four days.

TUCKER: Thank you! We’re really proud of it and that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the record. I don’t mean to sound like a jerk for saying that but I mean it. This record is probably, besides the birth of my daughter and my family, my favorite thing and my most cherished moment in my life that I was able to be a part of. [Ranked] it’s like my family, “Full Collapse”, L.S. Dunes. It’s been really rewarding. My best friend Gordie did the artwork. He did the cover of the record and a bunch of the [artwork] inside of the record. Everything is very special to all of us. 

WHAT DOES L.S. DUNES MEAN TO YOU, EMOTIONALLY AND CREATIVELY?

TUCKER: It’s everything. It’s one of the things in my life that I am most proud of. The first time I saw the cover, I kind of welled up, [and] had a little bit of tears. The first time I saw the song was up on Spotify, even though whatever Spotify rips everybody off, I was moved. 

We’re in our forties, you’re not to start a band in your forties. It’s hard to start a band, and we weren’t able to talk about it. Keeping a lid on L.S. Dunes has been the most impossible thing. It’s crazy. I can only equate it to having a baby. You really shouldn’t tell anybody that you’re pregnant for the first however long it is, but it is really hard to not tell your family, ‘I have this new baby that is literally being birthed right now.’

I would wake up in the morning and I would refresh my email over and over again just waiting for someone to send a riff so I could work on it and it literally became, besides raising my child and being with my wife, my reason to breathe. It’s why I woke up in the morning.  

WHAT IS THE PLAN FOR L.S. DUNES AFTER YOUR INITIAL TOUR?

TUCKER: We’re a real band. People like to throw around the word ‘supergroup’ and all that and I get it yeah that’s the way to put it in a box. I respect that but we’re gang. We’re a real band. I hate the word side project because this is, I keep referencing children here, but it’s all of our second kid. We don’t love Circa more than we love L.S. Dunes, we love them both and we’re gonna do both. This is a full-time thing. We obviously all have schedules but we make time. It’s a real thing, there is going to be real tours, and there is going to be real shows, and there is going to be real merch and it’s a real record, and we’re real people. 

AFTER PLAYING WITH DIFFERENT BANDS AND OTHER PROJECTS OVER THE YEARS, ARE THERE STILL PEOPLE YOU HOPE TO COLLABORATE WITH? - Scooter, Via Twitter

TUCKER: Yeah, I always want to play with more people because not only do I respect all of the musicians and talented people but it’s a challenge to work with people and I really love the challenge. I think anyone, in any one of our bands, will say the same thing. It’s the challenge and it’s the fun of getting to know someone on an artistic level.

TOP 3 THURSDAY TRACKS TO PLAY LIVE? - Rowan, Via Twitter

TUCKER: OK well my favorite Thursday song is “No Answers” and that also happens to be one of my favorite songs to play live because it’s a complicated song. It’s not the heaviest song in the world but it’s complicated on drums and I love the content. I just love the song, it’s a great song. 

I love playing “Fast to the End” because it’s immediate and brutal and I love playing Jet Black because people seem to really react to that song.

AS OUR CAMPUS RADIO, WE’VE GOTTA ASK, WHAT HAS BEEN ON-REPEAT FOR YOU LATELY? 

TUCKER: Rod Stewart “Young Turks” has been on repeat for me and also Anthony Green’s “Let’s Start a Band” because it’s my daughter’s favorite record to listen to. She knows all the words and she calls him Uncle Tony. 

[sgt-paul]

Paul McCartney Is Still Trying to Figure Out Love – The New York Times Magazine

By David Marchese, Nov. 29, 2020

Paul McCartney, like the rest of us, this year found himself with an unexpected amount of time stuck indoors. Unlike the rest of us — or most of us, anyway — he used that time to record a new album. The pandemic-induced circumstances of its creation may mark “McCartney III” as an outlier in the former Beatle’s catalog, but as its title suggests, it does have precedents: Like “McCartney” (1970) and “McCartney II” (1980), the album, out Dec. 18, was primarily recorded by McCartney alone, with him playing nearly all the instruments and handling all the production. “At no point,” McCartney said, “did I think: I’m making an album. I’d better be serious. This was more like: You’re locked down. You can do whatever the hell you want.” Which was a gas, as always. “What I’m amazed with,” McCartney explained, “is that I’m not fed up with music. Because, strictly speaking, I should have gotten bored years ago.”

It seems to me that working on music by yourself, as you did on the new album, might allow for some insights about what you do and how you do it. So are there aspects of “McCartney III” that represent creative growth to you? 

The idea of growing and adding more arrows to your bow is nice, but I’m not sure if I’m interested in it. The thing is, when I look back to “Yesterday,” which was written when I was 21 or something, there’s me talking like a 90-year-old: “Suddenly I’m not half the man I used to be.” Things like that and “Eleanor Rigby” have a kind of wisdom. You would naturally think, OK, as I get older I’m going to get deeper, but I’m not sure that’s true. I think it’s a fact of life that personalities don’t change much. Throughout your life, there you are.

Is there anything different about the nature of your musical gift today at 78 than in 1980 or 1970 or when you first started writing songs? 

It’s the story that you’re telling. That changes. When I first said to John, “I’ve written a few songs,” they were simple. My first song was called “I Lost My Little Girl” — four chords. Then we went into the next phase of songwriting, which was talking to our fans. Those were songs like “Thank You Girl,” “Love Me Do,” “Please Please Me.” Then came a rich vein as we got more mature, with things like “Let It Be,” “The Long and Winding Road.” But basically I think it’s all the same, and you get lucky sometimes. Like, “Let It Be” came from a dream where my mother had said that phrase. “Yesterday” came from a dream of a melody. I’m a great believer in dreams. I’m a great rememberer of dreams.

What’s the last interesting dream you had? 

Last night’s was pretty good.

What was it? 

It was of a sexual nature, so I’m not sure it’s good for the Kids section. Pretty cool, though. Very interesting, dreams of a sexual nature when you’re married. Because your married head is in the dream saying: “Don’t do this. Don’t go here.” And just to let you know, I didn’t. It was still a good dream.

You know, I was conscious of not mentioning the Beatles early in this interview, and you’ve already mentioned them a few times. So let me ask you: The band broke up 50 years ago. You were in it for roughly 10 years. When you’re not doing interviews or playing concerts, how central to your own story of your life are those 10 years from half a century ago? 

Very. It was a great group. That’s commonly acknowledged.

Generally speaking. 

[Laughs.] It’s like your high school memories — those are my Beatles memories. This is the danger: At a dinner party, I am liable to tell stories about my life, and people already know them. I can see everyone stifling a yawn. But the Beatles are inescapable. My daughter Mary will send me a photo or a text a few times a week: “There you were on an advert” or “I heard you on the radio.” The thing that amazes me now, because of my venerable age, is that I will be with, like, one of New York’s finest dermatologists, and he will be a rabid Beatles fan. All of that amazes me. We were trying to get known, we were trying to do good work and we did it. So to me, it’s all happy memories.

“McCartney III” will come out very close to the 40th anniversary of John Lennon’s death. Has your processing of what happened to him changed over the years? 

It’s difficult for me to think about. I rerun the scenario in my head. Very emotional. So much so that I can’t really think about it. It kind of implodes. What can you think about that besides anger, sorrow? Like any bereavement, the only way out is to remember how good it was with John. Because I can’t get over the senseless act. I can’t think about it. I’m sure it’s some form of denial. But denial is the only way that I can deal with it. Having said that, of course I do think about it, and it’s horrible. You do things to help yourself out of it. I did an interview with Sean, his son. That was nice — to talk about how cool John was and fill in little gaps in his knowledge. So it’s little things that I am able to do, but I know that none of them can get over the hill and make it OK. But you know, after he was killed, he was taken to Frank Campbell’s funeral parlor in New York. I’m often passing that. I never pass it without saying: “All right, John. Hi, John.”

And how about your perspective on the work you did together? Has that changed? 

I always thought it was good. I still think it’s good. Sometimes I had to reassure him that it was good. I remember one time he said to me: “What are they going to think of me when I’m dead? Am I going to be remembered?” I felt like the older brother, even though he was older than me. I said: “John, listen to me. You are going to be so remembered. You are so [expletive] great that there’s no way that this disappears.” I guess that was a moment of insecurity on his part. He straightened me up on other occasions. It was a great collaboration. I can’t think of any better collaboration, and there have been millions. I feel very lucky. We happened upon each other in Liverpool through a friend of mine, Ivan Vaughan. Ivan said, “I think you’d like this mate of mine.” Everyone’s lives have magic, but that guy putting me and John together and then George getting on a bus — an awful lot of coincidences had to happen to make the Beatles.

People always ask you about John. I’ve noticed they rarely ask about George, who of course also died relatively young. 

John is probably the one in the group you would remember, but the circumstances of his death were particularly harrowing. When you die horrifically, you’re remembered more. But I like your point, which is: What about George? I often think of George because he was my little buddy. I was thinking the other day of my hitchhiking bursts. This was before the Beatles. I suddenly was keen on hitchhiking, so I sold this idea to George and then John.

I know this memory. You and George hitchhiked to Paignton.

Yeah, Exeter and Paignton. We did that, and then I also hitchhiked with John. He and I got as far as Paris. What I was thinking about was — it’s interesting how I was the instigator. Neither of them came to me and said, “Should we go hitchhiking?” It was me, like, “I’ve got this great idea.”

Why is that interesting? 

My theory is that attitude followed us into our recording career. Everyone was hanging out in the sticks, and I used to ring them up and say, “Guys, it’s time for an album.” Then we’d all come in, and they’d all be grumbling. “He’s making us work.” We used to laugh about it. So the same way I instigated the hitchhiking holidays, I would put forward ideas like, “It’s time to make an album.” I don’t remember Ringo, George or John ever ringing me up and saying that.

How strange is it to share an idle recollection from your youth, as you just did with that hitchhiking story, and then have the person to whom you’re sharing it — in this case, me — know the memory? It seems as though it would be weird. 

It’s quite annoying, David. It’s like people at dinner yawning when I’m telling stories. This keeps happening to me.

I even know the details. You and George slept on the beach. 

That’s right.

Some Salvation Army girls kept you warm. 

Yes.

Then at some point you sat on a car battery and zapped your ass? 

That was George who did that! I have a very clear recollection. He showed me the scar. Let’s set the record straight: It was George’s ass, and it was a burn the exact shape of a zip from his jeans.

Do you remember the last thing George said to you? 

We said silly things. We were in New York before he went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. And I remember he was getting a bit annoyed at having to travel all the time — chasing a cure. He’d gone to Geneva to see what they could do. Then he came to a special clinic in New York to see what they could do. Then the thought was to go to L.A. and see what they could do. He was sort of getting a bit, “Can’t we just stay in one place?” And I said: “Yes, Speke Hall. Let’s go to Speke Hall.” That was one of the last things we said to each other, knowing that he would be the only person in the room who would know what Speke Hall was. You probably know what the hell it is.

Yep.

I can’t amaze you with anything! Anyway, the nice thing for me when I was holding George’s hands, he looked at me, and there was a smile.

How many good Beatles stories are there left to tell that haven’t been told? 

There are millions. Sometimes the reason is that they’re too private, and I don’t want to go gossiping. But the main stories do get told and told again.

Can you think of one now that you haven’t told before? 

Hmm. I will rake through the embers. Oh, I’ll tell you one! I thought of one this morning. It’s pretty good. I don’t think I’ve told it. You’re going to have to say in the article, “I forced this out of him,” because it’s a bit telling-out-of-school.

I am hereby twisting your arm. 

So when we did the album “Abbey Road,” the photographer was set up and taking the pictures that ended up as the album cover. Linda was also there taking incidental pictures. She has some that are of us — I think it was all four of us — sitting on the steps of Abbey Road studios, taking a break from the session, and I’m in quite earnest conversation with John. This morning I thought, I remember why. John’s accountants had rung my accountants and said: “Someone’s got to tell John he’s got to fill in his tax returns. He’s not doing it.” So I was trying to say to him, “Listen, man, you’ve got to do this.” I was trying to give him the sensible advice on not getting busted for not doing your taxes. That’s why I looked so earnest. I don’t think I’ve told that story before.

Tax filings — that’s some deep arcana. 

I have dredged the barrel.

I know that your goal with making music is to do something that pleases yourself. What’s most pleasing to you on the new album? 

I’m very happy with “Women and Wives.” I’ve been reading a book about Lead Belly. I was looking at his life and thinking about the blues scene of that day. I love that tone of voice and energy and style. So I was sitting at my piano, and I’m thinking about Huddie Ledbetter, and I started noodling around in the key of D minor, and this thing came to me. “Hear me women and wives” — in a vocal tone like what I imagine a blues singer might make. I was taking clues from Lead Belly, from the universe, from blues. And why I’m pleased with it is because the lyrics are pretty good advice. It’s advice I wouldn’t mind getting myself.

There’s a song on “McCartney III,” “Pretty Boys,” that is kind of unusual for you in how the music is sort of unassuming but the lyrics have an almost sinister edge. What inspired that one? 

I’ll tell you exactly. I’ve been photographed by many photographers through the years. And when you get down to London, doing sessions with people like David Bailey, they can get pretty energetic in the studio. It’s like “Blow-Up,” [the director Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film thriller about a fashion photographer, thought to be loosely based on David Bailey] you know? “Give it to me! [Expletive] the lens!” And it’s like: “What? No, I’m not going to.” But I understand why they’re doing that. They’re that kind of artist. So you allow it. Certain photographers — they tend to be very good photographers, by the way — can be totally out of line in the studio. So “Pretty Boys” is about male models. And going around New York or London, you see the lines of bicycles for hire. It struck me that they’re like models, there to be used. It’s most unfortunate.

“Lavatory Lil” is another song I was curious about. That’s quite a title. 

“Lavatory Lil” is a parody of someone I didn’t like. Someone I was working with who turned out to be a bit of a baddie. I thought things were great; it turned nasty. So I made up the character Lavatory Lil and remembered some of the things that had gone on and put them in the song. I don’t need to be more specific than that. I will never divulge who it was.

I have another bigger-picture question. In your experience, how is the love in a marriage different at different stages of your life and in different marriages?

I don’t think it’s different. It’s always a splendid puzzle. Even though I write love songs, I don’t think I know what’s going on. It would be great if it was smooth and wonderful all the time, but you get pockets of that, and sometimes it’s — you could be annoying. To Nancy I’m pretty complex, with everything I’ve been through.

In what ways? 

I’m some poor working-class kid from Liverpool. I’ve done music all my life. I’ve had huge success, and people often try to do what I want, so you get a false feeling of omnipotence. All that together makes a complex person. We’re all complex. Well, maybe I’m more complex than other people because of coming from poverty.

And how do you think about money these days? 

It has obviously changed. What has stayed the same is the central core. When I was in Liverpool as a kid, I used to listen to people’s conversations. I remember a couple of women going on about money: “Ah, me and my husband, we’re always arguing about money.” And I remember thinking very consciously, “OK, I’ll solve that; I will try to get money.” That set me off on the “Let’s not have too many problems with money” trail. What happened also was, not having much money, when anything came into the house, it was important. It was important when my weekly comic was delivered. Or my penpal — I had a penpal in Spain, Rodrigo — when his letter came through, that was a big event. When they had giveaways in comics with little trinkets, I kept them all. Some people would say that’s a hoarding instinct, but not having anything when I was a kid has stuck with me as far as money. You know, I’m kind of crazy. My wife is not. She knows you can get rid of things you don’t need.

You’re a hoarder? 

I’m a keeper. If I go somewhere and I get whatever I bought in a nice bag, I will want to keep the bag. My rationale is that I might want to put my sandwiches in it tomorrow. Whereas Nancy says, “We’ll get another bag.” In that way, my attitude toward money hasn’t changed that much. It’s the same instinct to preserve. One of the great things now about money is what you can do with it. Family and friends, if they have any medical problem, I can just say, “I’ll help.” The nicest thing about having money is you can help people with it.

Something that has been a constant for you musically is your ability to keep coming up with melodies. It’s there on the new album — the melodies all flow. Is your facility for writing a catchy melody ever an obstacle to getting the songs to be more than just catchy? Because a good tune by itself is not always enough to make a good song. “Bip Bop” would be an example of that. Do you know what I’m saying? 

No, I know. “Bip Bop” is not lyrically stunning. I was always embarrassed about that song. Literally, it goes, “Bip Bop / take your bottom dollar.” It’s inconsequential. But I mentioned that to a friend, a producer, a few years ago, and he said, “That’s my favorite song of yours.” So you don’t know what people like. It’s enough if I like it and enjoyed putting it on record and don’t particularly want to think of any more lyrics. I don’t want to sweat it. Sometimes maybe it would be better if I sweated it. Once or twice I tried to sweat it, and I hated it. It’s like, What are you doing this for?

Sixty-something years into writing songs, do you feel any closer to knowing where melodies come from? 

No. There is something with my ability to write music that I don’t think I’m necessarily responsible for. It just seems to come easier to me — touch wood — than it does to some people. That’s it. I’m a fortunate man.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Hello! I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfy but I was wondering if I could get a bit of advice? From your recent posts, you said you left your home from toxicity and just bad things in general.

I’m in a similar situation, but my dad will be taking me away from my mom. And I just know it’ll be a shit show. And I’m absolutely terrified when we tell her and what the backlash will be afterwards towards my brothers and me and dad in general

How did you do it? How did you take the leap? Do you possibly have any advice on how to deal ?

Hello, friend!! ☀️

Thank you so much for reaching out, it means a lot that you value my advice <3

Hmm, okay from what I can tell of your situation, that is indeed a tricky one, but nothing can’t be overcome!

It’s important to remember, though, I was 19 when I left (now 20), so the way I handled things is going to be a lot different than how a minor can handle things (legally at least, feel free to replicate my insane stunts lmao)

Advice below the cut! (family violence trigger warning, I suppose?)

My entire family was and is extremely volatile, and I don’t speak to any of them anymore except for my older brother, but I’ll be cutting him off in 3 weeks too when I move.

Fortunately, my dad and brother were both kicked out of the house years ago due to violence, which left me with my mother, who’s quite insidious herself (just watch any Conjuring movie and that’ll give a good idea of what it was like living in that house lol)

I get the same feeling watching this scene as when I was around her in that house. Granted she didn’t try to change my gender, but the hatred for my father getting taken out on me is pretty accurate lol, paired with the immediate “motherly love” afterwards (she never hit me though, pleased to say — she wasn’t physically violent, just emotionally, financially, mentally and verbally. She did try to run my dad over once though, so, there’s that too)

Yikes…yeahh the same eerie feeling for sure, still makes all my hairs stand upright in memory.

(For further context this clip reminds me of my father and this one of my brother)

In the clip about my father, he definitely reminds me of Frank Gallagher, except he despises my mother instead of revering her. He’s a workaholic instead of a drug addict, too. But the mannerisms are the same. I always handled him in the way Fiona does.

Regarding my brother, I think everything about our family hit him the hardest, despite being the oldest. He developed a very violent streak, and has very poor impulse control. I love him dearly but he’s a snake in the grass, and has thrown me under the bus multiple times to get ahead in life. I mostly just pity him, since I know what our life was like growing up. But still, I can’t defend him forever, especially not at the cost of myself. Literally yesterday I woke up to a text from him asking me to come pick him up because he got arrested for starting a fight at a bar and smashing their windows.

When things started getting pretty bad with my mother earlier this year, I started to realise in my heart that there was no way I could go forth in life with her in it. I focused on the future relationships I would have one day when far away from this town — romantic partner, children, friends etc

I sort of realised one day I’d care about them a lot more than I care about my mother, because those future people would care about me. That in turn got me realising that I do deserve love, despite how my mother made me feel, and that I don’t want her to deprive another second of that in my life.

Something very unique that triggered this too was going to go visit an old family psychic, who’s basically just the Gandalf to my Frodo (ily, Chris <3). He very accurately predicted my birth years ago after my mother was told she was infertile — he got the date, year and time right three years in advance, and even knew ahead of time what my personality would be like, which he was spot-on about.

Well, I went and visited him a few months ago because I was lost with my direction, and he ended up pausing and had a sudden feeling, which led to him telling me that he’d just found out I would be having twin boys one day.

Normally I don’t buy into that stuff, but this Gandalf dude…well I knew he was right.

Knowing I’d have sons of my own one day took me from a scared daughter mindset and into a maternal mother bear in an instant, and I knew I didn’t want any children of mine around my mother or the rest of my family, for their safety alone, which made me realise, “Well, if I wouldn’t allow my own children near them, why do I allow myself?”

I started grey-rocking her in the lead-up to me leaving, which of course frustrated her (she’s a malignant narcissist), but it was a necessary step to start emotionally detaching myself from her.

It all bottled over one night after a pretty distressing argument (I had locked myself in my room to avoid it, but she was still at my door carrying on).

My cat, who’s been my best friend for years, was sitting on the floor next to me, and sort of looked up and I swear he spoke with his eyes, saying, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right? You know this abuse has an expiry date?”

I agreed with my cat and knew right then and there that I’d be leaving that night after my mother fell asleep.

Well, when she was finally done (with threats that there’d be more in stock in the morning, mind you) I went to bed early and set my alarm to 3am (was a little inside joke with myself, since that’s biblically the “witching devil hour”)

I started quietly packing my quilt and cat up (I’d already been secretly packing the boot of my car up with all sentimental and important items weeks in advance, except she caught on and took all my baby albums and more to her boyfriend’s house, so I don’t have any baby photos or information on me when I was a baby anymore, like first words, size and just general things I’d have liked to compare to my own kids one day, rip)

Once that was all in my car, I quietly said goodbye to the old family dog and cat (they weren’t mine to take, not that I could’ve anyways, since it was troubling enough taking Buddy, who’s actually my pet and not the family one). That was pretty heartbreaking, as I knew that’d be the last time I’d see them (I grew up with them and was the only one who took care of them — mother neglects kids and pets alike lmao).

Once that was over, I looked around my house with my hand on the front door and was very melancholy, but knew Buddy was right: it had all reached its expiry date.

I left very quietly and drove to McDonalds for a coffee, as I had a long drive ahead (I had organised to be a nanny in this rich family’s house far away in the city — two hours drive). Luckily they were away on their country farm 4 hours away, so I had time to sneak Buddy in.

The nanny thing recently backfired horribly because they discovered Buddy, which led to more AM escapes with my car, but I’m staying with my older brother and his gf for 3 more weeks only. Something I’ve been working towards for months now is moving to a wilderness island to live in my country’s equivalent of Bag End — a beautiful country cottage, amazing job and fantastic study opportunities.

Best feature yet: it’s 60 hours away from my hometown by car, and then you’d have to take a boat for 10 more hours!! They shall never find me hahaha

One of my friends has also told me recently that my mother has started spreading horrible, defamatory rumours about me around town, but I don’t care anymore because I’m almost out.

So, although I can’t offer any practical advice (idk if you’re a minor or not, but regardless it’s great your dad is helping you!) this is the best advice I can offer:

Find a dream and hold onto it, one that doesn’t involve your immediate family. For me it’s moving to that island and enjoying all the fresh air. It’ll push you forwards and remind you of what you’re fighting for when at your lowest.

Remind yourself there will be other people in your life, whether a spouse, friends, children or even a dog! (I’m getting a golden retriever next year 🐾) And then remember that you deserve all of them and the unconditional love they offer you.

Remember that if you don’t want your mother/family screwing those people over by proxy of her/their relationship to you, then there’s no way in hell you alone should put up with it either, as I guarantee those future people only want good things for you ☀️

There is a good life after abuse, I’ve seen it, and I know you can achieve it, too!

Be prepared for tons of backlash and bullshit — it’s inescapable when dealing with people like this, but I recommend educating yourself on narcissistic parents and tactics to deal with them.

Finding a good therapist who deals in PTSD regarding childhood abuse is important, too. I found an amazing one in the town I’m moving to, who had nearly the same upbringing as me!

So while I’m still struggling with a lot of fear (scared my mother will find where I’m working and living one day) and guilt (I feel horrible about leaving the family dog and cat behind, especially when they need veterinary help, only to then go and get myself another puppy) I understand I’ve done the best I can in a very abnormal situation, and that I can only do better from here.

Also, this song has been a saving grace when going all angsty over wanting to leave your current situation:

It’s from my favourite Broadway Musical, “Newsies”, and lemme tell you — discovering this as a 17-year-old when I was just starting to realise the severity of my situation was pure divinity.

Jeremy Jordan, my beloved Broadway Bard <3

When I finally get my cottage, I’m getting a wooden plaque with the name “Santa Fe” engraved on it, and am hanging it on my front door.

I wish you much luck and love, my little anonymous friend! And please know my inbox is open any time you need anything — vent, advice, a laugh or something else, ANYTHING, it feels good to know my past can maybe help someone else’s present ☀️

Please update me, too! I’m following your story along ardently now! (Also, be sure to take your sentimental items and store them somewhere safe away from your mother — ie baby albums, birth certificates, other paraphernalia/memorabilia etc).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hit the road. DESTINY AWAITS!

[mochamark]

songs that remind me or that i would recommend to nct 127

a/n: i’d greatly appreciate it if you guys sent in some request, however big or small, they all would be greatly appreciated!

==========

taeyong:

get lucky by daft punk

this is such a funky (in a good way) sounding song, which is always to be expected by daft punk. probably my favorite song by daft punk, it just makes me feel like i’m in the 80s or something. i feel like for a guy like taeyong who has such a funky and cool personality, that this could resonate with him very well. it just makes you want to dance for no reason, and i feel like taeyong also dances at times, for no reason.

lyrics to look at: “we've come too far to give up who we are, so let's raise the bar and our cups to the stars”

taeil:

what a wonderful world by louis armstrong

i feel like taeil is such and old soul i love it. in the nct 127 playlist of our lives video he chose another very old song, so i felt it was fitting to give another. this song holds a special place in my heart because i would listen to it whenever i felt sad when i was younger, it provided this comfort that very few songs have been able to do for me. i absolutely love this song, and i think taeil would like it too.

lyrics to look at: “i watch them grow, they'll learn so much more than i'll ever know, then i think to myself what a wonderful world”

johnny:

american boy by estelle ft. kanye west.

did i put this song because johnny is, in fact, an american boy? yes. did i put this song because chicago, johnny’s birthplace was mentioned? also yes. i absolutely love this song with all of my heart, it has so many great memories associated with it, so why not put it for someone who i think is great as well?

lyrics to look at: “take me on a trip, i’d like to go some day, take me to chicago, san francisco bay, i really want to come kick it with you, you'll be my american boy, american boy”

yuta:

got friends by goldlink ft. miguel

yuta is probably the member who is most like me in terms of variety? i’m not even sure what that means. i would definitely say that i listen to music that would coincide with mark or jaehyun’s tastes more, but i do listen to so many different genres its hard to put my music tastes into one box, and i definitely feel like yuta is the same. so i debated, put and r&b type song or a rock one. and i settled with the former. the song kinda gives of the sexy, casa-nova vibes that yuta gives me as well, so i felt it was somewhat fitting.

lyrics to look at: “you was mine and i am yours, and you still mine when i go on tour, i ain't really tryna play no games”

doyoung:

set fire to the rain by adele.

i just re watched nct 127′s playlist of our lives, and doyoung had put someone like you, so i thought it was fitting to put another adele song. doyoung gives off those vibes of someone who listens to ballad like songs all day long. and i wouldn’t put it past him. have you guys seen those memes on twitter of people saying how doyoung sings like he lost a loved one? i feel like if he ever sang this song, it gives those vibes. does that make sense? no probably not.

lyrics to look at: “even now when we're already over, i can't help myself from looking for you”

jaehyun:

opera house by cigarettes after sex.

i’m not sure if you all have watched his nct relay cam by now, but you should. seeing all of his records and vinyls put a smile to my face, especially since i own a few of the ones he has as well. this song is my favorite off of this particular album by cigarettes after sex, and ever since he showed that same record, i couldn’t help but think about listening to the album with him. it’s overall very calming and soothing, which is why it reminds me of jaehyun so much.

lyrics to look at: “if I abandoned love, I'd be a man without dreams I'd rather be out there staring death right between its eyes now”

jungwoo:

sky walker by miguel ft. travis scott.

for the moments that jungwoo just wants to relax, be calm, and listen to some music, this is the song for him. i tend to gravitate towards this song when i’m on vacation, or at the beach, and i feel like this would be a song that he could listen to during those times too. and it just has two different sounds (miguel’s part vs. travis scott’s part) and i kinda like how that sorta resembles the duality jungwoo has.

lyrics to look at: “i play for keeps and i don't lose, you're gonna love it 'cause you're cool as a breeze”

mark:

pink + white by frank ocean

i can’t remember where, but i do vaguely remember mark mentioning that solo by frank ocean was a favorite of his. if there is one thing you could ever learn about me, is that i am in love with frank ocean. the entire blond album was a masterpiece, and i’m not ashamed to admit i have cried to it, several times. i pondered for a while on what song i should give for mark, so i settled with another song from blond. pink+white is literally the best song on that album and it is not up for debate. the harmonization between frank’s voice and beyonce’s vocals towards the end will forever bring me love and prosperity. and that’s why i chose it for mark, because i would like to think he’d like this song as much as i do.

lyrics to look at: “you showed me love, glory from above, where God could fear it's all downhill from here"

haechan:

you by 11:11

when jaehyun recommended this song, i had to laugh. i’ve known about this song, longer than i’ve been a kpop fan so that should tell you something. i feel like haechan is similar to jaehyun in the sense that they both have similar taste in music. they either listen to oldies or current r&b, which is amazing in my humble opinion. i also just really want haechan to do a cover of this song? but i feel like its too nsfw for sm’s tastes.

lyrics to look at: “all i want is you, i just want you, do you think about me?”

==========

let me know if you would like to see this for the other subunits of nct, or for other kpop groups as well!!

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac​

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame. 

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on. 

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel. 

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?” 

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour. 

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments. 

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face. 

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch. 

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,” 

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again. 

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game. 

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with? 

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly. 

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100. 

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles. 

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath. 

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.” 

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture. 

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality.  One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it. 

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill. 

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar. 

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids." 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug. 

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone. 

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince. 

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. 

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain. 

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately. 

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter seven: the wedding

“it’s a nice day for a black wedding. it’s a nice day to start again!” -”black wedding”, in this moment

Joey held the car door for Sam once they had posted up before the big church on the corner, across the street from an ice cream parlor. It was a large white steeple with stained glass windows more vast than anything Sam had seen at the school: the spire up top shone high and bright in the hazy midday sun. Just another beautiful day in the neighborhood, and the neighborhood consisted of Rhode Island, and it would be a true steampunk wedding.

She recalled everything Aurora had told her during dress rehearsal the day before, but she wondered if she could carry it out well enough for her, especially since they had to hurry back to the hotel and help out with all the band equipment. It was the only show she was to make so far, given finals for spring term took place right when they toured in upstate New York and in New Jersey. But she vowed to follow them on a few dates elsewhere in the country.

If all else fails, Sam thought about asking Zelda if she could be manager to the Cherry Suicides and Stormtroopers of Death, that is if the latter did something further than the one album.

She kept her sunglasses on over her face to better add to her maid of honor outfit, while Joey had put on a small tuxedo that he borrowed from one of his old hockey friends. She also had put a yellow tulip pin on the bolero in honor of Cliff.

Sam asked him why he still hadn't dry cleaned his other tuxedo when Anthrax had a month off between the release of the new album and the official start of the new tour.

“I told ya—it's a bitch to get to the dry cleaners,” he explained, flustered. “I've also had shit to do, too.”

“I'm gonna need you to watch your mouth, Joseph,” she commanded. “There's gonna be a few kids here—Aurora's an only child but she has a cousin and he has three little ones with him.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure—I'll stay away from the booze, too.”

“Okay, good.” She rested a hand on his back, and they walked up the steps in unison to the front door. They stepped inside of the large spacious church: the ceiling hung high over their heads in those strong wooden rafters; right above the rafters was a portrait of the madonna and several cherub. On the far side of the room was the altar as well as a big black Latin cross upon the wall. They strode towards the cross in awed silence, given the sheer size of the church.

“If I didn't know better,” Joey started, and his voice echoed over the pews and the vast floor, “I'd swear they were Catholic.”

“Emile is,” Sam recalled, “I guess Aurora wanted it outside by the harbor but he was like 'no, we need to have it in a church! It's for my faith!' and so they compromised on it. The wedding is here in this church while the reception is by the harbor itself.”

“And then we've got the show tonight,” he added.

“Right, we've got the Anthrax, Testament, and Cherry Suicides shows tonight—which means the bride and groom better get here soon so we all can get there quick enough.” Sam nibbled on her bottom lip when she saw that they were the only ones there for the time being. They had left their room rather early, given the wedding itself was at three.

She also thought about that show that night. She hoped things would not be so awkward between Joey and Alex, and also between Zelda and Louie, and yet hope could only get her so far. Things needed to play out and she knew that she need not be in control of it all. Joey gave his black curls a little toss back with the back of his hand.

“So where do I sit?” he asked her once they reached the front of the church and right beneath that tall cross on the wall.

“I think you guys sit up here, up front—you being high up on the guest list of course. Aurora went over it with me yesterday, but I can't remember if it's the right or the left side—”

“Oh, here we are,” he pointed out the little paper sign on the pew on the left side: on the front, in Aurora's neat penmanship, it read “reserved for ANTHRAX and METALLICA”. He stooped over a bit to pick it off of the heavy dark polished wood.

“Kirk and Rebecca aren't gonna be here, you said?” he asked her with a glance over his shoulder.

“Nope. They've got things to worry about on their end.”

“Huh. Well, I call dibs on this spot on the bench closest to the altar.”

“I think her dad sits there,” Sam recalled as she lingered behind him. “Her mom probably does, too.”

“Damn. Well, it makes sense.”

Right as the words left his lips, the front door of the church opened and Belinda poked her blonde head inside of the church.

“You guys doin' it silly in the middle of a church?” she called out; and Sam noticed she stood right behind Joey as he was stooped over.

“Yeah, you wish,” he retorted with his index fingers above the crown of his head, and that brought a laugh out of both girls.

Within time, Marla showed up with her iridescent hair bright and shiny and even more colorful from the stained glass windows around them. Given she was the maid of honor, Sam whisked them behind the altar and to the small cozy room where Aurora had told them to meet up at, and so they could help her out with the dress and the bouquets. The other guests took their places in the church outside, including Aurora's parents, both of whom had flown in from San Diego bright and early. Sam poked her head out to see them for herself and their short little statures next to the towering giants of Frank and Charlie; Mr. Young wore a red and black suit and a dark red velvet hat upon his head, while Mrs. Young had done her inky black hair into a beehive style upon the crown of her head.

“Aurora, your parents are here,” Sam told her, “and they look so cute next to Charlie!”

Frank bent down towards Mrs. Young and gave her a smile, and she nodded at him in response.

The door on the other side of the room there swung open and Alex almost stumbled inside, wrapped up in that full suit: his jet black hair sprawled over his shoulder like the tentacles of an octopus. She had no idea if it was her eyes fooling her, but she swore that black hair dye was wearing off: the little pearl of white was returning just in time for the summer months and the heart of that big extensive tour. He left the top two buttons of his silk shirt undone so the Star of David glimmered under the soft ceiling lights.

“And there's our man,” Belinda announced.

“I wondering when you'd get here,” Aurora told him.

“Testament's van is having some moments,” he told her, out of breath: he took off that ring so his hands didn't stand out so much to Sam when he adjusted the lapels of his coat. He gave his hair a slight toss back with a flick of his head and the ceiling light shone into those deep eyes. His otherwise milky skin had a slight rosy bloom to it.

“Are you warm?” Aurora asked him as Marla adjusted the dark veil upon her head.

“Kinda,” he replied. “It's not as bad as I was suspecting out there.” He then stood there with his hands pressed to his hips, and he sighed through his nose. Even though he always looked serious, his gaze fell to the floor and those dark eyebrows sternly knitted together.

“What's wrong?” Marla asked him.

“Hm?”

“Yeah, you look like something's bothering you,” Sam added.

“I'm just—nervous,” he confessed. “Because I'm the bridesman. I know I shouldn't say that because I'm just in the party and not the one at the altar but it's still reason for concern.”

“Why, 'cause you're hanging with a bunch of girls?”Aurora fixed the lace gloves on her hands; she had put a turquoise bracelet on over her left wrist, on top of the glove. He pursed his lips but he never replied to that. “Alex, what you're doing for me is so sweet. I can't thank you anymore for it, especially after Zelda and Rebecca both couldn't do it.”

He showed her a small smile in response to that.

“Yeah, if someone gives you hell for being in the bridal party, then to hell with them,” Belinda assured him.

“Thank you, ladies, that's—that's real nice of you,” he said in a soft voice.

Aurora then ran her hands down the front of her corset.

“Okay, something old—that would be my shoes—” She lifted her skirt and showed off the black leather flats on her feet. “—these were my mother's shoes when she and my dad married in Seoul. It's also the only thing traditionally Korean here. Something new, that would be the dress and the veil. Something blue, that would be my bracelet—something borrowed, though.”

Belinda reached behind her head to undo her snake pendant, but Sam unbuttoned the yellow tulip pin on the bolero and stuck it onto the front of Aurora's dress, right above the corset. She gasped at the sight of it.

“Perfect,” Alex declared as he rubbed his hands together.

“Yes—it is!” Aurora brought a hand to her mouth and then Sam put her arms around her. “Thank you,” she whispered into her ear.

“Let's do this,” Sam told her, and Aurora reached for the first of the bouquets. “So we go around the hallway here and make our way to the door and we meet up with the groomsmen.”

Each of the bouquets consisted of white and bright pink carnations and white and pink lilies. Sam led the way with Emile's best man linked elbows with her; Alex, Marla, and Belinda followed suit right behind her with the rest of the grooms. They strode down the aisle together, past the pews and the matching bouquets of white and pink carnations and lilies, and towards Emile, who was wrapped in an all black double breasted suit complete with a silver chain in his pocket and a top hat upon his head, and the priest at the altar.

It was really happening. Something that felt so surreal and right out of a dream was unfolding right before her very eyes.

She stood closest to the altar and she peered out at the small silent audience as they congregated in only a small part of the church. Scott, Frank, Charlie, the Dans, James, and Lars all sat in the row closest to the altar; Joey and one of his old hockey friends took to the row behind them.

Alex stood right next to Sam with that bouquet in his hands. On the other side of the aisle was Chuck, Eric, Greg, and Louie; Zelda was nowhere to be seen. But Chuck nodded at him and gave him a thumbs up, and Alex raised his eyebrows at him. Because the church was so big, they could hear every cough, every creak in the walls, and every voice no matter how low.

“He looks like a sissy,” the guy next to Joey whispered; and Joey asked him something.

“Alex—at least that's what I think his name is—” And then his words slurred.

Joey shrugged his shoulders with a straight face. “Pink and girliness? That's not what we're about.”

Alex sighed through his nose. That was his worry after all.

“It's okay—don't let him get to you,” Marla assured him in a low voice. “He's just—had a couple is all.”

“Who, Joey?” Belinda asked her.

“No, the other guy,” she replied.

Aurora stood at the far end of the aisle with her father linked arms with her. Everyone in the pews stood in her honor. Alex bowed his head and closed his eyes; Sam looked over at his serene face as the church organ played that wedding song. His lanky fingers cradled the bouquet but she noticed them flinching a bit every so often.

A born guitar player.

The guy in front of them giggled at him. But Alex kept his head bowed long enough to faze him out. Sam looked back over to the other side of the aisle, at Aurora's mother and her cousin, who indeed had three young children next to him. At least they were over there, away from the drunk guy.

But she wondered as to how much Joey was resisting from a drink himself, especially with the frazzled look on his face. Mr. Young brought Aurora to the altar and then he kissed the back of her hand before he let her go to Emile; he shook his hand and Emile said something to her.

Sam held the bouquet down to her waist as the priest talked for what felt like an eternity. She thought about what Joey had said to her at Kirk and Rebecca's wedding: indeed, when she looked down at him, she could see a twinkle in his eye. She wondered what he was thinking as Emile vowed to care for Aurora through sickness and through health, until death do they part. Aurora returned the favor without a shred of hesitation. They put the rings on each other's hands: Emile with the silver band and Aurora with a shiny silver and diamond one.

“I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Young-St. Vitus—you may now kiss the bride.”

Alex closed his eyes again as Emile put his arms around Aurora and they embraced in a single kiss. When they left the altar, the bridal party linked arms right behind them and they made their way outside to the bright afternoon sun.

“Alright, ya'll, so the reception is about two blocks from here,” Emile told them as he adjusted the brim of his hat. “Big ol' grassy area with a good view of the ocean.”

“We can walk there or we can make a bee line towards it,” Aurora added.

“I think we can walk,” Marla told them. “It's not like it's sweltering out anyways.”

Sam felt a tap on her shoulder right then, and she turned to find Joey right behind her, and her face lit up at the sight of him.

“So we walkin'?” he asked her in a low voice.

“I think we are.”

“I got the keys anyway.”

She dared not tell him about the guy next to him, and for all she knew, he had bowed out behind the church to throw up, and she didn't care, either. Joey need not another trigger like that to get him to drink again.

Aurora and Emile led the way down to the corner and around the bend: at the far end of the block was a cul de sac as well as that grassy area in question. Beyond that was a sliver of a view of the glimmering Atlantic Ocean. Emile held onto his hat with one hand while he held onto Aurora's shoulder with the other. Sam still had an odd feeling about them, especially since he never mentioned his previous wife once, or if things had been finalized between them before. There was only so much to know about them, and thus she dared not mention it to anyone. Her best friend had just gotten married.

Her best friend had just gotten married, and she couldn't even hold onto a boyfriend for herself.

The cool ocean breeze swelled up and pushed Aurora's long skirt up a bit.

“Easy there!” Joey cracked.

“I feel like I'm about to sail away,” she told him with a glimpse over her shoulder.

“Come sail away! Come sail away!” Joey sang out, and Emile peered back at him.

“Nice voice you got there, son!”

“Joey doesn't mess around you know,” Aurora told him.

“Just put out an album with that voice, too,” Sam added.

“The hell I did.” Joey looked behind him, and she knew he was looking for that drunk friend. Behind her was Marla and Belinda, and Alex lingered somewhere back there with Testament. She wondered about those kids in particular, and if Aurora's cousin knew that there was a drunk guy in the audience.

Soon, they reached the grassy area and she spotted a row of tables, including an empty one underneath the tree closest to them. Across from that stood the table with the wedding cake, a three tiered cake with black and white frosting and little pink and white roses decorated around it in that rich frosting. On the top tier were those little mannequins of Aurora and Emile: she was small and petite compared to his big and heavy stature.

Sam never realized how hungry she was until they sliced into that cake in front of everybody. Greg and Alex stood before her with eager looks on their faces.

“I am so hungry right now,” Greg confessed as Aurora handed out slices to everyone.

“Plenty for everyone and then some,” Emile told him, and he handed Sam a big slice of cake, complete with a rose on top. “For the maid of honor.”

“Thank you, my dear landlord,” she retorted to him.

“You know what? Just for being well behaved and so hard working, the next month's rent is on me.”

“Aw!” Her face lit up at that.

“Aw, man, I gotta move into where Sam's livin' at,” Louie called out from the back and everyone laughed out loud at that. Sam took the slice of cake to the table on the right, where the bridal party was instructed to be seated at. She took the spot closest to the cake table and she waited for Marla, Belinda, and Alex to join her; she had no idea if Aurora and Emile were going to be right next to her, but once the rest of the bridal party took their spots, she dug right into the cake.

“Oh, man, that's good cake,” Alex remarked.

“Courtesy of the Cherry Suicides,” Aurora told him as she handed out a slice to Joey.

“They made this?!” He gaped at her.

“No, it's from the best bakery in Narragansett—according to them anyways.”

“I see. I'll buy it, too—I need like a glass of milk with this.”

“Nice big frosty glass of milk,” Marla added.

“Where are those girls, anyway?” Sam asked her.

“They had to get to the venue,” Aurora replied as she adjusted her skirt, “Zelda called me yesterday and said there was no way they were gonna make it because of their own rehearsal. So I said, 'that's okay! Do what you have to do, and you'll be here in spirit.'”

Joey took his seat on the grass in front of Sam, which brought a chuckle out of her.

“What're you doing?” she asked him.

“I'm your date, remember?”

“At least get a chair, Joey,” Belinda laughed along with her.

“Nah, I'm good,” he assured her, and he showed Alex a fleeting glimpse. Sam returned to her cake and relished every bite of the chocolate inside, and of the black and white frosting on the outside; then there was that lovely oceanic breeze. She had been so acquainted with New York and with the Pacific Ocean that to feel the whispers of the Atlantic on her face was a world of its own.

Once she finished the rest of the frosting rose, she brought a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes.

“Here, I'll take that—” Joey offered her, and she opened her eyes to find his hand on the rim of the paper plate. She showed him a smile as he stepped towards a nearby trash can. Alex also had finished his cake, and then he waved at Greg; he hurried around them faster than those three children around the Young family table. Aurora's face was flushed from all the excitement but she smiled the whole entire time, and even more so when one of those kids came up to her.

“So show later tonight,” Marla proclaimed.

“Yup—the girls go on first, then Anthrax and Testament,” Sam recalled.

“Ooh, Anthrax between Zelda and Louie,” Belinda remarked.

“I might be there tonight, to be honest,” Marla told them.

“Really?” Sam raised her eyebrows at her.

“Yeah, I might as well. That album probably never would have sounded like it does if not for me and Charlie.”

“Wow—”

Sam was cut off by the sight of Joey darting past the table and towards Testament.

“Oh, no,” Belinda groaned.

“What the—”

Before anyone could say anything, Joey shouted something and it took Sam a few seconds to realize he yelled at Alex. He held his arm back.

Joey punched him right in the nose, and Alex fell backwards onto the empty table. The Young family stopped right in their tracks. Emile hurried over to them. And even though Alex wasn't very big, the legs buckled and the table collapsed underneath him. Joey lunged for him but Charlie and Scott grabbed him from behind.

“JOEY!” Sam shrieked as she climbed to her feet.

“Joey! Joey! It's not worth it!” Charlie exclaimed. “It's not worth it, man! It's not worth it!”

Joey tried to break free from their grip but Charlie in particular was too strong. Frank and James both joined in from behind and dragged him away from Alex.

“Get him out of here—get him out of here—” Chuck commanded them.

Alex groaned from the pain in his nose and from landing on the table and the grass, and Marla knelt down next to him. Sam and Belinda stood behind her.

“Shit—fuck, are you okay?” she gently asked him.

“You alright, Alex?” Chuck joined in; Marla extended her hand for him and she and Chuck helped him off of the grass. She almost lost her balance but she caught herself on the broken edge of the table.

“I think so—god, he really got me hard there.” Alex sat upright and Sam peered over Marla's head: his nose was bright red but it looked to be about it.

“I'm not bleeding, am I?” he asked them with a sniffle.

“No,” Marla assured him, “but does it feel like something's broken, though?”

“I don't think so,” he confessed as he held a hand to the tip of his nose. His legs shook like those on a newborn foal but he looked as though he was ready to start another fight with Joey.

“What was that all about?” Emile asked him, but Sam turned away to see where Joey had gone off to. A sinking feeling emerged in the pit of her stomach as she looked beyond the Young family and the blushing Aurora, to the trees. She spotted Charlie and Joey near the edge of the slope.

She held up her skirt and then bowed past everyone to see what was going on. Even with those three kids there, she could overhear Joey swearing like a sailor.

“Charlie, that fucking kid gave me the finger!” he said once she came within earshot, and she stopped right in her tracks. “I swear by it, man! I fucking swear by it!” On one hand, she wanted to curse out Joey for cursing in front of three children, but then again, she wondered exactly what happened there.

She turned back into the direction of the bridal party, but she noticed Marla helped Alex to a different table, far away from the main area, almost around the corner of a tall willow tree. Even from a distance, he grimaced from the pain and kept the back of his hand pressed to his nose. Marla asked him something and he nodded his head at her. He was alone at the table as Belinda went over to the Young table to talk to Aurora.

He raised his gaze to Sam and he frowned at her, still with his thumb pressed to the side of his nose.

“Why'd you give him the finger?” Sam demanded.

“What? I didn't!” Alex insisted with a wave of a hand. “I was just talking to Greg and I pointed my thumb upwards while I was telling him about the volume on the amps. He must've mistook it for something else.”

“I was standing right next to him when it happened,” she pointed out. “It looked like the middle finger, Alex.”

“Hey, why're you defending him? He pushed me and then he punched me! Both times you defended him.”

“Because Joey is my friend,” she declared. “And I'm trying to help him and get him out of old habits. And I don't need you flipping him off and getting him riled up because when he gets riled up, he drinks.”

He paused for a second: those deep eyes stared hard and cold into her.

“He drinks, Alex. He drinks. And he gets triggered by these things.”

“I did not flip him off,” he said through gritted teeth. She shook her head and closed her eyes in frustration.

“Just—stay right there,” she ordered with a wave of her hand. “I'll handle it.”

“I didn't flip him off, Samantha,” he repeated as she walked away. She headed back towards the main area but the last thing she needed to do was speak to anyone about anything that had happened. She rounded the corner of the trees and, careful not to bring any attention to herself, she slunk across the grass to the table with the wedding cake. She hoped Aurora wouldn't mind her taking a second slice for herself when she spotted Joey's black curls over by the far edge of the grass. Charlie had gone, but he sat there in the sun with his back towards her: even from a distance, she could see the split down his back. The punch to Alex's face did a number on that suit as well.

She walked towards him but once she left the shade, she hesitated right behind him. At least Aurora and Emile refused alcohol there, but she could sense it with him. He was craving it. Her mind fell blank, especially since she hadn't dealt with this sort of problem before. He wished for it.

She took a promise to get him away from it, and Belinda did, too. The only hope right then was that he wouldn't take the car and search for a drink. He did have the car keys on him.

But then she had an idea.

She sighed through her nose again, and she ambled the rest of the way across the grass. She tapped on his shoulder and he lifted his gaze from the shores down below up towards her. He squinted his brown eyes in the bright sunlight at her.

“Hey,” she gently greeted him.

“Hey,” he echoed her in a low voice.

“How're you feeling?”

He shrugged his shoulders and grimaced.

“Do you have the car keys?” she asked him.

“What you need the car for?”

“I want to get you something. You know, to cheer you up.”

“I really want a drink,” he confessed, “and I don't mean booze, either.”

“Okay. I'll do that for you.” He reached into his coat pocket for the car key, but she wasn't willing to leave right away. Instead, she strode past that table where Alex was seated at and she scowled at him.

“I did not flip him off,” he said a third time, and that time he said it in a terse tone of voice.

“Go sit over there,” she ordered again and she gestured to the far side of the grass, back towards the bridal party.

“Why?” He showed her a slight smirk.

“Because you're annoying and I don't want you here when I get back.”

“I'm annoying, is that what you said?”

She fumed at him, but then his smirk went away. And he shook his head. “Wow,” he muttered, and he stepped away from there. He kept his thumb pressed to the side of his nose all the while. But she rolled her eyes at him and she kept on walking towards the far side of the grass, where she reached the street. She spotted the spire on the church and she knew the cars were near there.

But then again, there was that little ice cream parlor across the street. She held onto her skirt as she crossed the dark pavement, and she did have some change in her pocket, enough for a drink of water for the both of them, although she knew there were plenty of drinks back at the reception. Just so long as it got her away from there for a bit. She couldn't believe Alex had done that, and she had lied to him, too: she had no idea what he was doing over there by Greg. For all she knew, Joey was telling the truth that time.

She returned to the grassy area with two cups of water for the two of them. Joey still sulked there with his back to her, but she hovered next to him.

“Wanna go sit at a table?” she offered him.

“Sure, why not.”

He stood up, and his jacket tore a bit more at the back, and he followed her back to that table on the far side of the grass. Scott's big Queens accent caught her ear right then, but she couldn't hear what he was saying.

“By the way, who was that guy who was with you earlier?” she asked him.

“The guy I borrowed the suit from—and yeah, he was pretty hammered. I tried my best to get him to cool his jets, but once the bride and groom left, he made a run for it outside. After we sit here for a bit, I'll go see if I can find 'em.”

“—Marge and I are getting married, too—” Scott proclaimed right then, to which Joey groaned. They walked right past the Young table at that moment.

“Fu—”

“Joey, watch your mouth,” Sam cut him off, and they kept on walking towards the table. He plopped down hard in that one spot under the tree and he shook his head.

“Frick, frick, frick, frick,” he stammered.

“What?”

“So many freaking weddings, I freaking swear to freaking god—frick!”

[transkenobis]

hey uh, throwback to 2019 when i made a rand fanmix. posting it because it can't hurt, but note that the track descriptions and song choices are all unedited.

. BLACKOUT — frank turner

but it’s not enough anymore

we can’t turn just around and close the door on the world

it’s asking uneasy questions

this one’s for winternight and the eye of the world. it’s the start of the world going to hell and being overwhelmed by the shadow (“are you afraid of the darkness?”), and it’s essentially rand against the world. he can’t just walk away from it— his house is attacked by trollocs, and the only option he has is to go with moiraine. he doesn’t really know what he’s up against, only that he’s up against something bad.

. HERO — family of the year

let me go

I don’t wanna be your hero

I don’t wanna be a big man

I just wanna fight with everyone else

this song’s all about not wanting to be a part of something big, just wanting a simple and easy life. at the beginning of the great hunt, rand really does not want to be the dragon reborn— I mean, who would? but it’s a role that he’s forced into, nonetheless. at his heart, he’s just a farmboy who wants to go home. moiraine kind of forces his destiny on him, not letting him postpone it or shove it aside. but at this point, he just doesn’t want to be a hero. the song itself is very soft (and acoustic to boot), which I think nicely represents the simple life that rand wants.

. UNUSUAL — typhoon

get your pitchforks out

the crowd is coming and they’ve named you

why, gentle mother, must you wring your hands and weep?

tide brings you a sword, sword will cut you free

dead demands a tribute in the hour of our need

blood be the river to wash the ledgers clean

oh, it took so much self-restraint to not put more than two songs from this album on this playlist. offerings is just so good AND highly existential, so if you’re wanting more sad rand hours, go listen to it. I think this song best fits rand’s start of really being the dragon reborn, around (you guessed it) the dragon reborn. the world is kind of a mess, and he doesn’t really know what to do, so he just does what he thinks he should do. he’s chosen by the pattern— the world demanded a dragon to save the world, and he was the unlucky soul born on the slopes of dragonmount. you know, his blood on the rocks of shayol ghul and all that. this song, like the one preceding it, is softer— rand hasn’t hardened himself like he will in later books. however, around halfway through, it gets louder and brings in more drums. tdr is the start of rand’s transition from farmboy to dragon reborn, in both good ways and bad.

. KIDS — mgmt

we like to watch you laughing

picking insects off of plants

no time to think of consequences

this song focuses a lot on the idea of self-control/self-restraint— not doing more than you have to, good or bad. it reminds me a lot of rand’s earlier experiences with channeling and being ta’veren. saidin is dangerous, what with the taint and all, and drawing too much of either half of the one power has severe consequences. he’s not as in control of his ta’veren-ness as he will be in later books— like his channelling, it’s a bit all over the place. the quote at the beginning of the music video (it’s friedrich nietzsche, not mark twain, but whatever) also ties in with this idea— if you’re not careful, you can become the very thing you were fighting against.

. LOUDER THAN EVER — cold war kids

I was carrying my cheek

I was digging my strange

I was taking you for granted

you were holding the reins

but I can hear you louder than ever

whisper to me, help me remember

I can’t see you but we’re still together

I can hear you louder than ever

moiraine’s “death” is a tipping point for rand— he feels like he could’ve prevented it, even though moiraine literally tells him that he couldn’t, and that what happened was the best possible outcome. after she passes through the portal, rand realizes that he took her presence for granted. her advice was good, if often unwelcome, and after her death rand just ends up going off the rails in so many different ways. when she returns in a memory of light, he realizes how helpful she was to him.

. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT WITH ME — cold war kids

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

something is not right with me!

I’m trying not to let it show

the taint on saidin is just really like that, huh? rand can tell that something’s wrong, with lews therin’s voice in his head. the thing is, he doesn’t let anyone know because he’s 1) scared of showing weakness and 2) sane people don’t normally hear voices. this song is fast, but not in an upbeat way— it feels chaotic, panicked, and just barely in control. the singer is almost shouting the lyrics instead of singing them, contributing to that feeling. I think it embodies most male channellers’ experiences with the taint— it isn’t smooth or calm like saidar, it’s a raging river of fire.

. DREAMS OF CANNIBALISM — typhoon

unhand me, I am not a criminal

but I’ve played a guilty part

in the modern sense that one pretends their life is original

I wrote a book and I will call it something cynical

the story’s slow, the hero does not change

and if he can, then he won’t anyway

instead his foes and lovers all become identical

this song ends with the line “soon enough you will be dancing at my funeral,” and I can’t come up with something that encompasses rand-as-the-dragon more. people are terrified of him— hell, even he’s terrified of him. the world doesn’t want a dragon, but they got one anyways. the second set of verses above is a more textual examination of rand at this point— a crown of swords through crossroads of twilight is incredibly slow, and rand doesn’t change much throughout those books (hence why this song covers 4 books). he could make a change in his life if he tried, but he doesn’t, since he thinks he needs to shut others out to protect them. the whole song seems to be conveying the idea of being stuck and not going anywhere, but running from yourself, which, to be fair, is very close to what rand experiences in his own head in these books.

. GHOSTS THAT WE KNEW — mumford and sons

so lead me back

turn south from that place

and close my eyes to my recent disgrace

so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light

’cause oh, that gave me such a fright

but I will hold on as long as you like

just promise me we’ll be alright

I picked a soft song for the softer scene in the gathering storm where min and rand are talking about how cold he’s become. he realizes that he doesn’t have to fake an uncaring and unemotional nature— to be human is to feel, and it’s not bad to be human. the song is about going through something that’s wearing you down (a common interpretation is depression), and knowing that you have someone helping you through it. min sticks with rand during almost everything that happens from lord of chaos to the end of the series. she’s a support for him, and too stubborn to ever leave him, no matter what.

. DARKER — typhoon

I tried, you know, just to toe the line

love all the neighbors and live in the light

sure, I stumbled sometimes

self-contained; a convenient lie

every source of pain, every sting of pride

had to come from the outside

you won’t even fight me fair

wait for the darkness, catch me unaware

yeah, you pull me close

then you twist the knife

of course, that happy, warm feeling can’t last, because that scene is followed by semirhage being sadistic and deciding that now is the perfect time to use this new torture device. because of that, rand ends up shutting himself off even more than before. he’s suspicious and cruel, and thinks only for himself. it’s scary, frankly. darker, like all the songs on the album that it’s from, is very existential, though this song is, fittingly, darker than the others. it’s filled with the sense of impending death and strong suspicion that characterizes rand at this point in his life. he tried to open up, and look where it got him. this quick change is mirrored by the sharp musical contrast between the quiet, acoustic ‘ghosts that we knew’ and and the more drum-heavy, electric, and distorted ‘darker.’

. MOUNTAIN AT MY GATES — foals

I see a mountain in my way

it’s looming larger by the day

I see a darkness in my fate

I’ll drive my car without the brakes

through lanes and stone rows

black granite, wind blows

fire lake and far flame

go now but come again

dark clouds gather ’round

will I run or stand my ground

oh, when I come to climb

show me the mountain so far behind

yeah, it’s farther away

its shadow gets smaller day after day

the obvious scene for this song is the events leading up to rand’s epiphany on dragonmount. I mean, ‘mountain’ is in the song’s name. I think that this song works well to represent the weight and lack of direction he feels in the days building up to that. something that works especially well about this song is how it builds, both lyrically and musically. the song starts with a hopeless and dark tone to the lyrics, and stays that way for a while. the bridge (second set of lyrics above) is where the tone starts to change. the bridge also uses a lot of imagery that one can tie to the buildup— the streets of ebou dar, the rocky and windy peak of dragonmount, the belly of fire in the mountain itself and tar valon, the city that the peak looks over. the song then crescendos into its final segment, where the singer sings “give me my way/give me my love/give me my choice/give me my fate/give me my lungs/give me my voice.” to me, these represent rand’s realization that the reason the wheel keeps turning is so that people can live again and love again.

. COLORFUL — jukebox the ghost

we're just getting started

take your fears and let them go

for the lovers and the broken-hearted

I! love! this! song! I haven’t found another song that captures that feeling of hope in darkness: when everything around you has gone to hell, but you keep going because the darkness isn’t all there is. that’s how veins of gold ends— with rand realizing that there’s something worth fighting and living for. the gathering storm literally ends with rand laughing without bitterness for the first time in months, if not years— he’s finally looking on the bright side of life again.

. BEAUTIFUL LIFE — the collection

you do not have to be good

even the best of us have been misunderstood

so get up onto your feet

the sun is shining repentance through the leaves

its rays will wash you clean

this one’s for the end of a memory of light, when rand decides to leave and live the rest of his life on his terms. he wants to explore the world, without the pressure of his past and who he was weighing on him. he has a chance to slow down and appreciate this “beautiful life,” instead of rushing through it towards tarmon gai’don. and that’s what this song is about, i think. it’s not super peppy, and neither is rand at this point. it’s more of a quiet and peaceful acceptance.

. ALL THESE THINGS THAT I’VE DONE — the killers

I wanna stand up, I wanna let go

you know, you know, no, you don’t, you don’t

I wanna shine on in the hearts of men

I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

over and in, last call for sin

while everyone’s lost, the battle is won

with all these things that I’ve done

first of all, the wheel of time series takes place over the span of two years, and rand does so much within that time. within this playlist, I don’t think of this song as an ending, rather a summary of rand’s life through the books. I specifically want to talk about the iconic refrain of “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier.” it serves as a bookend to rand’s arc as a character— initially he refuses his role as the dragon reborn (even though he’s suited for it, due to his heritage and upbringing) because he doesn’t want to fight in that way. during the bulk of the series, he embraces a role as a fighter, even though he doesn’t have the soul for it. and finally, he realizes that he isn’t a weapon, and that he never was. on another note, the line “these changes ain’t changing me/that cold-hearted boy I used to be” hits a bit too close to his character.

[a9saga]

when my maternal grandfather died six months ago i made a long rambling about how everything in my life since ninth grade just went full circle and i meant it. i ended up being okay, and i knew i would, but that was all very intensely crashing over me at once.

my grandmother died this morning. other side, my dad’s mother. it was okay, she was safe, she was being taken care of and she was with her children and her husband. i’d only heard she went into hospice yesterday, she couldn’t have been in there for more than a day.

if you know me well enough that i’ve ever talked to you about my family, you might remember i really love my sweet and beautiful little irish grandmother. i do. or even if you follow my blog, she’s made several mentions in my own posts over the years. she’s my biggest role model. i could go on for days. simply put, every trait of mine that i most like about myself is something i’ve had in common with her. and she loved me for the same things i loved in her, i think.

that last sentence is the only reflection i’ve realized upon finally losing her. i only realized that one when my dad pointed it out last night. i was mumbling on my whole spiel about how much i love my grandmother i knew i would be losing within the next day, you know the one i largely skipped in this post because i would have gone on for too long. my dad said that i also brought her so much joy, that she also thought that i was sweet, and beautiful, and it lit her up to see me, etc etc etc.

i’d not thought of that as much. the last many times i saw her, her memory was so far gone she didn’t know who i was or who my mother was. she would generally recognize my dad and she would ask him if he was married and if he had kids. that’d happen every few minutes whenever we’d see her, that she would be going over the list of basic questions. she wanted to enjoy everyone’s presence, and to some extent she did, but it was so hard for her to genuinely partake.

connie was in there somewhere but she was a shell of herself. over the past year, especially in the past four months, it was apparent she was getting exponentially closer to the end.

i always knew she’d be the hardest to lose. i’ve been afraid of it forever. and i think she will be. i have two grandparents left but i just. i just know this one. and it feels only reinforced by my feeling that her death doesn’t change anything.

i have realized nothing new from this. there’s no circle encompassing this moment in my life. at this time i think more constantly what i have always thought of her. i am just devastated to be without her. in place of piecing together what she meant to me, since i was already well aware of that all my life, i am thinking more of how she was years ago. i am not realizing. i am remembering. what i remember is what i’ve thought much less about for a while, because i’ve only been so worried about her now for at least 4 years. at least. and that’s only been my major concerns.

but if there was someone who deserved this soon, it was her. in some respects, for a while i’d felt like i lost her already, such as the fact that she didn’t constantly remember and understand anyone but her husband. she was so weak recently. she just needed to rest.

if you were wondering, she would have turned 91 if she made it to the end of this month. i will be okay, again. i keep tearing up every few minutes thinking about her. it doesn’t last long but it recurs a lot. i don’t feel the disbelief i did with my grandfather’s death. i simply feel awful.

with my grandfather, even in recent months there have been tears, bad dreams, and recently at work an old man came in who looked and moved and talked very much like my grandfather had since his first battle with his brain tumor. those make me sad but much of the time now i just remember that he’s actually gone, not out of sight, out of mind. i’ve made my peace, it’s just more like i largely don’t buy it. he’s not dead, i just haven’t seen him in a while. that’s how it feels and i just remind myself that it’s not true.

well i don’t know that i will think of connie like that in six months. because frank, her husband of 68 years, is going to be alone and no one can bear the thought of how scary that is. he doesn’t know life like this. so if you’re the praying type, please utter his name for me. he’s a very strong man, but he’s very old.

i wanted to say one last thing. remember when i said seventeen was once again comforting me when my grandfather died? well i’ve been listening to cnblue today. i don’t know why. i will not sit here and tell you my cnblue story (although one day i mean to bc oh boy) but i was a fan of them years before i got into kpop, when i was 13. it was the summer before eighth grade. i actually know like, none of their work that they put out after i was 13. i was mostly into their japanese stuff, their korean singles back then were so much more poppy and colorful and i liked them but not as much. i still kind of feel that way. you know what song of theirs i was kinda iffy about liking as much as i did? love girl. oh my god. for the record they dropped that song and album on my 12th birthday, which inherently cursed them (nothing good ever happened while i was 12). i was too not-like-other-girls to deal with the one video of theirs that went too far in making it clear that the boys in this band were cute (ugh). but now i’m listening to that song a lot in particular because it makes me feel very light and pink and warm and homey and to put it simply it fills me with a comfort that i think i need after losing my feminine hero. that doesn’t make any sense but i feel it. i’ve not actually played anything since i started typing this so i’m gonna go back to that now.

ps: any friends or mutuals, if we talk lots or little or we haven’t in a while, are welcome to send me literally whatever. if it’s related to this, unrelated, or whatever, if you are thinking of reaching out to say something i am going to appreciate anything. you can send kind words or a meme or cute animals or a song rec. i will say that i’m going to be quiet for the time being so i may not reply back very quickly. i’m not ignoring you i’m just taking space. i may be like this for a little bit. but if you actually read all of this, thank you. thank you so much.

[coppicefics]

Masked Omens: Week Five

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’. 

Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 23rd January 2021. Full image description and transcript below cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

The Capital Herald - Saturday, 23rd January 2021 Entertainment, page 15

Top section: Stream of Consciousness: Shows To Make You Think A whole host of great documentaries, old and new, have just been added to streaming services Who doesn't love a good documentary? You can learn all sorts of things, and you don't have to do any of the research for yourself. Over the last couple of weeks, loads of people seem to have been tuning into the wealth of documentaries available on various streaming services; here are a few I particularly enjoyed. Green Planet (2020) is not your standard nature documentary; while there are some extremely cute shots of animals (including gorillas, whales, and giant squid) the main focus is on sustainable practices people are experimenting with in all sorts of industries and contexts, and the way they allow local wildlife to flourish. It's thought-provoking stuff. We're As Folk (2019) takes a look at the contemporary folk movement, interviewing figures from the second British revival right through to the present day; contributors include Seth Lakeman, Frank Turner, Anathema and Bellowhead. With folk-festival anecdotes aplenty, the documentary explores the intricacies of the genre and culminates in all the contributors performing a once-in-a-lifetime rendition of 'She Moved Through The Fair'. Gadget If You Can (2015) might be a little outdated now, but that's what makes it such a compelling watch. From watches that tell the time in 21 capital cities concurrently to hoverboards that actually, well, hover, this is a fascinating look at the new devices that seemed to be just on the horizon when it was released more than five years ago. Some have since appeared; some remain pipedreams. All are interesting! Making Fast Friends (2012) is the oldest documentary on this list, and the narrowest in scope. It was released alongside the SEGA charity single 'Fast Friends' and gives us a behind the scenes look at what happened when Sonic the Hedgehog teamed up with a whole bunch of children's TV presenters to make the record. Although largely factual in nature, it does also feature animated 'interviews' with Sonic and Knuckles, so it's entirely suitable for watching with your family. And P-White fans, in particular, will not want to miss this a second time around. A War Without War (2021), by contrast, is both up-to-the-minute and extremely disturbing to watch. It is composed of a mixture of expert analysis of the situation developing on the ground in Celestan and grim footage allegedly smuggled out of the country by fleeing residents. Moreover, with more episodes promised, it forces the viewer to acknowledge what is happening as the country breaks apart, and asks us the difficult question: can you have a war without war? Dinosaurs: The Punchline (2013) is frequently mistaken for a mockumentary thanks to its tongue-in-cheek title. It is, in fact, a thoughtful exploration of how religious groups respond to apparent conflicts between scientific facts and the tenets of their faith. Without shying away from the realities of science as we know it, this film takes a surprisingly sensitive approach to investigating how science and religion intersect in the modern world. By The Numbers (2018) looks back at the history of the televised National Lottery, along with its competitors on other channels and the entertainment chosen to appear directly after it. Featuring clips and interviews with stars from Marjorie Potts aka Telepathic Tracy, whose show aired after the draw for over a decade, to Marvin O. Bagman, whose sports-based quiz show had, at the time of the documentary’s release, the corresponding Channel 4 slot. It’s not groundbreaking, but it is very entertaining. CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL Have I missed any amazing documentaries you think I should be talking about? Drop me an email at entertainment@capitalherald.co.uk or leave a comment on our website and I might feature your recommendations in a future issue.

Centre left: Memory Lane: Kilcridhe Now there’s a vicar I’d have loved to meet at the altar Ask any male-attracted person of a certain age – well, my age and up, really – if they remember Kilcridhe, and you'll be met with flushed cheeks and a glassy expression. We remember Kilcridhe, all right – or perhaps it would be fairer to say that we remember Father Jacob MacCleod. It's hard to believe that heartthrob Jacob was Anthony Crowley's first major role on television, and harder still to believe that he was also one of his last. The show ran for only two six-episode series, between 2005 and 2006, but in those twelve hours I think it's fair to say a fair few of us fell irrevocably in love. Kilcridhe was named for the fictitious Scottish village where it was set, and largely revolved around the goings-on of the local church and its new minister. Much of the series' drama centred around Father MacCleod's ongoing attempts to fill the pews, which saw him trying everything from hosting a bake sale – for which he ended up baking everything himself – to arranging a community talent show, with predictably bizarre results. But during the course of these adventures, each episode also introduced us to one or more of Kilcridhe's residents. We got a glimpse into the little struggles and joys of their lives – most of which quickly became Jacob's struggles and joys, too. My main memory of this show is that it was pretty. Not just Jacob, but everything about it, from the location they chose for the exterior shots, to the tone added in post-production; everything was just slightly more saturated and colourful than real life, not enough to be jarring but enough to give the whole thing a strangely dreamlike feel. In fact, as Jacob remarked as he prepared to leave for Edinburgh at the end of series one (not knowing if he would return or if the show would be cancelled), “leaving [Kilcridhe] feels like waking from a dream, like going back to reality somehow”. It was, perhaps, for the best that Kilcridhe was cancelled after only two series. Shows originally envisioned as limited series rarely keep their charm past a second extension, and the central actor was to encounter personal problems not long after the end of the show. That's not to say that a revival couldn't work, perhaps with a completely new protagonist. But Father Jacob MacCleod lives on in the hearts of his many fans, smiling that enigmatic smile of his, and when that's not enough, there's always online fanfiction. So much fanfiction. SARAH JEUNE Memory Lane is our regular feature, looking back at the books, shows and films of yesteryear through a nostalgic lens. Do you miss something you’d like to see featured? Just send the show name (plus channel and airdates if you know them) in an email to: memorylane@capitalherald.co.uk - your prayers might just be answered!

Centre right: Correspondent’s Corner Stop talking about it Anathema is making waves again as she does the talk-show circuit to promote her new album, Narrative Devices. It's a very pretty album from a very lovely girl, but she does keep getting hung up on one point. Every time somebody describes her music as country, she interrupts to tell them it's folk. Well, I'm no music expert, but even I know that folk is a very European genre, and the United States' equivalent is country, or country and western music, to give it its full name, and to continue to argue to the contrary is simply courting controversy for controversy's sake. It is unbecoming of a young lady – even, or perhaps especially, a young lady with Anathema's obvious talent – to continue to argue with her elders on the subject, and even to correct the likes of Graham Norton and Giles Brandreth. These sage bastions of broadcasting deserve more respect, and they couldn't be more gracious in accepting their 'mistake'. But surely a young musician in the first flush of success should take the time to learn about what she's actually doing? It doesn't seem very much to ask. It’s not entirely her fault, of course; the youth of today are given far too much freedom by their parents and, on top of that, are often propelled to disproportionate success with no chance to prepare for it. Is it any wonder that it all goes to their heads? But there is no excuse for not making an effort to keep their egos in check and defer to their betters on matters of terminology and best practice. Naturally, we all hope that Anathema will enjoy a long and successful career making the music she enjoys the most and , more importantly, music we can all enjoy too. And I also hope that she will, eventually, acquire the humility so rarely found in young people these days and accept that she does not always know best. If she listens to the counsel of older and wiser heads than hers, she might even learn something. ANDY SANDALPHON What can’t they do? If there's one thing that's becoming apparent with every passing week of The Masked Singer UK, it's that celebrities are no longer to content to stay in their lane. No, these multi-talented marvels seem determined to push themselves to the limit in every possible field. So far, we’ve seen sergeants become singers, rugby players become rockers, doctors become divas and authors become, er, audible. And with weeks still to go in this competition, we still have eight masked celebrities to guess. Eight people whose day jobs probably don’t include getting on stage and belting out pop standards are still waiting to impress us with talents that aren’t even their thing. I mean, if I could sing and dance like the contestants on the show, you can bet your life I’d be making a living from it. It would be my number one talent, and I’d be rubbish at anything else, because most of us only get one main skill. Not these jammy gits, though. For them, this is a sideline. It's not just The Masked Singer, of course – from proving their talent for trivia on Pointless Celebrities and their wordplay wisdom on Celebrity Catchphrase to demonstrating their culinary qualities on Celebrity Masterchef and The Great Celebrity Bake Off, it seems that wherever you look someone is adding a new string to their bow. Being a phenomenally talented actor, singer, or footballer is all well and good, but more and more stars are now keen to show us that they really can do anything and everything. And why shouldn't they? It's phenomenally entertaining television to watch. And for those of us who sometimes feel inadequate compared to our famous idols, it can be very reassuring to watch, for example, a comedian weeping into his cupcake mix on Bake Off or an Oscar nominee fall on her face on Dancing On Ice. When they do well, it's amazing; when they do badly, it's life-affirming. That said, I've been blown away by the talent of the contestants on The Masked Singer this series. It's so inspirational, in fact, that I might take up watercolours. EDWARD BIGGS Bottom right (in blue box): Citron’s Quick Picks Fast favourites from Citron Deux-Cheval Look: Sea Change by Hastur LaVista There's never been a journey to to the top quite like P-White's. This authorised biography charts a course from children's presenter to global superstar through interviews, pictures and anecdotes. While the research sometimes seems a little slapdash, the story at the heart of the book is more than interesting enough to hold it together. And since it's authorised, Maputi themself has contributed plenty of private insights and observations. [Image description: A book, its cover featuring a blue-green gradient with black, dripping lines spilling across it. The title reads ‘Sea Change’. End ID.] Listen: Narrative Devices by Anathema Anathema's first album was well-received both within the folk community and beyond it. Now her second album, backed up by an obvious increase in resources, looks set to enjoy similar mainstream success, and deservedly so. The theme this time seems to be the act of telling stories, but it's also a story in itself. You'll have heard the singles, but it takes on new meaning when you play it in order! [Image description: An album cover featuring hands holding a book. The words “Anathema” and “Narrative Devices” are printed on it. End ID.] Laugh: Newtral Stance by AutoTuna on YouTube It's not the first time beleaguered commentator Newton Pulsifer has had his words edited into a supercut. It's not even the first time his frequent disagreements with the VAR have been autotuned – including by YouTube user AutoTuna. But this new edition adds an extra dimension in the form of a flat, robotic voice duetting – and duelling – with the frustrated human, taking the hilarity to a whole new level! [Image description: A screenshot of a young woman wearing a call centre headset (specifically, the woman who cold-calls Crowley in Good Omens and gets Hastur instead). She looks extremely bored. End ID.]

Advertisement, bottom right: IS THIS YOUR CARD? [Image Description: Two business cards with a white-to-yellow gradient, overlapping so that they are slightly fanned out. Printed on the left-hand side of each is ‘This is to certify The Amazing [blank] as a [blank] training under Mr A.Z. Fell.‘ The one behind is filled in with ‘Your Name-’ and ‘Sorcer-’. The front card is filled in in a more child-friendly font, with ‘Your Name Here’ and ‘Junior Magician’. Below this is space for a start and expiry date, filled in with ‘08/20′ and ‘08/21′ respectively. On the right-hand side of the card, a logo shows a rabbit emerging from an upturned top hat, and below it are the words ‘Harry’s Junior Magic Academy’. The word ‘Junior’ is in the same child-friendly font as before. End ID.] IT COULD BE. Membership is open to under 12s and 13-18 year-olds at www.harrys-magic.com

End of transcript.

[songtoyou]

Chapter Two: Never Enough

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC) 

Rating: PG to PG-13 (Might be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to communicate with one another openly but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation. However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either is willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG with mild swearing

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,630

Author’s Note: I hoped those who ‘liked’ the previous chapter enjoys this one as well. I went back and made one little change in the first chapter. No longer is Raina a fan of the Seattle Mariners or Seattle Seahawks, but a Mets/Giants fan. Instead of having Raina grow up in Washington State, she grew up in New York on Long Island. It just made more sense location-wise for her to “closer” to Chris. I also changed something that happened during the summer of 2016 that involved another MCU actor. Let me know what you think. Feedback is always welcomed.

Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans or anyone in his family, and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms. 

Thank you to @southerngracela​ for your support! :)

*Updated for grammar edits.

July 2019

"Christopher Robert Evans! Come here!" yelled his mother, Lisa Evans.

"What, Ma?" Chris asked when he entered her kitchen and replied, "Whatever happened? I assure you that it was Scott who did it."

"Would you stop? You aren't in trouble. Sit down for a sec." Lisa told her oldest son. 

Taking a seat at the kitchen table next to his mother, Chris asked, "Why are you on the laptop? You hate using the computer."

"I do, but you need to send Raina some flowers to celebrate her big opening night on Broadway. You were planning on getting her something, right?" inquired Lisa as she turned the laptop over to Chris for him to look through different flower arrangements. 

"Uh…I don't know, Ma. I am sure you will pick out something great."

Lisa gave Chris a knowing look and said, "Chris, you spend more time with Raina than the rest of us. You know her likes and dislikes. Now come on, look at the arrangements and pick which one she would like best."

Chris groaned and turned away from his mother to roll his eyes. His mother's behavior was not unusual to always insinuate that Raina was more than a friend to Chris. Well, she was, but that did not mean his mother had to know all of the dirty details. Despite what people might think of the confessed mama's boy, Chris did not always share everything with Lisa.  

"Don't get her flowers…" Chris began, but Lisa cut him off.

"Chris! Why not?"

"It would be better to get Raina chocolate, cookies, or brownies. Something edible. Just not cupcakes because she doesn't like them. Call them overrated. Trust me. She'd prefer to have food over flowers," informed Chris.

"Great. You choose something for Raina while I give Carly a call. Choose something good," Lisa ordered as she got up from the table and exited the kitchen. 

As Chris perused the website's items, he knew what to get Raina when he saw the object: a personalized gigantic caramel toffee fortune cookie. It was perfect. Not only was it giant, but it was dipped in decadent caramel with fatty toffee bits sprinkled on top and drizzled with dark chocolate. Raina would love it. 

"Ma! Come here and look at this! What do you think?"

Lisa entered the kitchen once again. She was still talking on the phone with Carly.

"Chris, whatever you get, Raina, it will be great."

"What should I put on the card since it is from all of us?" asked Chris with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"No. Just have it be from you. Scott and I already picked out a nice flower arrangement from the two of us for Raina," Lisa informed Chris nonchalantly and added, "Carly is wondering if you could watch the kids this weekend?"

Chris was amazed at his mother's crafty scheme. She had that way about her. 

"I'll text her that it isn't a problem, and I know what you are doing."

Lisa feigned an innocent look. "What are you talking about?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an exasperated sigh, Chris said, "Ma, it isn't like that with Raina, okay. We are just friends. Nothing more. We can't be anything more. It would ruin what we have already. Plus, we both don't necessarily want the same things. She has shared with me that she doesn't see herself having kids. I want kids, someday." 

Lisa put her hands up in mock defeat. She was not going to press Chris press about his hidden feelings for Raina. He was an adult, after all. However, as a mother, it was hard not to step in and help her children no matter what they were dealing with at the time. 

"Just be sure to write something heartfelt and sweet in the gift message," ordered Lisa and got up once again left the kitchen.

Now alone, Chris looked over the textbox space to put his message for Raina's gift. He typed and retyped what to write to her. Taking a deep breath, Chris let his inhibitions go and proceeded to write honestly about how he felt.

Raina,

You bring so much joy and love to my existence. I know it would not be the same If I did not have you in my life. You help keep me centered in this crazy world of ours, and I always know I can count on you if I need anything. I am so proud of you. Your determination, hard work, and motivation in achieving your dreams have always inspired me. Sometimes I wished you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would realize how special you are to me. I hope you know much. I appreciate and love you so much.

Love,

Chris

With the gift now ordered and soon to be on its way, there was no going back. 

"1, 2, 3, and 4! Turn! Kick leg up! Cross and dip!" shouted the choreographer and added, "Let's do it again from the top!"

Trying to catch her breath, Raina got back into position next to her co-star, Aaron Tveit. The two have been working on this project for the past three years. It amazed them both how everything started at a workshop lab, to a small theater production in Boston, to debut the show on Broadway. It was a dream come true for everyone involved. 

For Raina, it was a check-off on her list of career accomplishments. While Raina had been offered different roles for Broadway productions in the past, she never accepted the offers. She was either too busy promoting and touring for her albums. Or the parts offered merely did not appeal to her. Raina was cautious about particular projects and took her time in making decisions on which to pursue or decline. That would often lead to arguments with people at her record company or management as one or the other would tell Raina that she was not reaching her full potential as a star. But the Long Island native never wanted to be "famous for being famous." She was not the type to freely give out information about her private life to maintain relevancy with the press or fans. She wanted her work to speak for itself.  

A child prodigy gifted in music, Raina has set her sights on impacting the world through song. Her parents, George and Marie, often worried about the precocious little girl when she would hold herself up in her room for hours and hours a day practicing on her guitar or keyboard while jotting down lyrics.

When Raina was 14 years old, she was discovered by her first manager, Jerry Sullivan, at the annual New York State Fair. Jerry was taken aback by the young girl's mature voice as she sang Reba McEntire's classic hits, "Why Haven't I Heard from You" and "Fancy." He immediately introduced himself to Raina and her parents.

Although skeptical, both George and Marie agreed to a formal meeting with Jerry to discuss their daughter's future. After all, they did not want their only child to get screwed over by some conman. Thankfully, Jerry turned out to be legit and had been in the music industry for 20 years as an artists and repertoire (A&R) personnel at Columbia Records.

"Not many talented singers I have seen in all my years in the music have what Raina has. She has 'it' and could go far," said Jerry.

"Oh, I don't want to be famous," little Raina spoke up and continued, "I just want to make music."

Jerry just beamed with happiness, "That is a great answer, little one. You have your priorities. That is important in this industry. You don't ever want to lose sight of why you started in the first place."

"Trust me, I won't," replied Raina with a toothy smile.

Unfortunately, it was hard to remain authentic in the music industry. Too many times, someone would try to mold Raina into who they thought she should be. She never wanted to be placed in a box or confined to one style of music. All Raina ever wanted to be was Raina.

"1, 2, 3, and 4! Turn! Kick leg up! Cross and dip!" repeated the choreographer, "Great job, everyone. Let us take a ten-minute break. Raina and Aaron, they need another costume fitting."

"I swear, I am at a point where I could do the choreography in my sleep," Aaron joked as he walked with Raina to the fitting area.

Raina let out a chuckle, "Isn't that the truth."

With rehearsals finally coming to an end for the day, Raina gathered her belongings, said her goodbyes, and headed home. Thankfully, her Tribeca apartment was only 15 minutes away from the Al Hirschfeld Theatre. Frank, Raina's driver, greeted her as he opened the black Cadillac Escalade's back door.

"How were rehearsals today, Miss Raina?" 

"Not too bad," Raina shared with her driver, "I think once the show is finally open to the public, everything will be…a lot easier to handle."

"You're going to be great. The previews of the show went very well, as you mentioned," Frank reminded Raina and asked, "Who you got coming to see you on opening night? I'm taking my wife and youngest daughter to see it before she heads off to school in late August."

It was not uncommon for Frank and Raina to have an easy rapport with one another. Frank was a talker, while Raina was quieter and preferred to listen to his stories about growing up in Queens or his family that consisted of a loving wife and three daughters. Despite enjoying Frank's company, Raina knew that she still had to keep herself wary and not allow herself to be caught off guard. Sadly, her past experiences when allowing others into her world, both private and public, left her feeling burned. Raina learned how to be a master at changing the subject from herself to the other person prying into her personal life. 

"Aw! That is wonderful. Where is Alisha headed off to again? Cornell?" asked Raina while thinking, 'Hook line and sinker.'

"Brown University in Providence. Got a full academic scholarship."

"That's wonderful. At least your daughter won't be too far from home. I kind of wish I went to college but never had the time with everything else going on."

"Oh, come on now. I'd say you turned out well. Not everyone needs to go to college to be successful. With Alisha, she always had her sights on pursuing a career in archaeology. By attending Brown, she will have access to the best research and educators the country has to offer."

"Well, if she is anything like her father, then she's got the charms to take the world by storm."

When Frank finally reached the building of Raina's apartment, he proceeded to step out to open her door, but she stopped him and said, "I got it, Frank."

"You sure?" he questioned. 

"Yeah. Tell your wife and daughter I said 'hello.' Bye, Frank. See you tomorrow."

"Okay. Have a nice night, Raina."

Upon entering the apartment building, Raina was greeted by the concierge, Winston.

"Hi, Winston. How are you?" asked Raina to make polite conversation as she strode into the lobby.

"Very well, ma'am. Thank you for asking."

Raina cringed at being referred to as "ma'am" despite being two-decades younger than Winston; however, she knew he was only polite and professional. Stopping by to check her mail at the cluster of mailboxes, there was only advertisements and bills. Closing the mailbox with a loud sigh, Raina walked towards the elevator to head up to her penthouse apartment. 

The Tribeca apartment was such a great find as the penthouse had its own intimate and homey feel. The condo's main floor greeted guests with an open space kitchen-living room area with a fireplace and powder room. Floor-to-ceiling arched windows dominated the living room, allowing natural light to seep through in the morning and afternoon. Overall, it was ample space for when Raina wanted to entertain her close friends. She was able to accommodate overnight guest stays with two sky-lighted bedrooms with one main bathroom. One floor up was where the master suite was located with floor-to-ceiling French doors that led to a landscaped terrace that included a hot tub, outdoor kitchen, along with fantastic sunset and nighttime views of the Tribeca skyline. 

It was a place where Raina felt at home and safe from the prying eyes of the paparazzi or overzealous admirers. Thankfully, the majority of Raina's fans respected her privacy and knew the importance of boundaries.

Unfortunately, only Raina's name was associated with fellow celebrities that things could get out of hand and overrun with speculations. For instance, in the early years of her friendship with Chris, both fandoms speculated if they were more than friends. Whereas with the media, they were relentless in their prying for more information about the two stars. Luckily, it was a dilemma that the two friends worked hard to overcome. The bond that grew between Chris and Raina was not something either experienced with other people. It was unique in how relatively normal both felt around each other. There were no pretenses the friends had to follow or any egos getting in the way. 

Sad that the same could not have been applied to Raina's last relationship. The media scrutiny and the online abuse/harassment from the actor's fanbase became too much for Raina to handle that she eventually had to end the relationship prematurely. It was not something that she wanted to do as she cared for the man very much. He was sweet, charming, handsome, and treated Raina with respect. He became someone Raina could confide in outside of her inner circle. She was lucky to have met him at President Barack Obama's final White House Correspondents' Dinner back in April 2016. 

'What might have been? Where would my life be if I had stayed with Tom?' Raina often thought.

After taking a quick shower, Raina changed into baggy sweats and a fitted tank top. Stretching out on the couch, she searched through Netflix and selected season five of Schitt's Creek to watch. It was her go-to show that she liked to watch at the end of the day. The crazy antics of the Rose family always helped her relax and ease her anxious mind. 

"Oh, David Rose, you are a precious little bean, wrapped in uncertainty and apprehension about the world, aren't you? I connect with you on a spiritual level," Raina commented to herself.  

Chris was a bag of nerves ever since he ordered Raina that gift. It was not so much the gift that was causing him to have anxiety, but the message inside the present. 

He let it all out in that gift message and was mostly worried about what Raina would make of his words. For instance, would she read them and express the same sentiment, revealing that Chris's feelings were more profound than mere friends. However, what if Chris's words caused her to be upset and that she would not be able to return his feelings in fear of losing their friendship. 

'Or she just doesn't love you the way you might want her to,' thought Chris apprehensively.  

Now, Chris was beginning to worry that he might have overstepped his boundaries with Raina. 'Why did you have to go and develop deeper feelings for her. I knew our whole friends with benefits wasn't a good idea. 

Nothing good ever comes from that arrangement,' he scolded himself while taking Dodger out for a walk on his property. Chris hoped that the cool night air would help relieve the tension and worry he was feeling. It was either a walk or a cigarette, and he promised both his mother and Raina that he would no longer partake in the nasty habit. 

The dynamic of Chris and Raina's friendship was a unique one. She was one of the very few that Chris allowed in his world. Over the years, Raina had become acquainted with his close friends from Massachusetts and individual family members outside of his mother, father, brother, and sisters. It was not unusual for Raina to attend one of his Uncle Mike's campaign rallies. That always got the fans on social media talking and wondering if there was something more than friendship between the two. 

Chris and Raina's responses were always the same, "We are just friends." It was their go-to answer for years.

It was not until mid-2014 when they decided to add a new element to their friendship: sex. 

What started as a fun hookup turned into a full-fledged agreement. For Chris, it was liberating to be with someone sexually with no strings attached. For Raina, she felt safe and comfortable with Chris. There was genuine respect and trust the two had for one another that when sex added to the mix, it did not cause a lot of complications, surprisingly. They took the time to set guidelines and go over expectations that both could abide by and not ruin the aspect of their friendship. 

Their guidelines included:

Be transparent with one another as possible. Be open to compromises.

Be open to communicating with your partner.

Never be judgmental.

Be open about what is off-limits and what is acceptable. 

Conversations or decisions cannot be one-sided.

Make sure each partner is on the same page.

Check-in with one another. Ask each other about how things are going and how the individual is feeling about the arrangement.

Develop a PR strategy for when friends or family members ask questions about the status of your relationship.

Ground rules: staying over is optional, breakfast in the morning is acceptable, no booty calls as it demeans the overall friendship, and friend-dates are suitable.

Even when Chris was in a serious relationship with Minka or Jenny, he could revert to his non-sexual friendship with Raina. Chris never quite understood how Raina could adapt so quickly whenever he had a new romantic partner. He honestly would not know how he would react if Raina showed up one day with a boyfriend on her arm. 

'Liar! You'd flip your shit!' Chris thought, which he did when Raina was rumored to be dating fellow MCU actor Tom Hiddleston back in 2016. Both had been photographed together numerous times during outings and events.

'Six-months of Hell,' Chris bitterly referred that time. 

The crazy thing about that time is that Raina did not share anything with him about her relationship with Tom. She kept it all to herself even after they broke up. 

"Why does she keep that part of her life secret from me?" Chris asked himself as he walked up the steps on his front porch with Dodger following suit.

"Because it is none of your business how Raina's relationships go down," a voice spoke up, startling Chris.

"Holy shit, Scott! What the fuck are you doing out here?" yelled Chris as he stood in front of his little brother. 

Scott replied with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Just getting some fresh air and enjoying the sunset. What have you been up to?"

"Don't change the subject. Why do you automatically assume I am talking about Raina? For all you know, I could have been referring to Shanna," Chris retorted back defiantly as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the porch railing. 

However, Scott was not falling for what his brother was trying to sell. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Chris," Scott reprimanded and continued, "I know you and Raina have had a friend with benefits situation going on for the last five years. Of course, only when neither of you was in relationships with other people, that is."

"How the fuck did you know about that?" questioned Chris. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

"Well, I had my speculations, but your reaction just now confirmed everything. What the fuck were thinking. Nothing good comes out of a friend with benefits relationship. Hell, I could have told you that while also saving you the eventual heartbreak that will eventually happen. So again, I ask, what the fuck were you thinking?" 

Letting out a huge sigh, Chris moved to sit next to Scott on the porch swing. "I was thinking…that this is someone who I love and care about, you know. At first, the arrangement was, I don't want to say that it was just for fun. With Raina, it felt like a natural progression for our friendship. I don't know. I guess maybe…"

"You hoped that it could turn into something more down the road," Scott finished for his brother. 

"Yeah. I felt we were getting to that point, but Raina kept pulling back, you know. Like, she was too scared to move in that direction with me,' Chris confessed as he leaned back on the porch swing. 

Scott continued to stare at Chris as he contemplated what to say next. He felt terrible for his older brother and realized Chris's dilemma.

"I wish I could give you some sage advice, but honestly, I am at a loss on what you should do. Raina is special to you. To all of us. But, no one can deny that she has always had a little hold on your heart. The sad thing is that I don't think the poor thing fully understands the effect she has on you. All I can say is to tread carefully. Don't do anything rash," advised Scott and got up to go into the house.

'Too late.' Chris thought to himself. 

"Fuck it! I need a cigarette." 

[tiesandtea]

The London Suede Come To America (1995)

"Some days I wake up and I feel absolutely bullet proof," says Suede mainman Brett Anderson. "When I wrote 'So Young' I wanted a song that was like that... pure raging excitement."

By Michael Goldberg, Addicted To Noise (ATN), San Francisco. Archived here.

ATN was founded by Goldberg, who previously worked as an associate editor and senior writer for Rolling Stone, in 1994. It was one of the first online music magazine that offered audio samples and video interview clips with its editorial content. The first issue came out in December 1994. (x, x)

In the midst of a February/March club tour of America, ATN caught up with Anderson in Detroit for a frank chat about naked men in dog collars, the New British Invasion, the Sex Pistols, and his drug(s) of choice.

Suede leader Brett Anderson is a wisp of a man, who claims not to court controversy despite provocative album cover art and such lyrics as "I want the style of a woman, the kiss of a man." Yet he's caused plenty of controvery. Consider his comment to Details that he's "a bisexual man who's never had a homosexual experience." Sexual ambiguity sells, as has been clear since Elvis appeared on the scene some 40-plus years ago.

Suede bring Bowie's Ziggy Stardust sound (and androgyny) into the '90s. These Brits know how to make hits. "So Young," "The Drowners," "Metal Mickey," and "Animal Nitrate" were brash, infectious pop confections that begged to blast from car radios. They flew up the charts in Britain upon release.

Dog Man Star, the group's second album, is a song suite, an hour of metallic bang-a-gong rockers and ethereal ballads. Anderson can sing as trashy as the late Marc Bolan, but he can also hold his own crooning with the likes of George Michael or, going back some decades, Bing Crosby. And he's not afraid to go against convention­­in fact, he seems to relish it­­ freely admitting that he liked Kriss Kross records and just can't understand the popularity of grunge rockers Pearl Jam and neo-punks Green Day and the Offspring.

Anderson and bassist Mat Osman grew up in Haywards Heath, a bland suburb located 40 miles south of London ("Quite a horrible little place," Anderson told one reporter). His father took odd jobs; in recent years he's driven a taxi. His mother died of cancer in 1989. His father was a fan of Liszt, going so far as to name Anderson's sister Blandine, after the composer's daughter. He first heard both the Beatles and the Sex Pistols playing on his sister's phonograph.

Anderson felt like an outsider from as early as he can remember. And he always wanted to be a rock star. In fact, he says he assumed everyone wanted to be rock stars, and was flabbergasted the first time he met someone who didn't.

Away from the raucous punk and post punk scene of the late '70s and early '80s (he was 7 years old in 1977, the year of the Sex Pistols), Anderson romanticised being in a band, and dreamed. Ask him his influences and he doesn't hesitate: the Beatles, the Stones, Bowie, the Sex Pistols, the Smiths, "and punk bands like Crass."

In 1985, at age 15, Anderson strummed an acoustic guitar and sang on the street for spare change. He says he played in "hundreds" of bands [clearly an overstatement] but eventually landed in London with Osman. They placed an ad in the New Musical Express which brought them guitarist/songwriter Bernard Butler, and some time later replaced their drum machine with Simon Gilbert.

By April of 1992, before they'd even had a record released, Melody Maker put them on the cover, declaring, "The Best New Band In Britain." Funny thing is, they lived up to the hype.

And they've managed to survive their 15 minutes of fame. Anderson expects the group to record another album following spring and summer tours of Asia and Europe, then return to tour America in the winter. The album won't be released until next year.

In the midst of a February/March club tour of America, ATN caught up with Anderson in Detroit for a frank chat about naked men in dog collars, the New British Invasion, the Sex Pistols, and his drug(s) of choice.

Addicted To Noise: I found it interesting that "So Young," off your first album, was about that feeling of invincibilty experienced when one is "so young," a sentiment more recently expressed in the Oasis' hit "Live Forever."

Brett Anderson: "So Young" came from our first flush of success and the desire of everyone around you to kind of settle you down. The desire of people to almost build a rock star career, and to actually take all the joy out of it, the pure joy you get out of being in a band that people love. It was one of those songs that I wrote with an audience in mind. There's certain songs that you have to hear sung back at you. One of the things that I loved about "The Drowners" [their first UK hit], it was written as a quite personal thing but the way the song works best is when you've got 2000 people singing, "You're taking me over." I did have in my head the vision of 5000 people singing back to me with "So Young." I love that. It was supposed to be quite anthemic, it was supposed to be quite stupid. I didn't want to be turned into some kind of intelligent, literate pop star, you know what I mean?

ATN: Why not?

Anderson: I don't think there's any place for intelligence in music. I can't see the point. Music's instinctive and it's natural and it's dumb. It's real dumb.

ATN: What were you trying to communicate in that song?

Anderson: There's just a feeling of absolute invincibility that you get sometimes, especially if you've been in bands a long time and it's taking you a while to actually convince people. Some days I wake up and I feel absolutely bullet proof. I wanted a song that was like that. That was actually almost pure raging excitement.

ATN: The cover of your latest album, Dog Man Star, depicts a young man lying naked on a bed. Who is that?

Anderson: The picture is from a book of photographs I've had for a long time. It's actually the husband of the photographer who took it and it was taken the day after they split up. It's a beautiful picture. It's something I've had for a long time and we've never made a record that really fit it, and then we did. It was one of those things where I took it into the band and everyone went "Ah, that's the one."

ATN: Both album covers are controversial in their own way.

Anderson: They're not meant to be in the slightest. You should see the original of the Suede album. The picture we used is actually cropped. The original full picture, the woman on the right is naked in a wheelchair and the other one is kneeling to kiss her. It's a beautiful picture. And we got the right to use it. But one of the things we did was to phone up the two models in the picture to check if they were all right with it because it's an image that's going to be seen all over the world and one of them didn't want it used. Which is fair enough. It's a twenty year old picture, or whatever. But I just liked the mood of it so we cropped it. But it wasn't intended to be controversial. I mean one of the things people always say is it's so androgynous. Which is really weird, cause in the original you can tell it's two women. But anyone who is shocked by two women kissing in 1995 is a fucking half-wit.

"If we wanted to be controversial we'd have called the album I fucked dogs," says Anderson. "It's fucking easy to be controversial and difficult to be good."

ATN: Yeah, but that's what's so interesting particularly about America. I've lived in San Francisco all my life and in San Francisco, as you know, is a very sexually liberated city. But you go to Kansas, or some of these places you go through when you tour, and it's like the Stone Age.

Anderson: I know. America is definitely like three or four different countries. No, there was no intention to be controversial. I'm not really interested in being controversial. If we wanted to be controversial we'd have called the album I fucked dogs. It's fucking easy to be controversial and difficult to be good.

ATN: In putting two women kissing on the cover of that album, what did you want to say?

Anderson: Nothing. It's a beautiful image. I don't give a fuck about things like that, what people will think. One of the funny things about that is you had all these people phoning me up going, "Yeah, we think we're offended by your album cover but we're not sure. Cause we don't know what it is." Oh, well it's a man kissing a woman. "Oh." Only kidding, it's two women. "Oh, we're offended then." No, no I was joking. It's actually a man and a woman. "Oh we're not offended then." It's the same fucking picture. It's not for me to think about. I'm not going to think about it.

ATN: But you got that kind of reaction to the first one and then you put out Dog Man Star. You're saying you weren't courting controversy with that cover?

Anderson: Not in the slightest. It's because we come from Britain where no one gives a shit. Really. And to think that a semi-naked man is in any way controversial is one of the great horrors of this century. You should have seen the original fucking cover for Dog Man Star, man.

ATN: What was that like?

Anderson: It's from One Hundred and Twenty Days In Sodom . You know that film? Passolini?

ATN: I haven't seen that.

Anderson: It's fantastic. It was the naked man in a dog collar snarling at the camera. That was a fucking brilliant picture but we couldn't get the rights to that. So perhaps we should have gone with that and then I could be discussing controversy with you. I don't think it's a big deal. There are people who are professionally outraged nowadays . That's their job. But no one's actually outraged. They just think they ought to be.

ATN: It's a position they take.

Anderson: Right. It's my job to be outraged by a naked man. And it's the woman over there whose job it is to be outraged by a naked woman.

ATN: Do you think there's a New British Invasion really going on right now? Can it be compared to what happened with the original "British Invasion" in the '60s? And do you think that that's what's going to happen?

Anderson: No I don't think so. It's all very well for a bunch of people in the media to get excited about it, but a British invasion is when British bands start selling a lot of records in the States, and at the moment British bands aren't selling any records.

ATN: It seems to me that some of the bands haven't been getting the kind of shot that they should get over here.

Anderson: We've certainly felt like that. It's always been quite strange for us 'cause the records have kind of leapt out everywhere else, all over Europe and Japan. The records just sell more and more each time. But we've found that American radio is pretty hard going. And radio and MTV are pretty much what make you over here.

ATN: You're over here, you're touring. Are you feeling like there's any kind of change yet in the reception?

Anderson: Absolutely. It's probably different for us because we've got pretty much a hardcore cult following over here. So we've never had a problem in the US. It's always been very comfortable for us. We've always had a very good time here. Whether or not that translates into anything kind of mainstream, we'll have to see. There's definitely a different musical climate in England and a different musical climate in America. I don't think the bands have ever been less connected. And I think that's a real shame. I think all the great music in the world has been universal music. I'm not really interested in flying the flag for Britain. I don't give a shit, really. I'd like to make records that turn the world on. That everyone wanted. I think the whole thing is a bit of a red herring.

ATN: What are you saying?

Anderson: The whole idea of British Invasions and American renaissances. It does away with the concept of people just making good records.

ATN: There are some really great English bands right now. Suede, Oasis, Bush, Elastica...

Anderson: I think definitely the British music scene has fucking woken up a little bit and realized that you can't just sit around and make cool records for your mates. But I think there's a long ways to go. And things are still pretty divided between Britain and the US. There's no way you could hear a record and say, "I'm not sure which country that comes from." That's quite a shame, I think.

ATN: One problem is that people in America aren't really getting exposed to the new British rock & roll.

Anderson: That's the frustrating thing. I don't mind being hated. There's loads of places we go where people have heard us and they despise us. Yeah, it's really frustrating to know that people just haven't heard of you. And the real divisions in American radio. For a while I spent 24 hours a day listening to alternative radio. I think it's horrifying [the way bands are pigeonholed]. I think it's completely un-American. And I think it's a real problem for a lot of British bands, 'cause a lot of British bands fall between the genres. I mean I don't think of us as an alternative band and we'd sound pretty exotic on alternative radio. But then if you try to get us on Top 40 radio, they say we're too alternative. The problem is if you don't immediately fit into something quite comfortable. American radio has become more and more compartmentalized, which is a shame because it's a totally un-American attitude. One of the things that Americans have always been respected for is the breadth of what they're into. America has been the place where people like Black Sabbath and they like Portishead. I think it's quite sad that it's actually being carved up, kind of like demographic radio.

ATN: Dog Man Star seems more introspective, with a lot more ballads and slower material than the first album.

Anderson: A lot of changes between this album and the first one are just to do with having the time and the money to make the record that we always wanted to make. The first record is filled up with live tracks and things we've been playing for a couple of years. And when you're starting out you write big storming rockers that actually grab people's attention. You're desperate to be heard. Whereas this one we knew people were actually going to listen to it. It's a bit more subtle. We wanted to do something that you could really just lose yourself in, that you could dive into. And we wanted to actually make an album rather than a collection of singles. We sat and wrote it as an album. You know, we wrote the songs in one batch and all of the songs are like little cousins of each other. And it's supposed to be a whole album that you can actually live in and from the minute it turns on you just get swept away by it. There are a lot of changes of mood in it and a lot of changes of pace. Like one long song with an introduction, verses and choruses and even an outro.

Anderson: But I don't think it's more introspective. I think it's less introspective.

ATN: Really?

Anderson: Yeah, I think it takes on the world a bit more. I think the record takes the world on, whereas the first one was probably what was happening in our heads. This one lives in the real world.

ATN: Give me an example of that.

Anderson: Something like "We Are the Pigs" or "The Asphalt World." They're not about just what's going on in my head. They're about the people around me and the world about me and the city around me and the country around me.

ATN: Did you go somewhere to write the album?

Anderson: I did. I was living in a place called Highgate. It's a very strange place. It's a beautiful little bit of London. It's like the 14th century or something. It's got like a village green and people have rabbit hutches in their gardens and it's between two of the fucking roughest bits of London. I basically just shut myself in a bare white room for about three months and I didn't do anything but just sit and write. It's quite an inspiring place because it's very quiet and very calm but you're seconds away from real degradation and squalor. I find it quite inspiring. I need a bit of calm to write. I don't need calm in any other part of my life. But to write, I like to just sit back and let it wash over me.

ATN: Talk a bit about the lyrics on this album, and the songs.

Anderson: I think a lot of it is very blank. A lot blanker than the first one. For the first one, I used to sit down and actually slave over them and change words and did like 50 drafts. But a song like "The Asphalt World" is really simply written and it's written about kind of what I did during the day. I wanted to write something that was quite simple, that was just about me and the people around me. Things like that and "The 2 of Us" are almost like reflections on the day before. Whereas something like "Daddy's Speeding," that pretty much came to me in a dream. I had a dream that I was sent back in time to save James Dean from the car crash. We ended up getting loaded together and I didn't bother. I could have saved him.

"Still Life" came from living in that kind of place, being surrounded by housewives and incredibly bored people. It's one of the strange things that people think our lifestyle is always quite frenetic but it's actually pretty much like a housewife's a lot of the time. You know, 23 hours a day it's pure boredom. And I was trying to write a song that was about me and about them. I pottered down to the shops in the middle of the day and would see these incredibly bored people actually become almost completely disconnected from life.

Kind of like fading alcoholic housewives. And "We Are The Pigs" is probably about the division between those people and fucking two minutes down the road, people living in Archways and the way there's no connection between the two.

ATN: I want to get your opinion on some of the other English bands. What do you think of Oasis?

Anderson: I think they're all right. Yeah. I don't know their music very well but I think they're quite exciting, which is good for a English band. I think they sound pretty natural.

ATN: You've heard "Live Forever"?

Anderson: Yeah, I think it's all right. A lot of the bands that people always ask me about I'm not particularly interested in.

ATN: What do you listen to?

Anderson: I like Beatles and the Stones. I like a lot of modern stuff, dance music, soul, rap. I like people who can actually sing. That turns me on. I like Prince. I like a lot of rappers because they've got kind of a hypnotic quality to them. There's too many people who are kind of singing essay writers. I'm quite turned on by people who have the power in their voice, whether I agree with what they say or not. Perhaps Jim Morrison or Nick Cave, who have a bit of authority, who have a bit of power to them. It doesn't matter what they say, it's the way they say it that's quite important to me.

ATN: Any particular rappers.

Anderson: Oh, Snoop Doggy Dogg.

ATN: Yeah, he's great.

Anderson: The thing is I don't agree with anything he says but you have to listen to him. I like Kris Kross as well. And people like Coolio. And who does that "Regulate"?

ATN: Warren G.

Anderson: I like a really smooth sound, I like people who can really sing, you know? That's almost disappeared. A lot of modern singing, a lot of rock singing and soul singing, it's all technique, all showing off. It's wailing and howling and hitting the high notes. I like people who can whisper in your ear instead of shouting at you.

ATN: Initially there was a lot of talk about Suede in terms of sort of reviving the glam thing and the Bowie thing? What did you think about that?

Anderson: I never, never understood it. I have no idea what was going on. I've always hated glam rock. I thought it was appalling. I'm not really interested in fake music and it was very fake music. I was a bit horrified by it all.

ATN: Did the Bowie references make sense?

Anderson: Oh yeah. I'm a massive fan. It frustrates me when people go over the top about it, but I think he's great.

ATN: What music influenced you when you were young?

Anderson: I suppose the punk stuff. If we're talking about what turned me on to music, what made me pick up a guitar. It was kind of like Crass and people like that. I like Sex Pistols and stuff, but I come a bit late to it.

"Anyone who is shocked by two women kissing in 1995 is a fucking half-wit," says Anderson.

ATN: And who else?

Anderson: A lot of tough punk. Real annoying your parents music, mixed with that, stuff my sister listened to: Beatles and Stones and Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd. And then after that, I suppose when I was old enough to buy records, it was the music of the day: The Jam and the Specials and Japan and people like that, just stuff you heard on the radio, basically. My musical education is not a list of cool, cult artists I spent years trudging around record shops to find. It's stuff you hear on the radio when you're having a tea on a Sunday night. That's where my love of music comes from, big pop music.

ATN: When things first broke for Suede, how old were you?

Anderson: About 23.

ATN: How did you handle it?

Anderson: It was easy, it wasn't that much of a problem. It really isn't. You can imagine what it's like being incredibly famous. [laughs] You can! It's like any other life, but you get recognized more often. You just have to wash your hair a bit more often, you can't buy as much pornography.

ATN: Look at the Kurt Cobain situation.

Anderson: That's a very different thing. He was a lot more famous than I was, and to his credit, one of the things that really saddens me about that is he spent a lot of time saying he was deeply unhappy with success. And everyone thought it was an image. That's one of the things that's sad about fakes in music. They actually ruin it for anyone who is telling the truth. Because if it wasn't for the fact that here's generations of people who have thought it's cool to be tortured, perhaps people would have taken him a bit more seriously when he said he hated himself and that he hated what he was doing. I look at like Sinead O'Connor now. I read something she said and I feel horrified for her, really sorry for her, because she's saying that she can't handle it and she's having a terrible time. And everyone thinks it's a joke, everyone thinks it's her image. And that really saddens me and that's why I've always tried to be blatantly honest in interviews.

ATN: Why did you call this album Dog Man Star?

Anderson: Its just three of my favorite words, really. It's just something that a lot of the songs are about. Almost like the three stages of man, the three things you can be. I feel very dog-like at the moment.

ATN: Sort of like the animal state to whatever state we are in at the moment to a spiritually enlightened state?

Anderson: Perhaps not a spiritually enlightened state, but I've always been attracted to people who actually think of themselves as stars, people who actually treat life like a film or a book. I don't mean in the sense of people who are actually in the public eye. There's a lot of people who have sold 60 million records who you see 50 times a day who don't have the faintest star quality to them, and then there's a lot of people working gas stations, they just have that aura around them? They just make things happen out of everyday life.

ATN: In the first song on the album, you make reference to Winterland, you make reference to introducing the band, which I took you to be talking about the Band, you know, Robbie Robertson's The Band.

Anderson: [Laughs] No.

ATN: That's where they played when they played their first performance.

Anderson: I was thinking the Sex Pistols' final gig.

ATN: But that's pretty wild. I was at that show at Winterland, actually.

Anderson: You're kidding.

ATN: It was probably the greatest show that I ever saw.

Anderson: I was watching it just recently. I've got bits of it on video. It's something I've seen about a million times. That bit at the end. [Starts to deliver lyrics in a monotonal Johnny Rotten voice] "This is no fun/ No fun/ At all."

ATN: People were throwing money and all kinds of stuff onto the stage. Rotten was just picking the stuff up. And the audience was just the most bizarre audience. It was a mixture of people that were totally into the band and people who had come to see the freak show.

Anderson: Yeah totally. I've always been fascinated by them and by that gig and just the way they managed to compress everything into a year. Or in the case of that show, anything you could ever ask for a gig in three-quarters of an hour. I just love the idea of a final moment. Of a band just being in the present.

ATN: The thing was, though, when you were there, the music sounded so great and so powerful. Some people tended to say, oh, the Sex Pistols couldn't play that good...

Anderson: Oh they fucking rule! We were listening to the album last night on the bus. If you listen to it now, it just sounds like the greatest rock album in the world.

ATN: Never Mind the Bollocks . . .

Anderson: Yeah. It's so completely almost like year zero it's ridiculous. It's like listening to Chuck Berry.

ATN: Exactly.

Anderson: Or the Rolling Stones. It's just a fucking absolutely great melodic rock album. All the things that people say about them are absolutely untrue. There's only one criteria for musicianship, as far as I'm concerned, and that's whether you can get across what you're saying with your instrument and with your voice. I'm not interested in any kind of technique or anything like that. To me, a great musician is someone that you understand what they feel when they pick up a guitar and there's people who can do that with three chords and there's people who can play entire symphonies and have never moved a human soul.

ATN: All these guitar players who can play scales up the wazzoo, but so what?

Anderson: The real problem is, you've got someone like Sex Pistols, they come along and people mistake it. People think that the way they played was what was important, people actually think that if they can replicate the sound as raw or amateurish as that, that they'll somehow be as great as them. And it has nothing to do with that, it has nothing to do with the level of musicianship. It has to do with the fact that they actually send an electric shock through you. And there's people who do that with incredibly complicated music and there's people who do that with incredibly simple music.

ATN: How old were you when you were exposed to "God Save the Queen" and "Anarchy . . . ?"

Anderson: That's the strange thing. I was just really too young. It was '76 when that happened, which is 20 years ago now. I was about 9 or 10, so I wasn't a punk. I couldn't get to any punk gigs or anything. So we just got these ripples in the suburbs, this incredibly frustrating feeling 'cause you knew you were getting everything like second or third hand and you knew you were missing out. Luckily they were one of the few bands where the records were so fucking powerful that it didn't make any difference, you could actually plug into it. Half of my life I've kind of lived the pop dream, wanting to be in a band, and it comes from that, it comes from being cut off from it and just having these little bits of vinyl which were my only connection to it. It's not like nowadays where any kind of fucking two-bit thing makes it, you see it everywhere. It was in the news. I can remember for a few weeks where that was the news. You know what I mean, the Sex Pistols.

ATN: Was it the Sex Pistols or what was it that actually made you make the decision, OK, I want to do this?

Anderson: It's one of those things that's always seemed completely natural to me. It's almost the other way around. I can remember the first time I met someone who didn't want to be in a band. And I can remember thinking it was the most bizarre thing. I thought they were making it up. I just assumed that everyone wanted to be in a band and a lot of people settled for something else.

I guess that punk was really important just because the first time you pick up a guitar, you're not going to be able to play "Brown Sugar," but you are going to be able to play stuff like "Bodies" and "Submission." I used to be in a punk band called The Pigs. We played these kind of like bastardized Sex Pistols and Fall songs about the countryside. I mean they actually connected you to music.

One of the big problems of coming from the kind of place I come from is there's no history, there's no music, you can't imagine yourself as a pop star. You couldn't say, "I want to be in a band." There weren't any bands. There wasn't a local scene or anything. The nearest big town is Brighton and that's never produced anything. One of the things about the Smiths I loved when I was growing up was just the kind of obvious ordinariness of them and the fact that they were making beautiful, important music and they were just obviously kind of like the square kid in the back of the class.

ATN: Haywards Heath is where you grew up, right?

Anderson: Yes.

ATN: But that's 40 miles from London. That doesn't seem that far to me, but it sounds like it felt like it was a million miles away from anything cool.

Anderson: Oh yeah, completely. It's near enough, I used to go up to London when I was 15, 16, but kind of as a complete tourist. I used to wander around the streets with my mouth open. I didn't get to do anything. I just went to wander around and soak it all in. I think that's quite important to be cut off from it, because you keep your romantic view of it intact.

ATN: You romanticize it.

Anderson: People actually from London, they're a bunch of fucking, cynical old farts, they really are. They've all seen it all before, they've all been backstage. They've already seen the downside of it and we never really had that. We still kind of actually believed in the band. And I think a lot of big city people just don't. They don't believe in the power of music.

ATN: About how old were you when you had The Pigs?

Anderson: The Pigs. I guess I must have been about 15.

ATN: Was that your first band?

Anderson: I've had hundreds. Bedroom bands. I was in a band called Suave and the Elegant. They did kind of Beatles covers. None of us could play. Just farting around. And then, when I met Mat [Osman], it was the same thing, we couldn't play. We had a drum machine in the bedroom and we'd do these dreadful fucking songs.

ATN: How come you parted ways with guitarist/songwriter Bernard Butler?

Anderson: He just didn't really enjoy being in the band anymore. There was just no point having anyone in the band who doesn't think it's the greatest thing on earth, you know what I mean?

ATN: So basically he got bored with it or frustrated with it?

Anderson: I think he wanted to do everything himself. He's very musical and he just wanted to sit and play guitar and write songs. And if you want to be in a big band, you actually have to work at it. You have to be singer and musician and businessman and politician and interviewee and all these things at the same time.

ATN: Do you worry at all that not having his musical input is going to affect things like coming up with material?

Anderson: Not in the slightest. We're working a lot faster that we ever have done.

ATN: And you like the material as much?

Anderson: Yeah, certainly. I'm really excited about it. The thing is, I'm writing stuff on my own and I'm writing stuff with [new guitarist] Richard Oakes and I'm writing stuff with the band. Richard is vomiting stuff out.

ATN: What makes you mad?

Anderson: I guess absolute waste. Just the realms of crappy fucking records. Piles of dogshit. You could get rid of 95% of the records that were ever released and no one would be any the worse off. I'd like to see MTV close down for an hour and go, I'm sorry there's nothing good to put on. Or a music magazine saying, we're not coming next week because nothing happened.

ATN: It seems like there's always been this classic tension between the creative side­­someone trying to make great rock & roll­­and the record company's side, where it's a business trying to make money. And it's like they don't care whether it's the Sex Pistols or whether it's Journey.

Anderson: At the same time, it's very easy to just be purely musical and just sit at home all day and make beautiful records that no one hears. I can't get away from the fact that if we make a record now, because of record companies, 90% of the world's population can get a hold of it in a week and that's a fucking fantastic thing. That's technology being used in an incredible way. You can't knock it. If you're going to make a record to communicate to people, then you should make sure people fucking hear it. I think that's really important. I don't want to just sit home and say, we just write music for ourselves and if anyone else likes it, it's a bonus.

ATN: One of the reasons that there's so many crappy records is because the record companies don't know. They're trying to find something...

Anderson: They're doing a job. I'm very aware of that. Every single person you meet in the entire fucking rock-and-roll industry is doing their job and they're looking out for number one. It is a fucking industry and you've just to be completely aware of that. That's why you have to be quite a tight unit as a band because it's the four of you against the rest of the world. However much there's people around us who have our best interests at heart, at the end of the day we're the band and we know what's best. We have pretty much absolute control over Suede. We have more control than pretty much any band out there today.

ATN: Do you make the business decisions?

Anderson: Yeah. Everything follows from the records. Basically, when it comes to selling, we leave the record company to it. That's what they're there for. They're the salesmen. But we're one of the few bands where no one hears our record until we've finished it. And then we come out with a finished record, finished artwork. And we hand it over, we say these are going to be the singles, and we let them to the bits that I have no fucking interest in. Like marketing it.

ATN: When you handed a record over to them, have they ever come back to you and said, "Oh, we think you should do this or we think you should get that song remixed?"

Anderson: [laughs] They wouldn't fucking dare. I mean we listen to them. Every now and then the American record company will say, "I think this would make a great single in America." And we have listened to them in the past. But pretty much anything we actually care about, we do ourselves. No, no one's ever suggested that to us. No one's ever suggested remixing or anything like that. I think they know that it would be a terrible, terrible mistake.

ATN: You've toured America now, this is the third time?

Anderson: Yeah.

ATN: What do you think about this place, given that you've been here enough times that you have some sense of it?

Anderson: I love the place. I do love the place. There's a real openness to it that you don't get in lot in other countries.

ATN: What are some of the specific things that you like?

Anderson: I've had some of the best nights of my life kind of lost in strange American cities. Just being swept along. People are completely receptive to, I don't know, letting loose. Getting loaded and getting loose. Just because there's a kind of dumbness to the place. There is! Which I really like. Let's just see what happens, that kind of thing. England can be a very claustrophobic place, especially if you're vaguely well-known and I don't get that in America at all. I find the opportunities for getting yourself in trouble are vast here.

ATN: Can you be more specific?

Anderson: Not without perjuring myself at a later date. [laughs] I like the people here. I like the fact that people will actually try anything. And I like the way it's very fast moving. It really suits a band on tour. In Britain and Europe it takes kind of six months to get to know people so there's no point in meeting people. Whereas in America you meet people and they're like, "Hi, I'm Cindy, I was abused as a child and I'm a Gemini." And you're off, you know what I mean?

ATN: What's your goal for Suede?

Anderson: Just to make a string of absolutely great records. That was my goal for Suede when I was 12 years old. Doesn't change. One of the only things that doesn't change. To make just an absolute realm of fantastic records that people love.

ATN: Do you have aspirations of having the biggest band in the world?

Anderson: No. I want to be the best band in the world.

ATN: How did you come up with the name?

Anderson: It's just a beautiful, sensual word. It sounds really nice and looks really good. It's a sensual thing rather than intellectual. I've probably gone on many times about how Suede is the animal skin around a human body. But that all came later, when I was getting fucking [laughs] pretentious in interviews. It was just a sensuous, sensual word.

ATN: How did you feel about having to be the London Suede?

Anderson: It stank. I think it's shit.

ATN: What do you think of some of the American bands that have made it in recent years ranging from Pearl Jam to more recently, the Offspring and Green Day?

Anderson: I don't get it. I wish I did. I wish I could at least have understood it but didn't like it. But I just don't get it at all. I'm completely amused by it.

ATN: Are there any American bands that you do like?

Anderson: I like that Sheryl Crow record a lot. I like Perry Farrell, I think he's pretty cool. I like R.E.M.

ATN: You do?

Anderson: Yeah, I do like R.E.M. a lot.

ATN: What do you think of Monster?

Anderson: I think they got away with fucking murder.

ATN: Oh really?

Anderson: I understand it, though. I really understand it. It would be really easy to make another record like the last one and it's quite brave to make a record that you know is going to sell less. I don't think it's a particularly great album at all. I'd love to have been in the business long enough where people actually give you the benefit of the doubt whereas we're in the situation where people always assume the worst. We're always fighting for people to like our records. Whereas I think there are a few fucking statesmen in the world, like Paul fucking Weller in Britain, just because he's been around so long, if he makes a quarter of the way decent record, it's kind of like the second coming. Back to R.E.M., I just like the way they can be that big and that simple. I can't think of another band who've got that big and have actually used it to get simpler and more direct instead of turning into something enormous.

ATN: Speaking of the second coming, do you have anything to say about the Stone Roses' return after so many years of fucking 'round or whatever they were doing?

Anderson: Musically, it's great. They're probably some of the best musicians in Britain and they can actually fucking play. But one of the reasons I really liked the first album is I thought they actually had some songs. And I don't think they have on this one. But that's my personal taste. I like songs. And I don't think this is a very songy album.

ATN: How do drugs affect what you do?

Anderson: Apart from making me get up late for interviews, not very much. It's just something I do. It's not kind of a building brick in Suede, it's something I do personally.

ATN: Do you find it creatively stimulating?

Anderson: Very, very rarely. Not normally. When I wrote this album, I wasn't even drinking. I just locked myself in a white room for 14 hours a day. Pepped myself up with ginseng. Very occasionally I feel inspired by drugs, but not very often. And when we play live, it's funny, when we play live, none of us even have a beer before we go on. We played before 70,000 last year at a festival and we were the only people straight there.

ATN: So is it more a way of getting outside of yourself?

Anderson: I do it for exactly the same reasons that everyone else does. It's a good laugh. It makes me feel in different ways but that's no different from the reasons why millions of people who take drugs. I'd like to say it's some kind of creative elixir but to be honest, most drugs are incredibly uncreative. Cocaine is the least creative drug I can think of. Dope is fucking pointless. It's not a musical thing at all.

ATN: What's your drug of choice?

Anderson: What's the drug of choice? [laughs] I'll take anything, man. I don't really like slow drugs. I don't like drugs that slow you down. I don't like downers. I don't like anything that makes you fucking buzz off to a dream world. I like things that heighten....

ATN: In other words you don't like heroin.

Anderson: No, not particularly. I'm not really interested in dream drugs. I like things that light up your life, pep you up. Ginseng is my drug of choice. And Guinness. [laughs] Any drug that begins with "g," basically.

ATN: At certain points, do you sit back and say, this is amazing that I've been able to achieve what we have achieved?

Anderson: Regularly. Regularly I look in the mirror and say, I'm the luckiest man alive. Yeah, it hasn't lost its wonder for me at all. You can get worn away sometimes, but there's always the moment when you listen back to a track or the moment you play a great gig where you feel like Superman, actually feel like 500 feet tall.

ATN: In terms of the state of rock & roll right now, what's going on from your point of view?

Anderson: I think it's quite inspiring. I think it's quite inspiring in Britain and I think Americans seem quite inspired about the whole thing. I think Britain's producing some halfway decent records for once and I think people are actually astounded that Britain has risen and is beginning to get off its fucking ass. I think the American scene has totally been shook up by cheap bands and the fact that record companies are running around like headless chickens because money doesn't equal success anymore. I think that's great.

What I don't like at the moment is the kind of cult, alternative elements of it, the way everyone is playing to these tiny little demographic audiences and there's no kind of connection across any kind of cultures or even across a fucking big lake like the Atlantic.

ATN: When Elvis Presley died, Lester Banks wrote about Elvis and he said that Elvis was the last rock star that connected everybody.

Anderson: The really big problem is every band in the entire world is living in the shadows of the Beatles and there ain't going to be no more Beatles unfortunately because everyone knows too much and everyone has more access. So people can have music that completely fits them, and you end up with these bizarre musical sub-cultures that are just aimed at one percent of the population. And you never can have another Beatles and I find that incredibly sad. Because that is the blueprint, I think, for every band, for every decent band, to try and make records that turn the whole world on, records that anyone can connect with.

ATN: You really believe in the positive effect that a great rock-and-roll record can have on people.

Anderson: Certainly. Even if it's the most stupid record and it does nothing more for you than brighten up your day for four minutes when it comes on the car radio, it's still more powerful than the other art forms.

ATN: At its best, what do you think it can do?

Anderson: At its absolute best, I think it can totally empower people and totally make people feel like they're wearing a suit of armor and strengthen people and make people feel above the shit of the world. Even at its worst, it can be fucking great. I think a dumb-assed pop song, the dumbest of the dumb-assed pop song is probably more important than any fucking painting done since the war or any sculpture or anything like that.

ATN: Why do you feel that way?

Anderson: It affects people in a way that those things don't. It affects people in a totally natural, physical, emotional way. Not in an intellectual way. It's democratic. It's the only fucking democratic art form left. You can get it anywhere. One of the great things about music is it does belong to everyone and that great songs just come to live in the air. That's why I like the radio so much. That was my first introduction to music. Every now and then I turn it on and think, what a fantastic thing it is. Just that you can have these things all the time. You don't have to go to a fucking gallery, you don't have to pay anything. There just isn't any equivalent for any other art form and it's fucking cheap, music. It must be said. You can get yourself an original Suede for what, about $15?

ATN: Now, it seems like, in terms of a CD, it lasts for quite a long time.

Anderson: Oh, that's a typical fucking American attitude. They always want to know how long it lasts. It is. It's the only place I've ever been in the world where they come first and ask you at a gig, how long are you going to play? Who gives you a shit, you know what I mean?

ATN: I know what you mean. Like a shitty band could play for 3 hours, who cares and like 10 minutes of greatness....

Anderson: I saw The Jesus and Mary Chain when they played for 20 minutes and they were fucking incredible!

ATN: The first time they came to America they played at a little club called the I-Beam in San Francisco and it was amazing.

Anderson: I can just imagine in America someone going, "That was incredible, why don't you play longer?" People always want a fucking encore.

[the--blackdahlia]

5 Times

Title: 5 Times

Summary:  4 Times Motley Crue tried to kill themselves, and 1 time they did

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts. Language

1-Nikki

Seventeen years old. No money, no job, no family, no home. That’s exactly the way every kid wants to finish of their childhood, right? Being unloved, broke, and hungry, sitting on the curb outside of a bar and watching the drunks go by.

Frank Feranna, no, Nikki Sixx, would’ve done anything to not be in that situation right then.

He had a knife burning a hole in his pocket. He had cut his arm before. He still had the scar to prove it. How else was he supposed to get away from that mother of his? And he was not about to go back to it. But the only way he could see on getting out of his situation was at the sharp end of a switchblade knife. He pulled the item out of his pocket and stared at it. It almost seemed to glow under the flickering street lights. He closed his eyes, trying to find something in him that wanted to fight, wanted to live.

“Hey kid,” A voice called out from the entrance of the bar right behind Nikki. He turned to see a man standing there. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“I guess,” Nikki grumbled. The man took a step towards him.

“Jesus, you’re a fucking skeleton,” He looked Nikki up and down. “I tell you what. I need an extra hand. The Hollywood Vampires are here tonight and I’m a man down. You help me out, and I’ll let you eat whatever you want when they leave.”

“What?” Nikki asked, a little confused.

“Come on. You look like you could use a burger and I need help. What do you say?”

Nikki looked down at the knife and slid it back into his pocket before getting up and following the man into the Rainbow, where he spent the night serving the Hollywood Vampires and their guests, and eating until he couldn’t eat another bite.

2-Mick

What fucking good is a guitarist with ankylosing spondylitis? No fucking good, in Mick’s opinion. What was he going to do? Sit on a stool and strum while everyone else in his band got to run around and have fun? No fucking way. He wasn’t going to be some invalid.

But the depression that came with the diagnosis was starting to take a toll on him. He could already feel it slowly destroying him. And he honestly wanted to destroy himself before it had a chance to.

Vodka dulled the pain, but only for a little bit. Pills helped, but got the same results. He couldn’t handle the short term pain management anymore. It was starting to get so bad, he decided the best way to handle it was to do both at once. It would either kill him or help him, either he would take right then. He stared at the mound of pills in his hand and the bottle of clear liquid in his hand.

There was a knock at his bedroom door then. He cringed, thinking it was her, but a small voice accompanied the knock.

“Daddy?” Les’s voice could be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

Mick took a deep breath and deposited the pills back into the bottle before going to the door.

“Hey Les,” Mick crouched down in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Daddy, can you read me a story?” He held the book out to his dad, which caused a smile to spread on Mick’s face.

“Sure thing kid. Want to help me read to Stormy?” Les nodded excitedly and took Mick’s hand, going to his baby sister’s room to help daddy read to her like a good big brother.

3-Vince

He didn’t sleep. The nightmares of what he had done kept him awake. He had killed someone, injured two others. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Razzle’s mangled body, the twisted metal of the car, he could smell the booze, and it all made him so sick. So he didn’t sleep until his body physically wouldn’t let him go on anymore.

It all came to a head during Theater of Pain. Nikki and Tommy were two busy who could snort the most lines, and Mick was trying to pass off his vodka as water. No one seemed to notice how fake his smiles were, how tired he was. As long as he put on a good fucking show, who cared? The fans sure didn’t, Doc didn’t, the other people in the band didn’t. As long as he belted out the songs right, signed some autographs, and banged a few chicks, no one gave two shits about him.

That’s why he was sitting in his dressing room, staring at the wall. That’s why he was thinking about the ways that he could end it. Because he should’ve died that night. He was the one that was drinking and driving, and he was the only one who walked away from it. How the fuck did he get to live when Razzle died? Beth had left him and taken the kids with her. He had court appointed sobriety tests until his probation was up. And no one fucking cared. They all drank in front of him, smoked and snorted in front of him, and partied it up while he was having to stay sober and sing the same shitty songs over and over again. If it wasn’t for Home Sweet Home, the album would’ve blown hard core.

He held his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do? His marriage was over. His kids only saw him a couple times a month, and the band that he had once loved, he now hated. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, all because of his big fuck up.

“Yo, fucker, it’s time to go!” Tommy called out.

“Come out and play Vinnie!” Nikki’s voice echoed. He was sure that Mick was out there, shaking his head at the two idiots.

“Vince! Come on man let’s go!” Tommy hit the door. Vince sighed and shook his head before getting up and opening the door. “Bout fucking time dude! Let’s go!” Tommy and Nikki took off down the hallway. Mick snagged Vince’s arm.

“I know that look,” He told him. “I know what you’re going through.”

“I’m fine Mick. Promise.” Vince lied. Mick shook his head.

“You know where my dressing room and hotel room is every stop. Don’t go through this alone,” He squeezed Vince’s shoulder before walking after Tommy and Nikki, Vince following up the parade.

Maybe someone did care after all…

4-Tommy

He was twenty-three. At twenty-three, he should’ve been getting drunk, playing music, and having the time of his life. Not standing in a courthouse getting a marriage annulled. He thought all his relationships would end up like his parents did. A proposal within hours of knowing each other, two kids, and a loving, lasting relationship. His parents didn’t fight, they didn’t resent each other.

Why was he so broken that he couldn’t find that?

He honestly thought Eliane was going to be the one. He followed everything exactly how his dad did, yet here he was, just a couple short months after tying the knot with her, he was separating from her.

“Fuck!” Tommy screamed out before he started throwing everything in his hotel room that wasn’t bolted down. Mattress, TV, lamps. It all went as far as he could throw them. He felt like his world was coming to an end. Why had it come to this? Why couldn’t he just have a moment of happiness?

He sank to the floor, surrounded by his mess. He wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. He wanted to just disappear. If he already screwed up marriage by twenty-three, what was he supposed to do next in life?

“T-Bone!” Nikki called as he came through Tommy’s door before stopping dead in his tracks. “Dude, what the fuck happened in here?”

“Go away Nikki,” Tommy mumbled, pulling his legs to his chest.

“Shit, what’s wrong?” Nikki sat on the floor by Tommy. “Hey, it’s me we’re talking about. You can’t hide things from me, you know that, right?” He nudged him with his elbow.

“I’m divorced,” Tommy whispered. “I screwed up and I’m divorced.”

“I don’t think this marriage falling apart was all your fault man,” Nikki told him. “I mean, you guys only knew each other a week, right?”

“My parents only knew each other a day,” Tommy grumbled.

“And you’re not your parents dude,” Nikki stood up and pulled Tommy to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want…”

“No. We’re going out and that’s final.” Nikki stated before pulling Tommy to every strip club in town. By the end of the night, Tommy was feeling better. At least, a little bit. He leaned against Nikki as they stumbled back to their hotel.

“Hey Nik?” Tommy slurred.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever let me marry a pornstar again,” To which Nikki just laughed.

5-Motley Crue

White walls, large windows, support groups, therapy. It all fucking sucked. But it was needed. They had taken the role of the Bad Boys of Rock way too far, and it almost cost them. They needed this, despite what Vince said. This was the second time he had gone through it, and it wasn’t any better the second time around. He wouldn’t have gone through with it if Tommy didn’t have to be such a follower. Anything Nikki did, Tommy wanted to do. And Tommy convinced Mick, which left Vince. And he was not about to be the asshole who said no to rehab just because he didn’t want to.

But a couple months after they walked through the doors, bodies tired, hair greasy, and more drugs than blood in their system, they walked back out those doors, leaving behind a heroin addict, a cokehead, and two alcoholics in their wake.

They killed their old selves to start anew, and this was the first time, they all actually went through with it.

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[bo0zey]

Pick your favorite questions from the list.

i will do them all for u 0.o

1. Name cianna [see-ah-nah]

2. Nationality mexican irish german romanian hungarian french

3. Age 20

4. Birthday december 17, 1999

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign) sun: sagittarius; ascendant: leo; moon: aries

6. Gender female

7. Sexuality uhhhhhhhhhhhh idk but i will willingly kiss either gender

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself) /tagged/my-face or u could just google pictures of fat rats

9. What do you/did you study? I’m currently a sophomore nursing major!

10. What's your current job like?/What job would you like to have? I’m currently a microbiology TA and I love it :) My dream job would be something with animals, like a vet tech or veterinarian

11. Your birth order i’m the oldest!

12. How many siblings do you have? 2 younger brothers

13. Do you have good relations with your family? my mom was my best friend, my dad and i get along better now that i’m in college, my brothers and i get along pretty well & we’re staring to get closer now that they’re getting older n growing up n developing their own personalities lol

14. How many friends do you have? errrr idk this is a hard question. i have a lot of acquaintances but i’d say i have maybe like less than 10 real friends??

15. Your relationship status single :D

16. What do you look for in a SO? funny!!!!!!!!!must be humorous!!!!and sarcastic and a little weird w darker sense of humor so we can laugh n be dumb together!!!!!!! also i would like them to be kind to me and those around them bc mean ppl suck. also they have to like animals. also i would like them to be loyal and trustworthy and 110% in love w me. and for physical stuff idk kinda attractive but NOT CONVENTIONALLY ATTRACTIVE like i personally don't really like the typically ‘attractive’ person??? 

17. Do you have a crush? currently in love w the cute chinese boy who lives across from my dorm room even tho i have never even spoken to him n he is totally unaware of my existence!!!!!!!! hahah oops :D

18. When did you have your first kiss? i mean technically 3rd grade i think but that doesn't really count so like maybe 16????

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands? i mean in the long term i would definitely like to have a serious relationship but at the moment i’m only into casual stuff bc my heart isn't ready to be broken again sknfkjdbnkjd

20. What are your deal breakers? errrr i’m not sure....cheating is a no no, ppl that are interested in fucking every single person they see is a turn off, DUMB PEOPLE like ppl you can't even have a proper conversation with bc they're so DUMB, and ppl who r mean/judgmental/arrogant

21. How was your day? ok! accidentally slept thru my math class but caught a glimpse of my crush across campus when he was abt to smoke a cig and i got chipotle n i online shopped a ton from shein

22. Favourite food & drink deep dish spinach pizza from giordano’s & orange vitamin water

23. What position do you sleep in? i fall asleep on my left side hugging a body pillow

24. What was your last dream about? ate a braid of hair and inside the braid was bacon

25. Your fears not going to make it thru nursing school, not being financially stable as an adult, not having a family of my own, probably more but those r currently top 3

26. Your dreams i don't have any idk....maybe having like a house of my own and having as many animals as i want?? and i would like a loving partner with a daughter of our own

27. Your goals survive nursing school and lose 40 pounds and don't die before my cat

28. Any pets? i have a dog named cherry Cola, a cat named Leto, and a betta fish named Perc

29. What are your hobbies? writing stories about people in love, listening to music

30. Any cool places in your area? in my college town??? NO it sucks. in my hometown??? Not really it’s a small lil village with only restaurants and parks. but at home i’m near downtown chicago so that’s cool i guess

31. What was your last awkward situation? the first thing that comes to mind is my FIRST and so far ONLY encounter with my crush. we live in the same dorm building and i was wearing my nursing scrubs and had no make up on and about to go upstairs to my dorm, and then i heard footsteps and i was like ‘hahaha what if its my crush’ AND THEN HE FUCKIGJNG appeared from down the hallway to go back to HIS DORM [which is RIGHT ACROSS FROM MINE] and i literally STARED at him, then threw open the door and RAN UP THE STAIRS LIKE I LITERALLY DIDNT EVEN HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR ME AND HE WAS LIKE SO CLOSE BEHIND ME I WAS JUST SO NERVOUS MY FLIGHT OR FIGHT RESPONSE TOOK OVER AND I FUCKING FLED I LITERALLY RAN AWAY FROM HIM I AHTE MYSELF SO MUCH IM SUCH AN IDIOT!!!!!!!!!

32. What is your last regret? errrrr idk i regret a lot of dumb things.......

33. Language/s you can speak English n a LITTLE bit of Spanish

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.) i’m really into zodiac stuff and i have got to say they are pretty spot on in accuracy idk

35. Have any quirks? ummmm ofc!!i am the quirkiest person i know hajnjfxbkjx like if u asked my roommates/friends they’d probably be better at answering this than me bc i don't see anything abt me as quirky but they always tell me i am quirky and do weird things but idk man I'm just existing 

36. Your pet peeves err idk currently its ppl that constantly brag about dumb shit

37. Ideal vacation somewhere warm with me + the ocean + the loml + unlimited alcohol

38. Any scars? yeah :D both emotional AND physical!!!!

39. What does your last text message say? ‘ok thats a more than fair statement’

40. Last 5 things from your search history how many carbs should i eat, chipotle bowl calories, is the grim reaper the angel of death, ceftriaxone adverse effects, red man syndrome

41. What's your [device] background? lockscreen is a peach-theme background i made and home screen is my weight loss goals

42. What do you daydream about? the characters in my stories.................and being skinny 

43. Describe your dream home pretty brick house??? flowers outside??? 3 floors--main floor, basement and upstairs??? 3 bedrooms n 3 bathrooms maybe??? master bedroom has its own bathroom!!! and open concept main floor. big kitchen and very homey n warm all around. as for like an apartment i want something cozy and aesthetically pleasing and warm 

44. What's your religion/Your thought about religion i don't have a religion but if ppl do have a religion then thats not my business

45. Your personality type entj but only bc i got 3% extraverted; i am very closely related to intj tho n i think i fit that one better

46. The most dangerous thing you've done uhhhhhh probably operating a vehicle while high out of my mind. definitely the dumbest thing i ever did 0/10 would recommend anyone ever doing that

47. Are you happy with your current life? its ok but it could probably be better. i want to be done w college and skip to the part where i have a successful career and my own home and i can lay up w the loml every night

48. Some things you've tried in your life alcohol???weed??gummy edibles....

49. What does your wardrobe consist of? sweaters/sweatshirts/leggings

50. Favourite colour to wear? black, maroon, peach, purple, gray, idk

51. How would you describe your style? oh jeez idk i wear whatever i want so like e-girl when i really try and basic white girl when i don't care

52. Are you happy with your current looks? no i hate everything about myself lol

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be? more freckles on my face....also be thinner n have longer hair

54. Any tattoos or piercings? my nose and septum are pierced!

55. Do you get complimented often? kinda by my friends but i always yell at them to stop so they don't compliment like as much bc they know i hate it but they still do it sometimes idk

56. Favourite aesthetic? i wanna be an e-girl yo!!!!!!!!! 

57. A popular trend that you dislike nobody has a crush on me and i hate it

58. Songs you're currently obsessed with? pied piper by BTS

59. Song you normally wouldn't admit you like. anything by BTS lol i used to like be embarrassed for how much i like k pop but now i don't really care lol #stanBTS2020

60. Favourite genre? rap/r n b/alternative

61. Favourite artist/band/genre? i listen to every genre except country sooooooo yeah i really like billie eilish, BTS, the weeknd, juicewrld, lil nas x, trippie red, post malone,

62. Hated popular songs/artists? i don't rlly like selena gomez or justin bieber or taylor swift

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5 only - RY X i.f.l.y. - Bazzi novacane - frank ocean jungle - drake bang! - trippie redd

64. Can you sing or play any instruments? no and no

65. Do you like karaoke? no but i like to sing along to songs when I'm alone

66. Own any albums? haha noooo i got apple music son

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations? errr RARELY i used to listen to r n b stations tho

68. Favourite movie/series? idk donnie darko?? i also just finished tharntype n that was really good. also i liked tokyo ghoul. AND GIVEN IS REALLY GOOD

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc i like horror/scary/paranormal/funny movies and i like love stories in books

70. Your fictional crush/es danny phantom, ken kaneki

71. Which fictional character is you? uhhhh idk...

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so frerard, ryden, taekook, mewgulf

73. Favourite greek god? idk they all kinda suck but maybe hades

74. A legend from where you live that you like i don't really know any:(

75. Do you like art? What's your favourite work or artist? i like to look at art! i think van gogh is cool

76. Can you share your other social media? ig: ciannnna venmo: ciannnna

77. Favourite youtubers? i don't really watch youtubers but maybe shane dawson and emma chamberlain

78. Favourite platform? twitter

79. How much time do you spend on the internet? too much time

80. What video games have you played? Which one's your favourite? i once played GTA5 that was fun!

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts) idk i don't really read anymore:/ i was into the hunger games and the twilight series when i was young. now i kinda read online manga and i really liked BJ Alex and killing stalking. and like for online books the unholyverse series, a splitting of the mind, the anatomy of a fall

82. Do you play board/card games? no but i like to play checkers and uno and cards against humanity

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema? nopee

84. Favourite holiday halloween is cool also christmas is alright bc gifts

85. Are you into dramas? i’ve been getting into thai boys love dramas lol sue me

86. Would you use death note, if you had one? um YES.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to? everyone needs to be a little kinder and have a crush on me

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse? absolutely not I'm not physically fit and don't have useful skills

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be? vampire duh [or maybe ghost]

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death? i want to see my mom

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick? idk something cool ... i love the name Daisy

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week? idk probably kylie jenner

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo idk the alien? 94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true -im very productive with my time management skills -my favorite color is purple -i don't get nervous when I'm alone in public

95. Cold or hot? cold

96. Be a hero or be a villain? anti-hero

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme? sing if i’m good at it but if I'm not good then rhyme

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time? shapeshifting

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?immortal

100. ..... or .....? ......?

[kimmyiewrites]

Wasted ~ Chpt 5

Catch Up      Masterlist

AN: So this is the half way mark for this fic! I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far and I can’t wait to see what you think. Much love!

Ryn had forgotten all about Diane’s first boyfriend. Once he was mentioned during Evelyn’s testimony all the memories from that time came flooding back. She and Frank were 19 when Diane was 17. Of course the younger girl was taking far more advanced math classes than the two college attending friends.

She smiled fondly at the memory of Diane calling to gush about the boy she had a crush on. Frank and Ryn were home on winter break when the Vermont incident happened. Of course the pair knew what Diane was going to do, even encouraged it.

A year later, Diane did in fact thank Evelyn for doing what she did. Ryn had just been broken up with by her boyfriend. The younger woman had walked into her brother’s room to see why she heard someone crying. Ryn had been in Frank’s arms, sobbing into his chest as he rocked her. Frank waved his sister over, grateful for any help he could get to console his best friend. Soon the younger Adler was telling the woman who had become so much like a sister to her that the boy who broke her heart was stupid. When Frank drove Ryn back home, Diane had sought out Evelyn and thanked her for saving her from that kind of heartbreak.

After Evelyn’s testimony, Ryn had high hopes for the case and it seemed Frank did as well. For dinner that night, Frank, Ryn, Roberta, and Mary went out to the local bar. Ever since they hashed some things out, Frank and Ryn stopped tiptoeing around each other. She had yet to join him in bed but he would gladly take the cuddling while they were watching TV.

This of course made Mary very happy but she still wanted to make sure that Ryn would stay after all of this was over. When Mary had brought her dilema to Roberta, the older woman easily agreed to help. She too had noticed the shift between the two. While she loved the young girl like her own, she’d much prefer Mary to have a more stable mother figure in her life. That would also mean getting Frank to stop hiding away. So they decided that the two just needed to spend time together and then they would realize that no one had to go anywhere.

Mary started their plan by making a big deal about who she wanted to sit next to. She began by going over the pros and cons of each before finally deciding she would sit between Ryn and Roberta. Instead of just switching seats with Roberta, Mary took the empty chair and dragged it over so Ryn could sit closer to Frank.

“She’s really got quite the personality, doesn’t she?” Ryn leaned over and whispered to Frank.

He chuckled and nodded. “Oh you have no idea.”

Mary and Roberta smiled at the small interaction.

After they had finished their meal, the three adults watched as Mary helped a waitress fill the center pieces. “You know, it’s been awhile since Mary’s slept over, why don’t I take her home? Give you two some actual time to catch up?” Roberta mentioned, going into phase two of their plan for the evening.

“Oh, Roberta, you don’t have to. We’re fine, really.” Frank tried to decline.

“This isn’t because of the Bonnie thing is it?”

Ryn turned to Frank and raised an eyebrow. “Bonnie thing?”

Frank sighed and gave Roberta a now look what you’ve done look. “Roberta watches Mary on Friday nights so I can have some alone time. Sometimes that involves bringing a girl back to the apartment. Mary came over in search of a movie when Bonnie was leaving.”

“Bonnie? As in Mary’s teacher, Bonnie?”

Frank nodded, not really liking the slight judging look coming from Ryn. “It wasn’t one of my best moments.”

Ryn then stood, something neither of them were expecting. “Excuse me.” She said before heading outside.

Mary had noticed and hurried over with concern written all over her face. “Is Aunt Ryn okay?”

Frank sighed and nodded. “Yeah, she is. Inspiration must have struck.” He didn’t like that he lied to her but he really didn’t know the answer himself. “How’d you like to spend the night with Roberta?”

Mary grinned. “Yeah!”

Frank kissed Mary on the head as he stood. “Then we’ll see you tomorrow. I’m gonna go check on Aunt Ryn.”

She gave him a quick hug before he went out to his truck, which is where he assumed Ryn would be. Roberta and Mary high fived before gathering their things.

“So, what happened back there?” Frank asked as he approached Ryn. She was leaning against the bed of his truck, holding herself up by gripping the side.

Ryn sighed and looked over at her best friend. “We had one rule, Frank and the first night I was here you tried to break it.”

His brows furrowed in confusion before he realized what rule she was referencing. “It was just a drunken one night stand. I’m not seeing anyone.”

She didn’t believe him. It was written all over her face. “Then why is she around so much?” The curly haired school teacher either stopped by to see how the trial was going, called for an update, or watched Mary when Roberta couldn’t. Not to mention she had been at the courthouse that day.

“Because she’s a friend and cares about Mary even if she kick started this whole mess.”

“Wait, she’s the reason Evelyn is fighting for custody?”

Frank nodded. “She was doing what she thought was right as an educator. She’s already apologized.”

“And you’re sure there’s nothing going on?”

Frank sighed, and leaned against the truck, next to her. “Yes, I’m sure nothing is going on. We decided it would be too weird with her being Mary’s teacher and all. Now get in the truck. Roberta’s on Mary duty.”

Once they got back to Frank’s apartment, they changed into pajamas and settled in on the couch to catch up on one of the shows they watched but Mary wasn’t allowed to see. When the episode finished, Frank went into the kitchen to get them something to drink. Ryn went over to the crate of cds. She grinned seeing the album that played as the soundtrack to most of their friendship.

She soon put it into the stereo and began to dance around the living room. Frank returned after hearing the opening chords. Before he could even get a word in, Ryn grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her to join in the dancing.

As soon as he started dancing, Ryn let go. They spun around each other, jumped as they sang along at the tops of their lungs, and shimmied about. Soon the upbeat melodies turned to a slow ballad. Frank took Ryn’s hand this time, spinning her into his arms. She looked up at him with wide eyes but he just smiled down at her as they swayed together.

Ryn shuffled closer as the song continued to play until she rested her head against his shoulder. At the feel of his cheek against her head, she closed her eyes, a small smile playing at her lips. “I missed you so much.” She whispered.

“I missed you too, Ryn. I’m sorry I was such an idiot.”

She squeezed his hand before pulling back just enough to look up at him. “You’re off the hook.”

“Oh, thank god.” He grinned down at her. “I was wondering how much longer I was going to have to grovel.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling away as the song had ended. “I’m not that mean.”

Frank chuckled, trying not to focus on how much he missed having her in his arms. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure some students of yours might disagree.”

She gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “You helped defend me against those students.”

He nodded, smirking. “I sure did and you still wound up creating your own studio.”

“I would much rather have a choice in my students instead of having frat boys take my intro class because they think they can get me in their bed.”

Once more he nodded, not really able to argue with that especially since he always hated when he would stop by her classroom and see a group of boys essentially throwing themselves at her. “I did always enjoy crushing their dreams when I would come to visit.” He chuckled at the memories of laying a passionate kiss on her right in front of them.

Ryn laughed, shaking her head as she walked into his bedroom to get ready for bed. When she came out of the bathroom, Frank was already in bed. She kept looking at the door and his bed, trying to decide what to do.

“Just because you stay in here with me doesn’t mean we have to do anything. We’ve shared a bed plenty of times before and just slept.” He spoke up, not even looking up from the book he was reading.

“Won’t it hurt more, though?” She asked, voice soft.

That made him look up. “What do you mean?”

Ryn took a deep breath. “If I get into that bed with you, I’m afraid things will truly begin to feel like they did before and it’s going to make saying goodbye at the end of this even harder.”

Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It could, yeah, but either way, saying goodbye to you is going to be hard. Even if I’m going to be sure to call you more or bring Mary for a visit. I’ve been thinking about holding you in my arms while we sleep the moment you stepped into this apartment. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. So if you’d rather sleep with Fred, feel free but the right side of my bed is always open for you.”

She bit her lip and nodded, fully planning on walking out to Mary’s bed. As she got to the door, she turned to wish him a good night. Their eyes locked, he had been watching her leave, and all her resolve broke. “Fred deserves the whole bed for the evening.” She said as she climbed into bed.

She snuggled down into the covers, turning her back to the light. “Good night, Frank.”

He just smiled, taking the sight of her beside him in, before turning back to his book. “Good night, Ryn.”