#shes got that trademark the drummer smirk i had to. i had to.

[toffins]

its her. a snarky smug bisexual...

[swiss-cheeze]

The mess you Made (The Dirt!Mick Mars x reader)

Gif is from the internet so creds to who posted it first

Warnings: a lap dance, drugs, alcohol, idk honestly

—

Touring with Mötley Crüe was great and all, drugs, girls, drinks, shows, sweat all of that came with it and that’s what gave you the chills. You and your band where the opening act for Mötley Crüe, The Jewels. Each of your members had their own nickname based on a jewel; Jackson was your bassist and was dubbed Emerald (Em for short because everyone loves to tease him with that), Kyle was the singer and was dubbed Opal (Opy for short) and your guitarist was Mimi, she was what people would stereotype as ‘nerdy’ AND ‘girly’ which dubbed her as a crystal. You? You where the drummer, eccentric, flamboyant, shit for brains; you name it. You got it. So you were named Ruby.

Much like Tommy you were extremely open and pretty out there but you also had the personality as Nikki AND Vince, you were a boy magnet to almost everyone in the crowd and then the girls; you’d have wild fuck sessions back in your dressing room, it was great. Whenever you’re part of the show ended your trademark would be to get up on your drum set, pick up the top you were wearing and flash the crowd for a glorious 7 seconds (exactly) before hopping down and running off stage. The crowd would be pumped after that, giving Mötley Crüe the thrill they needed. After shows you always chose a few people (boys, girls, both) to come back and to have a good time with, they always left with a large grin and a flutter either in their eyes or their legs.

This time though was the after-party, and your gig before Mötley Crüe was a rough one, everyone missed some sort of cue at least three times and then some, lights and sounds kept cutting in and out and nothing was going right and it wasn’t until the venue owners said they were bringing people in did things start working again. The gig went fine it was just the rehearsal was just one that pissed you off for the rest of the day.

“Oi (Y/N/N), go find a girl and fuck her brains out; you’re seriously worrying us right now” Vince said leaning over Tommy to get a better look at you. The after-party was going fine and ¾ of Mötley Crüe where already high as a kite and it was only 1 in the morning.

“Shut it Neil, I’m not in the fucking mood” you muttered softly. Currently you were stationed in the middle of the boys, Tommy to your right accompanied by Vince while Nikki and then Mick sat on your left. The after party had graduated from the table they got blowjobs at to their shared apartment, you know the one; where everyone has to climb in through the window? Yeah. That one.

“Oh come on (Y/n), rehearsal wasn’t that bad. You still flashed the crowd in the end so you must’ve still been good” Nikki said from your left, you turned to face him but the bassist was already started to make a new line, you just rolled your eyes at his antics.

“I flashed everyone because that’s my job as well as my trademark asshole” you said kicking the table slightly making the drinks on top to shake and almost fall. Tommy was quick to wrap an arm over your shoulders and bring you into his side.

“Leave the girl alone, she’ll wake up tomorrow feeling as good as a fresh dandelion” Tommy said with a grin, (Y/n) rolled her eyes but let a smile crack but covered it by taking a long sip from your beer bottle.

“I saw that smile (Y/n) you can’t cover that shit from us!” Vince said suddenly pointing at you, you just shook your head but let the smile come through.

“Shut it cover band” you said kicking his foot the best you could, “not everyone like to be called daddy like you” you said with a wink as the boys cackled.

“VINCE HAS A DADDY KINK!?” Tommy yelled before giving Vince a noggie, Nikki smirked and Mick cracked a smile as Vince glared at you and you smirked already knowing his question.

“Heard you asking a girl to scream it to you last night, continues DADDY was coming through the walls I honestly don’t know how the others didn’t wake up from it, you’d think being her daddy you’d actually shut the bitches trap with either your cock or your fingers or even your mouth. Vince got NO respect for others” you said with a large grin making Tommy and Nikki crack up again, Vince looked away with a scowl as some red started to crawl from his neck to his face.

“Look at you dishing out all the shade today (Y/N/N)!” Tommy said with a grin as the drummer slapped your shoulder, you only rolled your eyes before getting up.

“I’m gonna go find the other ‘gems’” you said with quotation marks referring to the rest of your band before stalking off to the other side of the room while Tommy and the others discussed what could happen at the next gig. On the other side of the room you quickly bent down and dragged your nose over a line as your bandmates cheered behind you; you cheered too when you came up and sniffed with a large grin. Jackson came up from behind you and slung an arm around your shoulders and laughed loudly as did Kyle but you quickly looked around Mimi.

“If you’re looking for our nerd she’s right over there” Jackson said into your ear as he pointed to a corner in the kitchen with his beer. Mimi was having the time of her life with a broad brunette who was also having the time of their life copping a feel. You whooped and hollered in Mimi’s direction but neither caught on which sent you, Kyle and Jackson into a fit of laughs and giggles. You quickly gasped and squealed as an idea popped into your head.

“WHAT WHAT WHAT” Kyle yelled with a laugh watching you bounce around.

“BAND OFF AGAINST THE CRÜE” you quickly yelled, “ME AGAINST TOMMY, EMERALD AGAINST NIKKI, YOU OPY AGAINST VINCE AND CRYSTAL OVER THERE AGAINST MICK” you yelled, both the boy’s eyes widened and a new spark ignited in their souls; they were quick to agree as you quickly made your way to the other band. Tommy was situated between a girls thighs as the other three looked on.

“GUYS ITS COMING WATCH IT” Tommy yelled before the girl screamed and a Jetstream of cum squirted out of her; Tommy fell back against Mick as Nikki and Vince gasped and hollered holding each other back. You were quick to laugh loudly and clap Tommy on the shoulder as the girl came down from her high and Tommy stood up properly.

“I got a GREAT IDEA” you yelled the last two words into Tommy’s ear who only laughed and egged you on.

“So, WHAT IS IT” he yelled back which made you tweak your ear with a chuckle, you looked to the rest of the Crüe before smirking.

“BAND OFF AGAINST EACH OTHER, WE PLAY THE SAME SONG, ADD OUR OWN TWISTS AND SEE WHAT THE CROWD LIKES THE BEST” you yelled to the boys as you clung to Tommy who was the only thing supporting your weight as Kyle and Jackson glomped both Vince and Nikki under their arms. Vince looked to Nikki who in turn looked to Tommy who looked to Mick, Mick only shrugged.

“Don’t look at me, I’m the one that’s slowly going crippled” he said with a swig of his drink, the rest of the band whooped and hollered as they started planning out what song to do and what would happen.

As the night went on everyone did their part in getting off their own ways before leaving through the sacred window back to their respective homes; not including you and the other band members of course. No you and the accompanying seven people (eight including you) sat around and ended up playing a few shit rounds of twister and spin the bottle on the floor.

“MIMI! You are here-by dared to make out! With!” Nikki started before looking around the group before his eyes landed on you, “(Y/n)!” Nikki slurred with a large grin while pointing at you. Mimi looked at you with a large grin, the girl was high and drunk off both her balls and then some so of course she had to self-control.

“You got it Sixx!” Mimi yelled before she quickly clambered to a standing position and walked over to you, she sat on her knees before cupping your jaw and smashing her mouth into yours, the kiss was messy and sloppy no thanks to both of your brains being high and drunk but the others hollered and whooped while the two of you made out for a few seconds more before parting, panting while a small stream of saliva connected you two before breaking and dribbling from your plump bottom lip to you chin. Biting your lip you grinned before laughing. Mimi sat down next to you as she quickly spun the bottle. Looking around the group everyone went back to looking at the bottle but Mick, his eyes stayed trained on yours before quickly looking away with a swig of his vodka. The bottle ended up landing on Vince, Mimi hummed for a second.

“Truth or dare mister Neil” Mimi asked, Vince shrugged.

“Dare!” he said quickly.

“I dare you to run around the halls butt naked!” Mimi yelled with a cackle, everyone doing the same. You only scoffed and took a swig of your beer; such a mediocre dare.

“Never thought of you as the dry darer Mimi” you muttered under your breath. The girl turned to you and smirked.

“Alright then, Vince you’re free from your dare!” Mimi said with a wave of her hand and her slurred words, Vince visibly sighed as the girl turned to you and pointed at you, “You, miss ever so perfect Ruby, are going tooooooo” Mimi said drawing out the last word before a light ignited in her eyes.

“Oh god I know that look” you muttered with putting your head in your hands.

“MISS (Y/N) RUBY WHATEVR THE FUCK” Mimi yelled making everyone shush, “ARE HERE BY DARED!” the girl stood up and pointed down at you, “to give the old man a boner with a lap dance, OR, strip tease” Mimi said with a smirk; her voice lowered to add even more dramatic flair. Nikki laughed loudly as Tommy clapped Mick on the shoulder, Kyle and Jackson bent over each other as they laughed together and Vince smirked.

“I’m just glad I aint in your place honey” Vince said looking at you with a wink but sipping his beer. You groaned.

“Alright old man, get your crummy ass up and let’s do this” you said with a sigh, Mick looked slightly taken aback by your sudden interest.

“You cannot do it in a room, we won’t know if you’ve done the dare or not” Mimi said with a grin turning to the group on the floor, “will we boys?”

“NO WAY” Nikki yelled joined soon by Tommy and Kyle and Vince and the rest. You sighed loudly.

“You’re really cruising for a bruising here babe” you said looking at Mimi as the girl soon sat down in between Nikki and Tommy, “do I at least get to choose the music?” you asked, Mimi thought for a second before smirking.

“Mick can be the ever so gentleman and choose the music” she said with a grin as she stretched out her legs in front of her.

“Actually I’m going to head to bed” Mick was quick to say while getting up, groaning at the pain the shot through his spin slightly.

“AWHHHHH” everyone cooed.

“You’re no fun old man!” Tommy yelled with a grin.

“Yeah! You never have fun with us kids anymore!” Nikki was quick to add on with a smirk as he held up his drink in a sort of salute. As Mimi started up a small chant between the groups.

“Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it” they all started to slur and mutter together before getting slightly louder and louder. Mick turned to you with a dead gaze which you returned with a shrug.

“May as well give the kids a show before they head to bed” you said with a grin, “go choose a song old man and let me give you a good time” you winked. Mick rolled his eyes and scowled slightly as he walked over to the record player in the corner of the room and quickly pulled out a vinyl from the cabinet and placed it on the player before putting down the needle and letting the actual record play. Mick had a large grin placed on his mouth as he walked to a chair and sat down waiting for the record to start playing and for you to start your dance.

“Sure you’re up for this?” Nikki asked, whether it was to you or Mick neither of you knew as you both nodded and the song soon started, a blush spread from your neck to your cheeks as the group on the floor snorted. The beginning to Take me to the Top started playing.

“You little shit!” you said with a loud slurred laugh, everyone laughed around you and you sighed and shook your head before quickly getting into ‘the zone’.

Don't you know, know, know

It's a violation

You swung your hips on the beat and bit your lip.

I still hear you saying

Such a perfect, perfect night

You looked to Mick as you swung your hips while walking towards him, ducking your head down your flipped your hair back and popped your hips as you toyed with your shirt.

No, no, no fight all temptation

Well, in a black-hearted alley fight

Coming forward you swung your leg over Micks lap and bent backwards.

I'm screaming

Take me to the heights tonight

You came back up quickly and rolled your hips against Micks as your hair covered your face as snickers and small words where said between the group on the floor.

Take me to the top

Pointing a finger to the sky you grinned widely before palming your breasts; Micks eyes ghosting over your hands before quickly coming back to look at you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable that an ‘old man’ such as himself would be looking at a place like that.

Too many times

Victim accusation

You got off of Micks lap and turned so your back was facing him and swung your hips in circles as your body followed soon after.

No, you don't have to take it like that

A sheer, sheer heart attack

You pumped your chest in and out with some hand motions on ‘sheer, sheer heart attack’ while circling your breasts.

No, no no it's no realization

I never had a way with you

You bit your lip looking at Mick as you dropped to the floor (wobbling a little due to your drunk state) and crawled up his legs; hands gliding from the middle of his calves to his thighs and to his crotch.

But I still hear you saying

You finally stood up and put your left leg on the arm of the chair Mick was in and grabbed the back of his head softly, mouthing the words to the next lyric.

‘Take me to the top’

Before softly pulling Micks head towards your crotch. The group cheered behind you as the song continued with the same sentence and you let go of Micks head before looking down at the man and giving him a subtle wink and sitting back down with the group.

“NO FUCKING WAY” Vince quickly yelled and cackled; the singer ended up falling to the floor in fits of laughter.

“Dude what the hell!?” Tommy asked with a large grin, the drummer leant down to his singer’s level as Vince told Tommy what he was laughing at before Tommy took a second look and then burst out laughing himself.

“Are y’all gonna tell us what the fuck you’re laughing at or do we have to find out ourselves!?” Kyle yelled quickly.

“MICK MARS GOT A BONER” both Tommy and Vince yelled together; everyone who wasn’t on the floor losing their shit looked to Mick who was trying desperately to hide his growing hard on. Mimi clapped you on your back harshly as a blush creeped up onto your neck and cheeks, your lips becoming red and raw from biting it, not only seductively but also from the amount of anxiety running through your veins from your previous showing.

“Shouldn’t you kids be heading to bed already?” Mick mumbled into his hand as he looked away from the cackling group. Mimi sighed through her laughing and looked to her group.

“He is right guys, we better get going if we wanna perform AND get over this hangover” she said sadly, Mimi got up along with Kyle and Jackson and walked to the window; you gave a death glare to the remaining Crüe members who quickly took the hint.

“Uh yeah we’ll walk you out” Tommy said quickly and got up, half dragging the other two behind him as each one stumbled to get through the small window. Leaving just you and Mick Mars alone; both horny and extremely into each other.

“I hope I wasn’t to…” you started.

“Sexy?” Mick finished for you making you chuckle softly.

“If that’s what you wanna call it then Mars then sure” you said with a large grin as you looked to Mick.

“I know what you should be doing though” Mick said as he rubbed the palms of his hands on his trousers. You stood up intrigued with the guitarist’s proposition.

“Oh? And what may that be Mister Mars” you asked walking over to the man; you smirked as you leant forward and placed both hands on the arms of the chair Mick was seated in as your face got ever so close to his.

“Fix the problem you made” Mick said with a smirk, his eyes ghosted from your eyes to your visible cleavage then back to your lips.

“Problem?” you pouted, “I’d say it was more of a mess” you said with a grin and a bite of the bottom lip, Mick leaned forward and gripped your hips softly.

“Then I suggest you clean it up” Mick said before tugging you down as his lips crashed into yours.

---

Let’s just say that your ass hurt when you sat down on your drums and EVERYONE knew you had a good night when you flashed the crowd during your finale.

[disappearingground]

Something Borrowed, Something New: The Perfect Union of Jenny Lewis and Elvis Costello

Filter Magazine November 22, 2008

Something Borrowed, Something New: The Perfect Union of Jenny Lewis and Elvis Costello

By Chris Martins

He strides into the room seeming impossibly tall and endlessly poised. In a silk scarf and all black, he looks as sharp as his wit has ever been, and downright Dickensian, as if the word “doff” was invented solely for use in reference to the hat sitting on his head. At 54, he’s got the perfect dappling of salt-and-pepper scruff, which frames a pair of lips in a perpetual mischievous grin, ever the unambiguous counterpoint to those trademark square-framed specs. Elvis is in the building—Costello, of course—and it’s enough to keep Jenny Lewis on her toes.

Well, somewhat. She’s sitting, currently, getting a light dusting of blush before the next round of photographs with her avuncular counterpart, but her dainty feet are neatly propped by a pair of light brown pumps. Los Angeles’ favorite daughter, our eternal indie darling regardless of her record label, is rightly stunning in a red dress and feathered cap, and as Lewis moves through the room, she hardly disturbs the air. Whether this is out of respect to the dust or due to an innate grace is unclear, but to not stare—at either of this pair—is to miss history in the making.

The duet is nothing new to music. Neither is the appearance of an elder statesman on the album of a young star for posterity, nor the reverse for the sake of a little shined-up sparkle. But when a legend with three decades and 34 albums to his hallowed name is coaxed out of retirement by the sheer energy experienced in a day of studio time with an inspired young songwriter, momentousness abounds. Last October, Costello told MOJO magazine he wasn’t “of a mind to record any more,” that the MP3 had “dismantled the intended shape of an album” and that fans could hear him live or not at all, essentially.

But on April 22, Costello sneaked out his 35th album, and a few days later issued the following via his website: “Some of you may have heard rumours of an album called Momofuku… [which] came about because of an invitation I received from Jenny Lewis to sing on her upcoming record.” He’d changed his mind. “That’s what I do,” he added. “The record was made so quickly that I didn’t even tell myself about it for two weeks.” His story only added to buzz surrounding an unnamed Lewis solo album reportedly recorded in organic and speedy contrast to Rilo Kiley’s 2007 LP, Under the Blacklight. Costello’s record was effectively a carry-over of Lewis’ January session, and he’d named it after the inventor of Cup Noodles because “all we had to do… was add water.”

Acid Tongue is now out, and it could be Lewis’ most immediate work yet. An all-analog rock and roll record that sears as much as it sways, the follow-up to 2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat trades in the alt-country scenery for further breadth and depth. Its sound is richer—a soulful mix of Southern-Gothic stomp, saturated balladry and campfire strum—and its inspiration digs deeper, with Lewis putting her pretty croon to use against the messy topics of sex, drugs, love, travel, illness and family. Sometimes she sings in character; in other moments, she’s addressing the very people recording with her: live-in beau Johnathan Rice, who co-wrote much of Acid Tongue; or her father, Eddie Gordon, a harmonica virtuoso estranged from Lewis until his recent cancer diagnosis reunited them.

Likewise, Costello’s Momofuku sounds refreshed, thanks in no small part to Lewis’ rag-tag gang. Though a few of her guests (Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, and Rilo’s Jason Boesel among them) had evacuated Van Nuys’ Sound City Studios by the time Costello arrived, the “vocal supergroup” that lent his record so much of its particular vigor is also the core lineup behind Acid Tongue: Lewis, Rice, Dave Scher (Beachwood Sparks), and Jonathan Wilson (formerly of Eisley), along with Costello’s bassist Davey Faragher. Momofuku is another sound entry in Costello’s post-millennial rock catalogue, seething with the attitude and urgency he’d rediscovered with 2002’s When I Was Cruel. His own band, The Imposters, might have something to do with that as well: keyboardist Steve Nieve and drummer Pete Thomas have been playing with Costello since 1978—though not without the occasional break or falling out.

Truth be told, Costello has been threatening retirement since he was 26, according to his own liner notes for the Rykodisc reissue of 1981’s Trust (though when asked about it today, he asks back: “Did I say that?”). And more than their mutual passion for detailed narratives, heartful ballads and, now, double drummers (read on), Costello and Lewis share the kind of creative restlessness that can make or break a career. They approach each record anew, band members be damned; she pushed on by the persistent fear that one day her well will run dry, and he without enough time in the day to tend to the flood.

Will Costello quit? Not likely. He’s touring like a teenager these days, has a variety show debuting on Sundance Channel, and is finishing up a new album with T-Bone Burnett. Will Rilo Kiley split? It doesn’t matter. Lewis remains, and anyway, that’s a subject for another article at another time.

As we sit down to talk in one of the odd little atriums that dot a large woodsy yard, Elvis Costello removes his hat, while his unflagging cool and smirk remain. At his left, sharing a small divan, Jenny Lewis appears more petite than usual and a little bit nervous, despite the fact that she’s directly responsible for Elvis’ return to the studio. It’s hard not to marvel at the sight.

A conversation with Elvis Costello and Jenny Lewis

The beginning is a fine place to start… How did you two meet? Elvis Costello: It was mainly the doing of Tennessee Thomas [drummer for The Like]. The Imposters and I were down in Mississippi recording The Delivery Man, and Pete Thomas said his daughter had hipped him to [Rilo Kiley’s 2004 album] More Adventurous. He played me the record and I thought it was fantastic. [To Lewis] I think I got your number and called you.

Out of the blue? Jenny Lewis: Oh, yeah. My phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number. I picked it up and it was Elvis. I truly thought it must have been some sort of mean prank. Costello: I was in this cottage I was renting right by the woods where Faulkner used to walk. It was quite a good spot and I had a lot of time to listen to records. I became a fan, and when Jenny made her first solo record…it was a different world. The storytelling on that album is amazing.

So you instantly thought, “This young talent needs to be in my new music video.” Costello: [Laughs] We filmed the “Monkey to Man” video in L.A., at the old Ambassador Hotel, and I thought it’d be funny if Jenny walked across the set like she’d gotten lost while on a Universal Studios tour. Lewis: The awkward walk-by. Clutching my purse. Sweat on my brow. Costello: We’d decided the video would be populated by girls in bikinis and people in monkey suits. It was very tasteful; we were going for the feminist vote.

…And then one day in January, Jenny called you? Costello: And then it was fun for the whole family. I was at home in Vancouver and The Imposters’ bassist Davey Faragher—he lives in Southern California and was in the studio with Jenny—called and asked if I would sing a song on her new record. Lewis: And I emailed you a clip of myself, Johnathan Rice and a puppet doing “Carpetbaggers.” Costello: Obviously, I was being asked to do the puppet’s part. I told ’em I loved the song, but I thought I would sing it differently than the puppet.

So you flew out to record. At what point did you decide to stay and make a record? Costello: I didn’t stay actually. We cut “Carpetbaggers” in three takes, and the band didn’t have anything planned for the rest of that day. So I said, “Maybe we can cut something of mine.” I had two songs—“Go Away” and “Drum & Bone,” which I’d written literally the night before—and we just laid them down, Jenny and I in that little vocal booth, I’m playing rhythm guitar with a line out to the hallway, she’s reading the lyrics off a piece of paper. And I couldn’t believe it—she nailed every line. Lewis: I was thinking, “This is your big shot, kid, don’t blow it.” Costello: I had decided I was done with recording. Everything I’d have to do after the release of a record was making me miserable, but working with them reminded me of the bits that I liked. A week later, back in Vancouver, I called everybody up and said, “That was too good—let’s do it again.” That’s when the vocal group came together. Davey is the only person in The Imposters who can sing, and with The Attractions, I used to track myself for all the vocals. These guys were coming up with killer parts, and the will to do them, at 11 p.m. We made the record in six days, with the same live feeling as Jenny’s. Lewis: I was so impressed with your pace. Is that how you’ve recorded in the past? Costello: I think bands make more of a meal of it now because they can. We’re all guilty of it. I recorded Spike [1989] in four cities [Dublin, London, New Orleans, Los Angeles]; I had a ridiculous budget. But it’s gone around in one big circle—my first record [My Aim is True] was made in just 24 hours of studio time. The second album [This Year’s Model] took 11 days. We thought we were being decadent taking three weeks for Armed Forces, and with Imperial Bedroom, we were making our big statement in the studio, hiring harpsichords and glockenspiels: “Let’s take six entire weeks!” Now you hear of bands spending six months on a single.

Acid Tongue was done at an impressive clip as well, Jenny. What inspired you to make that record in only three weeks’ time? Lewis: I think everything I do is a reaction to the thing before it. Having come out from under the polished intention of Under the Blacklight—which took quite a bit longer—I just wanted the vibe to run the show. I was finally able to connect with a band and have it go down like a live performance. It was really liberating. Costello: There’s nowhere to hide in that room. When you listen to Acid Tongue, there’s nothing there. It’s just a voice and a couple of instruments, and it works perfectly. The more you went on with the record, the more confidence you seemed to gain. To open with “Black Sand”… it’s the kind of confidence that marks great records. You know, “How could they open with that? That’s ridiculous!” But soon you can’t live without it.

You’re both artists who have continued to surprise us over the years, approaching each album with different angles, different sounds and, often, different bands. Is creative restlessness part of what makes a great—or at least an enduring—artist? Costello: I think too much is made of it—like it’s some sort of puzzle where eventually the pieces will all fit and there’ll be this big, smiling picture of Jenny going, “I told you so.” The reality is: that was just the way the artist was feeling at that moment, and now you’re in danger of missing what’s actually being said and the genuine feelings that are in those songs. It’s a trap that journalists fall into, which funnily enough never comes up with groups that have a strong, signature sound. It just doesn’t occur to anybody to compare their records: “This one’s got all those things that we already love!” Lewis: All I know is that I just tend to get a little bored and I like to try new things. And, really, anything is good subject matter for a song. But I don’t think that quality is exclusive to “the good artist.” Costello: Van Morrison has a signature sound, for instance, but he’s a singular artist. I don’t know that there’s one better way to do it. When I was younger, I was guilty of being more confrontational for the sake of getting attention, saying things like, “We’re here to completely ruin your life!” [Laughs] It’s true there was some dull music out there and we were coming along with a bit of attitude—trying to get it right, where just playing was really the thing—but tearing others down wasn’t the intention.

Neither of you have shied away from expressing the deeply personal on record, and you’ve dealt with an array of reactions to your public persona, from fan adoration to being dissected by the press. How does one stay level through all this? Costello: It’s true that since the mid ’60s, people have based their songwriting more overtly on their life’s experience than, say, Ira Gershwin did. In his day, they wrote songs that faded to black when the stickier subjects of love—physical love in particular—came up. But with people like Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell, that started to change. That was passed on to the next generation, then the next generation, then to me, then to Jenny, and we’re writing about these things that are increasingly raw. Fair or not, people associate you with these songs, and to whatever extent that you’re putting your experiences in there, your mistakes are in public view. Your heart is broken, the band splits, you find a new way to go in life, you have a drug problem, you sober up. There’s a fascination with human frailty and an entire industry that makes entertainment out of it. I got disenchanted when I was younger, but then I realized that’s just show business, and show business is based on the Menudo principal: They kick you out of the band when you’re 18 and get someone else to appeal to the 11-year-old girls who, in turn, hit 15 and peel off to go to the new thing. That’s not real life. Lewis: I’ve just started, over the last couple of years, to receive feedback in that way, as well as from people that assume songs are about them, and it’s all very uncomfortable. I still don’t know what to make of it, and I try not to acknowledge it. I’d rather just write songs without having to think about where they’ll end up or who will be offended. Costello: I’ve gone through my less glorious periods and other times where I’ve felt on top of the world, but it’s important to remember: You’re not living in real time by writing songs. Even if you think you’re writing the honest diary of your love affair, you’re not—you’re writing an edited version of it. Otherwise the album would be 20-years long.

So, 2003’s North, for instance… Costello: North is a very specific album about recognizing the end of one way of living and the beginning of another, but it’s a song-written explanation of what it felt like to go through that. It’s not the same thing, and it certainly doesn’t take into account the feelings of the other people involved. Art is selfish; it’s not a democracy, not even in a band. But if you’re smart, you take the best of what people bring you—to a collaborative form like recording, for instance. I was just the beneficiary of that, when Jenny said, “Why don’t we get Tennessee in here to play with Pete?” Lewis: The fantastic father-daughter drumming duo. Costello: I never knew that was going to sound so good. Next thing I knew, we had a record. And you know, Tennessee joined us onstage at the El Rey in Los Angeles after we played the Hollywood Bowl with The Police. I’ve been turning around to see Pete playing behind me for 30 years, and I look back that night and see him and his daughter. I’ve known her since she was born but, more than being a matter of pride, it just sounded fantastic. [To Lewis] Thank you for that.

Which is your favorite song from each other’s new album? Lewis: “Go Away,” because it was the first. Costello: “Godspeed,” because it’s got such beautiful melody and mood. I was startled the first time I heard it. I also love the long, multi-parted songs like “The Next Messiah,” and I think “Sing a Song for Them,” the up-tempo one at the end of the album, is tremendous. And of course, “Carpetbaggers,” because we got to do that together. I also like the other version of it that we cut—a live take with the double drummers …

So basically, you like everything, including the outtakes. Costello: “Godspeed” is definitely my favorite, but I’m attracted to ballads, so you’re asking the wrong guy. I mean, I really love ballads—more than any other kind of music. Lewis: I actually wasn’t going to include “Trying My Best to Love You” because I was worried about Acid Tongue being too ballad-heavy—I wanted it to rock more than Rabbit Fur Coat—but Elvis was so set on it being on the record that I included it.

Elvis, were you impressed with Jenny’s use of double entendre for the album title? Costello: [Laughs] Old habits die hard. F

[firethatgrewsolow]

Thanks for the pic @rosekashmir - I’ve always thought it was so cute.  <3  Here’s what I imagine (sorry it took forever!):

“Do you gentlemen need any help?”

Robert swiveled his head, his mouth curving as he located the source of the question, a very pretty girl with dark hair in an airline uniform.  She was with an equally lovely coworker, who had a luggage cart in tow.

“We can carry your bags for you, if you like,” the young woman offered with a shy grin.

Hmm.  Very nice.  “I don’t think we need assistance with the luggage, but, ah, we could use some help finding the bar.”  His gaze flickered to the brunette, and he gave her a wink as he nodded toward Jimmy.  “It seems my mate here is a touch afraid of flying, and …”

“Not afraid,” the guitarist corrected, cutting his eyes at the singer.  He cleared his throat, finally turning his attention back to the ladies as he granted them his most mesmerizing smile.  “What he means to say is that I find flying a bit … taxing.”

“Right, taxing,” Robert repeated, nearly rolling his eyes.  “Anyway, we thought we’d have a little nip before the flight departs.  And we’re awfully tired from all the travel thus far, so,” he took a step closer to his brunette, his dimple deepening, “I don’t suppose you could, um, give us a ride.  On the cart, that is,” he added with his trademark smirk.

“Oh, absolutely,” she gushed, clearly charmed.

“Thanks, love.”  Exchanging a quick look with Jimmy, he lumbered on.  “We’ll make it up to you, yeah?” he purred, nibbling his lip in anticipation as he watched her blush.

“Lads, wait for me!”

Robert grimaced as Bonzo leapt aboard, nearly falling backwards in his haste.  “For the love of Christ, Bonz, get off!  They can’t push us with you on here,” he griped, his seduction now in tatters.

“Fuck you, Percy!  I’m in for the lift.”

The cart began to buckle, the front wheels inching off of the ground, and Jimmy turned to the drummer, tapping his cane impatiently.  “Sorry, mate, you’ve got to go.”

“I’m not leavin’!” Bonham shot back, stomping his foot to punctuate his point.

“Hang on, hang on,” John Paul called out evenly as he slid onto the slowly rising handrail.  “There we go.  We’re stable.”

“Thanks, mate!” Bonzo boomed, thrusting his arm into the air.  “Now, onward, to the bar!”  As his cackle waned, he glanced to the cute blonde, giving her a mischievous grin.  “Hey, did Percy tell ya how scared Pagey is to fly?”  Before his now red-faced friend could respond, he dissolved into laughter again.

[fandom-hell-ferrylass]

PRISMATIC FANG ~ Chapter 5

Even Heartstrings Need Occasional Tuning

A/N: WHEN WILL MY MTP FANFIC RETURN FROM THE WAR- oh there it is. yes, apologies, it took AGES for this update to let me write it, and then I got a stomach bug I’m still finishing up recovering from. I wanted to post this one directly to tumblr as well as AO3 as there’s some fanciness going on (I call it fancy, it’s just shiny to me cause I’m a dork XD)

will still be including a link to the Ao3 page, I’d love to see fellow TCups over there too <3

He sniffed. All that floated across his nose were the fragrances of nearby flowers, the unnatural, harsh chemical particles of the human world, a particular swirl of gray from a passing cloud being pierced by a sunbeam.

The barest trace of a tongue poked out between needling eyeteeth. All that tickled his tastebuds was the tang of a bird in a nearby tree, the fizzle of sunlight glittering off moving water, the thick, rich smoothness of true want and love.

His eyes narrowed and he swept them around suspiciously. All he saw was manipulated metal and constrained gaia and the wavy glow of life and magic filling the spaces between the world’s reality.

Chessur sighed, letting his head dangle off the side of the roof he was currently lounging on. Something was wonky in the state of Overland, and he had yet to poke it with even a single claw.

“The more you hunt it, the faster it will run away.”

The teal cat eyes flared as they drug lazily over to observe the speaker. Absolem leaned casually against a duct vent as he took a slow drag from his e-cig. Disney had requested he curb his smoking tendencies while in more public areas of the grounds. In general, he just found it easier than carting real cigarettes around.

“But I do so like a good hunt.”

KEEP READING ON AO3

The man’s blank expression flickered into a smirk for a moment. Shaking his head, Absolem pointedly ignored Chessur’s measured stare and gazed out at the world around their little hideaway.

From that vantage point, it was easy to see where the more industrial park ended and the amusement ones began. the taller attractions sprinkled around the two adjoining parks jutted into the wide wide sky, their various moving parts darting in and out of view on the properly-timed intervals. Absolem even imagined that tiny blink of white in the distance was the hotel their Mad-capped band currently deigned “home.”

Chessur leisurely twisting himself onto his back brought the bespectacled man’s attention back to the current here. Absolem stared archly at the Cat, noticing the playful pout on the other man’s face.

“It hasn’t done anything remotely interesting for at least half an hour, why shouldn’t I hunt it down? I am so very curious what it could possibly be.”

Absolem rolled his eyes and took another pull. Wisps of colour-tinged smoke curled from his nose.

“Whatever it is, it has been moving for the past 15 minutes. You and I both have it pinged - if it’s still around after, I promise I’ll go poke it with you. Would that sate your yawning curiosity?”

Chess purred, stretching languidly. “I suppose it will have to do. For now.”

This time Absolem chuckled softly at the blue-haired man’s playful, wheedling tone. He slipped around the side of the vent and began walking across the rooftop.

“Come on, then, the others will be here just soon.”

Chessur stretched again, giving Absolem enough time to reach the access ladder and begin his descent. The Cat’s smile widened frighteningly, splitting his face even as the man melted away in a puff of smoke.

The metallic squeaking sound was so faint, if he hadn’t been just off the door at one of the tables, Absolem wouldn’t have heard it over the band’s general happy din. He stilled himself and let his eyes dart around in search of the source.

<Skirk skirk>

Not the AC.

<irk eeerk>

Not their gathered faux audience in their rickety folding chairs (though those did produce an endless litany of annoying sounds).

<squeeeeeck>

<dunk>

Absolem blinked. He looked over at the wide double door that led out to the main hall.

His head tilted curiously. The push bar was ever just so slightly ... wiggling.

When Absolem strode over and pulled the door open, the last thing he expected was for a teenage Jabberwock to stumble headfirst into him from where she had been leaning her forehead against the other side of the door.

Without thinking he reached out to steady her, his long fingers curving gently over her bony shoulder. Eirian’s head tilted slowly and she blinked up at him, more owl than Jabberwock.

Absolem’s eyes flashed as he did a double take and peered into her disguised crimson ones.

“Steady on there?” He didn’t mean it to sound like a question, but the girl nodded her head all the same before stepping back and out of his grasp. He watched closely as she plodded to her spot and methodically began setting out her things.

“And our Jabberwocky makes seven, that’s the whole gang here, places, everyone!”

Absolem glanced at Tarrant as the man stood grinning behind his mic, nodding when the Hatter's roving eyes found his. But the Caterpillar’s eyes were still narrowed in contemplation while Chessur watched the man slip behind his keyboard and hold his spindly hands over the shiny plastic keys.

The Cheshire Cat barely paid attention when Tarrant signaled him to lead in. He went into muscle memory and was only dimly aware of the official start to rehearsal. His attention remained firmly shattered between his thin-faced friend and the feeling he was missing something that tingled behind his left eye.

That feeling always ended up interestingly.

Today was simply not having it with the Mad T Party’s rehearsal plans. Absolem grimaced against another throb in his skull - he couldn’t recall a worse day for the band, even back when they couldn’t play well enough to call themselves one.

Within the span of 30 minutes: one of Mally’s guitar strings had snapped and sliced his hand AND cheek; Alice had dropped her sheet music and gotten the pages all mixed up; Thackery had managed to sucker-punch Tarrant in the stomach with the head of his guitar, making the Hatter double over and the mortified Hare to wildly backpedal and crouch down behind Chessur’s drum kit, hiding behind his great ears; Chessur’s bass pedal somehow punched through the drum skin; and Absolem was almost positive three of his keys were one wrong look away from dying altogether.

For everyone’s sake, Tarrant called a break for lunch. A very, very long break. Absolem took the chance to at least try to deal with his small problem.

He was so absorbed in checking and re-checking the settings on his keyboard, the Caterpillar almost missed the tale-tell prickle across his scalp. In his right form, it would be one of his antennae twitching.  Even without them, he couldn’t help the odd little jerks he made with his head, shoulders jumping along occasionally.

To his left, out of the corner of his eye, Absolem could see Chessur’s manifested tail twitching madly, the gray-and-teal fur all on end. The Cat’s eyes slid to the side of his head, teal-rimmed black saucers meeting glinting butter-cornflower.

Here it was.

Neither visibly moved, but for the briefest moment, Absolem and Chessur froze in place at the back of the stage. Both were rapidly casting about, trying to get a solid lock on it.

Absolem almost didn’t register Eirian’s presence to his right as she squeezed past his keyboard and shuffled across in front of him and Chessur to get to her area.

He did, however, register the sluggish traces of muted, unvibrant specks hovering in the air behind her.

Chessur suddenly found a thin, serious presence hovering at his elbow. His ear twitched around, letting Absolem know he was acknowledged but Chessur’s eyes did not move from staring just in front of his stand.

“Doth my eyes deceive me.” Absolem’s voice was barely a low hum.

“I do believe it is.” The Cat’s bassy purr was equally as murmured.

“Seems like it. Didn’t know it could be seen here, though.”

“Suppose the madness is why. It is a wholly tangible thing for us.”

“Possibly, quite. Even so, that much? It can’t be healthy.”

“It’s not. Well-hidden though. Think it’s being dealt with?”

“Don’t know if it’s even been realized.”

“What to do, then.”

“Nothing to be done.”

“Something at least? That much could kill.”

Absolem huffed softly in annoyance. If he’d known the Cat was going to show his rare soft side, he wouldn’t have gotten involved. Chessur turned his head to match his ear, blinking owlishly at the Caterpillar.

Absolem sighed. “…. I might have some to spare.”

Chessur’s trademark grin flitted onto his face, albeit in a much smaller, kinder capacity. “Oh goody. Shall we meddle, then?”

Glancing out of their little council, Absolem noted the rest of the band scattered about the room, wearily trying to consume bits of food and keep their spirits up. “Might as well. Maybe it will change the luck. Today has been horrible.”

“Splendiferous.” Without warning, Chessur popped up from his stool and began herding Absolem out from the drummer’s area. “Let’s go get this little tidbit sorted.”

As quixotically as usual, Chess began to floatingly wander towards the figure sitting alone against the far wall, a deadpanning Caterpillar in tow.

Up close, the muted specks were clearer to see (as clear as such things could be, Absolem reasoned). The precise opposite what they usually were, the ragged things neither danced nor floated nor swirled through the air currents around them. They just hung there, suspended and sludgey, weighted down with their very existence until they eventually petered out or found something to cling to and infect.

“Always such a joy seeing the little bites about and about.”

The tense shudder that rippled through the girl’s thin frame when Chessur spoke wasn’t missed by them. Absolem noted when Eirian’s head twitched but she didn’t look up. The visible mist of specks spread out from her like a mass of creeper vines.

Absolem’s frown at the grody veil coloured his voice coldly. “I pity the poor souls these ones, in particular, have found to glom onto somewhere.”

“Their day probably looks like ours.” Chessur waited for the implied sting of his words to sink in.

It didn’t take long.

The tangled dark hair gave the impression of peering into a foreboding wood when they looked into her face. Gone were the coloured contacts. the crimson glow had spread out from her iris, and they found themselves reflected in the surface of a molten ruby, burning nearly white-hot and utterly, purely exhausted.

“Just say bad luck, it’s faster. No, scratch that. Curse is one word, it’s faster. Go with that one.”

Eirian watched the Cheshire Cat step down from his floating and take a real step across the floor. The uncommon action put him just off her left knee. She forced her head to tip back slowly until she could look him head on again.

She wasn’t prepared for the small, almost sad smile that replaced the usual toothy grin. Eirian’s brow curved into a perplexed expression.

“What?”

“It is nobody’s fault when they can’t see it happening to themselves. That is the hardest of all things to know. What they do when they are taught is what turns the hands to their right place.”

She blinked.

And looked to the other man. “Is his Madness flaring up?”

“What he means is, it’s not your fault the lessness has made today not pleasant. It’s very difficult for people to recognize when they are hardly themselves, something about it feels like a failing, or an omen.”

The teen squinted harshly at his words, and she dropped her head heavily back onto the arms wound together atop her knees.

“Believe me, I’ve been hardly myself much longer than today.”

Absolem’s frown deepened. Eirian jolted slightly when he suddenly sunk to the floor and knelt next to her. The Caterpillar canted his head forward, peering very hard from behind his glasses. The Jabberwock froze, staring back with wide eyes.

After a moment Absolem sat back, not breaking the stare. “You are not wrong. In the end, not sorting this will most likely kill it in you for good.”

“What are you talking about?”

Chessur knelt down and reached out a hand, laying it gently on the girl’s head to urge her to look at him. The sudden sheen of frustrated tears in her eyes made his face contort in the one look he hated most - a frown.

“You are losing your muchness, dear Jabberwock, and if you lose too much ... it will kill your will to live. You’ll die.”

“How do you know that?” The fear in her whisper was unmistakable. Absolem and Chessur exchanged a glance.

“We are ... not strangers to it.”

“When someone’s muchness depletes as quickly as we suspect yours has, they have no time to find a new harmony with reality.” Chessur’s face twisted at the word.

Absolem regarded her for a moment, reading her mannerisms. “You know about this.”

Eirian’s eyes darted to his, then flickered away. She swallowed.

“My ... mother. She always used to say my muchness had taken a hit whenever I had a bad go around. She warned me to never let it get too low.” The red eyes vanished behind tight-shut lids. “It was only After … that I realized she wasn’t being figurative.”

A few seconds passed before something smooth and cool pressed against the back of her hand. The teen cocked her head sideways, squinting down at the small glass bottle Absolem was holding out. The iridescent liquid inside shone prettily, and small, nearly invisible bubbles drifted through it. A small, worn tag fluttered from the stopper:

Eirian met the man’s eyes behind his yellow glasses. From memory, she knew the pale cornflower tint, and for a moment she watched the reflection of the Drink Me play across his face. He gently pressed the bottle against her hand again. Still looking at his eyes, she freed her hand and turned it enough for him to slide the container into her grasp.

“Drink Me is known to work in ... not necessarily expected ways. Perhaps it will give you what you need to feel much more yourself.”

She bit her lip before nodding, pulling her hand - bottle held fast - back out of sight. Nodding himself, Absolem stood, pausing to brush off his knees and put himself back to rights. Chessur watched him before tilting his head to brush his forehead across the girl’s hair. She didn’t move but he thought he saw the muscles in the side of her face contract in the exact way it takes to create a smile. He was sure of it, though, when he playfully brushed his tail across her neck and shoulders like a warm, fluffy snake. The corners of her mouth were visible now, an unmistakable grin.

“We are all mad here, dear Jabberwock. All of us.”

He took the minuscule dip of her head at face value and left her to her solitude. Absolem was already returning to their space and their friends. Chessur began walking after him, his silent footfalls traveling up to return the Cat to his regularly scheduled floating.

and there we are, Chapter 5 all done! I really hated and enjoyed writing this one, it was a definite challenge to dig into Wonderland’s brand of madness to get the chaotic vibes of both Absolem and Chessur. I think it turned out well, but what do you think? (that’s a hint to leave a comment, I’d really love to know what you thought!)

[mychaptersarebeautiful]

The Other World - Chapter 2

After I turned sixteen, I didn’t fear the dark or really hear things; it began to subside slowly from that point on.  Many of the real people in the life were no longer there for various reasons, and new people came in. My “friends”, or whatever they were, remained. They became quiet as I began to attend our new church and got involved. It seemed like my life was getting on track for the first time… at least, it seemed like it. I began working and I wasn’t having the problems anymore. I don’t think I cut for months, maybe even as much as a year. I wasn’t even afraid of the dark anymore. Yes, it seemed like things were better now, and I could really live.

I graduated from high school (which was not really a goal when I was a teenager) and actually wanted to go to college. It sounds like a good, wholesome plan for the future, doesn’t it? I didn’t actually enroll--I kept working where I was, and it seemed like the place for me. It made me too busy to think much about other things, which was good and bad, in a sense. I wasn’t focused very much on how I felt, but then it took out a lot of my life. Though there was never a logical reason for it, I felt absolutely useless.

Anytime the pressure began to build up, there was only one way to release it: cutting. Not terribly deep cuts, but deep enough to bleed and sting, and enough to forget what I was worried about. Now there was a new reason to feel guilty.

In the Bible, there's a story about a demon possessed man who lived in a cemetery. He was always naked and cut himself with sharp rocks, and I'd heard it often enough to relate cutting to being a bad thing, so that make things so much worse. Was I heading down that road? I'd had urges to hurt myself in public, but not enough to act on it, and I've never had the impulse to go naked. I barely had enough confidence to wear a strapless dress.

Judging by the name of this chapter, things got better, didn't they? Yes, I started to feel better, but something was wrong about it. I couldn't put my finger on it for the longest time. Then I met my first, soon-to-be boyfriend (we’ll call him “Ex”).

I've never been so in love in my entire life (considering I'd never dated before and the only crushes I had were on celebrities, it was pretty understandable). I had a very good and close guy friend at the time, too, who was also good friends with Ex, so we hung out together a lot. It opened a new and exciting door of feeling confident. He was very charming, sweet, and gave me butterflies any time I thought of him, let alone saw him. In my eyes, he was the best thing that ever happened to me. All my friends and family couldn't stand him, and I couldn’t understand that for the longest time.

His true colors began to show after the longest time, and I found out from our mutual friend that he openly discussed his lustful thoughts and intentions, which is when things began to turn. His charm was slowly replaced by long conversations about his past, and his longing to be happy. The only way he could really be happy, I found out, was if he got what he wanted.

We never kissed or got that close, but he would hold my hand when we were alone and I finally gave him permission to kiss it, which he did with every chance he had. To this day, an alarm still goes off in the back of my mind when I think of it. It was just the beginning. Finally, when we were alone in the sanctuary of our church, Ex grabbed me and kissed me. My first kiss, and it was as if I got raped. Every time I remembered it, my stomach would churn, and it would pop up very often (thanks to my dear friend, Guilt).

A close, older friend of mine who was also a confidant of his had a conversation with me one day that Ex was upset that I pushed our relationship. The more I dwelled on it, the more I blamed myself. From then on, the handsome man I fell in love with became a creepy stranger. His compliments made my skin crawl. His presence made me feel like I was around a serial killer. When we were out, he asked me to be his girlfriend.

 “We wanna take this slow, don't we?” All our conversations went this way. “Let me think about it before I give you an answer.”

 “If you have to think about it, then you probably don't really love me,” he replied, with tears gathering in his eyes. I felt Anxiety tap on my shoulder.

 “If you don't say ‘yes’,” he whispered, “you're letting him get away. Think about it: you won't get an opportunity like this again. Besides, you know in you heart he’s the one.”

I couldn't argue with that as I stared at the former love of my life. If I let him go, there was no turning back; I wouldn't be loved anymore, and I couldn’t stand the thought of that. So my stupid, twenty-year-old gave in. The moment I got home, my sister was very upset and in the middle of a rant.

 “I hate him and I wish he would get out of my life!”

It's that feeling you get when you leave home and forgot to put the milk away, or left school without your textbook; Regret smirked at me, raising his eyebrows. I knew what that meant. “Congratulations on your relationship.”

Indeed. Congratulations on entering another trap, you idiot. Once again, you’re letting yourself play the victim, and someone take advantage of you. You’re stuck now, and there’s no way out of this. It was difficult to look at myself in the mirror from then on (which wasn’t abnormal in itself). And there was Self-Hatred standing in the background with her arms crossed, that trademark smirk on her face.

 “Really?” she asked me, leaning against the wall. “Did you really expect that to go well. There’s no way you’re going to be able to get yourself out of this one.”

I know God gave me the strength to be able to break up with Ex before it went any further. In that moment, standing out in that parking lot with him, I had never felt so free. It was like rain after a bloody battle, where the big, heavy drops wash the crimson from the pavement and down the curb. Or like chains had been taken off of me, as I looked back into his heartbroken eyes. Our mutual friend later told me he’d cried. Another one of my ex’s friends told me he went to her house and cried, hoping we could get back together.

What seemed to be a horrible situation turned into a life lesson; I’d no longer worried about being in a relationship, or wondered if any man could love me. Knowing the kind of love Ex operated in, it made me hesitant to even think in that direction. Still, I didn’t feel like myself for months after that, and it was uncomfortable. It was as if I’d been placed in new skin that was a little too big or a little too small, or something like that. Something just wasn’t right.

A month or two passed, and I stopped dwelling on that fateful day where he’d kissed me in the church. Every now and then he showed up in my dreams as an adversary, desperate to take his revenge. Guilt was very subtle in reminding me, just like an ongoing ring in my ear: quiet, continuous, and maddening. Ex showed up at church again at some point, but people who cared about me made sure I was never alone… until one Bible study.

I was a drummer for our worship team, and played once a week. Though I wasn’t great at it, I began to really get the hang of it and enjoy it more and more. It was almost like being an artist, but instead of paintbrushes, I had drumsticks. Instead of hanging my “masterpiece” up in a museum, I was able to give my talent back to go. It makes my heart flutter to think of it that way, and my breath catches in my throat. Every time I would go up and sit at the set, Worthlessness would stand at the side of the stage (the altar) and shake her head in disapproval. You’re not good enough to be up there. You’re not enough a good drummer.

But that’s when my new friend would show up. He wouldn’t force his way into conversations; he would ask permission before putting in his opinion or stating a fact. I liked him much better than Guilt and his crew… his name was Hope.

 “You’re going to do just fine,” he assured me, making Worthlessness fade into the background.

 “What if I mess up?” I asked. “My hands shake and they sweat. What if I drop my sticks again?”

 “Everyone here knows you’re beginning, and they’re not here to judge you, anyway. You’re here to help them worship. You’re giving a gift, and not only is it the best you have, but it’s the best you are. That’s saying a lot.”

It was like pure oxygen being pumped into my lungs, as I felt tears sting at my eyes. Hope had introduced me to one of his other friends, and her name was Worth. She stood by him, her hands behind her back as she smiled warmly at me.

 “Hope is right,” she said. “You have so much beautiful talent that God gave you, and all you have to do is let it shine. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to be you.”

I nodded in excitement as the music began to play, and did the best I could. She was right: it wasn’t perfect, but it was me. And people had been so encouraging every time I came off the altar. It was a very small congregation, so one time the pastor made a comment at the pulpit about how well I did, and I felt very special, sitting with my new friends.

But on this night, as we began to start, Anxiety tapped my shoulder. “Look over there,” he whispered, pointing toward the back of the church. My stomach churned when I saw Ex back there. “He’s going to talk to you, you know. He’ll be watching you all this time.”

 “Wait,” said Hope. “Will you listen to me?”

 “Yes,” I replied.

 “You’re only up here for one reason: you’re playing unto the Lord. Let him sit back there with his thoughts and intentions, but you have a job to do. Don’t let him take that away, too.” I nodded, and Anxiety faded away.

After the study, I made sure I was busy putting some of the pieces of the drumset away. Ex loomed about, going in and out of the sanctuary, and I made sure some of the kids (they were fun to hang out with) stayed with me at all times. I carried some of the cymbals into the side office, and turned around when I heard someone clear their throat, facing him. No one was around; neither group of friends were there, either.

 “Hello,” he said nervously. He had gained some weight, I realized, and had longer hair.

 “Hi,” I said slowly.

 “How are you?”

Please don’t do this, I mentally begged. “I’m fine. How are you?”

 “Good. Let me help you with that.”

 “No, no, I got it.”

 “Really, I can help--” As he came closer, I dropped the cymbals with a loud crash, and both of us cringed.

 “No,” I muttered again, trying to keep from getting angry at him. My heart was pounding violently. Where were the kids? “I got them.”

 “...okay. Is it okay if we talk?”

 “Yes, but we have to talk out there. Hang on.” I put my things away and walked with him to where we were in plain view. The pastor was nearby.

 “You look good,” he said after a while. He’d always said that to me. “You lost weight.”

 “Actually, I think I gained.” I didn’t want to to him that me and my guy friend had been jogging daily while he was away, but I just couldn’t stand his compliments anymore. They made me physically ill.

 “Oh. Well, you look thinner. It’s good. And your hair…”

I absentmindedly touched my once-brown hair, which I had recently bleached. “Yeah, it’s a change.”

 “I like it. Look, uh… I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I hurt you, because I never wanted to do that. And I feel bad.”

 “No, don’t feel bad. We both had a part in this, and it’s nobody’s fault. I’m sorry, too, and I hope you can forgive me.”

 “I do.”

 “I forgive you, too. We can move on, now.”

 “If there’s anything you wanna talk about…” He didn’t say anything else. I knew that meant he wasn’t finished with our relationship.

 “Not now. I really don’t want to talk about anything for a while. Okay?”

 “...okay.”

 “I’m not mad at you, I just… I need to figure things out.”

 “Okay. I still love you, you know.”

All of my muscles tensed. “I did love you. Before.” With that, I went on my way, and he went on his.

We usually stayed for a while, talking to people and cleaning up. I was walking back inside after getting something from our car, but Ex was standing by the church door. Feeling it would be awkward if I didn’t say anything, I stopped in the doorway, leaning out to speak to him

 “Aren’t you cold?” I asked; it was autumn by this time.

 “No, I’m fine. Look, anytime you wanna talk…”

 “I’m not ready for that.” With that, I went back inside, and that was the last time I talked to him.

Time went by, and the platonic relationship with my guy friend (we’ll call him “Guy”) strengthened. We had agreed that we were friends, even as far as brother and sister, and nothing more. I had begun to struggle with Depression again, but worse than before. Guy was a good confidant when I needed to confess my feelings, but he didn’t do much about them. He was newly Born Again, so he would just speak encouraging things, reminding me that I didn’t have to condemn myself and he didn’t see me as a bad person. I stopped believing him after a while.

We started to drift away gradually, as he missed hanging out with his old friends in his old life. Eventually, he stopped answering me altogether, and I later found out he was in the hospital after an accident. I blamed myself. In that time, I began to cut my arm more frequently than I ever had in my life. It seemed to be getting worse and worse by the day. They were deep, but just enough to sting.

Before he stopped talking to me, I was at work with the kids. One of the little girls had sore gums and needed salt water, but she was afraid of putting it in her mouth. I took a sip to show her it wasn’t bad, and did some research. It turns out that consuming large amounts of salt water in a short period of time will dehydrate the human body, faster than a human could replenish it with freshwater (that is, if enough salt is consumed). I wasn’t very suicidal at the time, but I realized that this was something I could do.

I had thought about taking a bunch of pills, but I had read there was no death guarantee, so that was out of the question. I didn’t have access to a gun, I couldn’t hang myself, I couldn’t bleed out… there didn’t seem to be a way out until that moment. It took a lot of contemplating and planning, but I was going to do it. I was finally going to do it, this thing that I had dreamed about for so many years.

I remember having nightmares starting in the fifth grade about having to wake up from the dream, but the only way out was to kill myself. It was the only way, I was convinced. It had been a long time since I’d had one, but it made sense.

I went home and took the carton of salt, hiding it in my room for a few days. After building up the “courage” (if you can call it that) to write the note on my phone and take off the passcode, I sat in the bathroom with a sixteen ounce mug the salt, and the fading cuts on my arm. A few days before, I decided I was done cutting, and if I ever did it again… that would be the last thing I ever did. In life. So I poured over a cup’s worth of salt into the mug and ran the hot water. This was it. I was finally doing it.

Dissolving the salt, I added some cold water to cool it down and took as much in one gulp as possible before swallowing. My throat burned and my stomach jerked, but I got it down. I was desperate to vomit it up immediately, but there was no turning back. I got another gulp down, trembling uncontrollably at the bitter taste, and one more. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I felt completely alone. No one knew what I was doing, and they wouldn’t until after I was dead. Would they figure it out? Would they think to find the note on my phone? It didn’t matter anymore.

Suddenly, the room got unbearably hot, and I became dizzy. I had to throw up. But then it dawned on me:

I’m dying.